#every single day. i get to know myself. i get to call myself what i am. even though you’re my parents you don’t get to tell me that. and you

[fireboltposts]

How Stray Kids react to you telling them playfully "I'd trade you for a lifetime supply of chocolates"

A/N : Picture credit goes to the owner.

• You're enjoying a quiet and lazy day off with the Stray Kids member of your choice, happily munching on a chocolate bar and he's silently working next to you . That is until you tell them in a mock serious tone "You know, I'd totally and happily trade you for a lifetime supply of chocolates".

Chris

• He blinks at you in confusion but then pretends to be so hurt.

• "You'd trade me ? Just for some cocoa beans ? Do you know how much effort I put into this relationship ? Are my late night calls, texts, cuddles, kisses not enough for you that you'd trade them for some chocolates ? My worth is so less in front of chocolates".

• And you giggle at his reaction and say "I'm just joking Channie" while messing up his hair a little.

• "I'll let it slide this time but I'll bring you chocolate next time to show you I am irreplaceable", he pouts.

Minho

• He raises an eyebrow at your statement as if to say "yeah like you could live without me".

• "Just so you know, your priorities are all wrong. A chocolate bar won't dance with you or cook for you or even kiss you. Choose wisely dummy".

• And you laugh at his response and he's like "don't even try to explain yourself, I'll be watching you the next time you eat a chocolate and it's going to be a problem if you enjoy it more than you enjoy being with me", he smirks and rolls his eyes.

Changbin

• He can't help but laugh at your weird out-of-the-blue statement.

• "I work out every single day, write love songs for you and even share my food with you and you're telling me I can easily be replaced by some cocoa products ? Wow I have been replaced huh by some mere KitKat. Great great", he says, pretending to be hurt.

• He later holds up a chocolate bar and asks you playfully, "so who's it gonna be, this chocolate or me ?", with an amused smile.

Hyunjin

• Hyunjin, being his dramatic self, would clutch his chest in mock hurt.

• "You'd trade ME for some chocolates ? That too HAPPILY ? Wow I guess I was wrong huh. I thought I was your number one, your soulmate, your one true love but I've been demoted to second place by a mere Ferrero Rocher. Wow just wow, I have no words".

• You'd poke his cheek "aww Jinnie ever the dramatic I love you, buuuut I love chocolate a liiiiitle but more", you say playfully.

• "Maybe I'm dramatic but you brought this on yourself".

• He'd later get you an entire Ferrero Rocher box and will say "Chocolates will never love you the way I do, my love,but here you go".

Han

• He looks up from his laptop and gasps loudly. "Are you serious ? Chocolates really ? That's all it'd take ? I thought I meant more to you than some bar of chocolate".

• You giggle at his response and squish his squirrel-like cute cheeks and tell him that you're just messing with him.

• "No no it's not done. I thought I was special to you but no it's your caramel chocolate that gets your love. I was just writing this love song for you, sitting beside you and getting inspired, but no, wait I'll change it into a diss track for you and your chocolates. It will be on our next album".

Felix

• He had been drafting an email to one of his endorsement offers and at your statement he looks up at you with innocent eyes, momentarily confused, and then pretends to be hurt.

• "What ? I bake you yummy brownies, I bring you snacks and I cuddle with you, but you're saying I'm secondary just because I don't come in a fancy wrapper ?"

• And you smile "innocently" at him and he's like "ok i forgive you this time only because you're cute and that wouldn't actually trade me for chocolate right ?", he asks, pulling you into a hug, setting his laptop aside.

• "Who knows Lixie, who knows ?", you wink.

Seungmin

• He looks up at you with a deadpan expression as he was folding his freshly washed laundry.

• "Chocolate ? That's all ? I guess I'll see myself out then".

• And you're like "I'm joking Minnie" and he raises an eyebrow.

• "No, no. Don’t backtrack now. You’ve made your choice. Enjoy your life with your chocolates while I’m off being amazing somewhere else."

• He later hands you a white chocolate bar and is like "Don't tell me I don't fulfill your wishes, doll".

Jeongin

• He looks up at you, both eyebrows raised, " what did you say ?"

• "You heard me Innie", you smirk.

• "You'd trade me for some chocolates ? Wow, do you hear yourself right now ? Are you out of your mind ? Chocolates ? I thought I was your special person but you've replaced me with a box of Dairy Milk ? Wow Y/N wow, unbelievable. I am so offended right now", he says as he pretend to sulk and shakes his head as you pulling him into a playful hug.

• He later hides your favourite chocolate and when you ask him about it he responds casually, "no more chocolates for you until you admit I'm better", giving you a cheeky grin.

A/ N : Hope you liked it. Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you did. Meanwhile you can find the rest of my masterlist here.

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina,

I’m in Europe, so I’m just waking up to all the discourse on your blog about SC. Maybe it’s because I’m older, maybe it’s because I’m more jaded or just the fact that I tend to look for the motives behind the obvious, but SC’s actions yesterday struck me as being very calculated. I forced myself to watch the footage of mourners leaving the service and what I noticed was the boys very discreetly leaving, one by one, trying not to attract too much attention to themselves. Then Liam’s devastated parents escorted Liam to the hearse waiting in front of the church to begin his last journey. It was at that moment that SC made his way towards them and ‘broke down’ in front of them, which basically forced these sweet, kind people to console him in view of the paps and the spectators.

SC has been getting a lot of bad press lately. His search for the next boyband turned out to be a flop. The interview he gave where he talked about his single greatest regret with 1D did him no favors. He tried to use Harry’s name when he told an interviewer that Harry had called him up for a little chat about the good old days and as recently as a month ago he implied Liam had paid him a nice little visit only last summer. He used those boys names to keep himself relevant and to boost his PR, even though Liam’s death had created a lot of backlash for him. What better way then, to clear his name and get back in the public’s good graces, than being seen breaking down in front of Liam’s poor parents and being consoled by them. He’s a narcissist and a master manipulator, so he must have known very well that these sweet people would never do anything to dishonor their son’s memory by pushing him away in full view of the press. And judging by some of the anon’s you’ve gotten, his nefarious little plan seems to be working, because he’s now being seen as the heartbroken friend of the boys and we are the heartless a-holes who refuse to forgive his transgressions.

Anyway, this is just my two cents. Maybe I’m too harsh, but this feels in line with everything else we know about the man, so I wouldn’t put it past him to have orchestrated this entire interaction.

On a side note, thank you for being a voice of reason and a port in a storm for all of us in these difficult times. Your blog is the first thing I turn to every single day and I want you to know how much I appreciate you being here for us all. Don’t forget to take good care of yourself! Sending you much love from Belgium!

Hi sweetheart. Thank you for this. I 100% agree with you. There's absolutely no way he didn't do that as a calculated move.

