#hes not the only one at fault for every issue this damn school has !!!

[raine-but-irl]

you ever see SUCH a display of "how the fuck can u even do such a senseless thing" it makes you lose your fucking mind??

[aajjks]

Mommy Issues (IV)

synopsis. They wanted you, they needed you.

pairing. yandere!single dad!jungkook x fem!reader.

warnings. yändêrê bêhãvïöür, 0 tö ä 100 rêäl quïck, ängst, jk ïs kïnda än äss ïn thïs, mänïpülätïön, dëprëssïon, mëntïöns of vïöliêncè.

note. hello y’all. 😳 umm it’s surely been a while… but here’s another update, enjoy! and please share your feedback and thoughts! also send in asks for mi characters as well. AND PLZ DONT FORGET ABOUT MI KOO.

series masterlist.

taglist: @mageprincess7 @bids97 @saltandsugaa @minshookie29 @oppa-agust-d @sugarvenomlit @jinat8mydumplings82 @bloombaekhyun @peach-olic @multifandombishthatlovekth @vcutvante @minshookie29 @douknowbts @xjiminsthighsx @knjkitten @bruisedscrewedandtattooed @koocreampie @kooksmataec @monijeon @swaneffects @dragons-flare @dragonjimin @illnevertrustmyselfagain @itsjust2am @vicki1031 @burnahtsw @fjssk @jamacaicanxbarbie [will tag more people later!]

Jungkook regrets saying that out loud because now you’re gonna think that he’s a creep, or definitely a weirdo. You’re staring at him completely caught off guard and he doesn’t blame you.

But before he can overthink and let his anxiety take over, because of how creeped out you must be at his remark, why did he even say that out loud it was unnecessary… you give him a small smile, and all of his nerves immediately calm down. The effect that you have on him… he’s so in love with you.

“U-Uh I’m so sorry how inappropriate of me… yeah, I remember not in the school, right.. Ms yn I’m so sorry.” Jungkook looks down in his lap, but all he sees is Jeon Seol staring back at his father, with a confused look in his Bambi eyes, even though there’s no no one left except for him, you and his son he still feels really bad because you must feel really uncomfortable.

“Well..” you clear your throat, “I don’t think there’s anything in particular that I need to tell you about the progress of his studies because he’s doing good in them but behavior wise,” your smile, fades a little and you’re all serious now, he notices every inch of your expression.

You look concerned.

“you don’t have to worry about Seol getting lost in the school the assistant teacher will take care of him because there is something that I need to discuss with you about him in private.”

Jungkook looks at you with confusion, because what possibly could you be telling him that you need Seol out of the room for?

“I-Is everything all right?” Jungkook stutters out, his nerves are back once again. You don’t say anything and that just scares me one more because what did his five year old do for you to be so serious? But jungkook has got your hint and he whispers something in his son’s ear before Seol runs off.

You sigh before saying, “Mr. jeon.. I’m a little concerned.”

“On Thursday, Seol punched a student because he said I loved him more than Seol.” You cross your arms across your chest. Your demeanor has completely shifted and you look so serious.

Damn, you look really hot- he’s so focused on you that he doesn’t even listen to what you’re saying that is until the word punched settles in his brain.

“what? W-What?” he’s so confused right now. Jungkook cannot believe that his five-year-old punched someone. “Uhh what?” Dumbfounded he asks you once again.

“Yes… the child was even bleeding…” you shake your head, “as his teacher, I feel like I failed him because he wasn’t an aggressive violent child..” Jungkook doesn’t like the way you get a little sad.

No, it’s not your fault.

“Mr Jeon.. he’s a little possessive… for a five-year-old I don’t think that’s healthy… I mean I love him with all my heart I love all my students, but.. it seems like he wants me to only love him.”

Jungkook wants to scoff. And what is so wrong with that? Yeah he shouldn’t have punched the kid, but the kid must’ve instigated him. But he decides to keep his expressions neutral.

“Is everything all right? you’re his parent and I think it’s my responsibility to let you know everything about him.” The way you speak is so tender, so professional and gentle, but he feels a little pissed off.

You have left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“A-Are you saying that you don’t love him? Or that he’s got a problem?” His could you- can’t you see you’re breaking jungkooks heart right now?

“If only he had a mother…” he sighs, sadly.

Jungkook nods, coughing so he can clear his throat, he doesn’t want to come off as mean, but.. he cannot help it anymore.

“I understand… I think that my son has misunderstood you.” He begins, as he gets closer to your face. “he has confused your role in his life, I’m so sorry for that, but the truth is that he sees you as his mother-rather than a teacher and..” he takes a breath, “you’re not his mother. You’re just his teacher.” He barely manages to resist Make sure that his tone is appropriate.

