#come on v!!! watch movies with ash!!!!!

[silverselfshippingchaos]

ASHHH!! Your Ask game is so cool! :D

Double Life and Disasterpiece?

SDKJNFAKJDFN HII THANK YOU PANCHI I HAD FUN WRITING IT

You can find Double Life over here! I think the idea of where Ash comes from is really interesting because she's been in Night City for so long. She has seen so much. She jokes around so much, but it's hard to find people so genuine in a place so corrupt.

Anywho!

Disasterpiece: Wild card! Tell us whatever the hell you want about your character! A random piece of lore, their go-to hobby, their favorite pizza order... Surprise us!

I know I've mentioned before that Ash has a bit of a collection of questionable Braindances and the such, but have you seen her action movie collection? Her and Viktor have a few shelves in their home of just movies. Ash likes buying them physically and collecting them!

Thing is, when she sees action movies of 2077 and sees the shit V watches, she always thinks well, back in my day...

Ash cannot beat the old lady allegations.

One of these days, Ash really wants to invite V over and sit them down, show them the movies she grew up with. Culturing the kids of today! V might find it a tad different, but at least Johnny is having fun!

Unfortunately, her and V never get to have that movie night. Damn kid is always so busy!

[starryhutcherson]

━━ A NEW FAMILIAR

author's note: crawled out of my hole for this one guys. sorry for being so ghost mode im working on putting out more stuff, apologies if this isn't of the highest quality as i'm running on sugar free redbull and three hours of sleep ! love my life hahahahaAHHHH

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: best friend!mike schmidt x reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing word count: 4600+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Mike’s expression always glooms when you bring up the next date you’ve arranged. He knows how this story plays out; he knows the truth behind the men you’ve matched with on whatever sketchy website you’ve wasted your time on. They’ve molded themselves into the embodiment of perfection, through falsified photos and fabrications buried in their bios. His patience crumbles like fireplace ash as you skip around his living room and drone on about whatever dickhead you’ve set your poor, precious heart on.

He knows, always, the the outcome is running makeup and salty cheeks, sobbing on the floor of his living room in a creasing satin dress and his welcoming arms, a bitter exclamation of “you were right Mike” leaving your lips in the knowing silence and him gritting his jaw and pretending that it doesn’t bother him the the only habits you ever find yourself falling back into are the bad ones. 

It’s no different today. 

Mark or Matt or Mitch – you really were killing him, because it should be Mike. It should be him. Him that you’re getting ready for, him that you’re daydreaming about. And it’s an odd feeling, like a movie where your favorite character dies and then movie finishes and you have to accept that they aren’t coming back, no matter how long you sit glued to the reclinable chair, popcorn crunched beneath your sneakers and the credit-scene reflected in your shrinking pupils. 

Mike’s not the type to be happier with the hope – he’d let the truth swallow him up, sink into his creaking bones, he’d live with the loss. But he still has hope for you. He has hope that your eyes will open and you’ll seep into his brain and his breath and his bed. He hopes you’ll start seeing him instead of just looking. Maybe it's wishful thinking. Ignorant optimism.

It feels like it. 

It feels like it, right now, when he’s leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom and watching you get ready, your animated chatter reverberating around the small space between coats of mascara. He offered to give you a ride before you’d even asked, and he’ll tolerate the sting of watching you get out of the car looking all pretty for someone who isn’t him, just to make sure you get there safely. It’s the type of sacrifice he’ll make for you. 

“I can’t even feel my face, I’ve been smiling so hard all day!” You squeal, powdering your cheeks with more purposeless product – he thinks it’s all pointless. You’re radiant, even in the harsh lighting of his bathroom. 

He offers a low grunt. What is he supposed to say? He’s not happy. And he’s not gonna pretend he is. 

You either don’t notice or choose to ignore, continuing to doll yourself up to whatever standards you have for yourself. “I mean, he says he’s been skiing since he was 6. He’s practically an olympian.” 

Mike scoffs. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Can you hurry up?”

“Alright, grumpy. Calm down. I gotta do my lips and then I’m ready. Plus, nobody told you that you gotta stand here.” 

A fleeting flush of fuchsia permeates his cheeks, but he looks down at his worn shoes to hide it. It’s true. He didn’t have to stand here. But if an angel was populating your bathroom you’d want to take a peek, would you not? That’s how he thinks you look. Angelic. Glowing from your soul, a content smile knitted on your lips. You might as well have a halo and wings – that heaven-sent aura is reinforced when you douse yourself in lingering washes of that sweet perfume that’s branded itself to you. He’d recognise that floral aroma anywhere, the way a shark detects a drop of blood amongst saline scattered seas. 

“Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?”

Cruelest question of them all. “You look… fine. Good.”

A knot forms in your brow. “All this effort for that terrible answer?” Playful, but with a truthful undertone. Why do you value his opinion so much? He doesn’t want to assume anything. 

“Well I’m not the person you’re dressing up for.” I wish I was. He doesn’t say the other words, but he thinks them so hard he’s half convinced if you were listening in the right spot, or looking into his eyes for long enough that you’d hear it anyway. 

“Okay, okay, whatever. Let’s just get going, don’t wanna keep Mack waiting.” 

Two letters. That’s all it would take. That’s all he’d have to swap to make it him.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

✩‧₊˚

Even if you aren’t aware, even if he did offer, he drives begrudgingly. He focuses as much as he can, on the road ahead and not your glistening figure beside him in the passenger seat, the very definition of temptation. 

The mall parking lot is barren, a few gleaming cars scattered amongst the otherwise desolate area. He pulls into a space, sets the car in park, rakes in a greedy sigh of air. 

“If anything happens, call me.” 

You sneer teasingly. “Don’t be so pessimistic. It’s gonna be great, he could be my future husband, y’know.”

Yep. Mack, the 35 year old you've met online, who’s only notable talent seems to be skiing and his greatest life achievement to date is shooting a deer, whose head is mounted to the wall in his bedroom, typically visible in the background of his many instagram posts which involved his shirtless figure straining to flex his overly pronounced bulk. A match made in heaven. He wants to scream. 

And how can you even tell him to not be pessimistic? How can you look him in the eyes and act like this moment hasn’t happened time after time, the point of no return before an evening spent crying in his arms as he reassures you that your failed dates are never your fault, even though by now it seems like you must be seeking out the same genre of shitty man if you’re this good at getting your heart broken. He’s sick of picking up the fragile little pieces of his bathroom floor, cutting himself on the shards of a heart that’ll never be his. You deserve more than these half-baked, single night romances. He could show you that. 

“Yeah, sure,” he grits. “Future husband. Just call me, seriously.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you.” 

And with that, you’re off, disappearing into the gaping mouth of the mall’s entrance, and he watches with an alkaline feeling growing in his stomach. Your hair is caught up in the wind like clothing on a washline and he thinks his hope is all drained out. 

✩‧₊˚

Mike spends a good two hours back at his house. His movements feel vacuous, staring ahead at the screen, barely processing the raging garbage that masquerades as reality TV. The rain has picked up outside, licking at the window panes with a growing intensity. 

He’s not happy about the jean skirt and tiny little tank top you’d clad yourself in prior to leaving, you’re probably frigid by now in the cold. You did however reassure him that Mack was gonna drive you home, or even worse, take you back to his place, so his stupid fucking elk head trophie could watch with it’s empty eyes while the pair of you fuck on the bed that his mom still has to make for him because he never can quite manage those fitted sheets, can he? Fucking manchild. 

Shit. Mike’s feeling so so bitter. Maybe it’s because he’s finally realized that this is the dreaded pattern he’s going to have to endure with you until death. Or until he braves up and actually tells you that he’s been in love with you since the fifth day of second grade, when you mouthily confronted Jerry Murdoch and told him to give Mike his crayons back.  

With a weak sigh, he turns the TV off with a click of the remote still encaptured in the loose hold of his fist, and decides to see if he can melt into any form of sleep – but the knock on his door prevents him from doing so. 

He arises lethargically, not having much on his mind but the denial of his slumber as he shuffles over and turns the handle, but then, it’s you. 

Fluttery lashes melted to black smudges beneath your eyes, a mixture of rainwater and tears, completely drenched and dripping all over his doormat, your body is trembling and you’re wracked with tiny little cries and he’s feeling so many emotions he believes he might implode. 

He pulls you inside and into his arms, stroking your back in gentle, soothing motions, and it kills him that this has become routine. He’s angry. He’s sick of this. 

“What happened this time?” He grunts softly. 

“He didn’t even show up. He couldn’t even send a message as to why, Mike,” you sniffle into his warm chest, drunk off the even echo of his heartbeat. 

A moment’s silence rots like aged fruit. He draws a breath in, then out, then in again. 

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You crane your face upwards to meet him, instantly bathed in a nervous shiver when you see how serious he looks. 

“My phone was dead.” Is all you can manage to mumble. 

“What?” He’s pissed. “Why didn’t you charge it? You could have charged it there, they have outlets at the mall. Or you could’ve used someone else’s, so you didn’t have to walk home in the rain, because you’re drenched.” 

“I don’t–”

“Y’know how dangerous it is to walk around alone in this shitty neighborhood? Half the street lights don’t even work, and I don’t even know any of my neighbors, or what kinda people walk around here at night.” He grumbles. “I shouldn’t have to tell you all this, I’m sick of explaining all this to you.”

You roll your eyes irritably, releasing yourself from his arms and crossing your own across your dripping wet torso. “How was I supposed to know he was gonna stand me up? You’re telling me I should just expect it?”

He blinks like a deer in headlights, silence settles into his flesh.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

You scoff. “It’s what you implied.” 

“It’s not what I—” He grumbles weakly under his breath, cutting himself off, deciding reasoning with you is somewhat of a useless attempt. “Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“What, charge my phone next time? Bring a raincoat? Yeah, great help, seriously, don’t know where I’d be without you,” your sarcasm hits like gunshot wounds to the teeth. 

“Or maybe you should try to meet actual people, instead of fake ones from some stupid website.” 

After a cold shiver bites up your spine, your expression deepens with defense. What is his fucking problem? “At least I try to get out of the house! At least I don’t spend every hour of every day moping around and feeling sorry for myself!” 

The pair of you fight, sure, every good relationship, friend or romance or family or whatever should, but nothing like this. This is stone-set, it’s been coming for a while, the wild gesticulations and the pacing and the raised voices. It shakes the bones of the weakened house. 

“Don’t,” Mike says with a furious edge, fists tightening and untightening like he’s about to take a swing at the wall, like this is going to end with bleeding knuckles nipped with shards of worn plaster. “Don’t throw that in my face, I do everything I can, for you and Abby. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“So what, you’re so fucking miserable in your own life that you have to try and control mine?”

“Control? You’re like my child! You don’t even know how to take care of yourself half the time, so yes, I try to help you not to make such shitty decisions!” 

You scowl. “You’re not obligated to do anything for me, y’know Mike. Why do you keep me around if I’m that much of a chore for you!”

He snaps, the tension in his fists bleeding up into his throat, his mouth, the words clot behind his gums and suddenly they tumble out in a fury-fueled shout. “Because you’ve got no one else!” 

You deflate, wilting like a flame without oxygen, and Mike deems the silence to be more cruel than anything else you’ve said to him tonight. He’s feeling everything and nothing all at once, the quiet crumbles around him like a burning building and he fears he’ll become rubble beneath the debris. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… god, just–” His eyes flick to you, and then retreat back down to the faded living room carpet. He can’t swallow his guilt this time. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“It’s fine,” you say coldly, knuckling away an angry tear. The salt water is the trick of nostalgia, you’ve cried like this so many times. Your breakage of those promises to yourself. It’ll be different. And it never is. 

“No. It’s not – I’m a dick, I just… I hate watching other people ruin your life. You deserve better.”

Better. What is better? Some twisted fantasy that some people are indulged with and others are left longing for. That you’re left longing for. You know he’s tired of the same bullshit that you force yourself through, convincing yourself of change, painting yourself up to be fit for presentation, and hoping that whoever you’ve leeched onto likes what they see, so you don’t have to feel so alone anymore. You’re oblivious, painfully so. Because Mike could plaster together the cracks in your splintering psyche, if you’d just let him in. 

“Whatever, Mike. It’s true anyway.”

There’s a hole in his heart in the shape of your name. He begs you. Fill it. A part of him shatters at the defeat in your words — he’s crumbled you to the bone, to the marrow. He’ll build you back up. You deserve it. 

“No it isn't. No it isn’t. You have me. You’ll always have me.” 

A silence pervades; the look in his eyes is one of pleading, that you’ll stop and see what he’s offering you, that you’ll stop chasing your own tail, that you’ll stop the cycle. 

“Mike…”

“And Abby.”

You indulge him. 

“You have me. And you have Abby. And I know that’s… not much, but she loves you. So much. And I’m sorry, ‘cause I know I don’t say it enough, I don’t…. I don’t say how much you mean to me, but I just—”

“Mike.” 

He wallows in the waters of your rain kissed eyes, the way your pupils pulse and the words are falling before he can swallow them back down. 

“I love you.”

He gives you that stare. That stare that’s the color of black coffee, the look that you can feel, unearthing the graveyard of wilting feelings you’ve tried to bury, the heart that beats for him him him, lodged between the ivory bars of your ribcage. He maps you out with his eyes, he looks at you the way the sun hungers for daybreak. 

He’s waiting. He’d wait forever. 

“And… and seeing you with these… shitty people who don’t even care about you, it just…” He sighs exasperatedly, dragging a sweaty palm down his face. 

His sentences can’t seem to finish themselves. This is harder than it looks in the movies. Harder than when he’s practiced in the mirror, when Abby’s walked in and giggled at him and told him to just fess up. 

“You love me? Like…”

He looks up at you like a kicked puppy. “Yeah. I do.”

You’re beyond bewildered. He loves you. He loves you. 

“What– but… you—”

“You don’t have to… say anything. I just, I can’t… I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t do it.”

You reach for his hand. It’s a little clammy, a little trembly, but it’s a perfect fit. Just like you. 

“I love you too, Mike.”

What?

“You… do?”

He’s skeptical, but he’s also swooning. A stone man is slowly cracking. 

“I just didn’t… didn’t think I could have you. I mean, you’re so… you’re everything, y’know? You’re a good brother, and you work so hard, and you’re… I’m just… I don’t think I deserve you,” you whisper, confessing. With a newfound stroke of confidence, he approaches, one hand snaking around to the small of your back, another on your cheek. He’s gentle. In his eyes, you’re porcelain. Precious. Fragile. At least, at this moment. But you love him too and that’s all he needs. It’s all he’s ever needed. 

“You deserve everything.” He says it so quietly it’s barely audible. And then, nothing is audible because he’s carefully pulling your lips to his, linking you in every way, his hands tangle into your damp hair and he’s kissing you. 

His lips chase yours in messy, uncalculated movements. He’s starting small. It’s been a while. And he’s gonna take his time with you. He’s gonna show you what you deserve. Soft sounds squeak past his lips as they flutter against yours, and you’re closer and closer and closer still, impossibly so. 

Within moments he’s whisking you off to his bedroom, his hand tangled with yours, an interlace tight enough to cause ropeburn. His skin chafes with yours, and then he’s kissing you again atop his navy comforter. 

He’s gentle, respectful, but you understand what he’s trying to tell you, what he’s been trying to tell you. He speaks through silken drags of his tongue, through the hand that holds your cheek steady— he feels as though he’s gripping the very cusp of a constellation. You taste like stardust. You glow like the waning moon. 

He breathes heavily in the expanse of his throat, his pants have become tight and wet and filthy; he’s been subconsciously grinding down into your lap. You’re a little shaky and your pupils have darkened with lust and he is going to show you what you mean to him. What you’ve been missing. 

His hand falls lower, into the slope of torso that dips into your hips. His eyes travel back and forth, searching, hunting for the desire that he feels mirrored back at him. Do you want this, the way he does? Do you? His hardened stare doesn’t speak loud enough. He elaborates.

“Can I… uh… do you wanna…?”

Do you want to? You need to. 

“Shit, okay,” he croaks out, jaw tense and tight as he traces you beneath calloused fingers. You didn’t realize you said that out loud. 

He’s endearingly awkward – you know from languid late-night conversations that he hasn’t done this a lot. Maybe even at all. But he’s sweet, so sweet, like lapping up sugar and feeling it dissolve on your tongue, feeling him dissolve on your tongue, giving you comfort and cavities. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks nervously, fiddling with the hem of your camisole. A short nod, and he’s sliding it over your sweat-pricked figure, admiring your contours in the whisper of evening moonlight that bleeds through holes in his moth-eaten curtains. You’re perfect, and he knew you would be. 

He caresses your skin gently, drunk on the mellow feeling of your bare stomach beneath his fingertips. Your bra is black, a little lace peering along the straps, your breasts spilling into the fabric. He reaches around your back, fumbling at the clasp. When the garment drops, his hands are replacing it before you can even blink. 

“Beautiful,” he manages to get out, thumbing over your nipples. 

“Mngh, Mike—”

“Sh. Just let me… just let me. Let me make you feel good. Please?” He grunts out under his breathless voice, and how could you deny such a request?