And thank you for the sweet personal message, too. I'm logging off shortly. Yesterday was super draining. ❤️

[i-like-forcefem]

i have a feeling i know what you're going to say but, do you think its weird for me as a singlet to be into forceplural? im friends with a number of systems, and i know there's difficulties i'm not privy to, but it just seems,,, nice

Not at all cutie!!!

And it is nice!!! Being a system means you’re never alone, when times get rough you have someone else who can step in and control your body for you

Plus from my observations: everyone is a lot more plural then they’re letting on! I believe anyone could unrepress their plurality! Including you!

As far as I know every single plural person has doubts about not really being plural, and after deepening myself into hypnosis, I think the most important thing if you want to be plural is to just let yourselves be

Each plural experience is different, we personally always still feel like “Me”, but the lense through which we see the world, how respond to situations, and how our emotions feel is different from headmate to headmate

But when we notice such a shift in lenses, feeling like what we did before is suddenly not interesting before, or all of a sudden we’re a lot more active then we ever really are, then just take a second and think “wait am I the host?” If not, pick out a name for yourself!!! Start a simply plural! Talk about it with your friends!

Sorry that this is all so rambley! But we also started out as simply “wanting to be plural” before realising that “hey those couple days were we felt on cloud 9 and acted so so differently from ever before are a little suspicious” and that led to me picking out my name, and before we knew it we were a merry band of 5! And then I absorbed the host!!!

I don’t know if I’m going anywhere with that, except to say just go for it!!! I believe in you! (And even if you have absolutely no experiences you could call being plural, well just make a tulpa!!! That’s how we started before releasing I was here!)

[coffeegnomee]

This quote has been living in my head rent free since 7/21/24

8:23:00 crashout over not being “able” to defend himself. ZAM: “‘its okay zam we saw how you are at the end of every single season’ (citrus) yea, you guys have. The deep darkness that’s within me, [giggle] ugh. ‘They’ll see… one day’ (mer) I don’t want them to see, no, that’s the thing, i don’t want them to see. So it’s like, I guess, I shouldn’t be mad, when they say that I’m weak. It’s just like, like I Could fight, it’s just such a hassle, to like, get into it, and then not, you know. Cause like, okay, okay, here here, let’s envision it, let's say I do want to fight people, right? theoretically, but, I don’t want to let out the evil evil darkness that’s within me, right? How the hell am I gonna do that when I’m constantly taking fights, constantly losing, constantly getting overly attached, overly invested in conflict, like how am i gonna, how am I gonna contain the demon within, if I, what’s it called, if I, if I’m constantly getting myself into fights? You know? ‘Getting good’ (chips) no but like I’m being dead serious, like cause, what’s it called, eventually they’re gonna hit me in a way that is gonna make me want to go full force, there’s no point in trying to fight if I’m not gonna go 100% all in, you know? So. I dunno. Maybe if I get better at my self control and discipline”

And then the very end of "LIKE HIM"

6:21:00 takes the eye patch off. “I’ll say it now. IF, by the end of the season I get to a point where I'm just killing anybody then, i think that’s- I think that’s okay. Because I trust myself now that if I get to that point, it would be for a rational reason. I think. I wouldn’t blame myself. I wouldn’t resent myself. That wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. At the beginning of the stream I was a mess, I did not trust myself. But you know what? I- I change my mind. I think I do, i think i do trust myself a little more”

[senselessviolets]

“stay soft”

Roman Roy x Fem. Reader

Rating E (Smut)

Word Count: 3.3k

AO3 Link

WARNINGS:

Mommy kink, smut, some plot, this man has MOMMY ISSUES™️, gentle femdom, titplay, breast sucking, so much dirty talk, Roman gets called “baby” a lot, no PIV, no uses of Y/N

Author's Notes:

The people have spoken—y’all want Roman being fucking babied in bed so that’s what the fuck I did and I have zero regrets. Totally gave up in the end but school’s been incredibly draining for me so I’m proud of myself for even getting THIS out.

[Gif creds: I forget. if it’s yours, lemme know!!]

Summary:

You are an equally wealthy childhood friend of the Roys and Roman in particular. After years of little to no contact with him, he and you decide to finally act on the mutual attraction you both share in the most ‘Roman way’ you can think of. 

“Okay, but like if we…fuckin’...if we fuckin’ do this, I will want…some things. But I’m not g’na fuckin’ beg or anything…call you mommy, ‘goo goo ga ga’…none of that shit. I will want you…to be there…and I will want you to ‘not be there’...if you catch my drift. I-I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ word or a single moan. I don’t want—I just don’t want it, okay. And this might sound bad—even though I’ve definitely said worse—but you would be just a-a means for me,” a voicemail blears in your ear as you are made aware of the four calls you missed in your slumber, “‘Kay? I dunno. Think it over. It’s not fuckin’ life or death. Until it is. And I kill you. And hide the body and burn the evidence…kidding! ‘Kay, love you, kidding, ‘kay, bye!”

This was uncharted territory for you both. 

You and Roman and the other Roy children were longtime family friends. Like Stewy Hosseni or a lesser example Ray Kennedy. What that meant was your incredibly loaded dad gave Logan Roy an ungodly sum of money in the nineties and had managed to stay on his good side ever since. At their status, that’s what qualified as ‘friendship’. Everything was a transaction at the end of the day. Like you suspected Logan and Caroline had bought their way into their kids’ hearts, to even be in the same room as these titans—to breathe the same air—you had to beg, steal, or borrow. Fortunately, you hailed from less-than-humble beginnings; your father being an incredibly successful venture capitalist-turned-philanthropist and your mother the heiress of a billion-dollar publishing company. 

But it was all just details. 

You were eternally grateful to be an only child, imagining an existence where you and your progeny were destined to forever claw at each other's throats—all for whatever scraps your parents were generous enough to leave you.

Unfortunate. ‘Pitiful’ felt more accurate. Every hollow soiree and vapid function served as a reminder. These were not your people. And they never would be. And yet—

“Heya! Well, you look less miserable than usual. Lemme guess, you finally ditched Loser What’s-His-Face and have taken up my longstanding advice of giving lesbianism a try,”

“Hi, Roman. No, I’ve actually been reminiscing about our younger years together. Remember the time you threw up in your mouth before presenting me my corsage the night of the winter formal? Seventh grade? Ring a bell?”

“That was because it only dawned upon me then that I would be getting Cody Keener’s sloppy seconds,” he answers, “I just couldn’t cope with that, I’m sorry,”

You slug him in the arm and he reacts overdramatically, as if someone stuck him with the pointy end of a knife. Onlookers included none other than Frank Vernon, Hugo Baker, and a close friend of your mom’s, Michelle Anne. This time, you and Roman had crossed paths at your father’s 70th birthday party. It was held at your parents’ penthouse on the Upper East Side and attracted a decent crowd. Faces you’d sworn you met pass you by as strangers come up to you, recounting memories of you who were only this tall. It was always a discombobulating experience but you continued to frolic and mingle nonetheless. 

