#dont focus on stuff you dont like or stuff that makes you uncomfortable

[icewindandboringhorror]

At what temperature INDOORS (not outdoor weather) do you start to become noticeably uncomfortable (sweaty, heavy, don't feel like doing anything, etc.) and begin trying to cool off yourself or your environment?

(Like, at what point do you start putting out fans, turning on the AC, getting ice water, etc. because the indoor room temperature has gotten too high for you?)

It's starting to get warmer weather where I live, so I was thinking about it/curious how this might vary :0

(sorry if the celsius conversions aren't entirely accurate, I just used a website to look them up/am not familiar with measuring things that way myself lol)

[waywardsalt]

breakthrough i think i figured out a new character flaw for damien

[kireilien]

Hope u dont mind the spam 😣

Reader is maki's gf buuuut maki lets nico eat you out. Why? Cause he wanted to learn "properly". Everything else is history.

-#

ur giving me a run for my money this was so nghhhh da inspo nd that one comment “why they running a 2man on a burger” LOL but i had to make this into a love letter this is so mind blowing ty # anon

tw/cw. nsfw content, cursing; bf!maki, bf bsf!nicholas, sub!reader, fem!reader, race neutral reader, “condescending,” “objectification,” thoughts of this being pseudo-cheating, maki sharing you, oral (f receiving), clit stim, ruined orgasm, lwk they pretend like you’re not there..., reader is referred to as “maki’s girl” a few times, the tws i’ll explain under the cut!

this was also inspired by one of my favorite nsfw asmrists on reddit u/-basilbasilbasil- and their audio about pussy inspection it just screams this scenario which is why i added those tags just in case if someone reads it and finds it uncomfortable! was also totally inspired by fumabun’s kissing ranking, just translated it to pussy eating lolz anyways

“okay. pretend like they aren’t wet already.” 

“how am i supposed to do that.” 

“just pretend, dude. i’m teaching you how to eat box, they’re not supposed to be wet already.” 

your bottom half is already bare, pussy open to both nicholas and maki. embarrassingly wet in front of them, you still couldn’t believe that maki– your fuckass boyfriend– was scared to try eating you out, so he asked nicholas– his best friend– to eat you out. it’s hard to pretend to sit there like a sex toy for their use, but i guess it’s all worth it for maki’s experience– and better yet your sex life and pleasure. 

“some guys just lay there, some guys just spread their legs, but you gotta hook your arms under their legs like this,” nicholas demonstrates by using his strong arms to clutch onto your legs. his hands slide down your inner thighs to spread them out a little more. maki sits up further on your bed to see nicholas’ next moves. “see when you have them like this, you have your eye on the prize.” maki nods at nicholas as he starts lowering his head. 

he flicks his tongue only slightly against your clit. you jolt at the sudden movement, “you wanna start off by only focusing on the clit. this is the clit. remember it. don’t be stupid and not know where it is because if the two of you break up, that’s gonna spread.” maki side eyed nicholas at his passive comment only for a bit before nicholas continued. “bob your tongue like this– it makes them wet, making them ready for you to eat up.” although nicholas’ tongue was out, causing his speech to get slightly unintelligible, maki still knew what he was talking about.

as nicholas carries on, your thighs twitch and soft moans fall from your lips. maki was good for calling nicholas out of everyone to eat you out. nicholas pull back only slightly, “see how they’re flowing? you can also thumb at them like this to get the same effect. just focus on the clit for a little bit.” nicholas’ thumb is rough, different from maki’s hands. your breath hitches and start breaking when your head is thrown back in your pillows. “see that? notice how they react too. if they’re unfazed, that’s how you know you’re fucked.” 

maki simply nods and hums once more. “and listen too. listen for the smallest things. you wanna know if they’re groaning like they’re hurting, humming like they’re bored, or actually whimpering for you.” nicholas points at his ear to indicate his ‘teachings’ to maki. 

“okay, after a few minutes, clit stuff isn’t it anymore, focus on their hole,” nicholas starts off first before coming back down to your pussy. “pussy juice is addicting, so don’t go all in. savor it. if you go crazy style, they’re just gonna get weirded out.” maki peers over your thighs once more to watch nicholas. “watch. take your tongue, cup it like this,” nicholas shows maki his tongue slightly curled before coming back down, “scoop up their wetness.” nicholas uses his curled tongue to push your leaking pussy juice against his tongue to taste you. nicholas smacks his lips once before muttering and flexing his jaw, “fuck, your girl tastes good.” maki jerks his head, “wait, what’d you say?” nicholas shakes his head, “nothing.” 

continuing on, nicholas starts up once more, “use your tongue and mouth at their entire pussy– like make out with it– watch.” nicholas uses his plush lips to envelop your pussy. his tongue drags up your labia and back up to your clit while closing his lips around it. maki’s looking intensely as if he’s taking notes up in his brain. nicholas keeps at it, “here, you kinda just freestyle. watch how they move and react. you might wanna snake your tongue down… kiss up in it… bite and suck at their lips… flick your tongue inside… tongue them back up… do whatever they like.” as nicholas talked, he reciprocated his words to his actions. if he talked about tonguing you, he tongued you. if he kisses you, he kisses you. almost down to an art. 

nicholas’ hands found themselves squeezing at the flesh of your thighs and ass as he watches you unfold on his tongue. your hands are gripping at your sheets, knees are bent up, legs closing in on the sides of his head. while your cries are growing louder. each moan, whine, and croak of pleasure is getting nicholas so fucking hard. his pants are tent up by how his cock is straining at his boxers. shit. if he had a girl too, he’d feel so fucking bad, but your pussy is heaven to him. the way you’re melting on his tongue and taste like pure gold. thank god this isn’t technically cheating on maki. 

right when you feel the knot in your stomach inches away from snapping, nicholas pulls away. you whine, “what–! fuck–!” nicholas lips his lips from your sweet juices, his eyes are zeroing into yours. fuck. he feels so wrong for not letting you cum but, you are maki’s girl. “you’re up, man. eat your girl out like i just showed you.” maki exhales deeply before switching with nicholas, “i’ll do it better than you. no one will make my girl cum like i do.” 

“sure, dude.”

might extend this with the maki part and make it like a ramble?

back 2 maki catalog / back 2 catalog

[wifeshifts]

shifting misconceptions i wish were blasted with a disintegrating ray

'clones' do not exist i hate tiktok sm for starting this no one is going to control your body while you're gone unless you're a plural system!

2. you do not physically teleport there like your body isnt gonna suddenly poof out of existence - your only transferring your consciousness. ppl get uppity when its compared to astral projection but it's pretty similar in sense of steps to get there. i think this step really hinders a lot of ppl and when i tell them this they have a MUCH easier time shifting

3. you dont need to be in a good mindset or be super hydrated to shift - it's a good thing to be taken care of and be in a good mindset, but really it all comes down to focus. emotions can cause blocks but they can't full on prevent it from happening. also im severely dehydrated and shift just fine LOL

4. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BE STILL TO SHIFT! if your position is uncomfortable, MOVE! doing all that 'void state' stuff is fine if it helps you focus but if it bothers you and especially if it makes you hurt, please move. your body isn't going to be still while you're gone anyway (i.e scratching an itch or adjusting, not the aforementioned clones)

5. obligatory you dont need to script or do methods blah blah everyone knows this one LOL

6. shifting doesn't just apply to us in this reality. ppl from other realities can shift here too when invited! not so much as a misconception that it is a little tip - it takes less energy than shifting and you can go abt daily life with whoever you want basically! i also call this cosmabonding! :)

[velarisdusk]

and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me

word count: 1.7k author's note: listen.. i may write but i am no songwriter. i dont wanna hear shit abt these lyrics, i drove myself to madness for HOURS trying to come up with them ✦ . AU Masterlist . ✦ ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

The studio smelled faintly of old coffee and cedar, the latter courtesy of Cassian’s obsession with “ambience candles.” Their flickering glow did little to cut through the dim light of the room, but that was how they worked best—shadows stretching long across the walls, a backdrop of soft atmospheric music mingling with the faint hum of amplifiers. 

Cassian was seated cross-legged on the worn couch, his drum pad balanced precariously on one knee. Rhys sat opposite, his guitar cradled loosely in his lap as his fingers absentmindedly picked out a melody that might, one day, become something. 

Azriel lounged across the arm of a chair, his legs draped over one side, notebook in hand. He’d been silent most of the night, pretending to be engrossed in writing, but he hadn’t added a word in over an hour. His pulse thrummed low and steady, though it felt like it was trying to climb into his throat. 

He cleared it instead. “I, uh…” His voice broke the lull, and both heads turned to him, expectant. “I’ve been working on something,” he added, tone clipped, casual—too casual. “Thought I’d see what you think.”

Rhys’s guitar fell silent, and Cassian stilled his restless tapping. “Let’s hear it,” Rhys said.

Az’s fingers curled around the edge of his sacred notebook, the slight crinkle of paper betraying his tension. Still, he began to read. 

“Got a taste of sin, it’s dripping off your skin, Lost in your fire, pull me in, Your body’s a drug, and I’m high on the feel, Push me to the edge, make me kneel”

Cassian’s mouth fell open, and Rhys slowly set his guitar down, leaning forward as Az kept going:

“Whisper my name, and I’m already there, Fingers gripping tight, pulling through your hair. Take me in deep, make me lose control, I’m yours to break, body and soul.”

When he finished, the studio was dead silent, save for the faint buzz of the amp. Cassian stared at him like he’d just confessed to a crime. 

“Holy shit.” Cassian let out a low whistle, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Az, I don’t know who did this to you, but she must’ve been a damn good lay.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but he schooled his features into a mask of indifference. “It’s just a concept.”

Rhys arched a brow, his lips twitching in amusement. “Sure it is.” He didn’t press, though, only added, “It’s good. Uncomfortably horny, but good. Way different from our usual stuff.”

Cassian grabbed his sticks, tapping out a beat on the drum pad with a lecherous grin. “Let’s lean in, boys. This is the kind of trashy filth that gets crowds throwing bras at us.”

Rhys’s lips twitched into a smirk, and he picked up his guitar again, plucking out something slinky, the kind of riff that felt like it belonged in a smoky, neon-lit club. “It’s dark,” he said, nodding to himself. “Sultry. Needs that dirty edge, though. Cass?”

Cassian’s grin widened as he began hammering out a beat—deliberate, aggressive, a rhythm that hit like a pounding pulse. “You’re singing this, Az.”

Azriel froze, shooting him a glare. “Absolutely not.”

Rhysand chuckled, pointing at him with his pick between two fingers. “You’re the one who wrote this filth, so you’re singing it, lover boy.”

“It’s just a concept,” Az repeated, gritting his teeth.

“Oh yeah?” Cassian retorted, his grin feral. “Then why does it sound like you’re confessing to something you did last night?”

Az opened his mouth to respond, but Rhys interrupted, strumming a riff so suggestive it could’ve been banned on public radio. “Alright, focus, idiots. Let’s make this worth the headache.”

For the next hour, the song began to take shape. Rhys layered intricate licks over Cassian’s primal rhythm, the combination dripping with heat and tension. Azriel’s lyrics were sharpened, punctuated with pauses that hit like clenched fists, every word landing like a whisper pressed against the shell of your ear.