The moment you agree, he’s grabbing you by the thighs and tugging you towards him slightly, so your back is nearly flat against his mattress and he’s settling himself in the gap that you create for him. 

Your skirt comes off first. Your panties are undeniably soused, his fingers trace the big wet spot that’s dripping all for him, teasing you through torturously thin cotton. 

“Mike,” you mewl gently, fingers settling in his nest of chocolate curls that are damp with sweat. A firm tweak and he’s groaning, his voice melting away into nothing like hot tar. 

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles to himself, like he’s never seen anything like it. Probably not in a while. His finger hooks beneath the waistband, pulls it out gently, and lets it go. It slaps against your hip bone and another fresh sound seeps from your lips.  

“Mike, shit, please just do something—”

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than you, carefully sliding your panties from your waist, down past your ankles, and he’s tossing them to join the pile of clothes that has begun to collect on his bedroom floor. 

You’re here, before him. The girl he waited for. Your soft flesh is glistening, clenching painfully around nothing, and he’s salivating at the sight of you. He pries your legs out further with his warm hands, leaving them to linger on your bare flesh for a few drawn out moments, before he claims what’s rightfully his. 

He presses a trialing kiss to your clit, and your back curves delicately, fingers tightening their grasp in his hair. He moans into you at this action, and you, in turn, moan as well. Confidence creates itself in him with each little whimper that he gets you to release, and he’s answering back, hearing your cries, your calls of his name with his own unabashed exclamations of pleasure. This is just as good for him, as it is for you. 

“Mike,” you whine gently, and he’s mumbling weak praise right into your cunt. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanted this for so long.”

It’s barely audible between his languid sucks; he’s lapping at your drooling entrance, fingers subtly creeping closer, up and along your thighs and settling right above your throbbing clit. He presses his thumb against it, tracing sinful circles against your bud— once, twice, and then you’re far too close to the edge. 

“Oh, Mike I’m gonna come,” you choke out between gasps. 

“Do it. Please.”

He’s begging you. 

And you oblige. With a trembling sob, your thighs tense around his head, keeping him locked in place, capturing him and making sure he finishes the job, and oh does he plan to. When you soar, he’s still holding you in place, soothing the electric sparks pulsating throughout your body. 

He savors your sounds, and when they stop coming, he presses a lingering peck on your inner thigh, stubble scraping at the sensitive dermis. He then raises his face to your level, the light coruscating off the filthy souvenir etched all over his face, your glittering arousal that he wears so proudly. 

He steals a proper kiss from you, rubbing your side as a gentle comfort. He’s completely hard now, tenting his sweats, leaking against the fabric. You gingerly reach out, tracing what you assume to be the head of his cock, and he sags, boneless, against your touch. 

“Fuck, baby I—”

“Baby?” You chuckle softly, still hazed from the candy-coated afterglow of your orgasm. The first of many, he hopes. 

“Mngh— g… got a problem?” He grumbles softly, almost quivering as you begin to palm him with purpose.

“It’s out of character,” you tell him gently. 

“Shit, can I be inside you?” He asks you, voice ripped raw. 

And once again, Mike Schmidt leaves you breathless. 

“Yeah. I need it. I need you.”

He groans, slipping off his pants and boxers without so much as another word from your swollen lips. He’s hard, angrily so, his cock pulses violently and a little whimper escapes through the crack in his bitten lips when it slaps against his stomach. 

He’s stroking himself slowly, base to tip and then back again, collecting the pearls of precum that dribble from his slit. He’s never been so ready for something. For you. It’s all for you. 

He’s holding you, thumbing your hip bones and gently nudging himself into your hole, cooing at every cry that crawls from the crevices of your throat. When he bottoms out, finally, it’s safe to say that he gets a little dumb. “Oh, shit, I’m not— not gonna last long, you’re so tight, shit…” He’s rambling a little. It’s cute. 

A few wandering kisses land on you the way dandelion spores decorate a skyline – your cheek and your chin and your jaw, as he waits for you to let him move. You’re squeezing him for all he’s got and he’s three seconds away from spilling before he’s even so much as thrusted. You do this to him. 

All those days, staring into your eyes and wondering if you’d ever see him the way you do, all those nights, stroking your hair and softening your saddened sobs after failed date after failed date. They’re all worth it. 

You’re clamping down on him, warm and wet and wavering, and you’re exhaling softly through your nose and telling him to move, begging him to move, to make you feel good, and it’s what he does. 

He pumps into you with passion, magnetized to your every movement. He’s satisfying a decade worth of insatiable craving, he’s chasing your hips with his. You end where he begins. 

The headboard creaks and slams against thin plastered walls, one hand grips onto it with alabaster knuckles and the other one holds your hips for better leverage. He doesn’t need to say it, but each knocked kiss of his pelvis to yours is a silent I love you I love you I love you. 

“Oh my god Mike,” you sob, and he slides himself deeper, hitting everywhere he wants to reach. Everywhere to make you quiver beneath him.

“You d—don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he moans lowly. “How many times I’ve imagined you like— like this.”

He’s blabbering, every stray thought that passes through his head is already blossoming on his tongue and out into the air before he can even think twice. Admittedly, you’re too blissed out in your own mind to really respond, but it’s arousing all the same. 

“You’re so… so beautiful,” he’s flushed and he’s faltering, and you know he’s close before he even announces it. 

“Shit, baby, I can’t— can’t last much longer,” he stammers, his bruising pace beginning to shake. 

“Do it in me, Mike, please, please,” shit, are you trying to kill him? Your word is the only law he knows, and he’s wrapping his arms around your torso and diving his head in the elegant slope of your collarbone, biting down into the skin and spasming somewhere deep in your welcoming walls. 

He tries to keep himself quiet, but it’s really a futile effort. His hips jut sporadically as he empties himself inside you, and the sudden flood of subtle heat is all it takes for you to topple over as well. 

Bliss teeters back into reality after a seemingly ceaseless moment. He peels his head from its previous position to admire you, to stroke a stray lock of hair from your forehead and nervously greet it with a kiss.

He doesn’t let go of you. Not now, not ever, he thinks to himself. His arms snake around you tighter, and somehow it’s even more intimate after the fact. His bare chest collides with your back, his nose rests comfortably against the crown of your head. The pair of you follow each other into a dreamless sleep, safe in the sanctuary of a warm bed and an even warmer embrace. 

He’s found his new familiar. 

masterlist

✩‧₊

[spookykoolkat]

kinktober | the man in apartment 6a - j.m.

kinktober day three - dumbification

pairing: older!joel miller x younger!plus size!reader

wc: 9.0k

summary: your older, grumpier yet handy neighbor can hear everything that goes on in the comfort of your pink four walled bedroom, simply because shitty apartment buildings made the walls so thin.

warnings: 18+ ONLY! minors are NEVER welcomed. pervy!joel, creepy!joel, older!joel, JOEL IS WARNING IN HIMSELF LOL, mentions of self loathing, uncomfortable sex (not with joel), marijuana use, alcohol use, fingering, oral (f receiving), manhandling, degradation (slight), creampie/breeding, pet names (sweet girl, sweetheart, pretty girl, baby, dumb, stupid, daddy), a little bit of ass eating (whoops), raw penetration (p in v) *wrap it up pls*, aftercare

reblogs, likes and comments are very very appreciated!

⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧ °｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧

IT WAS A FRIDAY NIGHT, work was tired, and you needed to take the edge off with a fat blunt and a full glass of wine. it was so quiet in the apartment complex you lived in that you might be the loudest one there, since three of your neighbors are older than 50. 

so after you poured your bottle of wine into a glass, you turned your led lights under your coffee table on and the bulbs that are in your two lamps beside your couch. it was such a colorful scenery, you loved smoking and drinking like this with music or a movie on in the background. making sure to not turn the volume up too loud, or else joel would come knocking on your door asking you to turn it down. 

joel was your neighbor in 6a and to you he always seemed like he had a thorn stuck in his ass cheek. he was a bitter old man who seemed like he hated fun, or maybe he just hated you. 

but you didn’t care much. nothing was going to stop you from being you, being bubbly and optimistic. it makes no sense to you to sit solemnly and think about every wrong turn you’ve ever made, and yet it seems that’s all joel does. 

he was always on edge, noticing the way he would flinch meeting you as the two of you locked your doors and headed off to work. you watched him from your window when he walked into the complex up the stairs, and noticed how he always had his jaw and fists clenched, head whipping in every direction before seemingly slipping inside his apartment and locking up. 

it made you curious as to what made him so tense, so frustrated and even paranoid. you wished you were someone he could go to, to release all of his ugly emotions and thoughts onto you. maybe you were being young and naive, having irrational sex daydreams as you gathered your paraphernalia to roll a blunt. It was delusional, yes you knew that, but you couldn’t help but fantasize about your neighbor.

but you wanted him in every way. you didn’t care he was twice your age, and you didn’t care that he was about as introverted and mean as they come. he’s a real asshole. to you, you felt you were allowed these fantasies given he’d never be the type of man that would want you. i mean, you were young enough to be his daughter, and you weren’t so sure that he even liked bigger women.

shaking your thoughts of him, you hummed along to whatever song that was on your halloween playlist playing loudly. soon after it’s rolled, you spark it up and take hits of it as you throw your body back on the couch.

you feel at ease as you listen to your playlist and smoke your blunt, enjoying peace for a day. your hair was still wet from the shower you took, and your blunt was barely starting to form a good cherry when three bangs hit your door over the music that startled you. 

you take a few more hits trying to get the most out of your blunt and ash it out quickly, yelling a choked out, i’m coming!!, over the music. you get up with your wine glass, walking barefoot to the door and opening it as your eyes meet a broad chest in a button up black and gray flannel, buttoned over a plain white t-shirt. 

joel.

“uh, hey. what’s up?” you say, setting your glass down on your door side table. 

“you told me your toilet wasn’t workin’? didya need me to take a look?” he asked as he unsubtly soaked in your attire. shit. you completely forgot your piece of shit toilet stopped flushing. 

you noticeably had no bra on, and your tank top was resting at the curve of your waist with one strap off of your shoulder, showing off your plush body and midriff. he could almost see the hardening of your nipples when you opened the door. 

“oh, right. i thought you meant you could do it like, monday.” you said, wishing to just relax tonight. he shook his head and looked back over your body, before meeting your eyes. 

“i’m busy monday. it’s now or never,” he bargained with a hard tone and you rolled your eyes.

“of course, right, sorry. come in.” you said and moved out of the way to step inside your girly apartment. you went to your coffee table to grab the remote and turn the volume down a little on your tv. 

“the restroom is-,” you start to say and go towards it until he cuts you off. 

“i know where it is. i’ll be done in a bit,” he said coldly and you pressed your lips into a thin line. he renovated these apartments dumbass. 

“alright.” you said and let him go to the back hall to find the restroom, and you released a breath. 

you felt like you looked messy, you just got out of the shower and had no bra on, and didn’t have panties on either. you were embarrassed. 

it was a free night for you and he had to barge in. of course. you decided to grab your wine and sit down on the couch, eyeing the blunt wishing you could be smoking it right now. instead you sip on your wine and scroll on your phone for maybe thirty minutes until he calls out for you. 

“coming!” you replied a little too cheery, and walked to the back rooms to see him on his hands and knees trying to reach under the toilet with his tools sprawled out on your pink bath rug. 

joel tried to hide the smile that grew when he heard your eager voice.

“yeah?” you asked and blushed at his image. he looked so sexy with his eyebrows furrowed, even sexier looking so manly in such a pink room. His dark colored clothes made an exciting difference in your bathroom. 

joel quickly scaled you over, from your bare feet with black toenails up to your week old shaven legs, up your wide thighs, to the fat of your tummy and the curves of your breasts. 

“you think i can have me a water bottle?” he asked, and you smiled, completely unaware he was thinking of bending you over the sink and making you watch yourself take all of him.

joel had a teensy crush on you the second he saw you at his doorstep. 

you mustered up the strength to knock on two doors to be greeted by two elderly ladies, and introduce yourself as their neighbors while giving them cookies you baked for them. 

you figured it was the best way to gain their trust and familiarity as you were going to be living here for a while. and while it worked on them, you weren’t so sure about your last neighbor. you were nervous. you hated socializing and to introduce yourself as the new person in the area, but the last door you knocked on was one that truly ruined your day. 

the door swung open ferociously to present a tall broad figure with tan skin, eyes tired and hair all ruffled. you could tell he just woke up, and you instantly regretted it. the force of the door opening made you feel a gust of wind, and chills. 

you were taught it was common courtesy to introduce yourself when you’re new somewhere, though it didn’t seem he was happy to see you at his doorstep all cheery and energized.

“uh, hi, i’m your neighbor in 6C, i just moved in and i just wanted to introduce myself,” you said and told him your name, with a small smile. he kind of just looked at you blankly, adjusting his eyes to your figure and face. 

“i, uh i made cookies for everyone so, i thought i’d bring them by cus i just like to bake and i thought maybe it’d be a peace offering... it’s okay if not i just wanted to be nice,” you rambled looking into his brown eyes as you held the plate covered in foil out with your hands. he looked between the plate, you and next to him to look at the clock on his doorway table.  

you were nervous, tapping your fingers on the plate and biting the inside of your cheek. he was so handsome. so manly. 

“you’re knockin at my door at eight thirty in the morning ona saturday to give me some cookies?” he asked, making sure what was happening was real. it was a little comical to him, only seeing shit like this in the movies. but to him, you were cute. he knew he didn’t carry southern hospitality and kindness like most, like you.

“you don’t have to take them. just tryna be nice,” you mumbled and pulled your arms back, your texan accent almost as thick as his. 

“Mmhmm, well i don’t need no cookies this mornin’,” he said surely. it kind of pissed you off honestly. 

“forget about it,” you said and turned your head down, moving to the door next to his and opening it right before mumbling, “asshole,” and slamming your door shut.

you were just so cute, so lively that he was drawn to you. it was odd because joel’s taste in women usually ranged, but he’d never been so drawn to a woman who seemed so eager to take on the world everyday. joel wasn’t used to seeing people so happy to leave the comfort of their homes to go into the city and interact with people, he wasn’t used to people making small talk as you fetch the mail at the same time. but that was you. 

he would just shake you off, mumble words to get you to stop being so cheerful and kind. he didn’t want you to waste your time on him, he didn’t deserve your kindness. you heard the small comments. 

“so damn pink,” 

“ya have to hum all the way down four flights of stairs?”

“you ever not dressed in glitter and ponies?” 

which he over exaggerated, you just liked pink. you would ignore the mean comments, and you would force yourself to remember that he is a man of cutting down trees and building houses with his bare hands. whatever you think is manly, he is. he wore nothing but dark colors, denim, work boots, and still had the iphone eight which seemed like it was forced on him. 

but this is the first time he spoke to you remotely nice, and asked you for anything. 

“yeah, uh do you want like, ice or just room temp?” you asked a bit embarrassed, wondering if that was a dumb question to ask. and a small, very small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth but it was so slight you almost gaslit yourself into seeing it. 

“don’t matter sweetheart, whatever ya wanna get me,” he said and went back to doing whatever it was he was doing. 

your tummy just fluttered at the small pet name as you pushed yourself off the door frame and moved to the kitchen.

never did you ever think you would hear a word like that come out of his mouth when referring to you.

you grabbed a water bottle and grabbed some ice chips with a scoop to pour it into a tall thermos. you took it straight to joel, and he faced you as you leaned down a bit to hand him the cup. from your stance, he could practically see down your shirt but only stole a small glance. 

you couldn’t notice, you were just excited to do something nice for him. 

“you need anything else?” you asked with your hands behind your back, your chest poking out a bit more and the light made it easy to see your nipples against the cloth. 