In truth, this little ‘reunion’ was nothing but a facade. 

You and Roman had been talking for weeks now after years of no contact with one another. Brief texts turned into prolonged phone calls which by the end of the night became one-sided, pathetic voicemails expressing some sort of yearning for the other. It was becoming all-consuming and quite frankly, exhausting. And now it had finally come to blows. 

There was a plan, there were contingencies (of course, there were) but above all—there was transparency. And that was something you could hold onto. Oh, the many men who lied their way into your bed. And then here comes Roman, who’d made it abundantly clear he’d rather inhale glass than have you worm your way into his. So this scheme would not transpire at his place or yours. 

It would be occurring in a Central Park Suite at The Carlyle—just a quick jaunt from your parents’ place. He deigned to be a gentleman and handled the reservations as well as your transportation because you had to already be there. You were going to be lying on the bed, in some satiny sleepwear. No lingerie, no hosiery—nothing that could be construed as ‘sexy’. You were to look mundane, average, and bored. 

Roman would enter and you would be still and let him do as he pleased. While you’d had this endeavor nailed to a T, you’d be lying if you said the prospect of him going off-script—doing things rougher, harder, doors off the hinges, letting his darker impulses get the better of him—didn’t make your knees buckle a bit. 

So once the candles had been blown, the birthday wishes made, and goodbyes were said—you were to slide into his black Range Rover SV while his secondary chauffeur Crispin brought you to your destination. In your duffel was your change of clothes and a few other goodies. It had crossed your mind—once, twice how exceedingly easy it would be to bail right about now. Crispin could drop you off on the side of the road like some floozy and then your personal chauffeur could pick you up and drive you back to your cozy brownstone for a mundane evening spent by yourself—alone. That was the part that struck a pang in your stomach. That was the truly unbearable part. That, and the heat between your thighs which was starting to become really inconvenient. 

…

Now was not the time to get cold feet. 

You had already slid your sequin cocktail dress off and exchanged it for your satin sleepwear. Like the pretty kept thing he’d instructed you to be, you lay flat across the plush hotel mattress, awaiting his arrival, legs swinging to and fro like an eager teenage girl.

Maybe he’d be the one to pussy out.

At least then you’d have yet another thing to hold over his head for the foreseeable future. In your phone’s front-facing camera, you inspected the makeup you’d done earlier that evening for the party and it still seemed sufficient. Your lips seemed a bit drab. You roll off the bed and I sift through the contents of your bag, searching for the mauve lip color you’d brought along. Dabbing it onto the purse of your mouth while gazing into the mirror of the room’s modest vanity—you begin to lose track. 

This isn’t it and you know it. 

You know it. 

So fucking do something about it. 

Examining the time on the wall clock, you decide to hastily shake off your striped satin pj set and tear through your duffel for the sheer lace slip and matching long gloves. Not liking the unkemptness of your long hair at this particular moment, you palm your bag for one of the chignon French hairpins that had sunk their way to the bottom—a go-to for you since your younger years. The best you can muster is a half-up, loose, more-than-messy low bun because suddenly, a knock on the door can be heard. Your heart leaps into your throat and you shove your duffel bag into the armoire in a hurried panic. The click of the hotel room’s keycard lock comes next and you spring to the door as to be the one to open it. You and Roman meet each other’s gaze through the crack of the half-open door, you two beam down at your hands, enclosed over both sides of the handle. He is very noticeably startled, not expecting you to answer the door.

“C-Come on in,” you stutter, gesturing into the hotel suite with a gloved hand. 

Roman’s mouth goes dry. It is not all that often the family jester is able to be truly caught off-guard. This absolutely was one of those times. He shuffles into the room with tepid steps and doesn’t turn around to face you until he hears the door click shut. With a blank, nonchalant expression—he shrugs, prompting you to provide some sort of explanation. Of which, you do not possess. 

“What?” you say. 

“What’s…all of that about?”

“Yeah, sorry…wasn’t really feeling the pajamas tonight. I opted for something I felt was a little more fitting. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No,”

He definitely fucking does mind actually. But any frustration at being caught unawares expresses itself in the form of big beautiful hazel eyes beaming at you with fear and uncertainty. His lips are parted, unable to form the words he can’t even begin to think of at this particular moment.

“So…,”

“...so…?”

“So…lay down,” you finally say.

Roman is able to briefly channel the smarmy assholeishness he usually hones with a sarcastic scoff and smirk. He shakes his head to himself before his gaze finds the floor. 

“...I’m sorry, maybe you just didn’t hear me right the first time,” you say, crossing over until you are eye-to-eye with him and your competing breaths can be felt, “...or maybe I should’ve been a bit more specific.”

You lean in until your lips brush the outer shell of his right ear and he stops breathing. 

“Roman. Lay the fuck down on that bed. Now.”

He quickly scrambles onto the bed, resting on his back while slightly sitting up. There is a tentative eagerness in his demeanor as if the last hints of resistance in his muscles had yet to dissipate.

“Good. Now can you unbutton your shirt by yourself or do you need my help?”

“...I-I-I need your help,” he mindlessly babbles, “P-Please. Please, can you help me?”

You click your tongue at his wanton request, attempting to maintain your composure. It was after the first ‘please’ that you knew you were going to willingly give everything in you to this man right then and there. 

The safeguards? Fuck the safeguards. 

The time for self-preservation was about five or so minutes ago before his knuckles had rapped gently on the heavy wooden door. Without breaking eye contact, you straddle him effortlessly, both knees on either side of his hips. You aren’t certain because all the blood had flooded to your ears and you were unable to hear much over the thumping of your own heartbeat but you swear you hear a quiet ‘oh god’ slip out of him. Your fingers find the buttons on his grey button-down and your wrists noticeably begin to shake as they undo them.

For fuck’s sake.

Up until this point, you had conjured the impression that you were the one in control here and that there was nothing he could say or do otherwise. But now the true vulnerability of the situation had begun to set in. The playing field had been leveled. 

His fingers enrapture yours and he steadies your grasp as you both work to unbutton his shirt. Roman swallows, anxiously. You get more than half of the way there before he gives up and presses his face firmly to yours. 

It’s a declarative kiss. 

It’s long-lasting and when the two of you eventually break it—you know there’s no going back. Those hands of his, wracked with nerves, find their way to your hips. He slowly drags the lacey fabric up so your upper thighs are exposed. Once you can feel the soft flesh of your hips exposed to the cold air, you grab his wrists and he freezes. 

“Ah-ah-ah, I don’t think I remember saying you could do that,”

“I-I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t—I’m sorry,”

“So many apologies, they just keep on coming,”

“I’m…,” he deeply exhales out of his nose. 

“You’re what? Wait, lemme guess,” you goad, “Sorry?”

He bobs his head up and down, face full of embarrassment.