Cassian couldn’t help himself. “‘Tie me down, tear me apart,’” he sang mockingly into the mic, voice exaggeratedly gravelly. “Az, I’m learning so much about you tonight.”

Az snatched the mic out of his hand, deadpan. “Learn to shut the hell up.”

Cassian laughed so hard he almost fell off his stool. “This one’ll wreck them. Absolute filth.”

Rhys leaned back, smiling lazily. “Filthy sells. And Az?” He tilted his head, studying his brother like a puzzle. “Next time you’re uh, inspired, maybe don’t hold back. This is… enlightening.”

Azriel only shook his head, flipping his notebook closed as Cassian howled with laughter, already promising to slap the song on the album. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Midnight wrapped around you like a blanket, the world outside still and quiet. The soft glow of your laptop lit your room as you settled further into bed, earbuds in place, ready for this moment. You’d been counting down for weeks, your excitement bubbling just beneath your skin. Finally, their newest album was here. 

It’d been months since the concert—months since you’d stood in that dark, electric space, his voice carving through the air like a blade. You could still feel the vibrations of the bass in your chest, the heat of the crowd, the way his eyes had found yours for just a second too long.

You hit play, and let the first track wash over you, a rush of gritty guitars and smooth vocals pulling you in instantly. The familiar sound of Rhysand’s honeyed voice wrapped around you, rich and magnetic, while Cassian’s drums hit like a thunderstorm. But it was the deeper, shadowed harmony threading through the background that made your breath catch. 

Azriel. 

Hearing him again sent a shiver through you, unbidden memories tugging at the edges of your mind. You’d spent one unforgettable night with him, his low, dark voice murmuring filthy things in your ear—words that had set your skin on fire and lingered long after the moment ended. His presence had been like gravity, drawing you closer, holding you there, even when you weren’t sure you could take it. 

And now, hearing that same voice woven through the music, backing Rhysand’s lead, was enough to make your pulse race. You didn’t know if you wanted to rewind the track or keep going, chasing that sound, that pull. 

You let it play. Each song unfolded like a gift—raw emotion, sharp edges. You found yourself nodding along, your fingers drumming softly against the blanket as you let the music consume you. But you couldn’t ignore the way Azriel’s harmonies caught your ear, his voice dipping into the pockets of the melody, haunting and magnetic. 

The opening notes slinked through your ears, unhurried but charged, the tempo slow enough to make your breath hitch. This was different. Azriel’s voice took the lead, a rare spotlight for him on a track, with Rhysand providing backup vocals—a reversal of their usual dynamic. It was striking, intimate, and laced with something that felt far too personal.

“Past the greenroom, whispers low, ‘No one’ll see, now don’t let go.’ Your nails, your teeth, the sting, the scrape— Pull me under, I’ll beg, I’ll break.”

You froze.

The blanket bunched in your fists as your mind caught up to what you were hearing. 

No.

Your thumb hovered over the pause button, but you couldn’t press it. The way Azriel sang it—low, raw, and dripping with heat—made it impossible to think straight. His voice wrapped around the lyrics like a confession he hadn’t meant to give, and Rhysand’s smoother backing vocals added a dangerous edge, amplifying every word. 

You yanked one earbud out, your pulse thundering in your ears. For a moment, you just stared at the ceiling, the words looping in your mind like a broken record. But the harder you tried to dismiss it the more the connections gnawed at you. His mouth at your ear, his breath hot against your skin, murmuring reassurance as his hands slid under your shirt. You’d laughed, breathless, trying to quiet yourself as his lips pressed to your neck, but he’d just chuckled, low and dark, “No one’ll see. Just let me feel you.”

And “now don’t let go”—your stomach flipped at the memory. His voice, husky and commanding, echoing through his dressing room as he hauled you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. His teeth grazing your jaw, his hand gripping your thigh. “Now don’t let go, sweetheart,” he’d rasped, right before pressing you into the wall and wrecking you. 

Your breath came shallow, heart racing as the memories sharpened, aligning too perfectly with every word. The song ended, and silence pressed heavy against your ears. Before you could think, your thumb hit replay. 

Your knees tucked up against your chest as the opening notes filled the air again. You closed your eyes, the melody threading through you, every word lodging itself deeper. Was it just your imagination? Or was there something unmistakable in his voice—a heat, a pull, that felt like it was meant for you?

Your chest tightened as the song finished, leaving you breathless and stunned. “No way. No way,” you muttered, shaking your head, but your hands were trembling as you pressed play again. 

You got up, pacing your room with restless energy, the song still blasting through one earbud. Each time you heard it, new details jumped out at you—an inflection here, an ad-lib there. It wasn’t coincidence. It couldn’t be. 

The realization hit you all at once, like a weight in your chest. The lyrics weren’t just abstract poetry. They were something real. They were yours. 

You needed to see them perform this live. You needed to hear Azriel sing those words like looking out at a crowd, to watch the way he carried himself under the stage lights. Would he meet your gaze if you were there? Would he falter, even for a second, knowing you’d heard every word and recognized yourself in them?

And more than anything, you needed to talk to him. To get his attention again, to hear the truth from his lips. 

[starlos-soulmate]

holds him gently

Starlo i love you Starlo. I wanna hold him please

[hyuniemyunie]

*gulp* u...uh... can I please please request a reigen x f!reader where theyre childhood friends who've been mutually pining for eachother ever since they met.. 👁👁💧[nervous and shaking because I dont wanna seem like im asking 4 too much]

reigen arataka x f!reader childhood friends to lovers

sfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

OMGGGG HIII😭 FINALLY A REIGEN REQUEST. no no ofc youre not asking for too much i actually got so happy when i saw ur request😭💞💞

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

Reigen leaned back in his chair, tapping a pen against his desk in a rhythm he wasn’t even aware of. You were sitting on the couch across from him, flipping through a magazine, but he couldn’t focus on anything except you. The light from the window caught on your hair, and he caught himself staring—again.

Get it together, man.

He cleared his throat, hoping the sound would distract you, but you didn’t even look up. It wasn’t like he wanted you to notice him staring or anything—it’d just make this whole thing more embarrassing. Still, his chest tightened at the sight of you so at ease, like this was any other day.

For you, it probably was.

For him? It was torture.

He’d known you forever, back when your biggest concerns were playground fights and scraped knees. Back then, he thought he had all the time in the world to figure out why being around you felt different. But here you were, all grown up, sitting just a few feet away, and he still hadn’t figured out how to deal with this... this feeling.

He rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to look busy as his thoughts raced.

How do you even say something like that? “Hey, remember how we used to play tag? Yeah, well, now I’m in love with you.” Great plan, Reigen. That’s not awkward at all.

“Something on your mind?” Your voice broke through his spiral.

Reigen nearly dropped his pen. “Huh? No! Nothing at all!” The words came out too fast, too loud. He winced internally, watching as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’ve been weird all day,” you said, setting the magazine aside. “Are you okay?”

Weird? He felt his stomach drop. Had he been that obvious? “Weird? No, I’m just, uh, busy. You know how it is���clients, spirits, paperwork...” He gestured vaguely to the empty desk in front of him.

Your lips twitched like you were trying not to laugh. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

He groaned, slumping forward onto his desk. “Alright, fine. Maybe I’m a little distracted.”

You tilted your head, watching him curiously. “Distracted by what?”

By you.

He wanted to say it. The words were right there, lodged in his throat, but every time he tried to let them out, he froze. What if you didn’t feel the same way? What if he ruined everything?

“I’ve just been thinking about... stuff,” he said instead, his voice a little quieter.

“Stuff,” you repeated, your tone teasing.

“Yeah, stuff,” he shot back, sitting up straight. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to act casual. “Big, important, grown-up stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a softness in your expression that made his chest ache. “Sure, Reigen. Whatever you say.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable. He could hear the faint hum of the air conditioner, the occasional creak of the building settling. And through it all, his mind kept circling back to the same thought:

Just tell her.

But he couldn’t. Not yet. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Hey,” he said, his tone lighter now, “remember when we were kids, and you tripped during that school play? You faceplanted right in front of the whole class.”

Your laugh was immediate, bright and genuine. “You were the one who told me to run in those stupid shoes!”

“Hey, I was trying to help!” he said, grinning despite himself. “Besides, you still got a standing ovation. Well, mostly out of pity, but it counts.” You threw a magazine at him, and he caught it easily, laughing as he tossed it back onto the couch.

Moments like this were why he couldn’t say anything. Why he couldn’t risk losing you.

But as he watched you laugh, saw the way your eyes lit up and your shoulders relaxed, he felt that familiar pang in his chest. He’d been holding this in for years, telling himself it wasn’t the right time, that he’d figure it out later.

Later was starting to feel like a cop-out.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer now.

You looked at him, your laughter fading into a small, curious smile. “Yeah?”

He hesitated, his fingers drumming against the desk. He wanted to tell you. He needed to tell you. But instead, he shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Never mind.”

Your brow furrowed, but you didn’t press him. “Okay,” you said, standing and stretching. “I’m gonna go buy a drink. You want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” he said, watching as you walked toward the exit.

The moment you were out of sight, he let out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair.

'One day,' he promised himself. 'One day, I'll tell her.' But for now? He'd just have to settle for this.

---

Reigen tapped his fingers on the desk, his mind racing as he listened to the sound of you entering the office again. You were just a few steps away, and yet the distance felt insurmountable. His heart pounded in his chest, loud enough that he was sure you’d hear it when you came back.

You can’t keep chickening out like this. She’s been your best friend for years. If anyone’s going to understand, it’s her.

But what if you didn’t? What if you laughed, or worse, pitied him? He shook his head, trying to shove the thought away. Before he could second-guess himself again, you reappeared, holding a can of soda. You glanced at him, your brows knitting together. “You’re being weird again.”

“Am not” he shot back, too quickly.

You set the glass down on the table and crossed your arms, giving him a look that told him you weren’t buying it. “Reigen.”

The way you said his name—it wasn’t accusing or impatient. It was soft, full of concern, and it made his stomach twist. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh.

“Alright, fine. You got me. I’ve been... off” he admitted, his voice quieter now.

You stepped closer, sitting on the edge of his desk. “What’s going on? You can talk to me, you know.”

That was the problem. He could talk to you—about anything, really. You’d always been there, always listened, even when he rambled about ridiculous clients or over-the-top exorcisms. But this? This was different. Still, the way you were looking at him now, with that quiet patience and trust, made something in him snap. He couldn’t keep holding it in.

“I... There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he started, his voice faltering. Your expression softened, and you leaned forward slightly, waiting.

He took a deep breath, his palms sweating as he rubbed them against his pants. “Look, I know this might sound... weird, or out of nowhere, but it’s not. I’ve been sitting on this for years, and honestly, I’m tired of pretending it’s not there.”

You tilted your head, your brows furrowing. “Reigen, what are you—”

“I like you,” he blurted out, cutting you off. Then, as if realizing how ridiculous he sounded, he winced and quickly corrected himself. “No, I mean... I really like you. Like, more-than-friends kind of like.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than anything he’d ever said before. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, his eyes fixed firmly on the desk as he continued.