And you’re speechless.

He immediately sees a change in your expressions and your mouth is a little wide when you hear him say that. “ I’ll make sure that he understands that and he will never do it again I am so sorry.” Jungkook smiles, Before he leans back in the chair.

“I’ll even apologize to the boys parents.” Jungkook just wants to get away from you now, first his father and now you.

This is the worst day ever.

And tomorrow he has to meet his father. Someone kill him.

“can I go now? Also, please could you tell me the boys name?” He is not speaking to you with a smile. As you tell him the boys name and his parents names, he can tell that you’re almost about to cry, for some reason.

That’s how he feels right now too. Maybe you’re not what he thought you were. You will never understand him or his son.

“Well Ms L/N have a good day.” he chooses to address you with your last name as compared to your first… jungkook doesn’t know why he’s feeling so bitter right now, but he feels like you’ve crushed his heart.

He just made him feel like his son has a problem and that you don’t love him. He almost feels a sense of betrayal.

He can just sulk in the car so he gets up before bowing to you, as his son’s teacher, he has to show you some respect, and he picks up Seol’s bag that was on the floor before he ran off, and he’s out of the room.

What a heavy heart, and a heavy conscious.

It’s about time that jungkook lets his son know that you’re not his mother. You’ll never be. You’ll never understand them. Truth is that you’ll never want them and need them like they do.

[victoriadallonfan]

You were an actor, and a damn good one if your many fans were to be believed. An early success, only a few year out of high school andl you were a near household name. And for a time everything was justabout perfect. But it couldn’t last forever. A decade or two later and you were showing signs of aging. It was nothing that you thought was an issue, but your agent on the other hand? It was an issue to them.

It was nothing major at first, a tuck there, a lift here. Just enough to maintain your youthful beauty. But they slowly became more drastic. There was a bit of pushback from you to your agent, but they just insisted it was all necessary to keep active in the industry. But with every cut, every injection, you doubted them more and more.

It all came to a head when you looked in the mirror and realized you could no longer recognize it as yours. Trigger

(sorry if it's a bit bad, I don't have much experience in writing trigger events)

It's no biggie!

This definitely has changer aspects as a big focus, the lack of identity, but that it's all coming from a singular source (the agent) could give it a striker influence.

Power:

Malluscious (Changer-Striker) - Malluscious has a two-fold power; the ability to form biological alterations within his own body and then a touch based transfer toward anyone he can reach.

The alterations he makes within his own body are often superficial at worst (changing hair color, jaw size, a bit of muscle mass) or minor boon at best (tougher skin/bone/muscle, better than human eyesight, enhanced sensation of fine hairs for movement, faster blood clotting). Malluscious has very limited control over these alterations that accumulate over the course of the day, turning him into a somewhat dark, fae-ish, monster as days go by. Superhuman, but losing the identity he craves.

When he transfers these alterations onto whomever he's touching, the alterations have none of the manton protections that he is afforded: the bones grow dangerously dense, skin solidifies near instantly, or drowns in the blood produced at an extreme rate. As much as Malluscious would love to be able to off put all these mutations onto a single victim, the hosts tend to die from 1 to 3 mutations, meaning he must target several victims to be rid of the mutations.

Should he successfully do so, his power allows him a grace period of "normalcy" for two to three days, barring him being attacked or near death.

When he first gained his power, he did not truly understand the consequences of his power, going into hiding in the city as urban myth for two weeks, gaining a fan following for his dark design and glimpses of his beauty online.

It was by the third week that his mind was more altered, taking on a more predatory, analytical sense, in addition to his body. Over course of 12 hours, he went on a spree of spreading his alterations to all those he catalogued as being at fault: doctors, nurses, and finally the agent who pressured him into all of this.

For the first time in weeks, he finally felt normal... as well as the weight of what he had done and how his life had been effectively ruined. He went into hiding, no one putting two and two together for months as he traveled the country, passing along his alterations as he went.

By the time that the heroes had identified him and labeled him as Malluscious, he had near a hundred dead to his credit and had long since worked to ignore the guilt in his heart.

[nat-space-obsessed]

"I'm 23." "No, You're Not."

Crossposted on AO3!

It turns out to be very hard to get a tattoo when you look eternally 14.

Prompt by @charcoalhawk

"Kid, You're like twelve. That's a fake ID. I'll get in trouble if I let you get a tattoo here." 

"As I said, I am literally 23. I've been 23 for five months now. It is on my ID. I swear to you that my ID is real." Danny repeated for the third time that hour. 

Danny had been going to get a tattoo, his second, actually, and both times so far he had come across one issue: 

His eternally 14 year old face. 

"I told you, this can't be a real ID, you look twelve."