“nah, i got all i need, you can go relax.” he said and went back to work as you walked off. 

you wondered if there was a softness to his voice as you sat back down on the couch, turning your music up a little bit but not loud enough to get bitched at by joel. you figured he’d might be here for a bit given his outbursts of cursing because something wasn’t working with him, so you grabbed your blunt and lit it again. this was your apartment. 

joel was frustrated enough from the stupid toilet. a bolt kept untightening every time he tried to flush, and it pissed him off enough but kept him busy as he smelled the scent of strong weed filling his nose. he knew he smelled it when he walked in, but now he can smell the smoke and hear your muffled coughs every once and a while.

he was actually a bit surprised, for some reason you didn’t seem like the type to partake. he knows in his days he did, so he wasn’t judging you at all, it just didn’t seem like something a girl like you would do. you seemed so… behaved.

he ended up managing to find the bolt he was looking for because it fell somewhere and skidded across the restroom floor. 

joel didn’t mind working on things for the neighbors in his complex, he was really the only one that was able to fix almost everything in sight. he was never bothered by it either, in the back of his mind he wanted to feel like he was needed. like he could do some type of good for people even if he was closed off and cold. his hands were godsend, and in many ways. 

but he’d always see things maybe the resident wouldn’t want him to see, like a box of condoms or a sex toy. it didn’t bother him, he’d just ignore it.

but here he was, still and frozen as he finally found the bolt laying on a pair of red panties that were laid on your floor like you just had these on. and you did. 

you managed to get all of your clothes in the hamper except the pair of panties you had on, you actually thought maybe it was in the tangles of your clothes. but no. there they were, and he was on his way to losing his mind. he couldn’t move, he just stared at the red high cut panties that even had a black bow on the trim. 

he couldn’t stop himself. before he knew it, he grabbed your underwear and almost inspected them quickly before taking them, pushing the fabric into his nose and breathing in your musk, and folding them to put in his back pocket. he felt drunk on you already. he knew it was wrong, he knew he was probably a sick man. but he needed something from you, anything. 

the opportunity showed itself, he just took it. 

now, he still smelled you lingering on his nose, and imagined what your pussy looked like puffy and red for him. he wanted to fill you up completely and fuck you until you were sore and throbbing, he wanted to see those cute little glossy lips of yours kissing the tip of his cock and taking it in your throat like a fleshlight. 

you were just perfect. so much for him to grab, kiss, and mark. he wanted your eyes to watch him devour you whole, and he craved to watch you break for him.

he knew he was a creep. he didn’t care. joel never acted on his desires and his pervy ways, until now, when really he wanted to do it all. whenever you came out to the mailboxes the same time as he did, he wanted to get his phone and sneak pictures of you, under your skirts more specifically. 

he was thinking of if you’ve ever fucked yourself here in this very restroom he’s crouched in, thinking of the way your leg would lift to rest on some vantage point, fingering your hole until you fought to stand upright again. he imagined you walking in a little white towel back to your room, drying off and getting dressed in front of him. his cock was throbbing at the image, pairing it with the image of the red panties he stole. 

he couldn’t work like this, not thinking of all of the ways he wanted to make you whine, make you squirm, make you cum. 

he finally managed to fix the problem after 30 minutes and flushing once to test, smiling at his success. it was always satisfying seeing something broken be fixed, he was a problem solver, he loved the challenge. he cleaned up his area and picked up his tools, putting them in the bag and fixing himself before he washed his hands and wiped them down with a towel, leaving the restroom to see you puffing a small roach of your blunt. 

“y’know you shouldn’t be smokin in here,” he said and you jumped a bit, exhaling the last bit of smoke and ashing it out in your ashtray. you just looked at him with a small smile, but realizing this is your apartment. he can’t tell you what to do. 

“oh, well i mean, i thought… i mean it’s my apartment, so,” you said as you blushed, feeling like you’re in trouble now. 

“don’t worry yourself, darlin’. i ain’t gonna tell on you,” he suggested and you blushed, somehow even more. 

“would you want like, a drink? the least i can do,” you said as you grabbed a dos equis from your fridge and walked up to him, handing it to him. he was hesitant at first, really in deep thought about whether he should accept this or not. was it opening a door? he hoped so. 

“thanks,” he said and took it from you, not looking at the green bottle at all. he put his tools down on the small table you had in your kitchen and followed you to sit on the loveseat on the right side of the living room. 

“it’s joel by the way, no one calls me mr. miller,” he said as he took a swig. you nodded and responded ohh, moving to drink more of your wine. you ended up changing your music to a horror movie and kept your eyes trained on that instead of his eyes. you felt him watching you, every breath you took, every blink, every lip bite. 

“so who lived here before me?” you asked to break the silence, looking to him from the movie. his eyes were already on you, you just met them. you figured you’d make some sort of conversation if he was going to sit there and drink a beer. who drinks together silently? 

“nother’ older lady, she was a good neighbor,” he trailed and drank from his beer. you quirked your eyebrows, drinking from the wine glass and keeping it by your side. 

“am i not a good neighbor?” you asked sweetly, genuinely curious. he refrained himself from getting up from his seat and showing how good of a neighbor you really were to him. 

“you are, just a little loud from time to time.” he admitted, more so talking about your unsatisfying experiences with the men you bring him. 

“am i? i’m sorry, i’ll try to keep it down,” you said softly, almost embarrassed and you looked at your fingers tapping on the rim of the wine glass. 

“s’alright, it ain’t too distracting.” he lied. of course it was distracting. he was begging to know what you sounded like when you were really enjoying yourself, how you looked under him and on top of him. how he imagined you in his room instead. 

“still, i don’t wanna be that neighbor that’s annoying,” you said and looked back up at him to where he’s sitting. “i feel like you hate me.” you finished. 

he doesn't blame you. he doesn't make it easy for people to know him, or make a nice impression firsthand. he kind of feels bad for making you feel like that. but he was just not that friendly honestly, not that nice and not that comforting. at least he felt he was. he didn’t know how to be. 

“it’s nothin’ personal,” he said and drank from his bottle again, letting his eyes trail over your body. you felt it, hell you saw it, and you still squirmed. 

“i prefer to be by myself.” he said and you nodded, but he was still watching you. 

“i see. i understand now, sorry for imposing most of the time.” you say with an apologetic smile, and he kind of smiled. it shocked you really to see any emotion other than anger and discomfort displayed on his face.

“you don’t bother me, not one bit.” he said to reassure you, but he wanted you to know you did far more than “bothering” him. you just smiled, blushing a bit at his confession.

“so is it just you living here?” you asked and saw his face look a little pained, and again you regret opening your mouth. 

“uh, no actually. i have a sixteen year old i sort of adopted. just me and my daughter.” he said and you were a little shocked. how did you never manage to see her? or hear her?

“she goes on her own a lot, friends places, parties. i know she can handle herself so, she has my number if anything happens.” he answered your internal questions. 

“that’s really sweet. i wished my parents did that. i kind of had to move away from them’ after i graduated. m’ not really on speaking’ terms with any of my family.” you admitted a little sadly, even though he didn’t ask.  you seemed as though you could talk for hours if no one shut you up. 

“i’m sorry to hear that,darlin’,” he said and continued to drink his beer until he finished it. 

“it’s fine, i’m a lot happier now than i was before.” you said with a small smile, and drank from your wine glass. joel was glad you took the attention off of him and his daughter, not asking any questions about his situation. he appreciated it. 

he just nodded, finishing his beer as you finished your wine and suddenly you were nervous. again. it was just you and him, in this colorfully lit room. you looked at him as he got up, and walked to the kitchen to grab his tools. no no wait wait you can’t leave, not yet. 

“thank ya for the hospitality, i should go,” he said coldly and you almost scrambled to your feet to step in front of him. 

“um, wait uh,” you tried to think of an excuse. anything. something to keep him here a little longer. he looked down at you, how flustered you were, how you looked like you were trying to come up with an excuse. you really even didn’t think it through, you were just acting on the pulsing in your shorts.

but suddenly, you got a bit insecure. you didn’t know joel’s type, and you wondered what the outcome would be of throwing yourself at him. 

“yeah?” he asked and tilted his head, curious as to what you had to say. truth is, he didn’t wanna leave either. how could he wanna leave when you looked so desirable right now? he couldn’t even feel bad that he was practically 20 years older than you, he wanted to ruin you. 

“um, nothing, m’ sorry.” you said. you admitted defeat. there was nothing you could’ve said or done to make him stay, at least that's what you thought. 

“have a good night,” you said and he repeated it to you. you walked him out, shutting the door behind him. 

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joel was still awake after his shower. not by choice. he was laying in his bed, checking the time on his clock that flashes at 2:30am, and back at the wall that connects the two of you. were you seriously this unaware at how loud you were? 

he was thanking god that ellie wasn’t home, so she wouldn’t be hearing any of this either. but he was also wondering if you were even enjoying yourself in the first place. 

after joel left, you felt this aching feeling that you couldn’t satisfy yourself so you just called a friend over. one that you really don’t know, and you don’t care about, but one that wanted to have sex with you just as bad as you wanted to have sex with joel. 

one thing led to another and there you are once again, laying in bed as this guy poorly ate you out and uncomfortably fingered you. it just didn’t feel right, and at this point you were hoping he was done. your fake moans rang through the apartment again, wondering if you were over or under selling it. to the lanky guy between your legs, you were selling it just fine. 

you even tried thinking of joel being the one sliding into you as this guy did, but you doubted he'd be this painfully terrible at sex. it didn’t feel enjoyable, it just felt like blindly jabbing at your cervix. not even 10 minutes later, that man is out your door and you're back in bed, feeling miserable with yourself. 

you wanted for once to have a good sexual encounter, constantly feeling ugly and used. these men didn’t even care about you and didn’t care if you were satisfied, and you hated yourself for it. the physical intimacy you wanted seemed like it was something you wouldn’t be able to find. 

you craved a man’s touch even if you hated it or not, maybe blaming it on your daddy issues or just blaming the fact that you looked for the wrong things in the wrong thing. you wanted comfort and protection and looked for it in sex. 

you wanted joel. you wanted him since you moved in despite him being a dick. you wanted to know how it felt to be protected by him, to be held by him, to be wanted by him. and you wanted it so bad, you started crying. loudly, at that. 

in the moment, joel felt like he was imposing on your privacy. he felt bad listening to your muffled cries like this, and he wanted to do everything he could to help you. he knew so little about your family situation, but to him you had no family. he never saw you with friends, he only saw you with a new man every week. he wanted to comfort you, to show you that he and you were more alike than you thought.

he heard it stop for about twenty minutes all of the sudden, and then something bump into the wall he was staring at. then, it started again.  

you just laid there after your shower, now softly crying and sniffling as you heard a soft knocking on your front door. you got a little scared, so you wiped your tears fast and slipped on the shorts you had on to go open your door. it was dark in the main room, only a small orange lighting shining in front of your windows. you even noticed finally that it was actually pouring rain outside.

“who is it?” you said a little loudly, too nervous to peek through the hole. you fiddled with your polished black nails before the person answered. 

“it’s joel,” he said and you paused. 

“joel?” you asked. 

 you quickly unlocked your door to open it enough to peek your head out. 

“what are you doing here?” you asked, looking up at him. you scanned over his attire, now barefoot and in a simple black shirt and pajama pants. his head was whipping right and left, seeing if anyone else was in the hall to see him. 

now, he was the one that was nervous. what was he doing here? what did he think was going to happen? if he played it right, everything he ever wanted. 

“can i come in?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck and you gulp, opening the door wider to allow his broad figure in your home. your eyes were trained down, refusing to let him look at you. 

“can i get you something? water?” you asked, still not facing him and turning a lamp on next to your couch and moving past him until he grabs your wrist firmly. you still, and you have no choice but to look at him with your bloodshot eyes. 

“i can hear, y’know,” he said, paying attention to your tear stained face as you slowly looked up to him. 

“hear? hear what?” you said unknowingly. 

“everything. i can hear the guys you bring home, i can hear you moanin’, i can hear you cryin’,” he said, pulling you closer to him. by now you were almost to his chest as he grabbed your other wrist and held you tight. 

“i-,” you began but you felt humiliated. you didn’t realize he could really hear everything, that he heard everything that transpired in your room tonight. 

“did he make you cry?” he asked grimly, his eyes dark and his stare serious.

he wasn’t squeezing hard enough to hurt you, your breath just caught in your throat because you were nervous. nervous to admit to anything. 

“no, he didn’t, he didn’t do anything to me,” you said and looked down at his hands gripping your flesh. 

“it doesn’t matter. i’m just really sorry, i didn’t know that’s what you meant earlier. i’m sorry it won’t happen again.” you apologized with tears in your eyes. the guy who you fucked wasn’t even worth all of this embarrassment that flooded you. 

“then why’re you cryin, sweet girl?” he asked, moving his hand to your chin so you can look up at him. 

“i, it’s nothing, i’m sorry for waking you up,” you said and blinked your tears away, your hands falling to your side when he released you. you just stood there though, his hand on your cheek while his thumb rubbed circles into your face. 

“it ain’t nothin. he wasn’t makin’ you feel good? made you feel bad?” his southern accent was thick in this tone, but for some reason you felt at ease. better now that he was here. 

“he made me feel bad,” you were too nervous to lie, he already heard you through the wall. 

“i know, baby, i know,” he said. you really couldn’t move, the words coming from his mouth were insane to you. you couldn’t fathom the fact that he was talking like this, to you. his hands slid to grip your hips, to feel the way they curve into your waist, resting at the small of your back so that now you’re pressed against his body. 

“i never hated ya,” he said, his face getting closer to yours to where you could feel his breath on your lips. while your breathing was faltered and shaky, his was calm and collected. he wasn’t nervous anymore, he was determined. 

“actually, i think i like you more than i’d like t’ admit,” he whispered, moving his lips to your ear and your neck. 

“what are you talkin’ about?” you breathed. your arms just went slack, you didn’t know what to do with them, if you should finally touch him and feel his hard chest, feel his body the way he feels yours, or if you just want to accept that this is a dream. 

you finally move your hands to his waist and grip tightly onto his shirt, almost like if you let go you’ll fall. 

“i know you feel the same, darlin’. i can hear you, remember? i can hear you callin’ for me, moanin’ for me when you touch yourself.” your breath shook slightly and he smiled against your neck, moving his hands up your back. 

and the only thing you can say, that your brain can think of, is to apologize. 

“none of that, don’t do that. tell me sweetheart, do ya want me to make you feel good?” he asked, and you pulled his body closer to yours. 

“do, um, do you want to do that?” you were so unsure of all this. did he truly like you? did he truly find you attractive? you never failed to question men’s sincerity, was this just for pleasure or was this emotional? 

“my sweet baby, if i ever say no to you like that, i’ve gone fuckin’ senile,” he groaned against your neck. 

“y’know how many times i've thought about being between these legs of yours?” there was nothing else that could’ve made you as wet as you were right now, you heard the roughness of his texas accent, the lust mixing with desire. he wanted nothing but you. 

“been wantin’ t’ ruin those little skirts you wear. jus’ wanna watch you fall apart on my cock,” your eyes widened and you felt a pool of arousal coat your cunt. you’d never been talked to like this, the crudeness of his words sliced whatever tension there was, and you gave in.

his lips moved down your neck and to your chest as you pant against him, your body pressed into a wall near the hallway that leads to your bedroom and restroom. he pressed against you enough so you could feel the hardening bulge on your thigh and he could feel the softness of your breasts pushed into him. while kissing your neck and shoulder, he moved your hand to feel his hardness while grunting a bit into your skin. 

“you feel what ya do to me? you see how i get for ya?” he asked, and you whimpered a bit feeling how large he really was through his pajama pants. he pulled away from you a bit and looked down at his hand on top of yours, your own hand voluntarily softly massaging his cock. 

“fuck, sweetheart, you know,” he cooed, smoothing your hair down and grabbing the nape of your neck to crane it back, “you know exactly what that pretty face does to me,” 

he tilted your head to look at him, to be close enough to his face to feel his breath on your face. 

“tell me you want me, honey,” he said sweetly, looking between your eyes and your lips. you just kept your eyes on his while he examined you. 

“i, i want you,” you said in a whisper and blushed. joel smiled to himself, another smile you’d never seen, and slid down against your body and grabbed the back of your thighs, urging you to jump and instinctively you did. 

only he made you forget you were three times the size of a skinny woman. 

“joel, wait i’m too heavy for this wait,” you said but he stayed put, didn’t move, didn’t talk. he just stared at you. 

“ain’t no such thing as too heavy, princess, i’ll still pick you up and fuck you stupid,” he assured, playfully tapping your ass as he carried you all the way to your room, laying you on your back. you swore he could feel the pulsing of your cunt against his abdomen. 

he brought you to your room, dark and quiet with the help of your small lamp illuminating your face as he laid you down on your back, falling with you. 

“gonna let me see you, baby? let me see all of this,” he said lowly, crawling to straddle you and put his hands on your tummy, groping and massaging. 

“i-,” you said, out of breath already and joel smirked. he was loving you like this. so dumb and innocent for him. 

“you’re jus’ the sweetest little thing, baby,” he said as his eyes roamed your body. “gotta use your words, baby, let me hear that pretty voice, tell me what you want,” he said again. 

“touch me, anywhere, p-please,” you whimpered out enough and he hummed in satisfaction. 

his fingers creeped up your stomach, leaving a burn with their trail and acted like he was going to help you out of it, but instead he bends down and grips the center of your tank top with two hands and careful to not hurt you, but fast and swift, he rips the weak cloth in half. 

“what, joel oh-” you said and joel’s fingers wrapped around your throat with no pressure, and held you in place as his eyes trailed over your body again, his other hand roughly moved the two halves of your tank to either side. 

“what did he do that you didn’t like, baby?” he asked you as he stayed on top, playing with your breasts by squeezing and pushing them together, only thinking impurely about you. 

you couldn’t think of anything as he felt you up as he pleased, his calloused hands rubbing your smooth skin, tugging and pinching your nipples to watch them harden and extend just for him. 

“just,” 

“he, ugh,” 

he laughs. “can’t even talk while i play with these pretty titties? goin’ dumb already baby?” 

“mmmph,” you couldn’t muster any words. it was a new feeling, feeling lightheaded and only drunk off of joel. 

“please, fuck me,” you whimpered, moving your hands to play with his waistband and try to tug at it. but he stopped you quickly, never letting you even grab a hold of the fabric when he grabs your wrists. 