“I know I’m not the most... normal guy. I’ve got my flaws, my quirks—probably too many to count. But you’ve stuck around anyway, and that’s meant more to me than I can even put into words. And somewhere along the way, I stopped thinking of you as just my best friend and started thinking of you as... everything, hell, even my mom thinks we're dating.” His chest felt tight, his pulse hammering in his ears. He dared a glance at you, and the look on your face made him pause. You weren’t laughing or frowning. You were just staring at him, wide-eyed, like you were trying to process what he’d just said.

“I don’t expect you to feel the same way,” he added quickly, his voice a little more frantic now. “And if this messes things up, I get it. But I couldn’t keep this to myself anymore. I just... I needed you to know.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Reigen felt like the ground might open up and swallow him whole. His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it.

And then, you smiled.

It wasn’t a big, dramatic smile. It was small, soft, and warm, the kind of smile that made his breath catch in his throat.

“You’re such an idiot,” you said, your voice teasing but full of affection.

He blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I’ve liked you for years, Reigen,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing. “I thought it was obvious.”

His jaw dropped, and for a moment, he was completely speechless. Then, he let out a laugh—part disbelief, part relief—as he ran a hand through his hair. “You’re kidding. You’re kidding, right?”

You shook your head, your smile widening. “Nope. Dead serious.”

Reigen leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as he let out a long breath. “Well, now I feel like an idiot.”

You laughed, and the sound was like music to his ears. “You should.”

He sat up, looking at you with a grin that was equal parts sheepish and overjoyed. “So... does this mean you’d be okay with me, uh, taking you out to dinner? As, you know, more-than-friends?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade. “Yeah, I’d be more than okay with that.”

“Great!” he said, standing up and holding out his hand dramatically. “Well then, allow me to escort you to the finest ramen shop in town.”

You took his hand, laughing as he pulled you to your feet. “You’re such an idiot..”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot now!!” he shot back, winking.

And as the two of you walked out of the office together, Reigen couldn’t help but feel like, for the first time in a long time, he’d actually done something right.

[walsuf]

hey I wanna make a character with narcolepsy and I've been doing my own research but I also felt like maybe asking someone who has it and stuff and since you made that comic headcannoning SM with it (really neat btw <3) I thought that you may be comfortable sharing some experience with it (as much as you feel comfortable ofc!) so I could better understand it so I may fit it into a character myself. OBVIOUSLY YOU DONT NEED TO ACCEPT IF YOU DONT WANT TO! this is coming out of nowhere and stuff so apologies if you feel uncomfortable!

[LONG POST] Yeah! Let's talk narcolepsy! Some things that might help (ft. Shadow Milk)

First and foremost, I want to say that my experience with narcolepsy is going to be very different from other people's, and I'm mostly just going to yap about my own details. Everyone experiences their symptoms in a unique way, kinda like how every bag of fruit snacks is different. You anticipate the same stuff inside (symptoms), but one bag will have all of the colors and another might have all orange ones.

I think my biggest advice here is to not dogpile all the symptoms, just focus on what heavily affects a character the most. Sometimes that's going to be nightmarish hallucinations, sometimes their sleep attacks; for Shadow Milk, I fixate a lot on cataplexy! (Weakness is a huge thing that I struggle with personally.) Regardless of additional symptoms, excessive daytime sleepiness will always be present :p

This one might be hard, but do something that you resonate with the most. Most people have experienced sleep paralysis at least once; a lot of people with narcolepsy get sleep paralysis very often, usually accompanied by visual/audio/tactile hallucinations. Then, it becomes a matter of changing the frequency and intensity rather than making something up.

When it comes to hallucinations, they can sometimes be horrifying (and are exacerbated by sickness, lack of sleep, and general unwellness). I find that a lot of people with nightmares and frightening hallucinations tend to have those in excess; I personally almost never get those. My hallucinations are usually very minor, like seeing the lights flicker when I close my eyes, or feeling like my body is surrounded by water or gently rocking back and forth. My most frequent one (and by far the most annoying) is that coming out of sleep I hear my alarm going off or my name being called. Neither of which are actually happening.

Excessive daytime sleepiness (EDS), like everything else, presents differently in everyone. Sleep attacks are only one aspect of it---which gives a person the nearly irresistible need to sleep for seconds to sometimes hours. Some people thug them out (often they can be resisted) because they find themselves losing way more time succumbing to it. Some people fall asleep very quickly, and can be in the middle of an important thing while doing so. I've personally fallen asleep mid-lecture while writing notes, and looking back at them is... interesting (there's a thing called "automatic behaviors" you might want to look into). Personally, I don't get sleep attacks often, but they are exhausting to deal with, and make me pretty much appear and act drunk without the fun part.

My normal experience with EDS is just a general level of sleepiness following me throughout the day, like that same feeling you get while working on an essay late in the night. It's manageable, but sucks. This isn't to say I never feel alert, there are good days and bad days, but most are in this sleepy middle ground that forces me to nap twice a day (noon and afternoon) lest I get all grouchy and my speech starts to slur.

From the outside perspective, sometimes people can guess that I'm having a sleep attack or just generally sleepy before I even know. I'll be told, "you sound tired," which is almost followed up with an, "...I do???" I crash within the next ten minutes almost every time.

Cataplexy is a symptom specific to N1 (which is actually an autoimmune disease, fun fact), and also happens to be what I struggle with frequently. It has strong emotional triggers (think anxiety, anger, surprise, laughter [doesn't have to be all of those, just pick a few]) and causes a degree of weakness. This can be anything from eye twitches and difficulty holding up the neck to full body collapses. For the most part, I feel it in my hands. When I laugh, I can't write or clench my hands any more. They become useless floppy limbs until a few minutes pass and they're back to normal. I am (unfortunately) a very giggly person. Personally, my slightest attacks make my head fall forward. My most severe one had me collapsing 6 times in the course of 15 minutes, hitting my head each time. Cataplexy attacks can cause subsequent attacks to come easier, and it's difficult to break the cycle. I avoid stairs for this reason.

If you've ever experienced morning weakness, or a few minutes in the morning where its slightly more difficult to hold things and get around, that's a lot like what minor cataplexy feels like, except condensed into a short, spontaneous episode. Oh! And it's often accompanied with blurred vision (look up ptosis) and speech difficulties as well!

I don't fear any of my symptoms because that's just how I experience the world. I've always felt weakness with laughter, so I thought that was always normal. I've been frequently sleepy and assumed that I was somehow lazier than everyone else. Now, I try to listen to my body. It takes a lot of effort to stop a conversation and go to sleep because my body needs it, and it sometimes sucks to forewarn my lab partners not to tell jokes around me. Sometimes I lay down in the middle of nowhere and have random people asking if I'm okay (hate this, I'm usually too weak to respond).

All in all, just try to make it a set of circumstances that someone else lives with rather than a set of symptoms that constantly put a character into crisis mode. People with narcolepsy don't need to be babied (I sincerely hope my comics don't come off that way because they're rooted in personal experience), they can manage their symptoms just fine on their own. Self-accommodations can come off as strange or funny (bringing a blanket everywhere, wearing sunglasses to manage minor cataplexy, wrist strap on the phone so as not to drop it), but they're there for a reason.

Sorry for the tangent, I've actually been on a heavy uptick educating myself. A good place to go for life experiences would be, of course, the narcolepsy subreddit. It's a good resource for people talk rather than medical jargon. If you need any examples for how to write or depict certain symptoms, though, I would be more than happy to do that on request! (I loove writing drabbles, and I know there's almost 0 narcolepsy fics, much less any written by people who care about accuracy. I'm begging to be asked here [will probably cookie run-ify everything though])

Thank you for reading if you got this far, and I hope this helped!

[drdemonprince]

sorry if this is too long but i really appreciate your perspective and would love some advice

i have a mixed gender friend group irl, however i am the only transmasc in the group (the rest of the group is queer transfems, queer cis women, and our token cishet guy) and ive run into a little issue in that im quite close to one of the cis girls of the group, and we occasionally have deep chats about our queer identities (we're both aro, im ace, shes bi) . these chats are great and i really appreciate her as a friend but one thing shes always bringing up, even in unrealted conversations is how much she hates men .

im not a transandrobro so this isn't gonna be one of those "im one of the good ones" or "i feel guilty for being transmasc" asks dw. the issue came up when i was discussing how i was going to start T pretty soon (i pass decently well without it already but as more of a butch/androgynous type look) and as we were talking about the changes she was acting... genuinley scared and disgusted??

especially when i talked about how i will likely grow more body hair, and how T affects scent and stuff. she was almost horrified. "yeah but you dont want that right? youll shave it?" . i already dont shave my body hair (she does) and i cant help but feel scared that one of my closest friends is going to find me revolting once i start transitioning medically.

i didnt even mention bottom growth after that because i was so scared of what her reaction to that would be.

idk if you have any experience or advice for this? or any reading on the subject? ive found that its only the cis women in my friend group who are acting this way as well. i feel like maybe its because theyve secretly been viewing me as "just" a masculine woman this whole time. i id as nonbinary with the group, but secretly i really do think im a trans man, but based on the disgust with those things im reluctant to come out again.

Honestly this is a really common way that cis women microaggress against trans mascs! Those two identities have competing privilege/oppression intersections and a lot of really wild shit can play out as a result, as well as due to the projection that can happen because both groups have shared a social identity at some point (whether we liked it or not). It may not be fixable, but I think you need to set the tone that this kind of negative commentary on your transition and body is NOT acceptable, and to do so EARLY, so that you are establishing ground rules for how you will be treated.

Example conversation:

You: So I started getting some hair on my neck around my Adam's apple.

Her: Ewwwww, but you're going to shave it right?

You: (pause and look at her seriously). Gender transition is something I'm very excited about and that's very good for me, you know. I am happy about everything that's happening and I hope that as my friend you would be happy for me too.

Let's say that she continues to be somewhat shitty about your transition multiple times. Here is how you might escalate without totally blowing your lid.

Her: Wow, your [voice is so deep/your acne is getting so bad/your hair pattern is changing/whatever thing she is being shitty about].

You: (stop whatever task you're doing if any to give this full attention. lock eyes with her, maybe even sigh). I have told you multiple times not to comment on my appearance. It makes me very uncomfortable. I don't enjoy spending time with people who comment on how I look.

I think your focus should be not on correcting her feelings, which she needs to go like stare at a pond and reflect about on her own, but instead reign in her shitty commentary completely -- and if she won't do that for you, then you will need start ending conversations/walking away/not inviting her to things/whatever other boundary setting strategy you like. I would prioritize nipping the personal comments in the bud over the "men are so disgusting and evil" kind of commentary, because I think that matters more and seems to bother you more -- but if it were me? I would also be pissed that she wasn't including me in the category of "men" when she was talking about them, and would say things like "I'm a man too, you know." Or "Yeah, WE can be kind of annoying/boorish/smelly sometimes." This isn't some transandrobro NOT ALL MEN thing, it's an anti-transphobia don't misgender me thing. And perhaps by taking accountability for all that manhood is -- the good and the bad, the euphoric and the just neutral, you will influence her in a positive way to think about these things more neutrally. If not, well, that's her fuckin loss.