"I look fourteen, thank you very much."

"You realize that doesn't help, don't you?" The girl behind the counter retorted. 

No, it doesn't. 

One thing about being immortal is that you forget that you are immortal. Danny's ID has his birth date and his current photo. It's not his fault that he looks fourteen!

Actually it is. He's the one who died. 

"If I told you it's a health condition, would you believe me?"

"Not without a doctor's note. Either way, kid, even if you are somehow older than 16, you can't get a tattoo even with parental consent. We live in Illinois."

Danny hated being locked out of things due to his perceived age. Even when he was in college, and all of his classmates thought he skipped a bunch of grades to get where he was. Every time he met someone new he had to go through the same spiel. 

'I'm nineteen, yes I look young, it's a medical condition, yes I am in my second year of college' yadda yadda yadda. It had been four years and it only got worse. 

It was worse when he was going to different age restricted places, such as bars and tattoo parlors, which thought that he was a literal kid. 

"Look. I already have a tattoo, isn't that enough??"

"How do I know you didn't have a friend do that for you, huh? I remember middle school with all of the stick-n-pokes."

"Does this look like a stick-n-poke???" No, it doesn't. It was a full color three quarter arm in a neo-traditional style. It was a ghost, because he loves his irony. 

Danny kept staring at the girl behind the counter, not blinking the whole time, as she stared at him incredulously. 

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you keep being a problem."

"I'm not being a problem! You're the one who isn't listening as I try to explain my situation!"

"Kid, you aren't going to get a tattoo from this place." She sighed. "Look, I can call my boss and she can make the final call on it." 

"Yes! Please! Do!"

The girl in front of him walked into the back room and called a name that Danny hadn't heard since high school. "Hey! Star!"

Wait, Star? 

"What is it now, Kay?" A familiar voice rang out, in an exasperated voice. 

"Look, there's this kid at the front who says he's 23, he has an ID that looks like it checks out, but he looks twelve. Literally twelve." 

"God, Kay. Just tell him no!" A woman walked out from the back room, and looked at Kay, then made eye contact with Danny.

"Wait, FENTON? Damn, you literally haven't changed since freshman year!" The blonde girl laughed. 

"Star! It's been so long, I can't believe you recognize me!" Danny smiled. "You started a tattoo parlor?" 

"Yeah, after high school, I decided to apprentice at that one parlor down the road from school? Yeah you know the one, right?"

"I got my first tattoo there! this one," Danny pointed to his three quarter. 

"Was it James? I apprenticed under him." Star smiled at Danny. 

"Wait, Star, you know this kid?" 

"We went to high school together. I was a bit of an asshole, but we made up at the end of senior year! We'd all been through a lot together, you know what they say about trauma bringing people together!"

Danny smirked at Star. "You still in contact with Paulina?" He started, "Have you heard about her new girlfriend?"

"Oh yeah! We had a double date not too long ago, you know, me and Kwan."

"I always thought you and Kwan would get together! You guys were always pretty good with each other."

"WAIT, wait wait, so Star, he's not lying about his age??" The girl behind the counter said. 

"Yeah, he's looked that way since freshman year, some sort of medical condition, right?"

"It was a whole thing in senior year, we were comparing yearbook photos, it was so funny to see Dash freak out like that."

Danny and Star laughed at the memory. 

"So, can I get my tattoo now?" 

"Oh for sure! I'd love to get you started on that, do a quick consultation." Star led Danny to her office in the back. 

The girl at the front counter grasped her head in frustration. 

[baby-walsh]

Love's Tavern

Summary: Rick discovers a new side of himself at Love's Tavern.

Tags: Sex Club, Glory Hole, Bi-Curiosity, Cheating, Masturbation, Semi-Public Sex, Anonymous Sex, Gay Sex, Internal Conflict

Rick Grimes/Shane Walsh

Explicit 18+

Notes: I don't upload here anymore because tbh I kinda hate Tumblr, but it was requested so here we are.

Rick has been struggling recently. Getting into fights with his wife and trying to keep that fact hidden from his twelve year old son, Carl. He’s not even sure what they’re fighting about most of the time, but it’s hard to spend ten hours at work then come home not knowing which side of his wife he’s going to get. It doesn’t help that he’s been getting a lot of domestic violence calls lately. He can’t escape the fighting even at work.

He’s growing increasingly frustrated with life. Meanwhile, his best friend and work partner, Shane, is doing well in comparison. He’s unmarried, no kids, no one to answer to. He’s handsome and smart and does a good job at work. Rick wouldn’t want to have anyone else as a partner. He’s only slightly jealous hearing about Shane’s latest conquests. Rick swears he has a new girl in his bed every night. He zones out listening to Shane go into graphic detail, thinking about how he himself hasn’t gotten laid in three weeks.