“need you to tell me exactly what you want, can you do that?” he asked you and you whined, squirming with his hands still locking you in place. 

you looked up at him, his eyes only on yours and his cock straining against his pajama pants. “fingers,” 

it’s all you mustered and he accepted it, moving down a little to move his fingers down into your panties and spreading your legs with his. his fingers immediately felt heat when he spread your cunt and moved down to your hole, teasing and prodding in your arousal. 

“baby’s so wet for me, yeah? you ever thought about me, honey?” he asked you as he looked between you and where his fingers hid in your shorts, waiting for an answer. you were a whimpering mess, soft breaths and pants falling from your lips with every touch. 

“mhm,” you mustered, clenching your eyes shut when his middle finger circled your hole and pushed his palm against your clit, “always wanted you,” 

if you weren’t so dizzy, you probably would’ve scorned yourself for saying that. but he was amused, moving his scruffy cheek to glide against yours and leave kissing on your neck. 

“thought about you too, pretty girl. just so damn cute all the fuckin’ time, couldn’t stop thinkin’ about how you’d look taking my cock,” you whined at his words, trying to shut your legs to stop the pressure but he just shook his head and pried them apart. your hands were tight on his wrist, begging him to let up as he fucks you with two fingers and uses your slick to rub circles over your clit. 

“r-really?” you asked through choked moans, your body lifting up to watch him finger you. he chuckled softly, “yeah, sweetheart. can’t stop thinkin’ about ya,” 

he pauses before taking your shorts and panties off quickly, spreading your legs further and throwing them over his own spread thighs you went back to gripping at your sheets, your body responding to every touch as he spread your cunt even more and spit on it. 

“you want me to fuck this pretty hole, baby?” he asked, watching your slick cover his hand as he curled his fingers inside of you. you were a mess, incoherent, making sounds and guttural noises as he brought you closer to your edge. all you could do was nod erratically and try to close your legs. 

“i’m gonna need you to cum for me then, sweetheart. needa’ see this little cunt cum for me,” he growled, his other hand pulling his pajama pants down, easily taking them off. 

“i, i-,” you choked, your chest tight as you watched him abuse your pussy and watched as his eyes flashed quickly. he managed to lift your lower half up in the air by your ass cheeks, bringing your core to his mouth and pulling you closer to him so he could taste you. 

“daddy,” you moaned as he pulled away with a harsh breath. 

“‘s that right? that’s what you like, baby? want daddy to make you feel real good? go fuckin’ stupid on my cock?” he taunted, his words making your stomach flutter and your clit throb. 

you whimpered a small yes, but you couldn’t think. you’d say yes to anything he offered. you’d take anything he gave you. he didn’t even have to ask, you wanted him to give you anything he wanted. he went back to lapping at your cunt, slurping up any of your juices that ran down your crack, licking at your unused hole that puckered for him. 

it was a new feeling, something no one had done but the way he lapped at both holes made your orgasm build ten times faster, and soon you felt it creeping down your shoulders and sending a cold chill down to your toes. it was blinding, the noises you made were yelps and gasps as if the air had been knocked out of you. 

your entire body shook within his grasp and his mouth never let go of your overstimulated bud, sending more of your juices to leak out of you nonstop. joel wasted no time to lick you all up and manage to strip naked, watching your body go through aftershocks of your orgasm and smiling. 

“pretty girl, such a fuckin’ pretty girl,” he cooed, crawling between your legs again and grabbing you by your waist, flipping you onto tour tummy and chest as he helps you move to steady yourself on your knees. 

“you’d let me do whatever i want to ya, ain’t that right princess?” his voice was like velvet, making you feel warm all over as you pushed your ass into his groin. you whimpered as you felt his hardness against your cunt and you wiggled your hips, making joel laugh a little and slap your ass. 

“so eager too, huh?” all you could do was nod into the pillow, using your forearms to fold under it and hold your head up. the arch in your back was exaggerated, but you wanted him to be able to get the best leverage on you. 

he gripped your hips tight like you were going to leave him, and spread your asscheeks to see both holes shining for him. 

“tell me you want me, can you do that for me?” he asked condescendingly and you hummed, drunk off him grabbing your ass to pull your cheeks apart and watch as they jiggle. 

“i want you,” you muffled, your voice not sounding recognizable. it was hoarse, from moaning and crying and was about to get even more raspy. 

“good girl, you tell me if you want me to stop yeah?” 

“no! please,” you clung onto whatever he was giving you, “i want it, all of it, please,” you cried for him. 

he spits down on your asshole and watches it slip down to your cunt, and he positioned himself at your hole as he keeps your ass spread apart for him. 

“so fuckin’ messy, such a sweet cunt for me,” he moaned as he pushed the head of his cock inside, making you whimper at the small stretch. you didn’t think he could stretch you anymore, until he sunk deeper into your hole and made you start gasping for air. 

“what baby? is it too much? can’t take daddy’s cock?” he taunted behind you as your weak arms went from under the pillow to trying to push his thighs back. unfortunately with your strength, it was no use and only gave him incentive to pin both your arms behind your back, right where your back arched. 

you could feel your drool leaking onto the pillow as he slid slowly into you, not stopping until you felt his balls hit against your cunt. your legs were already trembling from his sheer size, making joel put one hand on the fat of your hip to steady you and one hand on your wrists. 

he started to pull out again, just to slide back in and repeat the movement as he slowly started to speed up the pace. you could hear faint groaning and the sound of your slick gathering on his cock, the wetness being the only noise that was distinct. 

it was pain and pleasure balled into one as he kept gliding in and out of you, feeling your walls tighten and release around him the faster he went. you felt each thrust make your body lurch forward, pushing your face into the pillow as he kept his relentlessness up. 

“oh, baby you feel so fuckin’ good, so good for me,” he groaned. he grabbed both your wrists with his hands and yanked your body up off the mattress so that your breasts are exposed for him. he takes advantage of the space between you and bed, and pulls you even further up to press you against his chest. 

“keep makin’ those pretty sounds for me, makes me wanna ruin this little pussy even more,” he grinned against your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, and you threw your arms back to grab onto his hair and head. you needed something to balance yourself now that you were standing on your knees, and being fucked into like you weighed absolutely nothing. 

“d-, fuck, i can’t,” you choked through a loud moan, one that made joel grunt as he fucked into you harder. he wasn’t doing small strokes, he was pulling out almost all the way and slamming back into you in a way that sent pain to your cervix, but pressure on your clit begging to be released. 

“can’t what princess? can’t think? i know baby, gettin’ fucked so good you can’t even talk,” he chuckled, moving his hand to grab at your breast and knead your flesh. his hands molded onto your body like they were made to fit you, but all your mind could focus on was the sound of his skin slapping against yours. 

joel knew you were going dumb already, not expecting answers from you as that would just be cruel. he wanted to make you feel good, and the way your spit covered your chin and your mouth fell open but hardly any noise was making its way out, he knew he was doing a damn good job. 

“hear that, baby? such a fuckin’ pretty mess, you like soakin’ my cock like that? so damn wet, so fuckin’ tight,” you couldn’t get enough of his words when he plucked at your nipple, teasing and pinching to get you closer and closer. 

“s-so big, m’ so full,” you cried and he smiled again, holding you closer than ever as he wallowed in your voice. 

“my baby’s full of me, full of my cock,” he repeated, never slowing down as he pulled out just to push all of him back into you at once. he was in love with how you felt, he even felt like he was losing his train of thought at you let out deep moans that made his cock jerk inside of you. 

“‘s okay baby, you look so cute all fucked out like this, can’t even fuckin’ breathe can ya?” he asked and you shook your head no, reminding yourself to unclench your chest so you could let in a good breath. he heard it, and rubbed up your chest to grip your throat, which elicited a harsh whimper. 

his other hand traveled down your body, past your larger stomach and reached down to your cunt. he used the slick between your lips after stuffing them in your mouth and started to rub circles over your nub, making you squirm and wiggle against his body. 

“uhn-uh, thought you liked takin’ my cock like a slut? take it, baby.” you couldn’t even move if you wanted to, wanting to fuck back on his cock and meet his thrusts. you were almost empty headed, words sounding like words but not being able to form them yourself. 

“there you go, take it all baby it’s yours,” he repeated as he watched you grab onto his arm that held you by the neck and let him ravage you like no other. he was the animal, and you were his prey. 

the feeling of his thick cock ramming you, splitting you open while he fingers worked your clit makes you throw your head back on his shoulder and shut your eyes strongly. it was blinding, the pleasure you felt that he inflicted, and you felt yourself clenching your entire body as your orgasm reached its peak. it’s all you focused on. his hands grabbing you everywhere, soaking you in as he pushed your thick body into his chest and managed to lay on his back. he let our body fall onto his and held you up like that, his hands spreading your legs as you tried to sit up on your hands. 

you couldn’t, of course, couldn’t even think about how he changed positions so quickly, or if you were too heavy for him. your body was limp as he held you open, his thrusts becoming harsher and faster as he fucked into you. 

“m gonna, j-joel, gonna cum, gonna cum, m’ gonna cum,” you chanted in a strained whine, one that sounded needy for him. one of his hands lets go of your leg and rests his palm on your forehead, pulling you back to his shoulder so he can kiss along your jaw and neck. 

“cum for me baby, such a dumb fuckin' slut, taking my cock like you were made f’ it,” he was so insulting, so degrading, but the feeling of losing your autonomy so he can fuck you like you deserved made it even sexier for you. you didn’t know your neighbor felt this way for you, that he’d been wanting to feel you and have you like this. it was exhilarating and when you finally let go, when the ringing in your ears started and every muscle in your body tightened just to go slack again, you realized how much you’d been missing. 

you’d never been fucked to the point of silence, nothing but quiet moans and strained breathing falling out of your lips because you couldn’t think, and as joel holds you by wrapping an arm around the thickness of your tummy and letting you close your legs to alleviate the intensity, he whispers nothing but dirty things in your ear. the shaking never stopped, even as joel started to reach his peak. 

“such a pretty girl,”

“love watchin’ you go dumb on my cock,” 

“gonna fill this cunt with my cum, ya want that sweetheart?”

“can’t even talk, such a dirty fuckin’ whore,”

you were mumbling, blabbering, making noises that couldn’t even be registered as noises as his hips slammed against your ass lazily. you feel it the minute he empties inside of you because he holds you even closer than before, stilling your moving hips and you feel the heat of the white ropes that cover your walls. it was so dirty, so messy, so filthy that you wouldn’t be surprised if you were embarrassed after this. you were still mindlessly groaning, humming as your orgasm buzzed through your body and the feeling of his cum trying to push its way out. 

you both lay there, breathless, sticky and with joel still buried inside of you.

“i have… i have to get off,” you breathed out, coming back to the sense of reality. the air in your room felt cold, pricking at your skin like needles. the sweat didn’t help either. 

“no ya don’t,” he said, only to hold you tighter. 

“joel, i’m like crushing you,” you tried to wiggle out of his grasp and he just gave a quick slap to your cunt, making you jolt and still. 

“don’t be ridiculous, ya need me to show you exactly how strong i am or are ya gonna take my word for it?” he warned and you swallowed, blinking at the ceiling before you turn your head to look at the side of his face before he turns his head to look at you. still, the back of your head rested on his shoulder and your legs were between his.

“i can’t even move, joel,” you said in a smile and he laughed, leaning in to kiss your forehead and over your face. 

“i’ll help ya with that.” 

joel proved once again that he was strong enough to pick you up, because he carried you bridal style to the restroom and got a bath ready for you, joining in to help clean you up and massage your muscles. you were dazed, so entirely fucked out that you let him do whatever he needed to do with you to get you into bed. and he didn’t seem to mind, because after taking care of you he got to snuggle in the same bed he made you drool in. 

he let you cuddle into him all you wanted, wrapping your arms and legs around him to bury your face in the shirt he put on. even though it was your bedsheets and your body wash he used, he still smelled like joel. and it was all you needed, ironically the man you longed for to make you feel good was the man who stayed in 6a.

[fairytale-poll]

SEMIFINAL ROUND, MATCH 2 OUT OF 2!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Miss Piggy:

In the movie, she pretends to be Lady Holiday and when her identity is revealed is leaves on of her shoes there cinderella style.

Cinders:

She spent decades searching every moon and planet trying to find her wife (Rose), who was kidnapped on their wedding day. Eventually, she found Rose, and they embraced, only for Rose to die in Cinder’s arms. And so Cinder killed the king who had kidnapped Rose by punching through his chest and into his heart.

And then Cinder got a somewhat happy ending, in which she met Rose’s clone who had Rose’s memories.

What if Cinderella was a Sci-Fi lesbian? Well here she is. She has a whole love song about searching the stars for her girlfriend after their wedding was interrupted and she was taken away. She spends years searching only to when she finally finds and embraces her watch her be shot. Cinders is so devastated by this that she plunges her wedding ring into the heart of the man who shot her love killing him.

Lesbian space princess who elopes with the terrifying soldier who was previously conquering her planet and spends decades searching for her when they’re separated. Listen to her song https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=6w9V-gMgBF4

I think the way she punches the evil king through the heart as revenge for her wife is pretty neat.

She’s a revolutionary married to a woman, what’s not to love? From Cinders’ Song: “ When I was a little girl, my mother always told me / “Someday your prince will come, my love” / But as I grew, I knew it was a princess who would hold me”.

her girlfriend got cloned and most of said clones were brutally slaughtered in war and she searched for her girlfriend all throughout the galaxy and when they were finally reunited on the battlefield her girlfriend died. and a clone of her girlfriend who due to technical errors retained her memories, so does that count as the same girlfriend? theseus’s girlfriend? anyway vote for cinders she’s been through hell

Lesbian!! Has to search for her lost love Rose with her glass wedding ring that changes color when its near its partner!! Gets to embrace Rose once again for one final moment before the villain kills Rose right in front of her!! So Cinders kills him in return!! And she’s left as (almost) the only surviving main character from her own album but!! She is eventually reunited with a clone of Rose, and while they cannot have a truly ‘happy ever after’ together they are the ones graced with the closest thing to it

SPACE LESBIANS (she’s in love with Rose Red, who gets kidnapped on their wedding day and Cinders searches the galaxy to find her, waiting for her white ring to turn crimson, indicating that its twin was near) She took her name from the ashes of her burning planet <3 She also killed Old King Cole >:)

shes a tragic lesbian and killed a violent dictator shes literally the best

shes gay shes traumatized she dates both rose red and sleeping beauty. badass space wanderer looking for her wife

Her wife Rose gets kidnapped on their wedding day and Cinders spend the next thirty years looking for her. She finds her (:D) and then Rose dies (D:) and then Cinders kills the guy who killed Rose (girlboss).

shes a lesbian. she lost her wife, Rose (yes, as in sleeping beauty) the day they got married bc she was kidnapped. she spent 20 YEARS looking for her. as soon as she found her wife, Rose DIED IN HER ARMS. Cinders has gone through Too Much to lose this poll

(Her info from the wiki) the Princess of a planet burnt by King Cole’s army, after it is ceded by her stepmother. She is imprisoned, meets Rose and plans to marry her. She is released by her godmother for the wedding, then flees when the attack happens, spending thirty years looking for Rose. Her half of the wedding ring will light up when she finds Rose.

“When I was a little girl, my mother always told me 'Someday your prince will come, my love’ But as I grew, I knew it was a princess who would hold me I looked to the stars for you, my love” She’s lesbian Cinderella IN SPACE. She fell in love with her wife in prison and they ran away to have a secret marriage but the empire kidnapped Rose on their wedding night and Cinders had to leave her behind. She searches for Rose for decades with the glass ring that guides her to its twin on her wife’s finger. She finally reunites with her love after Rose rips three supersoldiers to pieces with her bare hands (hot) but then then the evil king kills Rose so Cinders fucking punches through his heart. And then a clone of Rose (who is also lesbian Sleeping Beauty IN SPACE) finds her cradling her wife’s body and they have a happy reunion(?) and maybe they didn’t have a happy ending BUT WHAT IF THEY HAD EACH OTHER? HUH? AAAAAH

she’s everything. she’s a princess from a long since conquered planet. she was imprisoned to make a statement of the brutal reign of old king cole. she met her wife while she was in prison, a beautiful brutal soldier covered in scars from battles. cinders and rose fell in love, so cinders’ godmother in white broke her out of jail so rose and cinders could be together. they were going to be married, except that OLD KING COLE intervened and kidnapped rose to make her the genetic base of his unholy army. so cinders spends THIRTY YEARS searching the galaxies for her love (and sings a really cool song about it called “Cinders’ Song”) until finally she arrives during the final battle just in time to see old king cole SHOOT ROSE DEAD. so cinders punches the king so hard (with her wedding ring) that he just Crumples Into Dust. the end! (no we do not talk about the fiction.)

lesbian, for one, and for two i don’t really care i just think it’d be cool if she got in/if she made it past the first round

no one seems to have linked cinder’s song yet, so here [Link]

better yet, listen to the whole album too, for context and also what comes after. it slaps and also tragedy it’s such a good album suhc a good band too

Someone already sent the song as propaganda, so I will provide SPOILER propaganda. [Click link to see spoilers.]