“Hm…think I’m a little sick and tired of those ‘sorrys’, sweetie. You and that mouth of yours. Oh, that fuckin’ mouth of yours. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the amount of headaches it’s caused me in what, the two decades I’ve known you? What are we gonna finally do about that mouth?”

Roman looks up to you, hanging onto your every last word. 

“I-I don’t know, j-just tell me what to do. I can make it up to you, I-I promise,”

You genuinely take a moment to mull it over, though the growing hardness pressing against your most intimate place admittedly was making it hard to think.

“...I think…we need to find another use for that mouth of yours—something to keep it busy, hm? How does that sound, my sweet baby?”

You swear his face goes pale as he assumes you mean your cunt. While the thought had crossed your mind (many, many times in fact), knowing Roman—you know that would be too much. And that you would lose him forever somewhere along the way and you didn’t even want to begin to think about that. 

You tilt your head, staring longingly at that poor little boyish face of his. Your clothed index finger traces its way slowly from the exposed flesh of his tummy, up to his ribs, across his collarbone, along his Adam’s apple, over his bearded chin— finally stopping at his pinkish bottom lip. You pull it down, making him pout for you. 

“Open for me,” you utter softly. 

Roman obeys, his tongue moving upwards in his mouth when he swallows. You continue to tease around his mouth torturously, the lace creating a delicious friction against his beard. The heat of his pants against your lone finger makes you stir inside. 

“Now, close your eyes—mouth still open,”

He noticeably resists before relenting, his eyes flutter closed. You drop one of the spaghetti straps of the slip off of your shoulder, exposing yourself. Your nipple pebbles in the cool air conditioning of the room. You awkwardly lean your torso inwards, inching your breast closer to his mouth. For a brief second, his eyes flick open, taking in the scene. Catching your drift instantly, he swallows as much of the soft flesh as his mouth will allow, moaning into it. The most obscene sucking sounds soon fill the room. Roman whimpers into your skin, letting his head fall limp against your chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, cradling his head. His brown fluff of hair is too tempting for your hands to not tangle themselves in. 

“There, you go…you’re so good. You’re so good for me, aren’t you? Yeah?” you sigh, tilting your head backward.

You swear you can feel your hips gyrating on their own. Roman’s fingers have ensnared themselves onto the flimsy fabric of your slip, gripping it so tight you think it might tear. Not that you’d give a shit if it did. 

“Y’know what I think? I think you act the way you do all the fucking time because you’re just waiting for someone to come and put you in your place, is that right? Yeah? You’re a brat ‘cause you want someone to do this to you? Hm?”

He releases your nipple and an almost pornographic line of spit drools from his mouth. Roman’s lips are plump and rosy, kiss-bruised and swollen. You find out just how warm they’ve become when his wet mouth comes to meet your own in a kiss so messy, you know you’ll touch yourself thinking about it later.

“I-Is this good? A-Am I being a good boy for you?”

“Mm-hm, you’re being a very good boy for me. My good boy. Mommy’s good boy, right?”

“Yes, fuck, yes—” he sobs, moving onto your other breast.

His voice is shrill and wrought with desperation. You only ever heard it get this high-pitched when he was making a mocking impression of you or some other woman. And now here he was, making these noises all on his own. The edge of his bottom teeth catches your nipple in just the right away. You squeal, jolting upwards in his lap and laughing at the surprise sensation. He soothes the sensitive skin with the flat of his tongue immediately after. 

“That’s it. There’s my boy, there’s my sweet baby boy,”

All of the sudden, his hands leave your slip and fly to the buckle of his belt. Roman undoes his zipper and shimmies down his slacks enough to pull his dick out. He jerks it quickly with his eyes wound tightly shut in an attempt to get himself completely hard. 

“M-Mommy, c-can I see ‘it’? P-Please, god!” Roman begs out.

Your current position leaves his cock hidden by the hem of your slip. All you can see is the silhouette of his fist in the fabric pumping up and down speedily—relentlessly. He could easily just lift the skirt himself and look at your bare pussy, just as he hungrily wants but he doesn’t. 

He waits. He waits for you to give him permission. 

“See what, sweet boy? Say it, use your words for me. You’re a big boy, you can do it. I know you can,” 

Your hands cup his face and you rest your forehead on his. The skin is taught and slick with sweat. A vein above his brow becomes visible as he strains into his own palm. 

“What do you want, Roman?” you reiterate, trying to regain his attention.

“Fff-fuck! Your p-pussy, I wanna see y-your pussy!”

“All together. Say it all together. Say ‘Mommy, can I please see your pretty pussy?’” 

“Mommy, can I please see your pretty pussy?”

His eyes finally open and they aim downwards, expectantly. 

“Is that all you want, pretty boy?”

“N-N-yes!”

“Is that all you want?”

“No! No, I wanna cum, I-I wanna f-f-finish! W-Wanna finish on it,” he whines.

“All together, baby…”

“Mommy, can I please finish on your pretty pussy?! Please!”

It’s on the last syllable of his sentence that he erupts. Only as he’s cumming is he able to look at your cunt. You swiftly move the fabric up and his load catches the edge of it, the rest of it coating your exposed pussy. Roman falls backwards limp onto the pillow and you roll off of him and the bed and onto your jelly-like legs. The two of you don’t look at each other, occupying opposite sides of the room while you make yourselves decent. You shed your stained garment, using it to wipe your cunt clean. You fling it onto the hotel carpet and don’t think twice about it. 

“Mind if I…borrow that…for a bit?” a weak voice croaks from across the suite. 

You turn your head and smirk, still topless.

“All yours.”

Briefly, you catch a glimpse of Roman from behind, buttoning up his shirt. You pull up your dress, sweatier than before when you had taken it off. You expected there to be a palpable shift between the two of you, had everything gone according to plan. You figured the next RECNY ball that was just around the corner might be a bit awkward but it was nothing a few sarcastic quips and some alcohol couldn’t fix.

“My guy’s still waiting out front, so that’s my not-so-stealthy getaway. I can have Crispin pull around in twenty if I guess, I dunno, you wanted to shower the stank off of y…”

Roman’s words trail off as he becomes caught up in the sight of you; your cocktail dress zipped up halfway, your hair in an even messier updo than before, one heel on with the other remaining to be seen. It left him dumbfounded, feeling impulsive, like he could leave everything behind then and there and things might turn out alright. 

“Um…d’you maybe wanna just come with me…I dunno. Back at my place, I mean. And don’t make it into…it’s not a thing. Th-This is not a thing. But, yeah, we could order in whatever you, you could stay over, I-I got spare rooms–”

“Roman—”

“—it-its not like a big deal or anything, y’know? This isn’t, this wasn’t ‘a thing’. Fuckin’ labels and everything, I m—”

“Roman! That all sounds fine; I just would like to exit one of the nicest hotels in the damn city not looking like a two-bit whore, yeah? Come and zip me up,”

“I mean, if you ask me—I think it’s a rather fitting look,” he says, echoing your previous words.