“Hey man, you okay?” Shane finally notices that Rick isn’t listening. Rick shrugs.

“Sorry, yeah, I’m just tired,” he replies. “Carl’s having a hard time adjusting to the school schedule after being able to do whatever he wanted all summer. We didn’t get his routine established in time. So he’s cranky every morning and Lori acts like it’s somehow my fault. I’m the bad guy.”

“I’m sorry, man. He’s a good kid. He’ll adjust.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

“Why don’t we have a drink after work, huh?”

“So I can get yelled at for not coming straight home?” Rick rolls his eyes. Not at Shane or his suggestion, but knowing that Lori would be pissed even at the hypothetical scenario.

“C’mon, I’ll call and tell her it’s my idea, okay? Just one drink.”

“You’re going to get me in trouble.”

“Okay, then don’t tell her we’re having a drink. Tell her it’s a mandatory meeting.”

Rick’s thinking it over when a call comes in, interrupting Shane’s begging.

+

By the end of the thankfully uneventful day, Rick decided fuck it. He’s a grown man and he can go have a drink after work with his friend if he feels like it. And if Lori doesn’t like it, then that’s her issue.

Rick’s sitting at the table with Shane and a couple other guys from work. They’re just chatting about the day when one of the guys mentions a club that just opened up across town. Shane and Rick were talking amongst themselves when it was mentioned. Shane stops and looks over at him.

“I’m sorry, did you say sex club?”

“Yeah! My friend emailed me a link to the website. It has the address and the rules and whatnot.”

“Sex club? Is that even legal?” Rick asks.

“It’s anonymous from what I saw on the website. I think it’s mostly gloryholes.”

“What’s it called?” Shane asks.

“Love’s Tavern.”

“Why's it called that?”

“I think it's to be discreet.”

“Huh, I don’t really get the appeal. I’m just saying if I’m getting my dick sucked, I wanna see who’s doing it, y’know?” he adds, taking a swig of his beer. He nudges Rick, who fell into contemplative thought again. “Right?”

“Well, I’m married, so there’s no mystery there,” Rick laughs weakly at his attempted joke. “But I mean yeah, even if I was getting blown…” he trails off, staring at the wall again.

“Damn, Rick, maybe you should visit this place.”

Maybe he should.

+

Rick gets home a little later than he intended, having had more than one drink with Shane. It’s nine PM when he stumbles in, exhausted and ready to shower and sleep. He’s in the bedroom unbuttoning his uniform shirt, getting ready to shower when his wife Lori walks in. In an instant, the mood of the room shifted.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Was with Shane.” he mumbles.

“Were you drinking? Oh, don’t mind me,” she mutters, making a point to push past him to sit on the bed while she takes her earrings out. “I was just putting our son to bed. He asked for you, by the way.”

Rick sighs, looking towards the door. Lori sees and snorts.

“Don’t even bother. He’s already asleep.”

“He knows I work long days.”

“Not long enough to go drinking for who knows how long while I’m here picking up our son from tutoring, making dinner, helping with homework, packing lunch for tomorrow and on top of that cleaning the house.”

“He does his homework with the tutor,” Rick groans, really not wanting to have this conversation right now.

“Yes, usually, but he has a science project to do.” Lori purses her lips.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

He hopes that she will just drop it. He kneels in front of her and takes her hands in his.

“Work has been stressful lately and I just wanted to spend some time with my friend and not think about it for a while.” Rick explains. Though he feels he shouldn’t have to because, between the two of them, only he has been shot at and almost killed.

“You spend way more than enough time with Shane,” Lori says, snatching her hands out of his. She gets into bed, pulling the comforter over her legs. Rick stands up and stares at her.

“Can I make it up to you?” he asks.

“Whatever way you think you can.” she replies primly.

“Can we have sex tonight?” His tone is defeated and his shoulders slump even more when he gets the answer,

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. He grabs clean boxers and pajama pants from his drawers, slamming them shut as he goes to the bathroom.

“You’re going to wake Carl!” Lori hisses.

He leaves the room and doesn’t look back.

Rick’s never cheated in his life. Not in anything or on anyone. The idea of cheating on his wife should be the furthest thing to ever cross his mind. But he can’t handle this growing frustration any longer and he can only jack off so much.

It’s been two days since their fight and Rick and Lori have spoken only a handful of words to each other. Rick made an effort on his day off to spend it with his son. He even helped with his science project, giving Carl ideas on what to do. He mowed the lawn, took the trash out, and pulled the autumn decorations from the attic. He told Lori that he’d make dinner so that she didn’t have to worry about it. Yet it wasn’t enough to stop her from criticizing him. Only in a slight, backhanded way when in front of Carl. His efforts went unrewarded by his wife.