[Link]

[oneforthemunny]

switching it up |dom!brat tamer!eddie x sub!brat!reader|

prompt: "go pick a switch" with mean!dom!brat tamer! eddie. based off a horny hours ask from my old account :)

for those who don't know a "switch" in this is referring to a small, thin branch that's picked and used (typically and in this case) for discipline. sorta like caning.

contains: mean!hard!dom!brat tamer!eddie, sub!bratty!reader, spanking, dom/sub themes, oral fem receiving, p in v sex, minors dni 18+

"Go on, now, baby." Eddie nodded from the steps, leaned up casually against the metal, rusted railing of the trailer. He inhaled deeply, cigarette crackling and ash falling by his feet, eyes trained on you, deep and dark.

You fidgeted in the grass, only a few paces away from the steps. Eyes cutting around you, looking to see if anyone was around, praying they weren't. Hoping that they wouldn't see the slow journey you were making to hickory bush, long and overgrown at the end of the gravel drive, scissors behind your back.

"Don't make me wait, sweet thing." Eddie blew the smoke out, eyeing you carefully. "Or I'll take that switch to ya right out here." He smirked at the threat. How your spine went rigid, cheeks flushed a deep crimson when you looked back at him, but you quickened your pace to the dreaded bush.

The idea had come to him while watching TV a few weeks ago. Some old, western movie from the fifties, he'd been too stoned to change it. Plus, he liked those kind of movies, reminded him of when he first moved in with Wayne as a kid.

The gruff male lead, mean and stern with the female lead, grabbed her arm, threatening to "take a switch to her hind-end" if she didn't obey. The threat made him twitch, cock stirring even in his drug induced haze. He was always looking for new things to try, new ways to get you embarrassed when you bratted, put you back in your place before fucking you relentlessly. You'd been taking the cane so well lately, he figured a little switch would be nothing.

"What's a switch?" You'd asked, nose crinkled in confusion when he presented the idea to you.

Eddie gawked at you. "You never heard about kids having to go pick a switch?" He blinked at you with a small smile. You shook your head. He laughed. "We came from different worlds then, baby." He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, and pulled you to the window so you could see the bush, long, thin branches that he explained you cleared the branches and leaves off before it was used on you.

"Kinda like the cane." Eddie grinned, hands rubbing up and down your waist, excitedly. "But you have to go pick it, cut it, clear it. Whole thing before you ever get spanked with it." What he didn't say was the before process added to the embarrassment of it all, a fact that he knew you loved- a sort of embarrassing foreplay that had you dripping before he ever even touched you. You grinned, agreeing to try it, thighs clenched in excitement.

It wasn't until today, nearly a month after the conversation, that Eddie actually used the threat. He always did that, waiting until you thought he forgot or changed his mind to act on it.

You'd been huffy all morning, a little whiny and snappy, like you always got when you wanted him to ruin you. Get you crying and your ass aching until he relented and fucked you stupid. He'd told you before you could just ask, he'd always oblige, but where was the fun in that?

"Hey, you better watch it," Eddie warned, snapping a finger at you after your third eye roll of the day. "Keep it up, and I'll take a switch to you."

Your eyes lit up, cheeks heating and tingling at the threat- the promise. Eddie bit back a grin, staying stern and stoic though he wanted to laugh at how excited you got. You got even more bratty, just like he expected, until he finally turned you over his knee. He took to spanking you with his hand, scolding you about being a naughty brat, until you whined and begged him to stop. A part of you thought he might have backed out of the initial threat, rubbing your ass and pouting. Until he crossed over to the kitchen, scowling at you sternly. He grabbed the scissors, shoving them in your hand and telling you to go pick your switch, that you'd earned it.

You fished through the scratchy branches and leaves of the bush, thankful it was overcast and chilly or the entire park would've been out, kids riding bikes and adults tending gardens- all to witness you cutting a branch, retrieving it and bringing it back to Eddie for his inspection. Fetching and retrieving back to your master like a dog. The humiliation of it all was enough to get your cheeks tinging pink, pussy throbbing and nearly aching.

You looked around when you walked back, tiny, limp branch in your hand, quick paced when you brought it back to Eddie. "Here," You muttered, holding it out with a furious blush.

Eddie scoffed, bumming his cigarette into the ash tray. "Baby," He tutted, taking the small, pitiful excuse for a branch. "You really think this is going to work? Look," Eddie lifted the branch, it was limp and blowing in the small breeze when he pulled his hand back, cutting it through the air with a small, whistling swish! before promptly snapping in half.

Eddie gave you an unimpressed look, arms crossing over his chest. "Go, try again," He nodded towards the bush.

You huffed, stomping down the stairs. "Hey," Eddie snapped, hard and gruff.

You didn't turn, continuing on to the bush, knuckles scratching through the rough branches until you found a better one. Sturdy but not as thick as some, enough for some movement and a nice swish.

"How's this?" You pouted, holding the second branch back up to Eddie.

He took his time, rolling the branch between his hands, inspecting it carefully. He swung it in front of him a few times, relishing the way you jumped, thighs clenching and squirming with excitement.

"Is it good?" You asked, gaze lifting to his, rounded eyes desperate for approval.

Eddie hummed. "I dunno." He sighed, lips twisting. He stepped back, swinging it behind you before he snapped the branch down, suddenly on your sweatpant clad ass.

You yelped, jumping at the sting of the hit, even through the thick cotton. "Ow!" You hissed, glaring at him, hands furiously rubbing the sting. Your head whipped around, scanning to see if there was anyone out who could have saw, cheeks red with embarrassment at the thought, but you were pulsing between your legs.

Eddie grinned. "What do you think? Is it a good one?" He asked, cheekily. The little shit.

"It hurt." You pouted, rubbing your already sore cheeks, still sensitive from the spanking he'd given you only a few minutes prior.

"Hm, seems like a winner then." Eddie smirked, grabbing the scissors from you. "Go inside. In front of the couch. I'll be there in a minute."

You pulled the screen door, watching him click and clean the leaves and spare branched away. Your tummy flipped, squeezing and rolling with excitement, heat shooting from your heart down to your core. You scampered in front of the couch, kneeling in front of the middle cushion that Eddie always favored.

The squeak of the screen door's hinges followed by the clatter of it closing came soon, Eddie's heavy steps coming in, spinning the branch in his hand. His eyes were excited, darkened with his domineering demeanor.

"You ready?" He asked, tilting his head to the side, you nodded eagerly.

Eddie grinned. "I'm gonna have you bend over the back of the couch. That sound alright?" He asked. You stood, hurrying to bend over the couch by him, his hand stopping you. "Pants down, baby."

You shimmied out of your sweatpants, kicking them to the corner. Cotton panties, thin and bikini cut, a little faded with countless cycles in the wash that made them irresistibly soft. Eddie's mouth watered. There was a reason he made you keep them at his trailer, "just in case", he told you, and you pretended you didn't notice them in the dirty hamper from time to time, covered in his release.

"You know, maybe this will teach you to not be such a bad little brat. What do you think?" Eddie hummed from behind you, pinching the hem of your panties and bunching them up, so they rode further into your crack, exposing your cheeks.

You shivered. "I don't think we'll know unless you try." You snipped, looking over your shoulder, thighs rubbing together for some sort of friction.

Eddie smirked, swishing the branch through the air so it whistled, taunting. You squirmed with anticipation, excitement building in the pit of your tummy. "Hm," Eddie hummed. "Eyes forward." He snapped.

You straightened your posture, focusing on the small hall towards Eddie's room. You felt the branch, scratchy and hard rubbing across your cheeks, splotchy and red from the assault of his hand from earlier.

"I think ten to start." Eddie suggested, looking down at you carefully. He lifted a brow, scanning your features. "That good?"

You nodded, legs bouncing and squirming. "Just do it already, Eddie." You huffed.

Eddie scoffed, walloping your ass with his hand so you yelped. "Keep it up, baby," He warned, tapping the switch across your throbbing ass. "I'll take you outside. Make you bend over, grab your ankles, and really take this switch to ya." He grinned when your thighs pressed together.

He tapped the branch to your cheeks, lining up his first hit. He pulled back, sending the branch forward and snapping into the meat of your ass. Not as hard as he would with the cane, he was unsure with this and didn't want to hurt you. You yelped anyways, back recoiling at the hit, fisting the blanket in front of you.

Eddie paused, looking down at you carefully. "How was that?" He asked softly. This was pure play, a fun, adventurous thing for the both of you. Sure, you'd bratted earlier to get your way, but when didn't you.

You groaned, low and throaty. The switch stung, worse than the cane, which was saying a lot. It was surprisingly rougher than you expected, you didn't think you'd be able to tell the difference, but the sting across your cheeks told you otherwise. A sharp, nearly itchy type burn that had you desperate to rub the irritation out, attempt to soothe it.

"I'm good." You sighed heavily, back relaxing back into an arch, toes curling into the mesh carpet. You tried to not focus on how painful the throbbing was between your legs, pulverizing heat that left your head spinning.

Eddie grinned, lifting the branch back up. He aimed lower for the next two, quick snaps against your lower cheeks, hitting close to your core. Your legs shook, crying out at the pain, feet stomping into the carpet. He watched the way you writhed, crossing your legs tight, rolling your hips to try and relieve some of the ache in your pussy.

"I think you'd like that if I took you outside," Eddie brought the switch down on the top of your thighs, right where the meat of your ass curved into them. You howled out at the sting, far more uncomfortable than you expected it to be.

"I think you'd like the idea of someone seeing what a bad girl you are." Eddie purred, barely giving you a chance to register his words before he brought it back down harder this time.

Tears flooded your vision, hands clenched tight, your nails biting and digging into the palm of your hands. Eddie rubbed the ragged bark on your ass, taunting and mean, you squirmed. He brought it down again, unmerciful, relishing in the way you cried out, back arching with the hit.

"You like the idea of someone seeing you get put in your place? Yeah?" Eddie mocked, pulling his arms back, the switch hissing through the air, high pitched almost as a warning of the searing pain that was to come milliseconds later. "Or do you just like it when I'm a little mean with you?"

You sniffled, blubbering through the tears that ran down your throat, down your face and into a damp puddle beneath you. "N-No." You shook your head. "I don't li-like it." Your breath stuttered, thighs clenching at the sizzle of your skin.

"No?" Eddie challenged, mocking. He brought the switch down again, making you wail, before his hand was between your legs, pressing onto the cotton fabric of your panties, your slick arousal wetting them easily.

Eddie hummed. "Well, something's got you all turned on, baby." He snickered, tapping the switch to your red cheeks, furious at the assault. He brought it down again, this time towards your center again, making you jump, whining in protest.

"Do you just like it when I treat you like a bad girl?" Eddie mocked, laughing at your small whimpers. He moved so he was leaning over you, lips near your ear. You could feel his curls on your cheek, your neck, tickling you and making you shiver. "I think you like it when I put you in your place. When I make up new ways to punish you when you've been a brat. Isn't that right?"

You shuddered, stammering breaths that hitched and caught in your throat. He was right, and he knew it. He could tell by the way you were grinding into the arm of the couch, so desperate for any type of release on your aching core, you'd do anything.

Eddie's free hand swatted your bottom, not enough to be punishing, but hard enough to get your attention, reigniting the fire on your cheeks and making you cry out. "Isn't that right?" Eddie repeated, a low growl that had you whimpering.

"Yes," You croaked, eyes cutting over to him. Eddie smirked. "Yes, I like it." You admitted softly, squirming against the couch, hips rotating softly.

Eddie snorted, softly, though his eyes were dark like they always were when you played. "Last one." Eddie warned, switch tapping against your lower cheeks.

You braced yourself, brows pinching while he toyed with you, tapping and rubbing the branch, pulling it back just to watch you flinch and laughing at you when you did. You heard the ominous whistle of the switch catching wind before you felt the final blow, thin lined and scorching, sending you forward on the couch.

Eddie grinned when you heaved, a sob muffled into the cushions of the couch. You were grateful when he set the branch down, hands rubbing down your abused skin, easing some of the burn. You knew you'd be struggling to sit for at least a few days, burning skin that would reignite when touched.

"Good girl, you did so good." Eddie whispered, dropping to his knees in front of you. His hands kneaded the flesh, warm and buzzing in his large hands.

You were limp, ass still elevated over the couch, body slumped into the cushions, crying at the sting and release. Eddie grinned, tongue running over his lips when he pulled your panties down slowly, eyes widening at your slick lips, peaking out from between your thighs.

"I think you deserve a reward baby, for being such a good girl." Eddie cooed sweetly, fingers running between your sopping folds.

You sniffled, turning your head to the side. You couldn't see him, knelt and hidden by the couch, but you could feel him. You could feel the small kisses he pressed into your skin, pressing one particularly sloppy, lewd kiss into your aching center.

"What do you say, hm? Want me to lick you, baby? Show you what a good girl you've been? Let you cum on my tongue?" Eddie asked, hands spreading your red cheeks apart, drooling at the sight before him. He was trying to restrain himself from devouring you right away, the sight of your clenching hole when he asked you nearly making him wither.

"Please," You croaked so pitifully and sweet that Eddie was sure his heart would melt.

He didn't waste time, no teasing or mocking. He licked you furiously, lapping at your clit like a man starved, nose buried in your tangy scent, eyes rolling back when you squirmed, pushing your hips towards him.

"Oh! Please, Eddie, 'm so close!" You cried out, toes clenching beneath him. His hands stretched the hot skin, making it burn and sting, only aiding to your rapidly approaching orgasm.

You wiggled, the tip of his nose nuzzling into your sopping hole while you whined, high and desperate. His hands squeezed the fat of your ass, abused and raw after his switching, tongue swirling around your clit, moaning loud into you. The vibrations from his throat made you clench, abdomen tight and eyes pinched, gushing over him, wetting his face. He didn't stop, not until you calmed, no longer thrashing and gasping out his name, hands reaching back to push him away.

Eddie fucked you hard after that, furiously humping into you, hands on your hips as he grunted loudly, slapping skin and sick squelches filling the trailer. You were glassy eyed already, whimpering at the sensation when he pulled out two more orgasms out of you.

Eddie finished his cigarette later, the thick smell of sex still linger in the air and mixing with the smoke. You were still ass up in the couch, glazed eyes and his release leaking down your thigh. Your cheek was squished the the cushion, drool and tears drying beneath you.

Eddie inhaled slowly, picking up the switch he'd thrown across the room. He turned it in his hands, inspecting it like he'd done before. "I think we should put this somewhere," He grinned, smoke clouding out of his nose. You blinked up at him, too fucked out and tired to fully engage. "Keep it somewhere special. A little keepsake, don't you think?"

He placed it on the TV stand, behind the framed photos and trinkets that littered it. A little reminder of your fun you'd had today, and a reminder to you to behave or he'd make you pick another one. Of course, that never deterred you much.

[phlurrii]

Out of curiosity, how come you dislike Ash? A lot of people seem to really like him, so it’d be interesting to see another point of view! Feel free to ignore this ask if you’d like tho.

To preface, as I know I’ll see them, if you guys like ash? That’s freaking awesome. Hands down, there is nothing wrong with loving a goober >;3

So Ash Lovers don’t take personal offense to my opinion, because that’s all is it, an opinion that in no, way shape, or form actually affects you X3

Anywho onto said opinion I know I’ll get flamed for!

So Ash just had the personality go a dish rag to me, he’s the most basic, run of a mill, boy protagonist. In the earlier seasons he wasn’t afraid to throw hands and be interesting, but they mellowed him down to be as predictable, 2 note, and “hero will do hero thing” as possible.

Not to mention the constant memory loss. He’s never allowed to grow as a character, I couldn’t ever get invested in anything because bro would forget it all in 20 minutes… and unlike status quo shows, this one is literally about growing to be the very best that ever was XD They wanted their cake and to eat it too, which made it really unfulfilling and boring to me even as a kiddo. They juggled between making him over powered and nerfing him into the floor. I think I gave up completely after the Kalos Championship battle where they shoe horned that loss in.

Not to say I really followed the anime, it was fine, a few episodes here and there I liked… but I purposely stopped watching after that forced loss. I think Ash worked really well for what he was suppose to be, with a lot of his fans being those that grew up with him from a very young age. Which is what he was made to appeal too, but I got into Pokémon at 8-9 years old, so he had no appeal to me in design, motives, growth, or even pokemon choice. Coupled with a lukewarm personality, garishly predictable stupidity, and his flaws just becoming annoying? He’s just not for me.

He was better in the movies at least ;V

Also please no one hate on folks who do love him, he is objectively fine, just not my cup of tea ;]

[ashstfu]

thanku for tagging me @swimmingblues i love doing these!! ☀️💞

1. were you named after anyone?

nope

2. last time you cried?

three nights ago! uhh ok so get it. i knew that there would be a day where i would have more old friends than old, but i didn’t think it would come so soon.. the realisation hit me hard. i’d like to think that i would know how they would like their coffee today. i’d like to think that i still know how to intertwine my hands with theirs. but yeah.. to think at some point in time, our hands and feet were the same size, we thought that the now was forever. to think that forever wasn’t a haunting waiting to happen ... ASH SHUT UP

3. do you have children?

fuck to the no nope never hell nah nooooooooooo

4. do you play sports?

i used to play basketball ... now i play tennis sometimes (rarely)

5. do you use sarcasm?

only w people i’m close with.