[genderqueerdykes]

Hi. Here's a lot of words that y'all don't have to read and I have a question that y'all don't have to answer. I think you all make a lot of great points. I'm sorry if this is on the blog already.

I think I might be what you call an egg. I just try not to think about it. I'm going through a lot of stuff right now that needs processing and I can get to the gender thing when I can get to the gender thing. That said, I'm trying to let myself exist in queer spaces and it feels like everyday women are bashing men without batting an eye. Actually, that's happening not just in queer spaces. Nobody says anything except to agree. Even people that I've known for a while and know that I'm married to a cis man whom I love and respect (and who actually got me interested in feminism). I told one friend that I was uncomfortable by her comments and she flipped it around, pouted exasperatedly, and said, "I thought you were a safe space!" I didn't know that there was a safe space for sexism!

What the fuck do I say to people? I'm autistic and have an extreme sense of justice and can't just let things go but I want to be at least somewhat respectful-sounding because when you yell at people they shut down and think you're wrong/the problem. I also don't want to talk their ears off/write paragraphs like this. 😬

🌀

jesus, i'm so sorry people are treating you like that. it really hurts my head to see people do this. you don't deserve that kind of behavior, you're not a shitty person for trying to figure out your gender. you're not shitty for being happily married to a cis man. i have so many words so i hope i won't give you a reply that's too long to parse

no matter what people's beliefs are, everyone is reinforcing that women need to hate men. like you're right it's just everywhere. not just queer communities. it's weird. it's like, i get it, the way we force men to act is absurd. we need to focus on helping men snap out of the shitty things we force them to do and support them in growing and changing. also like i don't get how people dont see how terrible it is to openly admit that they see trans men, queer men, gay men, bi men, disabled men, men of color, intersex men, multigender men, and so on. there are so many groups of men affected by this i dont get why people don't care

this "safe space" thing has gotten abused to hell and back. it's out of control, now it's being used as a gatekeeping tool. it's weird to me but people are defining things like this:

general lgbt/queer communities = women's safe space

lesbian community = women's safe space

nonbinary community = women's safe space

butch, gender non conforming, genderqueer community = women's safe space

genderfluid, bigender, multigender communities = women's safe space

bisexual, pansexual, polysexual, & polyamorous communities: women's safe space

like it's gotten way out of control. people think that every experience that doesn't outright say man is a women's safe space. and even then, we see entitlement there in the transmasculine and trans man communities as well. the thing is is like. these are intended to be communities. not safe spaces. like

women's groups exist. there are groups dedicated to providing safe spaces for just women, irl. a lot of the time they're based out of crisis and sexual assault survivor clinics, but there's also ones for homeless women, and so on. like i honestly guarantee you that if you googled "women's safe space" you'd find some local, brick and mortar places designed to be there for women and only women. like. those. exist.

we don't have to turn the entirety of queerness into a women's safe space. i feel like women who have been hurt by men are running to the wrong place a lot of the time. or they expect every other queer person to have the same trauma as them. like i think people in general are very queerphobic and assume that most queer people are women, for some reason?

i don't know why people view this as the "running away from men club". that's how terfs define the lesbian community. if you want to show people why this is dogshit, it's because that's literally how terfs define lesbianism. that's how rad fems define lesbianism. the "we hate men, we never want to be around men ever again, men are inherently dangerous" club is the lesbian separatism club.

people often say "why is there a lot of talk of lesbian supremacy lately?"

it's because so many people got indoctrinated into rad feminism without ever realizing it. queer communities are not the "we hate men" communities. those are rad fem communities.

so many queer spaces need to involve men, because men are very important in so many queer experiences. erasing their experiences and denying them the right to be in those spaces isn't helping anyone. if people want to be in all woman groups, they need to search specifically for that. if someone defines "lesbian" as "women's only safe space," they're looking for a women's space. honestly, maybe people just need to be nudged in the right direction. maybe not enough people know there are literal all woman safe spaces irl that help women with homelessness, sexual and domestic abuse, childcare, substance abuse, mental health, and many other resources.

sometimes there are behavioral health and crisis centers that accept just women. some psychiatric hospitals have spaces for just women. it really is possible to create, nurture and participate in womens only spaces. people are just trying to take over something they personally don't belong in, and it's insane that that's the norm right now. people are obsessed with going backwards in terms of progress in accepting diversity in queer lives.

anyway, i hate this shit, so i hope things improve for you soon, people are just. so proud of being mean right now. people are proud to be assholes and they take it out on disadvantaged men. isn't that sad? people are pissed off about patriarchy, the establishment ABOVE us, so they attack poor, mentally ill, disabled, neurodivergent, intersex, trans, queer men and men of color, as if that'll solve anything.

[forgetmynamepleasethanks]

IF YOU write for hazbin x helluva boss could you do a oneshot stolas x raven!reader whos family only recently became royals and are treated as lesser by the other royal families. the ravens arent as fancy as the other families and dont really care about all the royal stuff so they're kinda looked down upon. they meet at some meeting or you can decide. and make this take place after season 2 episode 9 so blitzo and him have broken up at least for now. thank you a ton!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I write for everything. That's why it takes me so long to write because I get a request, watch the entire show/consume the entire source material, then I start writing until I get a new request and the cycle continues. I am the Sisyphus of fanfiction. One must imagine forgetmyname happy. Anyways. Thank you for the request. I needed an excuse to watch season 2 of Helluva Boss. And shoutout to my favorite mutual for inspo for this I lowkey stole major plot elements from your story please forgive me. They're a better writer than I am so if you're interested in reading the inspiration for the latter half of this fic check out this. Also this isn't particularly romantic, just two straight guy cool guy besties (peak reference).

-----

If the parties weren't bad enough, the meetings were. Was being a royal really worth it? Sure, immortality, woo. How nice it is to spend the next ten thousand years sucking up to other pompous avians.

Despite your less-than-enthusiastic outlook on royalty, being the youngest of your brothers made you the prime target for all the busy work one could hope for.

That's why you found yourself here. Due to your family's relative youth in terms of royalty, you're positioned to the very far end of an uncomfortably long table seating representatives from all the royal houses in hell.

What a bunch of pricks.

The etiquette that your parents had drilled into you from such a young age- you truly believe they conceived you to be the perfect little delivery boy to turn errands for them- is the only thing keeping you in your seat and this stuffy cape and outfit on your body.

After a wait that could have lasted from 15 minutes to 15 years, the host of this meeting finally makes his entrance. As much as you like to pride yourself in your blasé attitude, being in the presence of King Paimon is enough to shut you up and sit you down.

"Welcome everyone please stop your yammering and listen to me. God when did there get to be so fucking many of you." Paimon announces as he makes his entrance.

"As I'm sure a few of you know hell is currently experiencing some unfortunate economic... blah blah blah"

Could this get any more boring? As you fight to keep your eyes in focus you notice someone standing by the door behind you. It's one of Paimon's sons. Stolas. Long time no see. You and Stolas used to be close, but the weight of royalty split you two apart.

Wow, he looks just as bored as you. I guess being Paimon's son would mean you get dragged along to a lot of borin- "You! Raven boy. Not to be rude or anything but what do you people even do?" Your internal monologue is cut off by Paimon. You don't respond for a beat, internally laughing at how Paimon literally doesn't know who you are or what your family does but you still have to be at this stupid meeting.

"We keep the humans out of hell, Your Highness." You respond dryly. It takes you a second to even notice that you've responded. The line is so ingrained into your lexicon that it practically says itself.

"Right! That's the totally important job I gave your very... snicker... esteemed family." Paimon snorts out, barely containing his mocking laughter. A handful of other representatives stifle laughs at your expense.

Oh, the joys of being a Corvus Arcana. The least royal royal family in hell.

"Yes well, you're dismissed. You're needed for other important tasks. Prince Stolas will direct you. Thank you for your time." Paimon says with mock sincerity.

Oh. Stolas. Yes. You know Stolas. You're flooded with memories of the two of you back at the old "Center for Princes to be" It was a glorified daycare, really. You two got up to a lot. He taught you a lot about the starts, and bugs, and everything he read about. You taught him how to make spit balls and get out of trouble you put yourself in.

You rise from your seat, flipping your cape as you walk to the door. In royal etiquette flipping your cape at someone is somewhat rude. Exactly what you wanted.

The conversation behind you restarts as you reach the door. Stolas is waiting for you with a nervous smile on his face, almost like he's got bad news.

"Ah, I remember you! I didn't know it was you who my father was talking about! Let's head out, shall we?" Stolas remarks oh so professionally. He's looking right at you, using his eyes to try and convince you he's excited about your new task, but you know him well enough to tell he'd rather be anywhere else right now.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" you respond sarcastically. Both of you know you were chosen for this because of your less-than-stellar family image.

"Ah! Well! You see- You were chosen for your... unique skills and inspired professionalism! Yes of course!" Stolas sputters out trying to respond without admitting that you were chosen because you're the trailer park trash of the royal family.

A smile creeps onto your face at the owl's half-baked response. He was never the most socially perceptive, even in his youth. You follow the tall owl out of the meeting room and down some of the winding hallways of Paimon's manor.

"Well hopefully my 'inspired professionalism' landed me something to do besides sitting in that room. How bad could it be? As long as it's not something stupid like stacking boxes." You respond lackadaisically. You look to Stolas for a reaction but he seems fully focused on looking at some dusty old paintings on the wall.

Then you round a corner into a freshly moved into bedroom. So fresh that boxes are strewn about. You look up at Stolas who's scratching the back of his head and looking anywhere and everywhere but your direction.

"No way. It's stacking boxes." You state dumbfounded.

"If it's any recourse I will be helping you unpack. That's our mission. Isn't that... heh... fun?" Stolas replies. You look him up and down. Both of you know how stupid this is.

You just sigh.

Twenty minutes later you're unpacking boxes. Your cape is discarded on the bed, the effort of moving boxes with both magic and your birdy body causing you to break a sweat, and as promised Stolas is helping. You can't help but sneak glances at him. He really has changed a lot since you were kids. He's a lot taller for one thing. Besides the obvious physical change, he seems to never have really put himself together. You can tell he's struggling.

Ruffled feathers, quick to anger, and somewhat mopey. To an average royal this would seem pretty normal. Royals aren't known for their vigor and lust for life. To you, these are signs that he's not doing so hot. Struggling to lift a white cardboard box labeled "FRAGILE!" the tall owl is surprisingly human- well, demon? Humanized? He seems a lot more likable than the rest of the royals.

You decide to break the silence. "So tell me. What's a big important bird like you doing unpacking boxes with lil old me?" It's almost self-deprecating the way you look down on yourself.

"Me?- Ah of course he means you- My father brings me along as a secretary of sorts to his meetings when I'm available." Stolas responds while trying to not trip over a box of pillows as he places knickknacks he got out of a box around the dresser.

You snort at his response. "I have a secretary but she doesn't unpack rooms." You banter at him. This seems to irk Stolas. "Yes well since my divorce it seems my father can't resist the urge to assign me silly tasks as if I were some child in need of a distraction." Stolas snaps at you. He drops his volume at the mention of his divorce, which has surely affected how he is perceived by the other royals.