This morning, Rick woke up with a headache and the smell of burnt pancakes filling the room. He laid in bed, contemplating his life choices, when he heard his wife and son arguing.

Another day of hanging out, doing some chores, taking Carl to the park, and getting fast food for dinner. Rick feels good about the time he spends with his son, but he feels looming anxiety about Lori. He doesn’t know what she wants him to do. It’s not like he’s unappreciative of the things she does. And he does things too. Mostly the things she can’t do. And the things he can’t do, he gets Shane to do.

Maybe it’s the animosity that’s driven him to this point. Quite literally, he thinks, as he stares at the sign on the building. After another night of being spurned, instead of masturbating, Rick jumped in his car. He didn’t think about where he was going, but subconsciously, he knows why he ended up here.

Love’s Tavern

The place is well lit, but out of the way. Hidden, in a way, like you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t know it was there. Rick steels his nerves as he gets out of the car. He’s just going to check it out. He locks his car, then heads inside the building. The heavy wooden door leads to a foyer with another wooden door. He opens that one then walks up to the desk.

“Welcome to Love’s Tavern! What are you looking for today?” the cheerful girl at the desk says.

“Well, uh, I’ve never been here.” Rick says, suddenly nervous. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Maybe something darker, more seedy. He definitely didn’t expect a perky blonde explaining the types of rooms and experiences they offer. She explains the rules and safety precautions. Rick’s heart starts to pound as he realizes that he’s actually going to do this.

“And it’s just $35 to get in. It’s to cover maintenance of the facilities and we provide condoms and lube, so it also goes towards the cost of covering that.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Rick pulls out his wallet, handing over the money. She asks if he wants a receipt and he declines. “Um, so, you mentioned one side being…straight? Can you explain again?”

“Oh, absolutely! So, this side to your left is designated for ladies and the right side is designated for men. So pick your preference and if you ever forget, just look at the lights! The ladies’ side is lit up pink in the halls and the men’s side is blue.”

“And, um, this is…anonymous, right?”

“Yes, we don’t keep any records of who’s here. There’s cameras, but the footage is wiped after 30 days and we only pull it in case an incident occurs.” she replies. She sees Rick’s apprehension. “Which side did you want?” she asks.

“Uh, women,” Rick answers, feeling hot in the face as the pretty receptionist takes his hand and leads him past the desk and to the hallway. She takes him to the left side where the lighting shifts from white to pink.

“The open room is where the voyeurs like to hang out, but for your first time, go in here. It’s private, but connected to this room here. What someone would think a traditional glory hole is.” she explains.

“Wait, how do you keep the sides separate? Like in these private rooms?”

She points to the signs on the doors. Like a bathroom has men and women decals, these rooms have decals that are a little different. The room she has Rick going into has a stick figure man, hands on his hips, erection pointed straight out. The room next to it has a decal of a stick figure with long hair and very prominent breasts on her knees, facing the other door.

“People are good about respecting the rules. We haven’t had any incidents so far, but honestly, the gay side sees a lot more action than you’d think in a town like this.”

“Huh…” Rick looks down the hall toward the men’s side, where there does seem to be a buzz of activity.

“Have fun.” The receptionist walks off. Rick swallows hard and enters the room, locking the door behind him like he was told. The room is small, but large enough to move around comfortably. The room is bathed in pink light and has a bench on one side. Rick notices three different holes, at different heights, on the opposite wall. To his surprise, there’s already a mouth at the hole in the middle. Rick looks around, then decides to just go for it. He walks up and unzips his pants, pulling his cock out. He strokes it a few times, getting it hard, before sliding it through the hole into the waiting mouth of the girl on the other side. He hears a muffled moan, feeling the vibration around his shaft as she takes him all the way into her throat. Rick groans. He’s not sure if she’s good at this or if it’s just been too long. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that it’s a stranger’s mouth on his cock. He presses against the wall, loving the feeling of being sucked. He’s pulled out of it when she suddenly grabs his cock, tightly holding it in one hand. Rick is questioning what’s happening as he feels something rolling onto his cock. A condom, he quickly realizes. The girl lets go of his cock to quickly turn around, presenting her pussy to him. She helps guide him in. It’s a little awkward through the wall, but Rick’s length is enough to fill her up. Rick definitely wasn’t expecting this. He was expecting a quick little blow job. Just something to ease his stress. Now he’s fucking a stranger through a wall, listening to her quiet moans as she bounces on his cock.

“Fuck,” Rick groans, instinctively pulling away as he cums suddenly.