6. whats the first thing you notice about people

i’m a virgo so like. everything but i pay v close attention to their character & behavior & oh posture!

7. whats your eye color?

dark brown 😚

8. scary movies or happy endings?

BOTH!

9. talents?

i can argue and surf like a pro (lying) 🏄‍♀️

10. where were you born?

in a hospital duh

11. what are your hobbies?

taking long naps, listening to music, going on really long walks, reading, watching movies, posting & reblogging stuff on tumblr.com :) i like to visit museums & beaches as well!

12. do you have any pets?

sadly no but i want one

13. how tall are you?

5’10 / 177.80 cm

14. favorite school subjects?

biology 🧬

15. dream job

italian mob wife or “the talk of the town” 😋

tagging everyone in the world but also @twoheadedfawnn @twinprime @cigarbruise @raqhaelia @chandajaan @cowgirlrising @wvterways @new-november-moons @andrew3garfield @srdcovka <3

[funishment-time]

🔵 Kodaka BlueSky Q&As: Misc Rain Code & Other Questions

⚠️ DISCLAIMER: Please be advised! Translations of all Japanese answers derive from a combination of Google Translate and my manager's three-quarters-remembered Japanese. We've tried our best to work out what he's saying, but there will be mistakes here and there. Do not take this as gospel!

To avoid spreading too much misinfo, where we're completely boggled about an answer, we've decided not to even make an attempt. We'll still list the post, but mark it accordingly.

💕 FEBRUARY 2024:

Q: While I'm at it, could you please tell me where to send fan mail for Rain Code and Danganronpa?

A: Please send it to Spike Chunsoft.

/////

Q: What's your favorite furikake?

A: The ashes of the dead.

NOTE: Furikake is a type of Japanese seasoning. Kodaka is a weird guy.

/////

Q: Is it okay to send a New Year's card to Too Kyo [Games] as a fan letter to you?

A: That's fine. I'll watch for it.

/////

Q: Can I send a birthday present for a character to the company?

A: Please send it to Spike Chunsoft!

/////

Q: Please tell us what games you've played! What movies and shows have you watched? What books, manga, and comics have you read? What media have you consumed?Please tell us! We want to know what are your inspirations. I don't know what media I should consume. And we all want to know more about you!

A: I am inspired by all kinds of games, comics, novels and movies. I used to work part-time in a video game store. I love Tarantino.

/////

Q: Do you have a favorite line or phrase from Danganronpa or Rain Code?

A: When I search for "Danganronpa quotes" and look back at the lines that come up, I think, "This is a great line!" For Rain Code, it's any line that Shinigami-chan says that helps Yuma get back on his feet!

/////

Q: Sorry for the second question! I have a lot of questions about Rain Code, but I'm hesitant to ask them here because it would be a total spoiler for the main story... I'd love to have the opportunity someday to ask questions with full spoilers OK. Are there any plans for that at the moment?

A: That sounds great. I'd love to do it. But I don't think I'd be able to reveal spoilers openly unless it's a real event.

/////

Q: Excuse me for the second question!! Previously, there was a Danganronpa collaboration with Identity V, but are there plans for a Rain Code collaboration...!!!!!

A: We would really appreciate it if you could send a persistent message to Identity V!

/////

Q: I'm sorry it's not Danganronpa or Raincode... I love both series, and I'm really looking forward to the release of Tribe Nine. I have a question about Tribe Nine. Sonoda from the Oota Tribe could kill Haneda at any time, even though he has murderous intent towards him, so why does he keep him alive by just beating him up until he's on the verge of death? Also, why is Sonoda the only one who is a little better dressed (in a suit and tie) than the other members?

A: When it comes to Tribe Nine, to be honest, Akatsuki has a much higher weight than Too Kyo Games, so only Akatsuki can answer that question...!

NOTE: Akatsuki is the company publishing the upcoming Tribe Nine game.

/////

Q: Are there any other Rain Code characters besides Dr. Robot that are favorites of Mr. Komatsuzaki? Also, I would like to know more about Mr. Komatsuzaki and would like to see more media exposure for him.

A: Basically, I think they are all my favorites. I'm very particular about it, and I've made many drafts over the years. But I'm sure ramen store owners would love him [Akira].

NOTE: We're pretty sure "Dr. Robot" is the character listed as "Akira" in the credits, but we're not 100% certain. Also, Komatsuzaki is the artist behind Danganronpa and Rain Code.

/////

Q: What is your favorite foreign movie?

A: Tarantino!!

/////

Q: Is there ever a character that you liked so much that you thought it would be a shame to kill them off, but you still ended up killing them anyway?

A: On one hand, I want to get to know them better. If the character isn't well-defined enough to the point where I want to get to know him or her better, there's no point in letting him or her die… So, I let them die while wishing I could depict more of them.

/////

Q: Mr Kodaka, can I please ask another question? Persona 3 RELOAD came out recently. Have you played it yet? Did you play the original Persona 3, including Persona 3 FES and Persona 3 Portable? Have you played all of the Persona games, including the spinoffs? Are you a fan of the Persona series?

A: i have played all the persona series, from 1 to 5. I haven't played any of the spin-offs though, I'm waiting for the release of 6.

🍀 MARCH 2024:

Q: How did you and Mr. Komatsuzaki meet and start working together?

A: We met in the smoking area at work.

/////

Q: Please tell me how to cook delicious rice🍚

A: Mannan rice is great for dieting.

NOTE: Mannan rice is a (usually) microwavable kind of rice that's part konjac (you know, the thing Kirumi has trouble cutting). It's low-calorie. The joke here is probably that Kodaka doesn't cook, he makes things in the microwave. Relatable, really.

/////

Q: What are your favorite indie games? Have any indie games inspired and/or influenced your own games and works? If so, what are those indie games that inspired you as a creator? Are there any indie games that you recommend we should play? Or what indie games should more people play in general? 🙏 🙏 🙏

A: If Hotline Miami is an indie game, it is Hotline Miami. I love it the best.

/////

Q: Can I please ask another question?🙏 I really enjoyed watching Akudama Drive, so I would like to see the concept art and character and setting materials, but I don't know where to find them. I especially want to see drawings by Rui Komatsuzaki, Cindy H. YAMAUCHI and the staff. Is there a book? 📖

A: The artwork for Akdamadrive has not been released. Maybe not much is made in the case of the animation. Please submit a request to Studio Piero for Komatsuzaki and Cindy's designs, as well as Kansai's designs, which are awesome!

/////

Q: i'll ask another! piggybacking off another question on here, what games have you been playing recently? what games are you excited for coming out in the future?

A: I've been too busy lately to play games. I want to play cruel games.

/////

Q: I love games with interesting stories like Danganronpa and Raincode, but Mr. Kodaka, who writes the scenarios for such interesting games, is there a game whose story you thought "this wowed me!"?

A: Resident Evil Code Veronica, FF7, and Killer 7 are fun. When I first played Persona 3, I thought that Megaten [Megami Tensei] killed it.

/////

Q: if you had a forte which would you want to have? i want to have desuhiko’s disguise

A: me too!!!!!!

🥬 APRIL 2024:

n/a

🌺 MAY 2024:

Q: Are there any plans to make a Happy Rain Code where the train incident never happened?

A: I'm sure Melami would solve the first clock tower case. No, she won't wear those clothes…

NOTE: A reference to the flashy clothes you find in Melami's room during the first case.

/////

Q: Mr. Kodaka, you often respond to illustrations drawn by your fans on Twitter, but do you also watch the hand-drawn videos that your fans post on YouTube?

A: I don't watch YouTube because it takes a long time. I can see the pictures right away [on Twitter], so I just respond to the pictures and hope that people who like them will follow me.

/////

Q: Which do you prefer, liberal arts girls or science girls?

A: I like both!

/////

Q: Was Mr. Kodaka a super high school level film director when he was in high school?

A: During my time at university and as a part-time worker afterwards, I was a really low-achieving film director.

☀️ JUNE 2024:

Q: I have a question about the world of Rain Code. I heard that there are about 1000 super detectives in the world of Rain Code, but are there detectives with the same abilities and titles?

A: There are similarities, but no exact matches.

/////

Q: Regarding Raincode's special detective abilities. In the story, it was stated that if one acquired special detective abilities during his two-year training period, one would be registered as a super detective. If one were to express an ability that could be considered a special detective ability while working as a regular detective, would one be re-registered as a super detective?

A: Abilities often depend on innate talent, but that's a possibility.

/////

Q: Is it decided how old the characters in works such as Danganronpa and Raincode are? If so, how old are they?

A: Of course, Danganronpa is mostly in their teens. Raincode has a wide range, but even Yakou is in his 30s.

NOTE: This is kind-of hilarious, because I'm pretty sure it's canonically stated Yakou is actually in his late 20s...in something that Kodaka himself wrote. I'll have to go find evidence.

/////

Q: Why do you have so many cats in your work?

A: Because Komatsuzaki likes cats. I like dogs.

NOTE: Komatsuzaki is Kodaka's usual artist. He's worked on Danganronpa, Rain Code, and the upcoming The Hundred Line.

/////

Q: There have been various spinoffs for Raincode and Danganronpa, but can we assume that the interpretations and character settings discussed in these spinoffs are official?

A: I'm not sure about the official take [from Spikechun], but if you enjoy it, enjoy it, and if you don't want to accept it, don't accept it. I think it's all up to the player's freedom.

NOTE: By "spinoff," this probably means the anthology mangas, light novels, audio dramas, etc.

🎇 JULY 2024:

Q: Do Rain Code and Danganronpa take place in the same world? Do any of your games and works have a shared universe with another? Or are they all separate? 🤔 💭 I'm asking because I just had a dream about Rain Code today!

A: I won't make a clear statement. I am not sure what will happen in the future. Anyway, please spread the Rain Code around the world.

/////

Q: Can I change my clothes before changing into the Final Defense Academy uniform in Hundred Line? I like the original clothes because they are so unique... Or do you wear uniforms only during battles?

A: We'll give you more details later, but they usually wear casual clothes and change into their uniforms when they fight!

NOTE: I'll start a Hundred Line section when the game comes out next year. For now, I'll put Hundred Line questions in here or in Game Development.

🌭 AUG 2024:

Q: What percentage of people in the world of Rain Code have special abilities? I wonder if most people have the ability to do something like "ordinary psychometry" like Halara did in the past.

A: No, it's still rare. I guess it's about as rare as Devil Fruit users.

🍁 SEPT 2024:

Q: The specific ages of most of the characters in Danganronpa and Rain Code have not been revealed, but is there a reason for this?

A: I thought age was an unnecessary filter.

[phantomram-b00]

So I realize I never did an introduction before, untillll now as spooky season is here so why not make-

Boo!

Gotcha >:) but as I was saying, I thought why not make one now, (and maybe one day I might make those meet the artist, let see)

Soooo, spooky to meet you, I’m Phantomram…BOO

Sorry had to again. But you can call me Phantom or Ram; whichever you prefer or all together, hey, the world is your oysters. Or ostrich. Just a shy yet very talkative ghost that love to talk about good omens. If you ever wanted to talk, you can just please be mindful, I am shy and not the best with conversations but I’m happy to talk. And uh, if you ever want to ask me question whether to get to know be better or ask anything about good omens, Ahh you can ask in the ask my anything box ^^ but I will reveal info here starting now!

About me:

-Age: 21 (or as my family member say, I’m old.)

-Zodiac: I’m an April Aries!

-MBTI: INFP

-🇵🇷

-height: 5’3 (I’mma fun-sized ghost)

- just to add as I wasn’t comfortable at the time but now I am, I’m autistic ^v^

My scary interest:

-GOOD OMENS! (I love this show and also the book as I’m slowly reading it. I’ve watch this back in 2019/2020? And I love it and waited when the second season came and it did and now I’m loving this show and now going to wait patiently for season 3. But for now, this is my main hyperfixation, and I can’t get enough of it. I love it. But I promise I do have other interest to so let continue 😅)

- Art/drawing/(sometimes) writing

- magic/fantasy

- music (my music taste is haha complicate.)

- books (I love them, I wish my attention span a bit better but I do love a good read.)

- horror movies

- dnd

- oversized jackets! (Specifically the one with the zippers) or trench coats.

- mythology.

- Halloween

-Broadway/Movies/Shows

Shows/movies/books/games I love:

- Good omens (love love love!)

- Little shops of horrors

- Soul eater

- Coraline (I do wanna read the book tho)

- Star Wars (I seriously still need to catch up to watch Ahsoka aahhhh! 😭)

- Transformers

- Sally Face

- Percy Jackson (haven’t finished reading but I do like it so far and I can’t wait for the show coming up)

-murder drones

- FNAF (yes I’m excited for the movie coming out, I’ve been waiting for this movie since middle school-)

- MK (mortal Kombat)

- owl house/Amphibia/ducktales/Svtfoe

-TMNT (edit: because I forgot to add this Idek how I forgot this)

And more that I can’t think of. I can’t collect them all, I’m not ash Ketchum or any Pokémon trainer. I’m just a ghost on the internet let me have this.

Four random fact about me:

- when it came to doing the MBTI test, my introvert was almost 100%.

- despite being Latine/Latinx I can’t speak Spanish to save my life 😅

- my mom once banned coraline because it was “too scary”

- I learn about zodiac because of animal crossing of all things

“Can I use the ask me anything?”/dm you?: yes! You can ^^ I know some used it (for the ask me anything at least), but if you want to ask me anything go right ahead. I’m happy to answer (almost) anything you like. As for the dm, sure, especially if you’re a mutual I have here, you can ^v^, just all I ask is please be respectful and be mindful. That literally all I ask from you :))

However what I do not allow on this page and imma make this very clear: if you are racist, homophobic, transphobic or just bottom line don’t care about humans rights or any rights at all. Please go and do fucking better and leave me and my fellow ghostly pals alone. Please and thank you very much.

‼️BOUNDRIES: please do not use my ama for donations ask as scammers are using this tactic. If you disrespect this, I will ignore or delete your ask. Please use my AMA for anything else. Any questions. Please don’t cross this boundaries ‼️

Plz go Donate to RAINN

And uhh, I guess that’s all. Have a spooky Friday 🤭

[curiousscallop]

Tag 9 people you want to get to know better :)

This looks v fun thank you for tagging me @jaybarou !!

3 ships: mmm gerrymichael (tma), sarah/magda (tdv), astarion/abdirak (bg3)

Firs ever ship: GOD who knows. Uh. I guess the first I wrote something for was probably Lalli/Emil from stand still, stay silent? But also objectively the funniest answer I could give (and possibly the most true if we’re talking “first pair of fictional lovers that made something in my brain go insane”) is ✨Harold and Maude✨

Last song: I’m currently listening to Only Our Rivers by Planxty!

Last movie: I have NO idea. An actual movie? That I watched in full? Uh.

Currently reading: Smoke Gets In Your Eyes by Caitlin Doughty!

Currently watching: Dark, which is making me increasingly insane. Also I’m watching it in German !!! :) Jay come talk to me about it if you want please

Currently consuming: too many sweets bc they’re always in dining hall and I’m craving sugar like crazy lately

Currently craving: to be held :P

If you so desire, my dears, tags for!! @wizardandgalaxy @mangledpuppet @sea-of-ash @momonyaro @patricia-art-corner @billyjeanvaljean @curiousserpent @eyes-like-the-night @swimmingkittenshark-blog

(we’re going with a loose definition of “get to know” okay, I always want to know what my friends are up to and enjoying at the moment)

[instaquarius]

for full res

"I fell below Left the world I'd known Hoping that someone would find me Life above It's over now Tried to leave all that behind me When they call my name The demon comes But am I to blame? I tried to be good I really did Not sure I could... Leaving two worlds Broken, unfurled Couldn't take any more crying Been disposed of Learned about LOVE Lights above from stars slowly dying I once knew light Burning bright Shadows invade I've lost the dawn The Sunlight's gone Left this dismal grave I remain still Power of will Leaves me here to keep on trying I know somehow There's no point now To try and stop the hate, the dying I finally see Neither world cares for me I'll stand my ground No one can stop me now! No hopes, no dreams I have nothing Death is all that can define me The end's calling No more stalling Stars will fade but I'll keep shining" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

www.youtube.com/watch?v=GGwmkg…

"Star" by Man on the Internet

however I changed one or two of the lyrics to make it fit for both PTA (and specifically the Fallout AU of my Undertale/Pokemon au) which is what the drawing is from

sort of "Fallout" AU from my Pokemon/Undertale AU story (Poketale: Ascendance) inspired by the game Fallout in a alternate ending to the Arceus and the Jewel of Life movie if basically Marcus won, and Ash and the others failed to get the jewel in time back to Arceus and he died.