Despite how peeved he sounds by your comment, it sounds more like he's disheartened than truly upset.

You had heard of his divorce. You didn't care. Your family was never huge on the whole arranged marriage thing. You weren't even married yet, which for a prince of your age was unheard of in most other families.

You smile, half sympathetically, half filled with schadenfreude. "Join the club." An uncomfortable silence fills the air after your response. Stolas was aware of how your family is treated. It seemed silly to complain about being assigned trivial tasks like unpacking a room to a Corvus Arcana. It's sort of like complaining about a paper cut to a man missing both his arms.

"I apologize," Stolas says.

"For what?" You respond quizzically. "For how the others treat you. Merely because your lineage is young does not justify the lack of respect or meaningful assignments they've received from the other royals." Stolas says.

The uncomfortable silence fills the air once again. Stolas had always been the only person to treat you like a true royal. Back in the day, he was the only one to play with you, share with you, or even really acknowledge you. You two unpack in silence. After another ten minutes of unpacking you finally can't take it anymore.

"This blows. Wanna ditch this stupid "assignment"?" You stretch your arms and let the box you were carrying fall to the ground with a thump. Stolas looks at you dumbfounded.

"Ditch? Like... 'play hooky'? No... I could never! I'm much to old for that type of behavior now." Stolas seems aghast at the idea of offending his father. You turn around and grin at him. "Oh like anyone's gonna miss us! There's a million servants around here that can unpack this dumb room. Let's ditch this. Or are you gonna tell me you're having a blast?"

"That's not the point. I can't just leave!" Stolas retorts.

"You're an adult now. Plus King Paimon clearly doesn't care what we're up to. No one's checked on us. C'mon, we used to do this all the time. It'll be like back then when we used to sneak away from the nannies at daycare." You rebuttal. You can see Stolas fighting with himself over what to do.

The look on Stolas' face is priceless. There's nothing quite like a royal trying to decide if it's worth doing something considered "non-royal".

"I suppose it's okay to leave unannounced... I read something about the human country of Ireland and how its people say goodbye without saying anything and-" Stolas realizes he's rambling. "Ah well... yes. I guess I'd like to leave."

You shake your head in mock surprise at his overly introspective response. "Follow me."

You two walk in silence for a moment. You're spending the quiet time considering your current circumstances. You and the prince of the Ars Goatia are playing hooky from a meeting neither of you were really invited to. Huh. Interesting spot you've found yourself in.

Conversely, Stolas is trying his best to keep his cool. He's not so used to just leaving these types of things. You two have also not spoken much since you were young. There was never any bad blood or anything, being a royal is just time-consuming.

Stolas follows closely behind you as you walk out of the castle. "So... if you don't mind me asking..." Stolas begins, waiting for your confirmation to continue. After a quick nod from you, Stolas furrows his brow, contemplating his words before speaking, "Your..." He pauses, searching for a diplomatic way to phrase it. "casual demeanor seems almost at odds with your status as a royal. It's always been quite intriguing, I must say. Most other royals tend to carry themselves with a certain..." He gestures with a hand. "formality, shall we say. Your informal manner is indeed a rare sight." Stolas asks you.

The owl's attempts at not offending you are admirable. "Well. My family is much younger than yours, as you know. While your family and all the others gained power at the very start of hell my family rose to power a short three hundred years ago. To put it bluntly, we don't really do all the royal stuff." You respond, trying to explain your family's situation.

"I see... fascinating." Stolas offers. The two of you make it out of the castle without another word.

You two find yourselves behind the castle. You hop up on a small ledge to see over the hedges. Stolas, being tall, can see over just fine.

"Well. The world's our oyster." You say. The night is fresh upon you and the city shines spectacularly below you. You look up at Stolas with a mischievous grin. "How quickly would your dad notice if his fancy schmancy car went missing?"

Stolas snickers at your question. "We'll just have to find out I suppose."

-----

I don't really like how this turned out but I also feel like I say that after everything I write. I'm also pretty rusty (and slightly intoxicated). Life has been up my ass for like two years so that's where I've been. Once again, massive props to freakyfrye for a lot of inspiration behind this. I had no clue where to take it but I read their story and it was great! Worth checking out. Anyways I hope you enjoyed.

[ohbo-ohno]

Hi, I love your writing so so so so so much and it's like my goal in life to get as good as writing as you, but I was just wanting to ask if you would write a ghoap puppy play drabble but with a ftm reader, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable but I actually can't find any puppy play stuff with a ftm reader in it and I would literally worship the ground you walk on if you did (if you don't feel comfortable doing this please don't)

yknow i dont take requests but you're actually the sweetest person alive (and i want to write puppy play rn) so sure!!! tysm for such kind words <3 (also your goal should be to get 10x better than me but i love you anyway)

1.8k of ghoap x ftm!reader with puppy play :) words used for reader's genitalia are cunt, hole, and cock (also reader is called pretty once)

It's a struggle not to beg, but you're a good boy. You stay still on your knees, paws resting on the wood below you, and you focus all of your attention on staying good.

Johnny's not good. Johnny's never a good boy, and usually that's a blessing for you, but right now it's a curse.

A whine slips from your lips, unintentional but loud. You lick your lips, swallow, and try to settle. Still, you've drawn Ghost's attention.

His hand stills in the air and he cocks an eyebrow. "Need somethin', pup?"

You lick your lips beneath the wire muzzle, shake your head. You don't need anything, you only want his hands on you. Simon's the only one who decides what you want.

He lands another smack against Johnny's bared ass, and the other pup wriggles on his lap, eyes screwed up - in pain or pleasure, you can't tell.

"Look'it him," Ghost rumbles, grabbing Johnny by the mohawk and forcing him to look at where you're knelt several feet away. "He's gotta wait for his turn because you can't remember how to be good. That seem fair?" He shakes Johnny's head for him, and you catch him smirk when Johnny whines. "You'd be barkin' and howlin' like I'd fuckin' shot you if your positions were reversed, but he's sitting there, nice and pretty."

You shift on your knees, padded hands tapping the floor in an effort to expel any of your energy. You pant with your mouth wide open, keep your eyes locked on Ghost, trying to ignore the clenching of your hole on nothing but air.

"Poor puppy," Ghost coos, voice edging into that part-affectionate part-condescending tone that makes you drip. "Having to watch me punish Johnny, when you should be getting all my attention. Is not fair, is it?"

That's a trick question, you know it. Anything Simon decides is fair, that's how this works, and you know intuitively that there's no right answer.

You whine, then yip, leaning forward a bit.

He laughs, letting go of Johnny's head and delivering another blow, this one making Johnny wail from behind his own muzzle.

"Little longer, pup," Ghost calls over Johnny's cries, every smack nearly as loud. "Just keep bein' good for me."

You can't help your noises as you watch Johnny's punishment, but you don't move. Your hips rock against the air, but you don't try and push your paws against your cock, don't try and get yourself off without permission.

You're good, you're a good boy. Ghost said so.

You try to keep your breathing even, try to keep yourself away from that cliff-edge of desperation that can get you in trouble, but it's almost impossible with the show you're watching

Johnny's face is red, streaked with tears as he takes his punishment. His thighs and ass are the same shade of red, and the cock hanging between Ghost's spread knees matches too. He's kept hard by the black cock ring at his base, but you know he doesn't need it. His feet kick and push at the couch cushions to no avail, his mitted hands punching and pushing at the arm of the couch.

He's more muted than you, his muzzle a thick leather instead of wire, but you can still hear the way he cries. Johnny's always been loud, and he's not shy about voicing his displeasure.

Eventually, Simon begins to slow his strokes, the sound of his slaps becoming quieter and the time between each one lengthening. Johnny's cries quiet to sniffles, and you shift forward even more, knowing what's coming.

You just barely manage to hold back a whine.

"See?" Ghost rumbles, stroking up and down Johnny's sweat-slick back. "You're alright, hush now. You bring it on yourself, Johnny. Wouldn't need a punishment if you could behave more than five minutes."

His eyes shift up to yours, and you can't bite back the whine this time. Ghost smiles at you as he shifts Johnny from his lap to the floor.

"Nothing like you, huh pup?" He raises a hand, motions you forward, and you're quick to crawl to him. You shove your head into his hand, melting into the scratches through your hair. Soap stays hunched on the floor next to you, head resting on Ghost's knee as he catches your breath.

"Yeah, you're my well-behaved puppy. Nothing like the mutt, hm?" You lean further into his hand, smiling when he chuckles and gives you the pets you desperately want. "My well trained pure-bred, hm? Maybe I should enter you in shows, let everyone see how perfect you are."

Johnny whines from next to you, digging his face further into Ghost's knee. Simon scoffs, but pets him too.

"Nah, couldn't do that with you, mutt. You'd embarrass me just for the punishment." His words are mean but Ghost's tone is soft, and Johnny's eyes nearly roll back in his head at the soft scratches to his scalp. "But you'd be jealous if he got all the attention, wouldn't you?" Ghost sighs, then uses his hands to push the both of you in so your muzzled cheeks are pressed together. "Guess I'll have to keep you all for myself."

Despite your own arousal, it's not too difficult for you to sit and wait while Ghost coaxes Johnny out of his punishment-headspace. It's nice to float in the softness, so rare with the three of you, and you're content with Ghost's hand on your head.

Eventually, he moves away.

"Alright, you want your treat, pup?"

You blink hazy eyes open, shifting to try and follow his hand with a whine. He smiles at you, and grabs you by the nape of the neck to guide you more fully between his legs.

"C'mon, don't you want a reward for bein' a good boy? I think Johnny deserves one too, for takin' his punishment so well."

Soap is quicker to perk up than you, quickly crawling so he's behind you. Realizing what's going on, you sit up more fully on your knees and brace your paws on Ghost's thighs, looking up at him and smiling.

"Pretty thing," he coos. "Don't worry, you'll get to come. Johnny." He snaps, the sound loud right next to your ear. "Go on. Mount him."

Johnny doesn't have the self-control to give you time to adjust, or to go slowly. One minute you're empty and aching, the next you're stuffed to the brim and stretched wide around Johnny's cock.

You both moan, and you feel the leather of his muzzle bump against your naked shoulder. You melt into the space between Ghost's thighs, eye-level with his cock tugged out of his pants as Johnny fucks you without giving you any time to adjust.

You whine loudly, eyes screwing shut at the near painful drag of his cock in and out of your hole. It's good to be filled, satisfying an ache that you've been fighting for what feels like hours, but your body can't help but fight the intrusion, pushing you further up on your knees and making you look up at Ghost for comfort.

He only smirks and pets a hand through your hair as Johnny snarls at your attempt to get away, paws landing on your shoulders and pushing you down into his ruthless thrusts. He snarls at your yelp, wide even behind the muzzle.

"You're alright," Ghost says, hand guiding your head to rest on his inner thighs. "We both know you like it rough, pup, be a good boy and let Johnny give you what you need."

He's right, Ghost is always right, and it doesn't take long for the sharp stretch to turn to pleasure, for the heavy drag of Johnny's cock in and out of you to leave you moaning instead of whining.