The girl whines. Rick pulls the condom off, tossing it into the trash can in the corner of the room. He cleans himself up and wants to get out of there before the full weight of what he’s just done can crush him.

He leaves quickly and quietly, not making eye contact with the receptionist on his way out. That was an expensive way to cum in five minutes, he thinks as he gets into his car. He drives for a little bit before making his way home.

+

The weirdest part about visiting Love’s Tavern is that Rick knows he should feel guilty about it, but he doesn’t. He should feel guilty for wanting to go back at least, yet he doesn’t. Rick goes back two more times. The first of the two times, he gets sucked by two different girls and fucks one of them, finishing in the other’s mouth. It’d be the perfect story to tell Shane. The second time, he braves going into the free room. He pretends not to notice the other guys as he stands in line to fuck a girl who has her legs chained up. Both times, he was drawn to the men’s side. The receptionist is right. Even at peak times, that side is always busier than the side with women. He hates to admit that he’s curious about it. The next time he goes, he takes a right instead of a left, hoping that the receptionist doesn’t notice. The men’s side is a different vibe. The free room takes a lot of space. There’s a bunch of guys mingling about. Some getting sucked off, others thrusting into holes in the walls. Others stroking themselves while watching the action. Rick looks around the blue lit room, looking for the private rooms like on the other side. He goes down a hallway and finds a bunch of doors. One on the end is open, so he goes in and locks it behind him. To his surprise, there’s a cock through the hole in the wall. It shouldn’t be that shocking given where he is, he muses.

Now what?

He’s never thought about sucking a guy off. Yet he wandered over to this side of the establishment so a guy could suck him off.

“Come on, will you get on your knees already?” the guy on the other side groans. Rick jumps at being called out. He could just leave. Yet he’s strangely aroused by this. Rick finds himself walking up to the hole and kneeling. He tentatively takes the thick cock into his hand, stroking it gently. Then, just as the guy is about to protest again, Rick just goes for it, sliding his mouth around the length. He suddenly understands the hesitation from every girl who’s given him a blow job for the first time. He wonders if he’s doing this correctly as he bobs his head. The guy groans, thrusting forward. Rick nearly gags as the man’s cum shoots into the back of his throat. Surprisingly, he swallows it down. The guy walks away and just as Rick regains his composure, another cock is waiting for him. Pulling his own erection out, he strokes himself as he leans in to take this one into his mouth. It’s shorter, but veiny, Rick determines as he explores it with his tongue. He strokes himself faster, finishing just as he receives a second load of cum in his mouth.

“Hey twink, ever get your ass eaten?” a guy says through the hole.

“Uh, no…” Rick replies, unnerved by the sudden conversation.

“Put it against the hole.” the guy replies.

The request sends a shock through Rick’s spine. He stands up, questioning how he got here as he strips naked, then turns around bending at just the perfect angle to press his cheeks up to the hole. Immediately, a warm tongue slides up his crack, making him jump. He’s never done this, but he doesn’t hate it as the tongue works its way to his hole. Rick gets hard again. He tries to stroke himself while the tongue massages his hole.

Rick starts to feel weird, the reality of what’s happening starting to set in. It’s not until he feels a finger probe his hole that he snaps out of it.

“Whoa, okay,” he stands up. He’s already sucked two dicks and had his ass eaten, that’s enough experimentation for the night. He scrambles to get his clothes together and leaves, heart racing as he comes to terms with what he just did.

Rick gets home at almost midnight to find that his wife is still awake, reading a book. He cringes internally, hoping that she would have already been asleep. She gives him a questioning look when he walks into the room.

“Where’ve you been?” she asks.

“Just hanging out with some of the guys from work.” Rick lies, getting into bed next to her. He had showered away his shame already.

“Hmm, well I was thinking,” Lori puts down the book on the nightstand and turns to him. She brings her right arm to his chin and pulls him into a kiss. Rick holds his wife while she kisses him, but he doesn’t return the kiss fully. He kisses her back, but not with enthusiasm as he recalls where his mouth has been.

“You’re finally going to let me fuck you?” he murmurs pointedly as she strips him of his t-shirt and pajama pants. He pulls up her nightgown and finds himself burying his face between her legs. Her moans are enough to get him hard by the time she cums on his tongue. He sits up, positioning himself closer so he can slide inside her. He thrusts hard, enjoying the noises coming from her. He can’t help but feel like something is…off.

“Would you…” He murmurs the request hotly in her ear. Lori’s eyes widen as she processes his request.

“What!? I don’t want to do that, Rick!”

“Please? It’ll help me cum.”

“I don’t want to put my fingers…there. Ugh, just get off me,” Lori grumbles, pushing Rick away. He lays on his back as she gets up and puts her robe on.