“ROMAN!” 

“Alright, fuck, fine!”

End.

{ Feedback is welcome! }

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

<3

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

I've been ignoring my inbox because I barely had any time for myself this week so I guess it's time for another list, kpop edition.

Bongo kissing Scooter's ass and not getting anything in return? That's called karma and I hope he gets plenty of it. Paying the rent of a villa meant to bridge connections between Hybe artists and Bieber, Ariana or Taylor Swift???? What a joke. What a damn good joke and we should all laugh about it. Hybe America is bleeding money and Scooter is getting richer at the same time. Eat shit, Bongo

And on that note, still speaking about collabs as the fucking backbone of kpop industry at a conference??? No offense to Latto cause this has nothing to do with her, but it wasn't the featured artist bringing the song on top of the charts. Or any other person in the collabs. It's the damn fandom mass streaming and buying. He should have gotten his little lap dog doing market research and write a report on that and not do bullet points with mysogynistic comments and call it a day!

And on that very same note, that dumb fuck Bongo got played when a BH artist got the first on bb hot 100 without any collab!!!! Oh, I know he's still having nightmares. I hope Jimin messes with his sleep every single night.

Why on Earth is Tedros releasing two Christmas songs? Who cares? Everyone listens to Mariah and Wham anyway. Not even his fans will listen to those songs cause they are too busy victimizing themselves and talking about Jimin.

When I pinned a post that literally says "don't send asks about BTS", I meant it.

Why would anyone think I would listen to Jin's album and write about it? Seriously now...

Being happy about that national assembly verdict (or whatever it was) that didn't consider the NJ girl incident workplace harrassment is really missing the point here. It just shows the law in general at this current time is bad for all idols and exposes them to everything with no protection in place, including any form of abuse. Look at the bigger picture, ffs!

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Facade (Simon Riley / Reader)

CW: pegging, ass eating, anal fingering, degradation, power bottom Simon, vaginal fingering, mildly dubious consent, brief mentions of: vaginal sex, blow jobs, choking

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader

WC: 3.4k

I wouldn’t call it an odd fixation, maybe just a persistent one.

It started a couple of months into knowing each other. Strands of damp hair stuck to my forehead. My lips were parted, panting gasps for air escaped my sweaty chest. My eyes locked onto the hulking beast of a man- my lieutenant- as he rubbed a damp cloth up my cumstained thighs, and over my quivering cunt. 

The sex wasn’t boring, if anything it was the opposite. Every second we had together made my heart flutter. Adrenaline coursed through my veins whenever he gave me that look. The one where he stares down at me with half-lidded eyes before quickly glancing away. 

“What if we tried something out?” I asked, resting my hand atop his. The man simply looked up at me expressionlessly, hands still cleaning up the mess he made. He grumbled, not even giving me the courtesy of full words. 

“What if I pegged you?”

He acted as if I cursed his whole lineage in a single breath. His hands quickly pulled away, brown eyes widening. I’d have expected steam to spout from his ears with how he looked at me. 

“No.” He said through gritted teeth. 

I’d have been kidding myself if I said I expected any other reaction. This visage of brooding masculinity, well, he definitely wouldn’t be an easy one to crack. 

It’d be a shame to give up just then, wouldn’t it? 

-

The mattress squealed with every thrust of his hips. Drool spilled from the corners of my parted lips. Soft grunts escaped his pursed lips, crescendoing with every rut of his hips. I draped my limp wrists over his back, fingers trailing down to brush against his sweaty skin. 

I gripped his plump ass, fingers kneading the flesh. A moan slipped from my lips as my fingertip inched closer to his hole. 

His hips stilled, ripping my attention away from his ass. His brows furrowed, nose scrunching up in disgust. In an instant, he gripped both of my wrists in one of his hands, pinning my arms above my head. My vision grew hazy as he roughly gripped my neck with his other hand. His fingertips dug into my carotid arteries, turning every thought of mine into a muddled mess. 

-

My phone buzzed. Instantly I reached out, grabbing the device. My eyes skimmed across the screen. 

It was rare to receive a message from Ghost when he was on a mission. Every day I spent in the dark brought me closer to my phone, gaze flicking to the screen every couple of minutes. I was antsy, fidgeting so much it was hard to stay still, and yet with the two words he sent, my anxiety quelled. 

“Send something.”

He only ever sent those words when his work lulled. I think the entire task force knew he was one to get…pent up…easily. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I dug through my camera roll. I knew exactly what I wanted to send it. 

My lips curled up into a smirk as my gaze grazed the picture in question. It was a photo taken in the dirty mirror that sat behind his door. The lighting was dim, only showing what needed to be shown. And that was the bit of skin I teased. My thumb pushed down the hem of my jeans just enough to show it. The straps of my leather strap on perfectly framing my hip bones. 

A soft whooshing played over my phone speaker as I sent the message. 

“Read 21:48”

But no response.

-

“Fuck that’s it,” he groaned, threading his thick fingers through my hair. Drool ran down my chin as I swirled my tongue around his head. I looked up at my lieutenant. His plush lips were parted, heaving breaths falling from his tongue. He lay flat against the mattress, arm draped over his face. 

I wrapped my fingers around his shaft, stroking him as my tongue dipped lower. I licked a thick stripe over his balls before bringing one into my mouth. He grunted, thrusting his cock into my hand. 

“Shit- I’m close- “ He mumbled. With a soft pop, I pulled off of his balls. The salty tinge of sweat-stained my tongue as I brought my mouth back to his twitching cock. I ran my hand up his muscular thigh, keeping the other one at the base of his cock. My gaze raked up and down his flushed frame as I slowly traced my fingers higher. 

My fingers ran up his inner thigh, drawing tantalizingly close to his twitching hole. So close, so delectably close.

He gripped my hair tight, shoving my head down onto his cock. I gagged as the tip of his cock nudged my uvula. My drool drenched the curls adorning the base of his cock. 

“That’s what you get,” he grunted, cock twitching as he came down my throat. 

I pulled away as his grip broke. Globs of cum and drool ran down my face. Hot tears streamed down my flushed cheeks, parted lips quivering as I gasped for air. 

“That’s what you fuckin’ get.”

-

I gnawed on the nail of my thumb. A throbbing pain settled into my flesh as I chewed the keratin to a nub. Incoherent yelling echoed down the hallway. I swallowed, knowing Simon was in that room, and he wasn’t the type to yell. 

It was simply a new recruit making a mistake. Not looking where he walked. But as Lieutenant, Simon was in charge of him, accountable for every stupid decision his subordinates made. 

The whirring sound of propellers disappeared into the distance. Who knows if the kid would make it to the hospital alive? 