You pant with an open mouth, tongue lolling out to rest on your tongue as you try and breathe through the fucking, brain scrambled. Johnny's just as loud behind you, snarls and grunts and moans slipping through the leather as he bullies himself inside of you.

"There ya go, good boy," Ghost rumbles, giving you a solid pat. "Both of you, my two good boys. You're fuckin' him so good, Johnny, giving him such a good treat."

You work your hips against Johnny, pushing back in search for more pleasure, and whine high in your throat when it's still not enough.

"Y'need more, puppy?" Ghost asks, and you nod yes as vigorously as you can with your whole body being rocked in place.

"Here," he grunts as he shifts, moving one leg between your thighs and pressing his boot against your cock. You melt at the sensation, shoving yourself up and grinding against the strings. Your cries are almost deafening as Johnny's thrusts don't falter, the combination of stimulation heavenly.

"Go on, get yourself off. You've earned it."

You don't last long after that. You work your hips against his boot, the texture rough but perfect against your slick and swollen cock, sensitive hole still pounded mercilessly by Johnny. You feel insane with pleasure, eyes rolled back in your head and drool slipping endlessly down your chin as you let yourself drown in in.

You clench hard around Johnny when you finally come, cunt clenching him and milking him for all he's worth. He howls from behind his muzzle, pressing his face along your neck. You know if his mouth was free he'd be marking you, sucking bruises into your skin and covering you in his spit. You almost whine at the lack of it.

But you're far too drenched in your own euphoria to miss anything, really, your only focus on pushing yourself to higher heights of pleasure.

You float down, eventually, but you're immediately thrown into overstimulation as Johnny's pace continues exactly as it was. He continues to pound into your mercilessly, the sound of your slick shameful in the quiet room.

You paw in a panic at Ghost's thighs, looking up at him with wide eyes as you press closer to try and get away from the cock rearranging your insides. He only smirks and presses his boot up, the pressure against your cock so soon after an orgasm absolute torture.

"Let Johnny have his treat now," he scolds lightly, giving you a slight tap to your cheek that has you trying to nuzzle yourself into the crease between his thighs and hip. "Maybe he'll manage to get off, even with that pretty ring on his cock. Let's let him try, hm?"

You look up at him with vision blurred by tears, whining as you balance the sharp edge of pleasure-pain from Johnny's minstrations.

Ghost only smirks, petting you again. "Hang tight, pup. Be a good boy for me, let our other boy have his fun."

You whine, and bury your face next to his cock, trying to breathe evenly as Johnny only drives himself more and more insane inside your cunt.

[flamboyant-king]

Time for another King Ramble!

I need to be more, idk, proud of the things I do. Give myself more credit for the things I accomplish, despite NEVER completing anything. So, here I go--

I like my comic, despite it just starting ("starting," story-wise it has barely begun, but bro, it's almost a year since I first started. I've taken so many breaks that I am not go--positive, I have to be positive). It's a simple story, no giant world building or a multitude of characters I need to create depth for. It's a simple story on growth, characterization, and healing. Building a connection with other people and doing everything you can to improve as a person. Setting boundaries yet also going with the flow. Just a story about living life and making it the best possible. It doesn't have the most drama, the most action, the most exciting moments, but it's just life. It's cozy, its uncomfortable, it has its moments.

I'm happy with how long I stuck to it. I usually give up within a month, but look, I stuck it out a whole SIX months. And I learned quite a bit, by asking questions to other creators, but also by just pushing myself to learn a bit. Forcing perspectives, effects, and trying out new brushes. I'm even asking for help, I never ask for help. That's a fucking huge improvement. What kind of stinks is I took on this project in the middle of me trying to fix myself as a person, getting therapy and various diagnoses and whatnot. I thought creating a comic would help me improve, but there are other issues that adding more stress on won't fix.

But it's freaking cool. I've got hundreds of folks who like what I have so far. I don't want to disappoint them by making them wait longer, but this is my story I want to tell. It will be told, one way or other, and it's gonna be perfect because it's going to be MINE. I mustn't be so scared of trying or failing, I just need to DO. I'm failing already if I don't try. I won't fail if I'm TRYING. I just need to DO IT.

COME ON KING

GET UP

AND DON'T BE AFRAID

JUST WORK ON IT

JUST DRAW

JUST HAVE FUN BRO

(My mind is kind of a bungled mess right now thanks to all my health concerns. Stuff with insurance, biopsies, tests, and my weight. Agh lots on my mind. Getting off topic oogh agh I'm at work rn and it feels nice to type on this crusty ass keyboard haha)

Thinking about winning that webtoon contest. or even just placing in the genre categories puts a smile on my face. Just thinking that something I made is worth money makes me smile. Like someone buying a commission or ordering something off my etsy. It makes me smile. My comic isn't the most polished, most consistent, or most intriguing, but it has so much heart to it. Not to say the other THOUSANDS of entries don't have heart, but knowing the stuff I've been going through, I know I put my heart into it. There is so much turmoil surrounding it. So much stress. So much struggle put into it. Personal, mental struggles. I know folks are in it for the prizes, the contracts, the notoriety. I'm in it for the HOPES of awakening my passion to make art again.

It's been gone for the last few months. All these MINOR, literally minor, like its not cancer, im not dying, HEALTH problems really taking their toll on my psyche. Eating at my motivation and my focus. I will cherish the pages I already made for the comic, but I super-di-duper want to make more pages. But there is something there blocking my ability to just DO IT. I want to so bad, but my body refuses.

If you're curious, my health issues are like a bunch of small things, like teeth fillings, sleep apnea, i got a fuckin lump in my boob, they want to test me for autism, ive gained so much weight thanks to my bipolar medication, they DONT BELIEVE i have adhd because i dont show SYMPTOMS when i TALK to them. It's a focus thing bro, what you want me to focus on? your luscious lips?? i want to draw bro and i cant do it??? i want to finish projects but i cant bring myself to do it because i cant find the right background noise?? or i havent SPICED up my energy gauge to get that momentum rolling??

speaking of unfinished projects, how's that LING PICREW going KING!? Well, I was able to finish drawing/coloring all the hair options. But its uploading the 2000+ files onto picrew is too much tedium for me. IT WOULDNT BE, IF I HAD THE RIGHT BACKGROUND NOISE!!!???????? It would have been so much easier if i uploaded the files in proper labelled format and sorted them differently into folders, but noooooooooo, that's too confusing. AND IT IS FOR ME BECAUSE THERE'S ADHD IN MY BRAIN

BUT APPARENTLY THATS NOT SO!?!?!??!?!?!

I am proud of myself for the things I did do before, like the uquiz, the toyhouse profiles i was able to finish, the visual novel that GOT NUKED FROM THE FACE OF THE INTERNET, the UI for projects I did in university, the game demos I had a hand in making, the 3D model of a beach I did, I graduated high school with cum laude, I was offered a half-ride scholarship to the art college I wanted to go to, I got a few art scholarships despite it all, got a couple associate's degrees, I got my bachelor's degree in compsci with a minor in finearts, I'm even proud of getting fanart of characters I made.

Seems like a steep difference in the things I'm proud of, but my perception of success and achievements have been distorted by high expectations and my POSSIBLE AUTISM. I remember telling my english/composition professor in community college how I didn't feel proud of graduating high school. I forgot what he said, but he said he can see how bleak my outlook on life was.

Idk how a therapist could help me fix that. I want to be proud of things, but I'm proud of things people arent proud of me for. I'm proud to finish a painting I spent 80 hours on, but I don't care that I barely scraped by to get a degree I didn't want in the first place. HMMM MAKES YOU THINK

What's done is done. The damage is all done. Now I need to fix how I view the world and myself. I tried a year of therapy but see no difference on my brain chemistry. I do, however, have new ways of coping, such as going on a walk, playing with legos, time to myself, hanging with friends, and whatnot. So that's something. A lot of money spent, but who gives a shit. When I'm dead what am I gonna do with that money?

Oop, work is almost done in 6 minutes. If you actually read this, leave a comment that says "hehoo"

[skunkes]

for me, the loveliest parts of your drawings are the construction. like veryyy inspired and true to anatomy but very clearly your own flavor. your pdf has really really put that "spark" for me in drawing again 💖 especially since I also draw doodley & small. unfortunately, with my ADHD/current workflow it's a real uphill battle to not give up a study despite desperately wanting to get better at construction. :(

if you use studies a lot, do you have any tips on how to keep studies fun? What sources have worked for you in the past? (especially for fat/wrinkles/clothes)?

This is getting to be a pretty specific ask haha sorry if it's a lot. I hope some of it made sense tho :)

hi hi so idk that i'd endorse it per se but what worked for me was only focusing on stuff i was interested in for years LOL

so in high school i loved drawing hands and arms... so i only ever focused on hands and arms...

i literally did not start fully focusing on/trying to learn Legs (for example) until the last 2 years. you can see even now that idk how to draw shoes (and idk that ill ever learn because ive never cared about em irl and only really use one pair LMFAO but that could change!) and then its slowly come together like puzzle pieces.

All of this came from personal interest....i was fascinated with hands and arms at first, the shapes the forms. then u can combine it with other things. i became determined to draw all sorts of bodies well so i could depict my ocs accurately. i had a focus on noses because i love noses and wanted to have ocs with their own unique noses, so i had an excuse to draw said ocs more to learn. (and then becoming enamored with all the ways skin and flesh can sit and squish helped with wanting to draw bodies more).

stuff like that helps keep it fun. sometimes when i do body studies now i dont draw the heads/faces because its less fun (TO ME) to do that and i know ill end up focusing more on that than the learning of the body.

sometimes i draw the bodies with my ocs heads so i have more fun. when i first started learning legs i only drew disembodied ones.

im not saying to do dis and yes you have to leave your comfort zone to get better sometimes but you have to find what works for YOU... bc if you get too "uncomfortable" then u wont wanna do it at all (see again: i could force myself to draw a page of shoes but i genuinely just dont want to adn i dont care. maybe in a few years ill be obsessed with them. im king of not leaving my comfort zone. i love being comfortable. but i make it work)

however you Learn you can always expand upon it once u have the foundation! like how over the years ive added more little details to some forms (because i like seeing them!)

idk how i learned to get better at drawing fat but i recommend sources like fatphotoref, morpho's book on fat and skin folds, and (18+ recommendation) subreddits for nudes, especially if they're focused on fat people. i like this last one bc you can truly see a range of difference in body proportions and fat distribution etc as well as seeing how other people stylize such things

im going to be real with u and say i SUPER dont know how i learned folds. im actually still learning now that im exploring more fashion in the real world, but even now i kind of just guess from what i know theyre meant to look like. if i REALLY want it to look accurate ill wear a similar garment and use that as a ref and then keep that in my mental library. here's 2 examples i can think of where i really had to take a pic because my imagination wasn't cutting it (and even then the 2nd was exaggerated of course.) this seems like a "leaving the comfort zone" moment but it was truly fueled by curiosity and fascination more than anything, which is good. (but AGAIN. you could not get me to care this much about drawing shoes. so it really depends on You and your interests in order to make it fun.)

otherwise i kinda just guess 😭 this is where i excel at focusing on making something look Good instead of right. i just see what shapes look fun, sculpt them around the body...

morpho also has a clothing + folds book though, so i wld look there ^_^ perhaps try putting a subject you really enjoy into your favorite outfit for practice? stuff like that... that post about how improvement comes from being insanely obsessed with something is real u just gotta find and latch onto whatever that may be

[kinki-cami]

Mmmm this bed really comfy ill write again after i wake back up mmgmggfhgfgmmgdgfgggm

Ughhh awake again and i cant seem to fall back to sleep lllllllhhh...