“Would it kill you to have an open mind?” Rick sighs.

“You’ve never wanted me to do that before, why now?”

“Cause I just…I wanted to try it.” Rick shrugs.

“Did one of the guys put you up to this?”

“Wha- No! I’ve just been thinking about it.”

Lori huffs in disgust and leaves the room. Rick decides he’ll go back to Love’s the first chance he gets.

+

The opportunity doesn’t arrive until the following weekend. It had been a hard week and the only thing Rick could think about was getting fucked. The idea of actually liking men has sent him into a spiral. He’s been on edge all week. Shane asks if he’s okay and Rick gets defensive. It feels like everyone knows what he’s been doing.

He’s thankful that his wife and kid aren’t home when he gets there. He makes himself a sandwich after reading the note on the fridge that they won’t be home until late. He’s grateful for the alone time because he finally has a chance to use something he bought a week ago after the sexual mishap with Lori. Rick had gone out of his way to a small sex shop, nervous and embarrassed. He brought the toy home and hid it in a black bag in his gun safe. Lori knows the code but she never needs it, so he’s not worried about her discovering it.

Rick pulls the bag out, feeling mixed emotions as he dumps the contents onto his bed. He had bought a six inch dildo and some lube. The toy is pretty realistic, he thinks, as he unboxes it. Letting out a breath, he strips himself and climbs onto his bed. His cock is already hard as he decides how he’s going to do this. After taking the safety seal off the lube, he lays on his stomach, reaching behind him to probe at his hole. He spreads a generous amount of lube on his fingers, teasing one of them at his entrance. He groans into the pillow as it easily slips in, guided by the lube. He holds it there for a minute or so, trying to come to terms with how he’s feeling. It feels weird. Not good or bad necessarily. He’s never experienced anything like this. He decides it’s good enough to keep going, so he does, taking it a step further by sliding the finger in and out. He curses, not expecting it to feel so good. Rick tentatively adds another finger, stretching his hole as he works them in. He’s getting impatient, pulling his fingers out. He takes the dildo, which had been sitting next to him, and lubes it up. He brings it around to his hole, pressing the head against it. Taking a deep breath he pushes in slightly. He knows he has to go slow, but it’s torture, feeling the toy slide in inch by inch until his fingers touch his ass. He slides it out halfway then back in again. The sensation is odd. He can feel it in his stomach like he’s nauseated. He doesn’t hate it though, sliding the toy in and out of himself.

Rick uses his free hand to stroke himself. He tries to do it in tandem with the toy, but it’s too hard. He pushes the toy all the way in and focuses on the feeling of it. He cums suddenly, releasing his load onto the purple comforter. He mentally kicks himself as he gets cleaned up. He strips the bed, throwing the comforter into the wash, unsure of how he’s going to explain to Lori why it needed to be washed. He goes to the bathroom to clean his toy and take a shower. Now he’s even more conflicted. He was always pretty sure he was straight, but these past few weeks have opened his eyes. He’s definitely still attracted to his wife and he finds women attractive, but the idea of a man fucking him is exciting. And he doesn’t mind sucking cock, honestly. What does that make him? Not gay, but not fully straight either. He tries not to think about it too hard as he finishes up his shower. He stashes his toy just as the washer dings. He throws the comforter in the dryer. He thinks about whether he finds men attractive. As a human, he can objectively state if a person is good looking, but attraction? He’s never really thought about it. The first person to pop into his head is Shane. His thick dark hair, deep brown eyes, and toned body are all super attractive. He remembers seeing Shane make out with a girl at a bar and thinking, “Of course she went for Shane.” His charisma is the most attractive of all his features.

Rick sits on the couch and watches TV while waiting for the dryer to finish. Once it’s done, he makes up the bed and gets into it, feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. One thing’s for sure, he can’t wait to be fucked by a real man.

+

Rick goes to Love’s the following night. He goes in and immediately heads to the men’s side. He finds an empty booth and locks the door behind him. This time, he’s not timid as he strips and gets on his knees in front of the hole. A cock slides through the hole almost immediately and Rick wraps his mouth around it. The first guy pulls out without finishing and Rick is stroking himself idly, waiting for someone else.

Another one slides through the hole. This one is thick and a decent length. It feels velvety as Rick slides his mouth around it. He hears the guy moan on the other side, encouraging him to continue. Rick reaches for a couple of the packets of lube next to him. While continuing to suck, he rips them open, spreading it on his fingers. He starts to play with his hole, pushing his fingers in. He’s getting increasingly excited at the idea of being fucked, he can’t stand it anymore. The guy pulls away as Rick stops sucking, focusing on prepping himself. Rick grabs one of the condoms and puts it through the hole as an offering. Someone takes it, so Rick stands up and turns around, pressing his ass against the hole.