The screaming ceased, only followed by incoherent mumbles and the sound of the creaking door hinge. He looked dejected, and stiff, as he left the room. His brown eyes quickly found me. The heels of his combat boots clicked against the tile as he swiftly approached. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, dragging me behind as he stormed down the corridor. 

“Wait, what happened?” I asked, struggling to keep up with his long gait. He gave me nothing but a grumble in response. “Simon, please talk to me.”

He pulled me into his dormitory, quickly kicking the door shut. He stood in silence, shoulders heaving with every deep breath he sucked in. His blue eyes stared down at me, hulking frame shrouding me in shadow. I was quiet, my heart pounding in my ears as I looked at the man towering over me. 

“You wanna fuck me?” He spat. I stammered, at a complete loss of words. My brows furrowed, eyes flicking around his face. Maybe, surely, it was just a joke. “Speak,” he spoke sternly.  

“Yes-“ I sputtered. 

“Fine,” he clenched his jaw tightly, “but I’m in fucking charge.” He punctuated his poignant words with a push of his index finger against my sternum. I nodded, watching as he turned toward the bed. He stepped forward until the frame met his shins. His belt buckle clattered as he quickly undid it. With a thud, he dropped the belt to the floor. 

“On your knees,” he spoke over his shoulder. Without another word, I kneeled before him, watching as he pushed his jeans over his hips. The denim pooled at his ankles. He leaned forward, shifting his weight onto his hands, palms flat against the mattress. 

I felt hot, unbearably so, with his ass so close to my face. I glided my palms up the back of his thighs and over his ass. A soft noise left my lips as my fingers kneaded his plush ass. 

“Go on. This was your idea,” he glanced at me over his shoulders. I felt myself quiver under his judging glare. I leaned in, pressing a kiss to his heated skin, only to lean back and watch as I slowly spread him open. His hole clenched, almost as if winking at me. Licking my lips, I leaned in, running my tongue over the muscle. 

My eyelids fluttered closed as I circled my tongue around his hole. His hand finds my head, holding me flush against his ass. Soft licks slowly grew firmer, only for me to pull back. I craved any reaction from him, any little noise slipping from his throat would’ve driven me mad. 

I turned, sinking my teeth into the flesh of his ass before bringing my attention back to his hole. Drool ran down my chin, coating his ass in a thin sheen. I moaned against his ass as I used my palms to spread him wider. 

A faint grunt, just loud enough to hear, fell from his parted lips. I furrowed my brows, leaning in closer. The tip of my tongue circled the tight muscle before pushing forward, just barely nudging past his hole. 

“Fucking slag,” he spat, holding me flush to his ass. I dipped my tongue further inside him. The tip of my nose nudged against his tailbone. 

His hand left my head, resting on the bed frame. I could feel his thighs quiver under my touch. Pulling back, I spread him wide. I gathered a pool of saliva on my tongue before spitting onto his twitching hole. The pads of my fingers circled his hole before sinking in. 

I pushed the digits forward until my knuckles grazed his taint. His shoulders heaved with every shaky breath he took.

“Doin’ so good, Si,” I cooed, pressing kisses to his ass. 

“Don’t fuckin-” his words faltered as I slowly pumped the digits in and out of him. I could feel him slowly loosen up around my fingers. The tips of my digits curled, searching for the spot within that would have him seeing stars. 

“Hurry up,” he grumbled. I sunk another finger into him. The digits disappeared with a lewd squelch. “And use more lube.”

He pushed an unopened bottle of lube in my face. Leaning back, I grasped the bottle in my hand. The cap popped open with a soft click. I pulled my digits out and squirted a generous helping over my skin. He let out a low groan as I slid my slicked fingers back inside of him. 

His hole sucked my fingers in greedily. With a breathy whine, I sped up my pace. My knuckles met his ass with every thrust. I couldn’t help but wonder if he prepped himself, or maybe he was just that eager. 

He stared down at me with brown eyes, drawing my attention from his twitching hole. Silently, he narrowed his eyes at me. My fingers stilled inside of him, heart pounding in my ears. 

“Get the strap.”

Without a word, I withdrew my fingers with a soft pop. I rose to my feet, turning to the nightstand. I threw open the drawers, shoving aside his neatly folded socks. My heart quickened as my fingertips brushed against cold silicone. I freed the strap from its hiding place, slipping the loops over my ankles. 

“No.” He grumbled, piercing gaze shooting through me. “Take ‘em off first.” His brown eyes flicked down to my sweatpants. I stepped out of the harness, dropping it onto the mattress. My fingertips slid underneath the band, pushing the thick cotton fabric over my hips. The cloth pooled at my ankles. He grunted, gaze locked onto my boxers- his boxers. 

Goosebumps covered my bare thighs as I kicked the two items aside. I reached out toward the strap, only for his fingers to wrap tightly around my wrist. He pursed his lips, teeth gritting. 

“Shirt off,” he spat. A breathy noise caught in my throat. His gaze didn’t leave mine as I pulled my shirt over my head. His brown eyes flicked to my bare chest. With a grunt, his tongue darted out, licking across his chapped lips. 

He watched as I slowly approached the bed, reaching for the harness. His half-lidded eyes sparked with some kind of foreign feeling. Hunger. For what, I didn’t know. 

I fastened the buckles in place. The silicone bobbed as I turned toward Simon. I felt- embarrassed, powerless even, face burning as he furrowed his brows. 

“Get on with it,” he grunted. With shaking hands I grabbed the bottle of lube, spreading a thick glob over the silicone. Not bothering to pay it any mind, I tossed the bottle somewhere on the bed. I wrapped my fingers around the dildo, spreading the slick over its length. I ran my palm up Simon's back, sliding down to his ass. The faint taste of iron tinged my tongue as I bit down on my bottom lip. I spread him open with my palm. My other hand guided the head of my cock to his awaiting hole. 

I nudged my hips forward just enough to push the head of my cock inside of him. His head dropped, fingers firmly gripping the duvet. A soft noise, barely audible over my racing heart, rose from his chest. Taking his moan as permission, I slowly inched the silicone inside of him. 

I watched as his hole swallowed every inch of my cock. Watched as his thighs quivered. Watched as his half-lidded eyes stole glances of me from over his shoulder. 

The leather harness met his ass as I bottomed out inside of him. As if my mind hadn’t bothered to process it, I stared down at where our bodies met. The realization donned on me that this was finally happening. I was finally inside of him. 

“Fucking move-” he spat, sparing me just a quick glance. My breath hitched as I pulled out, only to thrust forward. I dug my fingers into his plush ass, guiding his hips back against me with every thrust. My lips parted, a soft moan falling from my tongue. His ass jiggled with every slap against my hips. 

Heat sparked in my core. I pressed my thighs together, directing my focus back to the man in front of me. 

“Quit staring and fuck me harder.” 

“Sorry-” I sputtered. My hands slid up his back, pushing his chest against the covers. The mattress squeaked as I propped my knee up on the edge of the bed. I grunted, pistoning my hips forward into him. 