Wait. Arent i supposed to be on a ship? Ib war? The bed was horrific to sleep on, or at least should be. Oh gods. Ive been caught. Shit ok. Uhh so is this how they fuckin like consume people or something? Or like attempt to like innterogate? Because lemme tell ya the affini aint getting nothin outta me, i wasnt even paying attention, i didnt even memorize the name of the ship! (It was all really boring, like being back at school) so L affini i guess. Ok. Its really quiet, luckily marsh is here

"Marsh," i whispered, "should we look around? I mean its probably best to ensure my diabetes is in check, at least make sure theres food or sugar or somethin. Oooo or fruits i love fruits <<<333"

The bed was pretty tall i definitely couldnt just stand up i had to like literally hop down, wasnt too bad though. I made sure to keep marsh on me, i wouldnt want them getting lost, or be lonely in an unfamiliar place. It was pretty spooky but it was practically dead silent, or at least as dead silent as you can get with (as far as im aware) one person living in a fully functional living quarters (so like vent noises). As i walked around the bed i saw myself in a mirror and wow. These are really cute pajamas, shii if i could afford these back home i would have bought something like this. I checked myself out for a little, these would look cuter if i had a bigger butt, but thats neither here nor there. Shit do they have a bathroom? I dont wanna haveta pee on houseplants, that would be uncomfortable. So what bathroom first then food? No food first low blood sugar could kill me and I could just use the bathroom elsewhere if i MUST go. Ok i wanna look around this room first. Theres a closet and a wardrobe, not opening either incase theres something in there, like spooky things. Not that i could open it considering i just woke up so incredibly weal right now. Some decor, not super interesting but GODS its big i would estimate like average living room size.

Freakin massive hall too. Ok first things first, find the kitchen. Theres gotta be food there. Gods damn this is like the size of a cafeteria, for like a whole ass kitchen and living room, damn holy shiitt. Ok focus cami. Lets look around the living room half first, if we hear ANYTHING thats not me we are bolting back into that room and pretending to be asleep. Pretty big couch, its like how you would sit on a table to get up there tho, sheesh. Tall lamp, coffee table, still pretty basic. Needs some art, just like a big portrait would really brighten the place up. Maybe make a cat poster (love that old timey stuff). Anyway speedwalking over to the kitchen, im probably slowly running out of time. Aight we have counters you cant really see over, sorta understandable for a freaking giant plant. Uhh like counter in the middle of the cooking area, probably to serve and cook nearly simultaneously, and an island, what looks to be an electric stove, nothing else really that interesting round here. The cabinets are all too high for me to reach so there might be food in there. Theres a weird ass microwave looking motherfucker thats like built into the wall. Uhh ok, that was fruitless. Time to find a bathroom. Gosh this is so large. I presume this door next to the hall is locked considering its not opening. Heck that may even be the way out, but hell im dead anyway, so no use trying to escape now. I could still hide but maybe they wont kill me if they think im asleep. Fuck ok uhh ok cant go into a depressive spiral right now. Fuck ok. Its all hitting all at once now fuck. Ok fuck the bathroom. I wanna say goodbye to everything. Fuck i dont know where doc kirb is shit. Ok thats ok. Marsh can say goodbye for me, yeah. Ok yeah im going to go come to terms with- What was that??? Fuck. Ok marsh get on that bed. Ok.

Pain to climb up. One foot on the frame and just there. ok. Marsh come here we gotta pretend we're asleep. Ok. Fuck i dont wanna die. God i think the plant's comin closer. God im going to die alone and unloved... besides for marsh.

[slashingdisneypasta]

If you want I'd love a part two for the sheriff!bickerman story with smut possibly!

IT WAS SO GOOD LOVE YOUR JIM CONTENT IT GIVES ME LIFE

YOU LOVE MY JIM STUFF?? I love y o u! ^^ *hugs*

I don't usually take requests, but um... I'm very biased with Jim XD Especially Sheriff Jim; that was so much fun to write XD I hope you like it and come back to talk about him with me! ^^

~

Sheriff!Jim Bickerman x AFAB!Reader || Drabble

Plot: Jim's away on a work trip to a neighbouring county station, sent by (Chief of Police) Reba, because he's driving her up a wall, and you miss him. Its been almost a month now, and you're about ready to promise him anything if he'll just come back.

And- the good thing about Jim? He'll totally blow of work for the right price.

Warnings: (Large) Age difference relationship (25/60's), sexual references, TWO (1) 'daddy' mentions (Dont blame me, he starts it himself. I don't control him. Says the fic writer), and a uhhhhhHHHH little fingering at the end... vaguely edited.

*reader takes a university class and that's where they know Owen from.

Tagging: @marinerainbow , @masqueradeball , @obscureother and @slxsherwriter .

After the thing at the party Owen couldn't let it go and pretty much immediately went bawling to Reba, the chief of police. He made it sound like Jim almost killed him (Which... okay yeah, was true.), for no good reason of course (Not at All), because he's a crazy senile old poacher and shouldn't be on the force, blah blah blah. Reba thankfully didn't fire Jim, but she had to do something; So she sent him away to do some light research in another county. Some woman's adult daughter was still 'missing' (You think her name was Daphne) and she figured it might kill two birds with one stone sending him away to confer with the officers over there. Make the mama happy, stop Owen bothering her about this, and get Jim out of her hair.

Reba was jazzed with the outcome and Owen was appeased and very annoyingly smug in classes, but Jim sure as hell wasn't. And neither were you, spending your nights alone now house-sitting for your booted cowboy.

And its been a month, now.

A month since you saw him. And you miss him. You talk on the phone (because, thank god, being sheriff forced him to keep one finally), and that's nice, but it's not the same. At this point, you're struggling to focus in class. As soon as you look to the front where your teacher stands droning on, your mind starts to wander.

You're about to take out your phone and text him (he doesn't text but he always takes the next oppertunity to leave you a voice message), when Owen comes into class late and drops into the seat beside yours. Immediately your eyes roll upwards out of annoyance, and you put away your phone so he doesn't see. It's not like Jim's contact is his name, you aren't that dumb-- but you'd rather Owen didn't know you were seeing anyone anyway. He'll just bother you about it.

The bastard.

"Hey," He whispers, leaning over the arm of his chair and too-close to you despite you clearly shifting away from him and his hit breath. "What did I miss??"

Rolling your eyes where he can't see, you give a sigh. At the time, you really didn't think he would drug you or hurt you. He's just annoying- not an idiot. But after the fact, you keep wondering.

You can't help but think about how determined he was. That was wierd. And you didn't even ask for that drink-- he just went ahead and made it for you. In fact he had it for you before you even saw him or approached him. He had been waiting.

... whether your suspicions were founded or not though, you were still irritated by him these days. If only for sending Jim away and being obnoxious about it.

"Listen now so you don't miss anything else, hm?" You whisper back, a heavy dash of finality in your voice. Forcing him with your tone to back up. Stop breathing on you.

Luckily it works, and you spend the next 10 minutes uncomfortable he's even next to you. The main thing on your mind, though, is Jim.

Look, you're not usually the kind of person to lose sense, or get all wrung out, over a man- in fact, some space can be good. You can't deal with someone every second of the day. You cant deal with Jim every second of the day, he's crazy. But goddamnit! It's been a month since you so much as saw him!!

You miss him.

Another few minutes of lessons in the background of your mind and wondering about the length and craziness of Jim's beard after a month at the forefront of your mind. Your thoughts are wandering further and further away from class again, until you finally give up and grab your phone.

"Hey." Owen pipes up again, whispering so harshly at you so you jump out of surprise.

"What??"

"Where are you going?? Can I come?"

"Going to the bathroom. No."

"How do I know you're not just leaving me here??" He smirks, and you feel your stomach roll over inside you.

With a glare, you just roll your eyes and try to leave again. You are not doing banter with this guy-

"Wait, hey. I wanted to ask you. You noticed old 'Sheriff' Bickerman's still a no-show lately??" You stop moving, plopping back down in your seat. Slowly you turn your head to look at Owen, deadpanned. He cannot be serious. "Yeah? Heh. Wanted to ask you since you volunteer at the station sometimes, an' if you still haven't seen him, then he's gotta still be off on probation. Damn straight, right?"

You think your eyes are going to roll all the way into the back of your skull. Somehow though, your whisper remains calm; no hint of ferocity in the undertones. "Reba didn't send him on probation, Owen. He's doing work."

"Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to."

You sigh. Roll your eyes and resist the urge to curse at him. Tuck your phone into your jeans pocket. And leave the auditorium bathroom-bound.

"Obnoxious, smug, twisted little weasel." You mutter, shaking your head and pulling out your phone as you turn into the bathroom.

You: How's it going? Miss you, you old fart. Cant focus.

"Hm." You hum, pressing send and leaning back on the stall wall; not expecting a responce immediately but needing a break from Owen, anyhow. So you might as well actually go to the bathroom. You're about to do just that, when to your surprise your phone lights up with a call and the sound of your ringtone fills the small bathroom. Loudly. While you answer and put the device to your ear, you simultaneously close the main door and lock it. "Hey! Stranger."

"Thinkin about this old bastard, huh sweetcheeks?"

Sweetcheeks of all pet names- is not your favourite. Usually when he calls you that you feel like cringing but right now you can just grin at the sound of his voice. Shit. "Mhmm... you look any different?" You're sure he can hear it in your voice, but that's okay because you can hear the smirk in his.

"Yeah actually, honey. Well, I got purple hair now. And also, a tattoo. Big ass singin bass on my back. "

"Oh, hot." You grin, chuckle, and shake your head. "Can't wait to see."

"You just wait, sugar."

"That's three petnames in under 2 minutes, Mr Bickerman. You miss me or something??"

"Something like that, yeah," In your head you see the smirk turn into a genuine grin when his voice gets soft and FUCK- you want him home. You want him home now.

Sighing, you bump your shoulder into the door and lean there, dropping your temple against the surface too. A frown wriggles across your face. When Jim speaks again, a grimace and a cold edge have creeped into his voice. "So. What's that little weasel been up to?... dancing in circles that I'm still gone?"

The exact same tone takes residence in your voice, too. "Yeah, pretty much. He's next to me in class today, hence why I'm hiding in the bathroom now."

"You're hiding in the bathroom??"

"He sat too close to me, I could feel his gross hot breath on the side of my face when he talked to me- and he was asking about you, too. I needed a break."

At this, Jim just groans and you feel like you can see the eyeroll from miles and miles away.

After a few moments, you lighten the tone in your voice a tiny bit. And ask about work. "... any news on the daughter?" Have you found her? Can you come back soon?

"Nope. Pretty sure she was never even here," Of course not. "but now Reba's got me helpin' 'em out with their damn store room. ... Have a feeling she's tryin' t' keep me away. Cant think why." The tone of sarcasm seeps out of the phone like gasoline, primed for a match.