The others are brought back to the Future after Arceus dies in the past and everything has basically gone to shit due to the death of God (Dialga and the others are still alive however, doing what they can to keep the universe together) buut ye-

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

For PokeTale: Ascendance

An AU based off of an RP between me and a friend of mine from my discord server discord.gg/pQf9ZsdF6E where the Creation Trio as babies (a time they all cant really fully control their powers and junk) accidentally create a portal into the Undertale Universe and meet Chara and basically Arceus finds Chara and adopts her after finding out about her shitty human parents and Chara ends up helping Arceus raise the babies and basically lives in the Pokemon Universe now

[virtualcarrot]

9 people you would like to know better

Tagged by @audaciousanonj! Thank you!

Three Ships

Kakashi x Iruka (my primary ship that I keep coming back to in spite of the years - Naruto), Ibiki x Iruka (current obsession, I don't know my brain just *pinged* okay?! - Naruto), and... uh... the last of my former ships that aren't currently an active center of interest, so Harry/Kim (Disco Elysium) I suppose

First ship

Other than crushes on random fictional characters, I *think* it was Misty/Ash (Pokemon). Pretty sure, yeah. Followed shortly after by Heero/Duo (Gundam Wing). But I think Pokemon came first?

Last song I listened to

because alleged friends on discord were being entirely unsupportive of my Ibiki x Iruka epiphany and I sent this to them to express the extent of their failure to live up to the social contract of our friendship

Last movie I watched:

Asterix & Obelix : Mission Cleopatra. This movie is a fucking masterpiece.

Last series:

Just started watching Gen V. I'm a bit over the over explicitness and shock value but eh it does the job as background noise.

Currently reading:

Uh, not much actually. I'm not even reading much fic, unless it's actively recommended to me. Ironically I am writing way more than I usually do, though I keep bouncing from one shiny idea to another and not finishing anything.

Last consumed:

White chocolate/pistachio stick of ice cream.

Currently craving:

Nothing, really, it's 1PM but I'm still too sleepy to feel an emotion as intense as "craving". Patiently waiting to fully wake up. I'm off work for two weeks and without the constraints of a job to keep me on track my sleep schedule melts into a puddle.

Tagging people

@dirt-nerd @cheeseanonioncrisps @nencheese @louisa-bonnet @glaspen1 @chierei @my-private-tsukuyomi @bow-an-art @gertrude-hatake

[1midnightdesires1]

Magic Loki

Loki x Female Reader

Summary: It was your 21st birthday, and for the first time in a while you went out with a few friends to celebrate. Not knowing where exactly they’ve brought you.

NSFW

Word Count: 1,090

PART 1

I walked in with a sense of stress crowding my shoulders. So many people, this was underly insane how my friends convinced me to “Get out of my shell”.

I walk passed the huge group of people to see a stage. The stage was pretty massive for what it really was, a platform for a bunch of half naked men dancing to please the women eye. I’ve never seen it in full action before my naked eyes, I mean come on I’ve seen a few of the Magic Mike movies but never the real thing.

I had a group of friends waiting for me around a circular red couch with a medium sized table to fit any drinks, ash trays and the musky dollars from the previous customers. I sit right in the middle of my group thinking of ways to make small talk as the show was about to unfold.

I ordered a cocktail drink, served with a few olives. As I softly mixed the drink, my eyes appealed up to a handsome man with shoulder length dark hair, toned god like muscles, and beautiful green eyes.

The way he stood just made me nervous, as he looked right at me. I realized my eyes had wondered over him for a little longer than intended, making me quickly look away. Flushed and embarrassed I touch the glass of the cocktail to my soft yet fragile lips, tasting the sweet yet dense taste of the alcoholic beverage mixed with olives.

I leaned back in the red velvet colored couch, pushing my shoulders slightly against the soft yet rough fabric, inhaling the tobacco scent within the club walls.

A few more men walk out to please the eyes of the ladies on all sides of the stage, but they don’t catch my eye like he does. I run my eyes down his body, he was built like a statue. I watched as he slowly took each layer of his tight clothing off. The soft veins from his neck, the paleness of his skin, the beauty of his deep v line, leading to his well trimmed trail.

I felt like I was invading him, inside and out but I couldn’t help it, I was addicted after only seeing him for a few minutes. He set a chair on the edge of the stage and looked around, as our eyes fell into each other. It felt so invasive, like he was tearing my tight dress off with his mysterious eyes.

He got down on the ground and crawled up to the edge of the stage looking down at me in just a pair of tight boxers that fit him like they were made just for him. “Come here darling.” He spoke for the first time and my heart flew. The soft yet deep tone in his voice. His words flooded my mind with a questionable desire but I pushed that all away to answer him. “Yes..?” I quietly asked.

I wasn’t the social type, actually I was quite the opposite. All those eyes on me made me anxious but excited. A thrill in my body I didn’t know I had before this experience. He slightly flicked his tongue to wet his lips before parting them to speak once again. “Let me show you a good time.” He had a curled smile, almost smirking.

My head raced, as well as my heart as I respond by laying my hand on his. He lifted me up on stage and gently set me down in the metal chair behind him. “I must know darling, do you mind a man like myself to touch your fragile skin?” He stared into my eyes waiting for a response before he laid himself on me.

I gulp and nods, gripping the chair. He quietly laughs, looking away only for a moment before looking back into my soul. He gently tilted his fingers, lifting up my chin to face him instead of eyeing down at the ground. “Im going to need a verbal response sweetheart.” I softly bite my lip in respond as I part my lips and finally let out a few words. “I consent.” I whisper, as I feel him lean down into the crease of my neck, parting my hair behind my ear.

I could feel him breathe against my ear, when he whispered soft words in my ear. “Good girl..” leaning back to see his good work, all over my express-ionized face. My cheeks were as red as the couches, when I soon felt a pool of arousal down at my core.

This was embarrassing, but It was out of my control now. When he popped my bubble of raging thoughts by gently grabbing my wrists and wrapping my arms around his neck, pushing his almost fully exposed body against mine.

Gripping my hips he picked me up, causing me to let out a little yelp. He looked down at me and let out a chuckle. “You’re quite new to this hm?” I breathe quietly and looks away slightly tilting my head up. “In a way yes..”

He turned and sat in the chair, where he set me on his lap, spreading my legs, slightly pushing pressure on my sensitive inner thighs. I softly whine out, feeling my inner core pulse for him the lustful and arousing feeling spread through my body like a wildfire.

My eyes travel down, making contact with his rock hard bulge against the fabric of his boxers. I could see the outline of his shaft and veins, he slightly twitched when I adjusted myself.

I feel his long fingers travel and rub against my neck, making me lean my head up with a soft hiss. “Eyes up here princess.” The corner of his lips rise, creating a smirk that traps itself in my memory. “I’m sorry..” I whisper, struggling to make up any other words.

He smiles and gently rubs his nose against my chin, his breathe against the core of my neck. “Why don’t you meet me after the show?” He whispers close to my ear, as I nod in response.

And with that he picks me back up and sets me back on my feet, resulting in my legs feeling like jello from the level of arousal in between my legs. So much so I was worried it was noticeable to everyone else around. I watch him wink at me and continue the show, as I step down crowded by the group of girls asking me questions about what happened.

.

.

.

Part two in the making

[skepticalkoi-catastrophe]

❝ ❤ 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒦𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒶 🔪 ❞

Slasher oc x BlackFem!oc

⇸The following SMAU fanfic is inspired by the movie Scream, the 2015 MTV Scream TV series and fanficThe Final Girl by @ghoularaki . Comments, Reblogs, and Shares are heavily appreciated. Please enjoy ~ ♥︎

⇸ Paring - Slasher oc [@BUNII_ on Twitter] x Reader!oc

⇸ ⚠️ Warning/Genre ⚠️ Horror, slight comedy, interracial couple, slightly angst, fluff, social media au, senior high school/slasher au, character deaths ( major & minor), blood, detailed gore, eventual smut, explicit sexual themes, slow burn, strangers to friends au, friends to lovers au, childhood friends to lovers au.

⇸ Quick Sum up: ❝A rise in missing persons reports render a small town afraid and helpless. But when Ashe, the towns goody two shoes, gets thrown in the middle of copycat killing spree, an unknown contact comes to protect her from the shadows.❞

Next chapter  ➽ 

↳ Rose's Thorns ↲

Silverkeep Junior High are where his memories lay to waste. As a small fragile child from a broken home to which the warm-hearted granted amnesty, others enacted cruelties and prejudice. Despite that, she saw him as himself. With her hand outstretched she befriended him taking in all his good, his bad, and his ugly truths. His greatest light in his darkest of the dark.

Hardly a day goes by he doesn't revel in how she came to him. How she mended him, gave him a breath of life he felt he wasn't deserving of. Yet he'd done injustice to her by letting his fogged judgment aid his desperation for normalcy. His lackluster attempts at acceptance were his consequence, why he left without a goodbye. Why he watched from a distance as she crumbled to the ground of her front porch, his letter of apology, an engraved ring, and a stuffed teddy bear in her arms.

Her words rattled in his head like dice.

"You don't have to be scared anymore."

Stranger splashed water on his face, his dark uncombed hair held back with a hair tie. His rings resting on the porcelain sink while he rinses his bloody hands and prosthetic eye. Another consequence he suffered. Exiting the steamy bathroom, he sends a good morning text to Babydoll. Knowing her she's probably fast asleep.

His crime board is littered with haphazard notes and red strings crisscrossing over printed photos, articles, and newspaper clippings. Earl grey swirls in his mug as he turns on the news. Reports about forty previous kills were circulating warning residents in neighboring towns to be on watch as mandatory curfews are indefinite.

He swallowed his tea in frustration. In his mirror he stood shirtless, his black sweatpants hung at his hips and v-line. The band of his briefs read Calvin Klein. Damning as it may, his inner personal recollections forced out the beast he's become. Markings from the scolding water prove it without a doubt, Lord knows his mother would've been devastated to see him chart this path. God rest her soul.

Fossicking through his dresser he finds a shirt, a loud clink hits the floorboards below. It was a ring threatening to roll elsewhere. He quickly stomps it, kneeling to retrieve the stainless steel band. Her birth date along with the word forevermore engraved in Gothic Calligraphy.

His notification chimes as he sees Baby Doll's reply. Her choice of words earned him a placid smile slightly showing his teeth.

The stranger slips it on his right ring finger laying a kiss against it.

"In due time..."

Winding roads turned to dirt as Stranger curved beaten paths so as not to arouse suspicion from local law enforcement.

What he was doing was crazy. He knew it was a trap, he knew this was exactly what that psycho wanted but if it ment getting one step closer to saving Babydoll then he was willing to take that chance.

Stranger's jet-black Yamaha motorcycle screeches to a halt. He pops the kickstand, swinging his leg over while removing his helmet. Decrepit suburban homes hauntingly surround him, their once lively paint jobs now faded with time. The address sending chills down his spine as he stood on the brown patches of what was grass and fallen autumn leaves. 214 Hawthorne Boulevard.

He enters through the cobweb covered back window, the front door conveniently boarded up from inside. Peeling egg shell white paint resembled crepey skin of the elderly. Smashing it open with a backyard stone he vaults inside.

Stranger stalked around the hollowed interior of the first floor. To his left the living room stood motionless. Plastic covered furniture sank into the dusty floorboards. He swivels his head facing the bathroom.

Shining his light, mold sprouting on the tub walls and behind the toilet. 'up to your right' spell out on the mirror in grime.

Stranger's nerves rattled as he kept on. Towards the staircase each cautious step he took creaked underneath his weight. One step gave out, him seizing hold of the banister at that very moment.

Regaining balance he pulls his foot from the hole giving a look like thunder.

He swept the rooms, any and all lacking the life that once resided. That life an eerie ghost of who he once was.

His blood boiled getting closer until his combat boot made a small splash in a trail of crimson liquid.

It pooled, leading to a room off to the right.

Stranger's heart sank deeply, gripping the handle of his knife tightly when his posture stiffens. The door opens wide, his head stuttered like TV static. Inside there layed a dress familiar of 8th-grade prom dripping blood on the twin mattress. Candles lit aflame just at the moment he locked eyes with stuffed animals mutilated about alongside a cassette tape marked 'Track one'.

Blood-splattered white roses sat on a chair next to another note. He picked it up as his phone rang.

"I see you take a liking to my handy work. Who would've known kitten had such beautiful taste."

"You've got some nerve..." Stranger growled. "Whatever you're planning I won't stop till you're dead."

They smirks as they spoke. "I know. That's why I'm giving you clues on how to do that. And to save kitten of course."

Stranger picks up the bouquet and sees a note tucked away in the roses.

Perhaps another riddle.

"See that tape I left behind for you? It's your clue but I doubt you have a cassette player huh? I wonder who does."

"And the riddle? I didn't come all this way for nothing." Stranger jumps down their throat shoving the tape and note in his hoodie pocket. "Why lead me here then?"

They pause. "Look around. This was your childhood home wasn't it? Or it was hers at least. Have you forgotten?"

He froze, clasping his hand over his head. It goes without saying he knew. He knew he'd step into an empty shell of what once was his happy place. He'd stare at the glow in the dark spangled ceiling of her room, dance in the kitchen to her mother's old vinyls, even sitting on the porch with her during sunsets. Stranger huffed. What does it matter?

"I take it you haven't." Their tongue coated in mischief. "Use these clues to wash the blood off your hands, Cherry. Red isn't your color."

The call ends, Stranger dropping his hands to his sides. Taking the dress he flipped it over to see what's on the other side. A Printed flyer for a Halloween party.

'Babydoll's school' he thought to himself.

The flimsy paper was shoved in his pocket as he walked downstairs, avoiding the hole he left on the way up. Out the back door he walked to his motorcycle, frustration boiling with him.

A loud ping sounded from his phone. He sighs putting it in the phone mount swiping to answer.

"Babydoll this isn't a great time I-"

"Stranger please...come over. We need to talk." She stammered.

Revving the engine he pulls off. "I'm on my way."

Stranger cuts the headlights of his motorcycle parking it out of sight. Jogging towards Babydoll's house, the soles of his boots make brisk contact with the tree trunk pulling him upward.

Midnight on the dot he sat atop her roof tapping her skylight. Without street lamps, their little corner of Cali would be pitch black. The creaking of the glass catches his ear. Upon its opening Babydoll rubs her tired eyes, her lips in a cushioned pout. Her cheeks are glossy as she looks up.

"May I come in lovey?" Stranger's heart wretched, his hood obscuring his face waiting for her invitation.

Babydoll sniffles, bowing her head and stepping back clutching her midsection.

Her current state and his guilt squeezed his throat, choking him. He almost wanted to cry himself.

Swinging his legs over the windowsill drops in and removes his combat boots. Towering over her even still without the extra height Stranger placed his leather trench coat on the back of her desk chair tucking his hunter's knife away. LED lights line the ceiling on the lowest setting basking the room in muted blue. He drags along Babydoll's bedside trashcan as he sat upon her bed. More than enough snotty tissues crumpled inside it.

Her mattress dipped as Stranger handed her tissues from his back pocket. Babydoll lays down shifting so her head rests at the foot of the bed facing Stranger's lap. Feebly wiping her face her hair tucked away in a silken scarf and wearing an oversized hooded flannel.

Hesitant she whimpers. "I'm sorry you have to be here."

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner." Stranger bites his tongue. "Stop apologizing. You did nothing wrong."

Stranger's hands are folded in his lap, and leaning forward, his knee bounces a bit. This was the pain he hated seeing her in. The pain that kept him on guard, vigilant.

"If you're too afraid to sleep I'll stand guard. I know that's why you wanted me here."

"I'm fine Stranger you don't have to." Babydoll objects sitting up.

"Keep telling yourself that. You don't have to be strong for me or anyone. You're hurting...just let me do this. Just let me stay."

Babydoll rolls her eyes blinking away more tears. He was outright stubborn, and wouldn't budge much like a ghost she knew in passing. She nods pointing him to her mini-fridge.

"Could you get me a bottle of water?"

Tag list- @ebonyslasher @kuromi-kouhai-blog @peachjaem00 @nastyatticman @itzgabz22 @lxstfuleclipse @strxwberry-milku @iloveslasher @luna-ashe @house-of-elves

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, please comment below or dm me. I hope you enjoy ~

[thepitofjob]

Job 2: 7-13. "The Love Bringer."

Job says we have to establish a core within ourselves in order to resist wickedness. A man should not wield his wiener without the ability to pay heed to the core. The core belief of Judaism is a man shall not be a slave to another man, to delusion, to his own passions, or to ignorance. He must be in elegant control of his faculties, passions, organ systems, appetites, behaviors, and interests at all times. At the end of a period of strict control comes Shabbat, freedom from work.

Shabbat is the result of good habits but is not a habit itself. Job is therefore trying to instill in us how to be good ascetics before we go out into the world and indulge. Indulge we can, but in certain ways that are not gross, rude, disgusting, harmful, hurtful or too risky; mistakes happen but they cannot happen frequently or one has to work again and this is a violation of Shabbat.