“Not half bad.” He punctuated his words with a breathless groan. His jaw went slack, eyebrows screwing together as I sped up. 

“Harder-” he spoke softly, biting back pent-up noises that threatened to spill from his chest. The headboard slammed against the wall with every thrust of my hips. Every nudge of my cock head against his prostate drew murmured moans from the hulking man.

“Harder,” he grunted again. Rhythmic slapping and thudding filled the room. His moans, growing more and more unrestrained by the minute, melded into a sort of devious symphony. 

I spread him open, watching him swallow every inch of my cock. A mix of lube and spit ran down his taint. He was practically glistening in the light. 

“Put your-” his words were cut off by a deep, rumbling groan. “-hips into it.” I spat onto his hole, smirking as I watched him clasp a hand over his mouth. Muffled grunts rose from his chest. 

“You really aren’t as tough as you look, Lieutenant,” I laughed, thinking I’d finally gotten the man to succumb. My breath caught in my throat as he pushed me onto my back in an instant. He straddled my waist, wide eyes staring down at me. 

“I told you I’m in charge,” he spoke through gritted teeth. Without breaking eye contact, he reached behind himself, fingers delving between my thighs. I was drenched, slick spreading down my inner thighs. He smirked, running his fingers up and down my folds. 

“Fucking drooling,” his palm landed on my cunt, a soft slap echoing through the silent room. “You’re the one who wanted this, huh?”

I wordlessly nodded, biting back tears that welled in my eyes. A deep chuckle bellowed from his toned chest. I pursed my lips, my bottom lip quivering as I looked up at the man. 

“We’re not stopping until I finish.” He shifted his weight onto his knees, head tilting back as he slowly sunk down onto my cock. I reached out, grasping every bit of skin that I could. My fingers kneaded his thighs, his stomach, his ass. 

“Stroke my cock,” he stated plainly as he tugged my hand toward his leaking length. I wrapped my fingers around the base of his cock, slowly stroking up and down his length. 

He bounced himself on my length, eyelids fluttering closed. A long, drawn-out moan fell from his lips. Teardrops soaked his lashes. 

I was desperate, rubbing my thighs tightly together. The visage of this man, this brooding Lieutenant shattered like a facade as he used me for his pleasure. 

I spat into my palm before bringing it back to his cock. Precum beaded from the flushed tip. I could feel him twitch in my hand as I matched my pace with his. 

“Simon,” I whined. 

“Shut up, I’m close.” He spoke through a stream of short, erratic moans. His fingers tightly gripped the headboard. The mattress squealed beneath us as he used the leverage to fuck himself harder onto my cock. 

“Fuck- fuck!” He groaned, pace growing more arrhythmic as he reached his orgasm. Thick ropes of hot cum spurted over my chest and face. I squeezed my eyes closed, tongue lolling out in a poor attempt to catch his spend. 

His hips stilled, cock twitching as I gave him one last teasing stroke. His sweaty chest heaved as he caught his breath, brown eyes staring down at me. With a soft squelch, he pulled off of my cock, sitting by my side. He hastily undid the buckles of my harness and yanked the leather from my hips. I whined, brows furrowing as he tossed it to the side. 

“Dirty fucking bitch,” he growled, pulling me into his lap. His palm pushed my face into the covers, while the other landed harshly on my ass. The tears in my eyes that threatened to spill had finally relented. A puddle of drool and tears soaked into the duvet. 

His fingers swiped through my folds, gathering my arousal on his digits. My back arched, hips pushing back against his hand. He chuckled, pushing two fingers inside of me. I moaned at the intrusion.

He was rough, and forceful. My cunt squelched around his fingers. My eyes strained, painfully throbbing as they rolled back. I choked out a sob into the comforter. 

“You wanted this, so you better take it,” he grumbled. 

My body felt weak, pins and needles pricking my extremities. I was close, painfully so. Every thrust of his digits had my stomach clenching, bracing for the inevitable climax. 

“Fuck!” My words came out as more of a scream than a moan as he pushed me into the bounds of overstimulation. 

I clenched around his digits, cunt spasming as I came. Fluid gushed from my slick folds, soiling the already tainted duvet. My thighs quivered, toes curling. 

My body heaved as I sobbed, but he didn’t stop. He pistoned his in and out of me, pace not faltering for a moment. I turned my head, glancing at the man over my shoulder. 

“Please!” I choked out a sob. Snot ran down my cupids bow. 

“Oh, come on, one minute you’re begging and the next you’re crying,” he spat, giving another harsh smack to my ass. My skin turned red with irritation. “You’re gonna give me another,”

I sobbed, spit leaking from my parted lips. My breaths were shallow and ragged, and the lack of oxygen made my head spin. 

In a moment I grew silent, jaw going slack in a silent scream as another wave of pleasure wracked my bones. I kicked my legs, only for the man to hold me still, pummeling my quivering cunt. 

I sobbed, crying out his name. Hot tears ran down my blotchy cheeks. Snot sank into the fibers of the blanket below me. My throat ached, voice growing hoarse as my moans steadily declined until the two of us sat in silence. 

I didn’t know when, or how, but when my eyelids fluttered open, I was in his arms. I grumbled, tucking myself into his warm embrace. His chapped lips pressed soft kisses along my sweaty forehead. 

“You did so good,” he cooed, pulling back to meet my gaze. I felt a flame ignite in my face. My lips curled into a smile. He leaned in, softly kissing the tip of my nose. I chuckled, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck. 

“It wasn’t too much?” He asked, fingers tracing incoherent patterns into my sticky skin. 

“No. I promise,” I mumbled against his collarbone. His fingers traced along my jawline before moving to tuck my hair behind my ear. 

“I wouldn’t mind doing that again,” he muttered under his breath.

Masterlist

[simplydannie]

Words of advice!

Know which social media apps are for you and which ones aren’t, because some can be really toxic! I for one started out on TikTok. Yes I have the most followers there, and the most likes and views! But I have had the most bullying done to me there recently. I find my content is more appreciated in social medias like Instagram and Tumblr! The way you guys engage and ask questions, it really makes my day!! Sometimes I need a wake up call because sometimes I am soooo focused on wanting to get my content more popular and stuff that I loose track of what I’m really doing it for… and that’s for my enjoyment and to the amazing little following I have going on!! You guys are worth more than 1K followers in my book… and I loose sight of that!! I really needed this wake up call!!

Which gets me to my second point! Just because you think you have the most following on one place doesn’t mean it’s the most enjoyable… I’ve learned that. I love my people on TikTok who have been with me and I hope you’re here now on Tumblr and Instagram!! I wanna try and get into Bluesky but one of my biggest obstacles is figuring out the algorithm!! lol crossing my fingers on that. But thank you!! Thank each and every one of you.