You huff. Shake your head. "... fuck her." Enough!

Immediately a surprised laugh, full of disbelief rings out through the receiver. " -what was that now??"

"Come home, Jim. I don't care anymore." Really, you really don't. "Do you?? You know what- if you come home to me today, you can tell whoever you want about me." You say, and really mean it. You're tired of sneaking around. Its not fun anymore. You're - so - over it. Lowering your voice, you close your eyes. "... I don't care. Just come home."

A mechanical rumble plays on the other end of the phone, causing you to knit your eyebrows together. Confused. "-Hear that?"

"Hm? What is it???"

"Thats the truck. I'm on my way. All you had to do was ask, sweetheart, but I do appreciate the permission to tell everyone I know I'm havin' a side of fresh meat every night~ "

"Oh, god." Thats terrible!! Not all the distance and the missing him in the world will stop you from cringing over that- But then you smile, straightening up; every cell in your body buzzing at the prospect of seeing him in a few hours, anyway. "But hurry up." -Wait, he'll take that too seriously- "Drive safe!, though."

"Err, aint I always safe??"

"Oh yeah, Jim O-H-and-S Bickerman; thats you." He chuckles at that. "See you soon." With a final, insurmountable smile, you shake your head and hang up.

~

When you get back to the auditorium, the professor's gone quiet- letting everyone finish some private study for a bit. You grab your bag, foreseeing absolutely zero chance of getting any work done for the rest of the day, and turn to leave and wait at Jim's place- when a clammy hand grips your wrist and pulls you back. And suddenly, ice fills up your veins. "Hey! Where are you going now, huh??"

The smile wipes clean off your face. "Owen, let go."

"Not until you tell me where you're going, sweetheart." The smirk on his face ignites a fire in you, and not the good kind. A scowl and some dark clouds wander across your face. Sweetheart???!

"Owen, let me go." With that, you twist your wrist and disentangle your limb from his grip. Then get an idea, pulling your book bag over your head, lowering your voice. "For your information- Jim's coming home today and I'm going to meet him. I think you know who that is, I don't need to spell it out for you." Carefully, you slip your hair out from under the strap of your bag. "So congratulations, you were right- but lets get one thing straight here." Your voice turns to venom, a terrible glare in your eyes when you glance at Owen; looking pale. "We weren't fucking. But then you sent him away for a month, so who knows now? Chew on that."

With a final glower at the guy, one you learnt from the scariest person you know, you turn and leave the auditorium without another word.

~

By the time he got back to his house, for the first time in a month, its past 11 at night (Goddamn traffic. Felt like every damn intersection had construction bein' done. And everyone, and their grandma, needed to cross 'em right then.) So when he finally fits the key into the lock and slips inside, clicking the door closed behind himself, you're curled up on the old couch with the TV playing some bad snake flick on Netflix- asleep.

Jim doesn't even bother to take off his rain-drenched jacket before coming up on the couch and sitting down next to you- after all, maybe he'll let his sweetie pie do that part, he figures with a big grin. After switching off the TV with the remote he's able to finagle gently out of your grasp without waking you up (His darlin's so sleepy. Almost a shame to wake 'em up. Almost.), he curls a strand of your hair around a finger and tugs a couple times. "Wakey wakey~ "

You wake up pretty easily, having only been dozing (You were trying SO. HARD. to stay awake!!), you open your eyes just a crack- then open them wide and sit up as you come back to reality and realise He's Back. "-Oh! Shoot- I fell asleep?? Um- " You look around, giving a sniff and rubbing your eyes. "Um... house sitting went well?? You don't have any plants to keep alive, but uh- I managed to reset some of the traps outside, an- " What are you saying??

Thank god Jim stops you from waffling any further, because jesus christ. "Real happy to hear that, sugar, but d'ya know what I'm really wantin' to hear now??"

"... " you try to keep a straight face, but you know what's coming. A hesitant grin spreads across your face. "Oh lord, what?"

That sleazy grin you missed spreads slowly across his face. "How much you missed me."

Immediately you scoff, shaking your head, even with the grin. "-Oh I think you heard plenty of that already, sheriff." Casually, like it hadn't been a month since you so much as saw this man, you crawl over into Jim's lap and ring your arms up around his neck. "How about how much you missed me, huh old man?"

The growl in his hum is embarrassingly hot to you, and a hundred times better in person- not that you'd ever tell him that. "Hmm... " Seeing you right back where he liked you to be, in his lap rather then in fucken selfies he cant even fold up and keep in his pocket, made being home again Official. And gave him all kindsa ideas, too. "How about I show ya?"

... -For a moment you hesitate, frozen in place. Because you're not a dummy. Because you know what older men want with younger women. And because you are not deluded into thinking that Jim Bickerman is any better.

But god do you like him. And you weren't lying when you told Owen things had changed in a month- namely your power to resist.

And you think he likes you, too.

Hmm. "How... um," You clear your throat, skin hot. "how about you drive me to the ice cream place- the one open late on the highway?? You, uh, you could show me that way?"

Immediately Jim grins and gives a nod. "Sure, sweetheart. Just lemme get a dryer jacket. Meetcha at the truck, huh?- "

His face didn't even fall a bit when you suggested ice cream instead of sex. "Oh for fucks sake." You don't move an inch from his lap, despite the cold rain off his - yes, indeed, soaked jacket, - dampening your clothes and seeping into your skin. He likes you, he likes you, he likes you. Instead, you draw him down and kiss him.

The kiss becomes heated fast- 6 months with a person you really like without fucking it out plus an extra month without them at all, will do that to two people you'll find.

He pulls back first- but not by much. You can feel his breath on your lips as you open your eyes a crack- then open them fully at the shit eating grin on his face. "Now, darlin', I promise, I'll be gentle with ya. Alright?"

With a snort, you prod him in the forehead- gently. "Who says I've never done this before, huh?? You think that just because I haven't done it with you?"

With a scrunched up nose and a grimace-grin, he nods. "Well- Uhuh."

You would be annoyed at him, but you cant. Not right now, comfortably strewn over his lap, his hat askew tilted up and within kissing distance. So you try to curb the grin on your face, but its a terrible battle. Really more of a thumb wrestle then anything else. And not a fair one, either- "Oh shut up."

There's a very, dangerously lustful look on the old man's face. Smirk and all. You don't know exactly how long its been since he got any action, but by the looks of THAT- that look pawing at you, wandering all over you; inappropriate and wicked and perverted, inspiring hot shame, - it has to have been a while. "... Lemme get ya all warmed up, huh?"

Clearing your throat, you find yourself tucking hair behind your ear, feeling a little awkward and nervous, and young, being on top of him right now. Being looked at like That. Like exactly what he said before; fresh meat. Like a naked woman at a club, or out of a magazine, a bad video, a really good dream- Like he's starving and you're a four course meal. Except the growl in Jim's voice isn't coming from his stomach, its coming from the very back of his throat. "What do you me- Oh."

What he means becomes abundantly clear when he shows his teeth in the smirk suddenly like a big bad wolf baring his fangs, and undoes the button on your jeans. With his eagerness he doesn't bother pulling down the zip, it comes apart on its own when he digs his hand in between the seam and your very thin underwear. He doesn't bother to tease here, either- getting a good feel of you and making you choke on a gasp (or a moan?? It was a little bit of both.) with his boldness. You cover your mouth to muffle the sound, surprised at both him for suddenly touching you after all this time, and yourself for making tHAT EMBARRASSING, DESPERATE SOUND-

You should not have liked that so much. You should not be so turned on already.

Oh shit.

What the fuck with this man.

Jim chuckles at you. "Now now, sugar, don't be like that." He teases, still with that wolfish grin. "No hidin' from ol' Jimmy, hm?"

Carefully you pull your hand away from your mouth, but only halfway. Its hard to speak with the mans hand still under your throbbing cunt and seeing the absolute glee in his eyes showing his cards- he's absolutely loving every second of it; Having his cute lil sweethearts no doubt even sweeter pussy right in the palm of his hand hot and leaking and ready to go. "But- "

"Uh uh, no but's. Hand down. Now." The growl in his voice again, the steel in his expression, his forces you to do what you're told. Transferring both your hands to his still rain-damp shoulders, rolling your eyes.

"Damn, yes sir."

... there's no secret he loves that cute 'sir' business, but he sees directly through your fake bravado and gives a taunting grin instead of praising the shit out of you for it, rolling his pointer finger over your clit. Immediately your face drops, your jaw falling because it feels so good. You can see building up a gentle orgasm from this alone and he hasn't even directly touched you yet.

Your brain foggy, you manage to think to yourself who even knew that Jim Bickerman knew where the fucking clitoris was!? That was not... that was not on... not on your bingo card... Without thinking, you'd begun slowly rolling your hips with the feeling; eyes closed, the leather of his jacket pinched under your fingers, his most wicked grin watching you look so damn pretty in his lap; lettin' him touch you like this. Damn, what a good girl.

When he creeps his hand under the waistband of your underwear finally, coating his fingertips in your dripping slick, you almost snap a hand over your mouth; that embarrassing noise breaking free again. But instead you remember what he said immediately, his voice that you love so much echoing in your head like you're a well trained animal. Instead you lower your face into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around neck, hiding in his wet jacket that still smells of campfire smoke from his hunting days, and fresh rain.

He doesn't seem to mind the loophole, too focused on the feeling of his fingers disappearing inside a pretty girl once again; a sleazy grin on his mouth. That never gets old.

He seems to not mind also because you slip your hand into the kinky grey hair at the back of his head, knot your fingers in and gently squeezing at the sensation of being filled up so nicely. When he lets out a groan, you give a wicked grin of your own, buried against his shoulder. He likes his hair pulled; hmmm, you can work with that.

Another slow, gentle pull along with his languid thrusts (Just enjoying himself) and Jim has to break the peaceful silence, making you giggle.

"Careful there, pumpkin. Fuck with daddy too hard and I'll show ya who's really the boss 'ere."

A big grin teasing on your face, you rise and sit up straight, looking cheeky at him. There's silent laughter in your grin, even with the loveliest orgasm building up high in the pit on your stomach. So close. The knot so tight. Made tighter looking at him again; the glimpse of his hand in your jeans, or at least his wrist disappearing. "Oh go ahead, daddy, show me then."

"Don't you worry, I will."

As if just to prove to you he's got a million and one tricks up his sleeve to show you now, he takes that opportunity to, while you're looking right at him in the face so he can see the change in your eyes, take his thumb to your clit again and abuse it- breaking you in an instant, turning that sweet leisurely orgasm into an explosive climax instead that wipes the grin right off your face.

"... there. That what you were askin' for, sweetheart?"

The after waves ripple through you and a, admittedly, dumb smile flickers across your heated face. You run a hand through your hair, while he slips his hand out of your pants and gives an appreciative smile to the wetness all over his fingers. He gives you a peace sign and a cute, dumb grin of his own.

You grab his wrist. "... you think you're up for a little more, mr sheriff?"

"... darlin its been 7 months I've been thinkin' about this, what do you think??"

With a snort and a nod, like yeah I know, me too, you lean in and get another kiss from him.