The entirety of slavery in Egypt consists of various punishments for persons who are "mistake prone." The first one we cover in the tract below are "painful sores" named in the Torah. Painful sores are treated with ashes from the burnt offering which is a way of explaining Jewish Karma.

The prohibition against being mistaken about the instructions in the Torah and incurring Karma is found in Emor:

16 The Lord said to Moses, 17 “Say to Aaron: ‘For the generations to come none of your descendants who has a defect may come near to offer the food of his God. 18 No man who has any defect may come near: no man who is blind or lame, disfigured or deformed; 19 no man with a crippled foot or hand, 20 or who is a hunchback or a dwarf, or who has any eye defect, or who has festering or running sores or damaged testicles. 

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 16-17: The Number is 6386, וג‎ח‎ו "And they came,"

v. 18: The Number is 4634, דוגד‎ ‎‎, dogg, "went fishing,"

v. 19-20: The Number is 9549, טהדט, tahdat, ‎"for awareness."

So a real man must be aware of how his actions result in the appearances of impropriety. Sores afflict raw flesh. Anytime we see a pair of shirtless shorts jog by and is not left in peace, anytime one goes online and hooks up instead of reading a book or watching a movie, or motivates the self negatively as the result of contact with "raw flesh" one gets a sore. To cure the sore one has to recall the last time this happened or "cover it in ashes."

From Tazria:

12 “If the disease breaks out all over their skin and, so far as the priest can see, it covers all the skin of the affected person from head to foot, 13 the priest is to examine them, and if the disease has covered their whole body, he shall pronounce them clean. Since it has all turned white, they are clean. 14 But whenever raw flesh appears on them, they will be unclean. 15 When the priest sees the raw flesh, he shall pronounce them unclean. The raw flesh is unclean; they have a defiling disease. 16 If the raw flesh changes and turns white, they must go to the priest. 17 The priest is to examine them, and if the sores have turned white, the priest shall pronounce the affected person clean; then they will be clean.

The tract below mentions Job had allies in his struggle to overcome the temptations of raw flesh. They are:

Eliphaz the Temanite= "God is agile, He is a craftsman, He makes us sound."

The verb פזז (pazaz) means to be agile or versatile, and also specifically serves to describe finely crafted gold or gold masterly formed to fit a base shape. The noun פז (paz) describes such finely crafted gold.

The verb תמם (tamam) primarily means to be complete or finished (Genesis 47:18, Deuteronomy 31:24) and secondarily to be ethically sound or upright (Job 22:3, Psalm 18:26). And in that sense, this verb is similar to שלם (shalem), to be complete or whole, and ישר (yashar), to be level or straight.

Our verb's derivatives are:

The masculine noun תם (tom), meaning integrity (Genesis 20:5), or completeness (Isaiah 47:9).

The feminine equivalent תמה (tumma), also meaning integrity (Proverbs 11:3, Job 27:5).

The adjective תם (tam), meaning complete or perfect (Song of Solomon 5:2), sound or wholesome (Genesis 25:27), or morally integer (Job 1:8).

The adjective תמים (tamim), meaning complete or whole (Job 36:4, Joshua 10:13), or sound or having integrity (Genesis 6:9, Psalm 18:24). This adjective is also used as a substantive, meaning that which is complete or entirely in accord with truth and fact (Joshua 24:14, Amos 5:10).

The masculine noun מתם (metom), meaning entirety or soundness (Isaiah 1:6, Judges 20:48).

In the prior frame we discussed how the core has to have gold in it. This refers to that process. The Mishnah also calls the core a firepan.

Bildad the Shuhite= "control over his love bringer, does not descend into a pit."

The verb בעל (ba'al) means to exercise dominion over; to own, control or be lord over. The ubiquitous noun בעל (ba'al) means lord, master and even husband, and its feminine counterpart בעלה (ba'ala) means mistress or landlady.

God is obviously called 'lord' all over the Bible and the sin of the Baal priests (1 Kings 18:40) was not that they called upon some other deity but rather their incessant howling of the word 'lord' without any further responsibility or effects (see Matthew 7:21 and 11:4-5).

The root ידד (yadad) has to do with love, and that mostly in the affectionate, physical sense. Adjective ידיד (yadid) means beloved or lovely. Noun ידידות (yedidot) means love, as in "a song of love" and noun ידידות (yedidut), meaning love in the sense of beloved one.

Curiously, an identical verb ידד (yadad II) means to cast a lot and instead of being kin to the previous, it appears to be related to the verb ידה (yada), which originally meant to cast but which evolved to mean to praise.

That our root has to do with physical fondling and love-making is demonstrated by the verb דדה (dada), which means to move slowly. Noun דד (dad) denotes a women's nipple or breast specifically as object of one's husband's interest.

Unused verb דוד (dwd) probably meant to gently swing, dandle, fondle. Noun דוד (dod) or דד (dod) means beloved or loved one, and may also describe one's uncle. The feminine version, דודה (doda), means aunt. Noun דודי (duday) literally means a "love-bringer" and describes a mandrake. Noun דוד (dud) refers to a kind of pot or jar (perhaps one that was rocked or stirred?).

It may or may not be that the noun יד (yad), meaning hand, also has something to do with this root.

The verb שחח (shahah) means to bow down or be bowed down, crouched or humbled. Adjective שח (shah) means low or lowly.

Verb שוח (shuah) means to sink, or to be bowed down or humbled. Nouns שוחה (shuha) and שיחה (shiha) mean pit.

Notice we said a male boy just has to have control, he does not have to be a nun or very spooky about sex.

Zophar the Naamathite= does not use his words as a sharp point or like a frog, but speaks using sweetnesses. No one should be so stupid as to kiss a frog.

The verb נעם (na'em) means to be pleasant, delightful or sweet. Derived nouns נעם (no'am) and נעמן (na'aman) mean pleasantness. Adjective נעים (na'im), means pleasant. The plural noun מנעמים (man'ammim) describes "sweets" or dainties. The adjective נעים (na'im) describes a soft or pleasant sound.

The most fundamental meaning of the unused verb צפר (sapar) appears to be to skewer or pierce through, whether by fear, a shrieking sound or a sharp point. From this verb comes the often used noun צפור (sippor), which is a common word for bird and appears to refer to birds' signature piercing shrieks.

Then there is the noun צפירה (sepira), which apparently denoted a kind of head gear, like a crown or diadem, but which also served as a symbol for looming doom. Noun צפרן (sipporen) means finger nail or stylus point.

However, there is another verb in cognate languages, which is identical to the previous and which means to leap. From it stem the noun צפיר (sapir), which describes a kind of goat, and צפרדע (separdea'), which means frog.

There are Seven Days, seven stages of evolution one must follow in order to enter the core, the Room whose tenets are found above and also in the prior frame. Recall in Judaism, the crown of the head is foung between the anus penis and the belly button before you read on:

7 So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord and afflicted Job with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head. 

8 Then Job took a piece of broken pottery and scraped himself with it as he sat among the ashes.

9 His wife said to him, “Are you still maintaining your integrity? Curse God and die!”

10 He replied, “You are talking like a foolish[b] woman. Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?”

In all this, Job did not sin in what he said.

11 When Job’s three friends, Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite and Zophar the Naamathite, heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him. 

12 When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads. 

13 Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 7:  Job was afflicted with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head. The Number is 7506, ז‎האֶפֶסו‎, "This is the zero."

We learn something is wrong once we start becoming interested in other persons. Day Zero begins when one detects something new is happening when one sees the signs of fertility in other persons and begins to react. The understanding of right from wrong matter more than ever during this time.

Even though the body functions, as with driving a car, just because one has supple digits does not mean we give him the keys to the ignition. Sexy stuff is the same.

v. 8: He sat among the ashes. The Number is 4448, דדד‎‎‎ח‎, "like a toddler."

With sex, there is no way to toddle. One either touches another person in an intimate way or one is platonic. The Rab says the only way to prevent a sore is to choose the proper partner for the initial hop into adulthood.

The broken pottery mentioned above is the loss of innocence which holds nothing. The Torah recommends a clay pot that will hold the water for sexual intercourse, except do not put a lizard in a clay pot.

There are other types of creatures that also do not belong in the asshole. From Shemeni:

29 “‘Of the animals that move along the ground, these are unclean for you: the weasel, the rat, any kind of great lizard, 30 the gecko, the monitor lizard, the wall lizard, the skink and the chameleon. 31 Of all those that move along the ground, these are unclean for you. Whoever touches them when they are dead will be unclean till evening. 32 When one of them dies and falls on something, that article, whatever its use, will be unclean, whether it is made of wood, cloth, hide or sackcloth. Put it in water; it will be unclean till evening, and then it will be clean. 33 If one of them falls into a clay pot, everything in it will be unclean, and you must break the pot. 34 Any food you are allowed to eat that has come into contact with water from any such pot is unclean, and any liquid that is drunk from such a pot is unclean. 35 Anything that one of their carcasses falls on becomes unclean; an oven or cooking pot must be broken up. They are unclean, and you are to regard them as unclean. 36 A spring, however, or a cistern for collecting water remains clean, but anyone who touches one of these carcasses is unclean. 37 If a carcass falls on any seeds that are to be planted, they remain clean. 38 But if water has been put on the seed and a carcass falls on it, it is unclean for you.

v. 9-10: Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?” The Number is 9327, טגבז‎, "spoil."

We want the spoils not to be spoiled. This step in the process aligns with the famous quail meant/manna scene in the Torah. We are called to the meat, that is for sure, and we know we can't survive on manna "the tormentor" of bare existence, we always know what we need and the difference between that and what we want.

This is illustrated in Behaalotekha. Right after the Israelites leave Egypt, they go hog wild and their desires get the better of them. God rains meat from the sky in response and it poisons them.

Poisonous meat falling form the sky, landing in between the teeth was not the answer to the early desires of the Israelites, neither was the manna which means "burden" or "torment" that appeared on the ground afterwards. That is silly. God tells us life under the flesh is satisfied through wisdom, which accumulates after trouble. Trouble is best incurred by persons who have some maturity, with plans to acquire more.

v. 11: Jobs three friends sympathize. The Number is 9271, טבזא‎ ‎, tabzah, "They showed him scorn."

The one thing can fix the world, no matter what is going wrong is a deliberate statement of faith in what is right and what is wrong. Sympathy does no good. If one rereads the character profiles named in this verse, what one discovers is one does not need to keep it in one's pants, one should pull it out only when it is going to do the most good. And there are plenty of chances in life to do this. All one has to do is have the right intentions and look.

v. 12: When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads. 

One should not recognize certain behaviors and call them valid when they are instead causing sorrow. The Number is 9314, תאגד, tagad, "syndicate." A syndication in this case refers to proper decorum within the "barracks of horseplay" found in the Book of Joshua.

No one celebrates the onset of a broken heart, the Torah reassures us there are ways to play that do not result necessarily in marriage, which do not end up in deep sorrow.

The Book of Joshua recommends treating one's love gorge like a love apple. If one syndicates as a result, that is ideal.

v. 13: Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was.

The Number is 11138. Because Seven Days are mentioned, I use a qof in any calculations on the hundreds. A real Juice will know why I'm doing this= קיא‎ג‎ח, vomiting.

Vomiting is the opposite of Shabbos.

Vomiting means one's karma is ripening. Shabbos means it is bearing fruit, but the urge to vomit means the phenomenal world is rejecting one's behavior. Vomiting is an involuntary response to the digestion of poisons or toxins.

Poisons are deliberate, toxins are accidental. Either way, whether one ingested the urge to be stupid on purpose or through mishap, vomit means its time to take a stand against the behavior on a voluntary basis and change one's habits.

While it is true the Torah encourages promiscuity, it does not promote insensitivity. This is the reason it prohibits sex with animals, dirty dix, and nasty snatches, there is an ettiquette. Without the ettiquette, also called the rules of Kosher, happiness and sexual romance, together called Shabbos is not possible.

Partnering through Shabbos is not supposed to be a hobby but a healthy obsession. Identification of its object is not the product of an an accident. It requires a Kosher ettiquette, discipline, and illumination.

Shabbos does not come easy, but it should. To achive Shabbos after much trouble is human nature, to wish one had reveled in it sooner is also human nature.

I realize I sound like an old harpy, but four years ago, I told the government something scary was going on with Donald Trump's 2016 election campaign, and then the same thing was happening with the same persons- all Mormons-who were gathering at Clayton Green's house in NW Washington DC.

I told them some heavy hitters were involved in treason, election fraud, kiddie porn, incest, drugs, rape, murder, and extortion, and nothing was done. Now there is not one person on this planet that has not been touched by the suffering Donald Trump and his Mormon friends have caused. Speaker Mike Johnson maintains strong ties to Barbara and David Green who masterminded almost all of it, along with his colleagues in the Republican Party and they still report to the Capitol.

So to this very day, no one will stand in front of the world and state there is right and there is wrong and excise this invasive evil that is not showing any restraint in its plans to cause this world harm.

We will not grow from these experiences if we vomit up the sadness and worry they are causing. We need to act sterlingly and purposefully. We need to tell the world we are aware and in charge.

Except now a man who has sex with little kids and engages in terrorist attacks is being allowed to pursue the White House a second time.

Whither leaders go, others will follow.

[jefelen-presents]

"Stranded" (2023)

Tuesday, November 7th, 2023 (23:32) JEFELEN was pleased to have served as Associate Producer for Concept Media Films™ (in association with Bad Evan Productions™ and TaintBad Productions™) on the feature-length horror, "Stranded", directed by Shawn Burkett, which releases to the general public as of today!

After the loss of their mother, a group of estranged siblings agree to collectively scatter her ashes at their family cabin outside of Fouke, Arkansas. During the journey, however, their vehicle breaks down, leaving them to continue on foot, only to be stalked and terrorized by a legendary sasquatch monster...!

Being distributed by Wild Eye Releasing™, this creature-feature is now available to rent or buy through the following digital platforms:

Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CK1G1S1B

Prime Video™: http://www.primevideo.com/detail/0Q642BA6FJXKY0WR9QUEGG…

Google Play™: http://play.google.com/store/movies/details…

Apple TV™: http://tv.apple.com/movie/umc.cmc.4kmhcmg3qm7iqp9s7qg6e9…

Vudu™: http://www.vudu.com/content/movies/details/stranded/2746263

YouTube™: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EK_YDdi2ZE

With more electronic avenues to follow. Physical media is to be provided by MVD™, with the official release date yet to be formally announced...

#ShawnBurkett #ConceptMedia #Stranded #BoggyCreek #BigfootIsReal #AvailableNOW

BREAK!!**

Tuesday, November 14th, 2023 (13:31) This is a somewhat unorthodox addendum, breaking from what I've established as customary presentational practice, but it is of tangential relevance, I feel, so of appropriate inclusion here:

http://www.gofundme.com/f/help-shawn-beat-pneumonia

Shawn's in a bit of a bad way at present, I'm sorry to report, and could currently use a helping hand. Accordingly, this GoFundMe™ page has been set up on his behalf to help him through these challenging circumstances. He's hanging in there, rest assured, recuperating from home on an oxygen tank, but is definitely struggling to make ends meet -- the prognosis is a twelve-week recovery...

In addition to the fundraiser, Burkett is personally offering his creative services to anyone in the independent filmmaking community who might be in need of poster design, DVD and/or blu-ray packaging, inserts, trailer editing -- basically, ANY work he can comfortably do from home (he's a bit of a one-man-shop when it comes to this kind of thing). He's even working on watercolour paintings, to keep himself occupied (those are going for twenty bucks a piece, if I'm not mistaken). So if there's anything listed here that you might presently be in the market for, or you happen to be in a position to help out by way of generous donation, please don't hesitate to reach out. Cheers.

And be sure to give "STRANDED" a look, while you're at it!

Tuesday, November 21st, 2023 (03:30) Continuing along with the theme of charitable support, but bringing matters back to the commercial interests of "Stranded", Concept Media™ have released an assortment of official merchandise, which can be ordered direct from their online store:

Eleven/fifteen ounce drinkware: http://www.conceptmediallc.com/product/903205

Unisex basketball jersey: http://www.conceptmediallc.com/product/904115

One-piece swimsuit: http://www.conceptmediallc.com/product/903196

Each features original artwork by Easton Hawk. This same preliminary design was utilised by Bizarro Threads™ for their licensed line of quality fashion garments, as part of their dedicated Shawn Burkett collection:

http://www.bizarrothreads.com/…/shawn-burkett-col…

Unfortunately, it appears that their electronic storefront isn't currently operational, for one reason or another… but there is still one commercial listing available through their authorised Facebook™ Marketplace, for what that might be worth:

Long-sleeve shirt: http://www.facebook.com/commerce/products/5465465890239549

As inventory becomes more organised, I'll be sure to update appropriately… #SupportIndependentCinema

Tuesday, November 28th, 2023 (13:31) I'd like to take this opportunity to highlight the aforementioned Easton Hawk artwork in its full detail, as I find it to be a particularly well illustrated piece:

Tuesday, December 12th, 2023 (23:32) And the Wild Eye™ distribution key art:

Monday, March 25th, 2024 (23:32) 2024 UPDATE: now available on Tubi™:

http://www.tubitv.com/movies/100017798