Have fun with what you do. Take it from me. Don’t do it for the views and likes… do it because you love doing it! And for the few who love you for it!!! They’re the ones that really cheer you on and just genuinely love your creativity! I know it’s hard to focus on that when you compare yourself to some amazing artists… trust me I know!! I compare myself to so many everyday single day and end up getting really depressed. But don’t. I’m trying my best to fight the good fight and live another day! Fight with me ❤️ Yes appreciate the art of popular artist, but don’t forget to appreciate and love yourself too!! I’m learning too.

I was never meant to be a mainstream person! Maybe just your small underground artist “indie” artist… and I am learning to accept that and be okay with it!

I am me!!!

And you be you!!!

Love you!!

[sillylilyposting]

People are to willing to legitimize

Oh boy let's see what she means by legitimize

The whole point of lolcow culture is to ruin people's lives for fun.

No the plan is to extract the funny from it.

So when you come out trying to Critique target is a terrible person but - you've already given it to much legitimacy by treating it as a trustworthy source of information

You don't become immune to criticism because people don't like you

People made careers out of turning Christine Chandler's life into a real world Truman show,

Just call her Chris-chan? Also no people interacted with her videos she herself was putting online, her own website and uploads. Also how does this theory track with Yandev, Nikocado, etc who just did weird things with little to no prompting?

With her every action scrutinized and documented to a degree that serial killers subjected too.

Again she made videos consistently of herself by herself

Without that stalking, without the way people sought to push her to do something to keep the entertainment going, without people actively conspiring to drive her insane, she would not have been noteworthy enough for any of the things she done to be worth remembering.

I'll agree some of the stuff she did was prompted by other people's bullying and prompting, she still did bizarre things in her day to day without it but she still filmed and explained her odd acts and lest we forget nobody made her SA her mother! Just like nobody made Yandev be a pedophile there is no excuse of: "The meaning internet people made me!"

_

Hell, without all that, it's unlikely she would have ever done most of the shit she's done.

Provably wrong

Its only the very fascist harassment that made her actions probable or noteworthy in the first place.

So to try and condem lolcow culture, while judging the target based on information only avaliable BECAUSE of lolcow culture is completely fucking backwards. Furthermore it's how they recruit.

I can't keep restating facts... uh chrischan made video herself! So, quite literally what your trying to do here condem the culture with info avaliable because of it, this argument eats itself, christ.

Every single mother fucker who rots on kiwi farms started from the premise that "kiwi farms is terrible, but they've got it right this time about [minor e-celeb you are way too obsessed with] and their hook are in you. Because your on the site reading a thread on the person you hate, and since your there you might as well read a few more

Never used Kiwi farms myself, don't plan to, you have a plenty of stupid harmful and wrong takes regularly avaliable. You keep shifting the argument as you finish each paragraph, a goldfish would be more focused than you

And now they have their hooks in you, You're a nazi

Nazis, Hooks, Kiwis, scary stuff girl. I wasn't aware Kiwi farms acting like Frostmourne or is it more like the One Ring?

Multiple times in the past someone has come to be about someone supposedly being predatory and linked to Kiwi farms thread going "i know is awful but..."

Holy fuck this post is so long... does that mean the people who dm you are all Arthas?

_

No if it comes from Channer (channel?) trash, it is automatically a lie. They do not care about the things they pretend to care about.

Joon the king, sai, Ant, etc vague post, Journalists cover stories girlie, they can be as invested as they want personally and can push a narrative if they are inclined but the mark of a good journalist is presenting a story as unbiased as possible, I am not saying Kiwi farms writers are unbiased or journalists.

They care only about ruining the lives of trans, mentally ill and neruodivergent people for their own entertainment. Truth, Lies, it doesn't matter to them. Both are equally valid for their goals.

Lily seems to want to push the narrative that there are absolute sources of information... dangerous and vaguely authoritarian. There is such a thing as GETTING A SECOND OPINION!

If you were abused by someone and you went to Kiwi farms to give testimony: no you weren't. you're a liar, and you know you're a liar. You wouldn't be there if you weren't.

Not letting "These people who claim victim hood are 100% lying, and don't you doubt me when I tell you that" slide here

Lolcow culture should be inadmissible the court of public opinion.

Glad you added the court of public opinion, thought you were posting this as you got shoved into a cop car

So long as that continues to not be the case the harassment the stalking would only get worse.

Do stupid things win stupid prizes

And you can't buffer your criticism of it by agreeing with them.

The dumbest take she's made, its not weird that when someone accuses you of in decending order Rape, Grooming, and Incest Fetishism that agreeing to it would and SHOULD make the situation worse for the RAPIST

That POST WAS TO FUCKING LONG OH MY FUCKING GOD!

[werebutch]

Every day so many times a day I remind myself that I cannot keep avoiding everything there is to life and every day I am so scared and I say but just one more time. And I’ve been doing this forever. It is so hard anxiety is so much harder than everyone says it is mine is completely ruining my life it’s horrible. It’s so horrible

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[pears-trinkets]

everything sucks so hard rn idk

[pepprs]

prefacing this by saying im fine and its whatever and im mostly numb to it. but it kinda fucking sucks that being gaslit about my own sexuality leads to… doubting my own sexuality lol!

[iveneverbeenmorestressedinmylife]

I might have kinned a bit too close to the sun.

[localdorkincombatboots]

Losing a family member or a partner is already literally one of the worst parts of life we have to go through but being the person(s) that have to also handle all of the legal, formal, and financial parts of it makes it so much fucking worse like rubbing salt in a wound.

Like here I know you're devastated and grieving but also you need to fill out assloads of paperwork and get things set up immediately and figure out how to pay at the very cheapest $1k for a cremation without even being able to give the person you loved a proper funeral because it costs thousands of dollars more, and having to call Medicare and all the other govt. places to report her death and so fucking much that has to be handled.

Honestly everyone needs to find a way to teach themself at least the basics of everything that has to be handled after death because your family or partner could be perfectly fine one day and then all of a sudden an accident happens like a fall or wreck and it could all fall on you to handle every single thing.

And not a single part of the process is easy which only makes what is already one of the hardest things to go through in life exponentially worse.

And, death is so extremely expensive. Literally the cheapest possible cremation we can find is $995 and that's no funeral or anything just straight to ashes in a box.

You don't want to be struck with such a tragedy and have zero knowledge of what will become your responsibility to handle and pay for.

I know it's awful to even think about your loved ones dying but not knowing what to do when it happens, because death is the one thing that happens to us all and it can happen at literally any time, will only make everything worse and harder for you.

If you know you will be responsible for handling someone's affairs after death, take the time to actually sit down and discuss how they would want you to handle it and seriously consider looking into some kind of life insurance, even if it's not for much, because creation and funeral services require payment upfront and this isn't something that can be put off until you can afford it. Wether or not they had a life insurance policy could be the thing that could completely fuck you financially especially if you were already struggling.

[rosicheeks]

🙃