Rick’s heart is pounding in his ears as he waits anxiously. The guy finally presses the head of his cock into Rick’s hole. This is it, Rick thinks. He slowly slides all the way in, causing Rick to moan. It is awkward with the wall between them. He wishes that he could grab his hips. But he’s doing a decent job, thrusting into Rick slowly until he gets a rhythm. Rick starts to push back against the wall, wanting it harder. The guy gets the hint, knocking loudly into the wall with the force of his thrusts. Rick hears the guy groan, his thrusts slowing as he finishes. He pulls out of Rick slowly and Rick takes that as a sign to finish up. He thinks about how he’d go about getting one on one time with a guy, maybe going to a hotel for privacy where he can be fucked for real. He realizes that he’s swallowed cum and been fucked in the ass, but he’s never kissed a guy. The thought intrigues him, jerking himself faster. He imagines himself in the arms of a man, kissing and touching each other softly. He’s coming up with plans on how to make this a reality when he finally cums.

Rick gets dressed and leaves, knowing that he’s been there long enough. Lori will be wondering where he is. He needs to pace himself and figure out what he actually wants.

+

Two days later, he’s sitting in his cruiser with Shane on a lunch break. They had been chatting about random things; calls they had taken earlier, how Rick’s family is doing, and weekend plans. Shane finishes talking about cleaning out his garage then falls into silence as he drinks his soda. Meanwhile, Rick has been contemplating if he wants to tell his best friend what he’s been doing. He has no one else to tell. Shane raises an eyebrow, watching Rick’s internal struggle.

“S’going on, man?”

“I actually…I’ve been going to Love’s Tavern,” Rick admits.

“Really? What you been doing there?”

“Um, I got a blow job the first time, and the girl, like, turned around and just stuck it in…” Rick admits quietly. Shane is hanging on his every word.

“Dude, how many times have you been there? Does Lori know?”

“No! No, she doesn’t,” Rick replies, the guilt thick in his tone. “I’ve only been like five times.”

“You fuck each time or just get blown?” Shane asks slyly.

“Uh, well-” Rick is about to admit what he’s really been doing the last two times, but Shane interrupts him.

“Cause I was there the other day. That place is crazy. You notice it’s mostly dudes?”

“Yeah, I-”

“Y’know, I kinda like that it’s separated like that. It does take away the anonymity a little. Like part of the point is getting your dick sucked by someone random and it might be a guy, but if you go to the men’s side, you know it’s gonna be a guy,” Shane rambles on. “Honestly, I don’t mind it.”

“Wait, you were on the men’s side? And thought you had a thing about seeing the person blowing you?” Rick asks, turning to look at his friend. Shane shrugs.

“I thought about it and I actually haven’t even had the experience so I thought I might as well. Anyway, I went to the girl’s side, but there was literally no one. I even waited for like fifteen minutes and got bored, so I decided to wander over to the action.”

Rick stares at Shane, realizing what this means.

“This guy walked away and so I was able to just slide in, y’know, and I mean, I’m not gay but a mouth is a mouth. And then!” Rick jumps from Shane’s exclamation, earning a smack on his chest from his friend. “He stopped sucking, so I pulled away, right, and then a second later he’s offering a condom through the hole. And like of course I’m gonna take it, I look down and his ass is just there…”

Shane stops, seeing Rick’s wide eyed expression. He mistakes it for judgment. “I fucked him…”

“What..what day were you there?” Rick asks, terrified of the answer.

“Saturday night, why?”

“About 9 o’clock?”

“Rick, why?”

“First hole on the left?”

Shane doesn’t answer because Rick already knows the answer. They just stare at each other. Rick begins to explain how he started going to Love’s and how it brought up conflicting feelings. He even forced himself to tell Shane about the guys he blew. He pours his heart out and lets out a shaky breath when he finishes, happy to finally have it off his chest. They sit in silence for what feels like five minutes. Rick is nearly in tears over his confession as Shane just looks at him blankly.

“You suck dick really well,” Is all Shane says. Rick groans and sighs. Of course Shane deflects with humor.

“Shane, I’m…I’m really struggling with this,”

“So, you tellin’ me you’re gay?”

“No! I just mean, I figured out I’m attracted to men too. I still like women.”

“So…you’re bi?”

“What does that even mean?”

“God, you’re stupid. It means you like both.”

“I guess. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Bi, or whatever you said,”

“Like I said, a mouth’s a mouth. A hole’s a hole.” Shane replies with a grin.

“I’ve been wanting to actually have sex with a guy,” Rick says. Shane snorts.

“I put my dick in your ass, what do you call that?”

Rick rolls his eyes, “I mean, like in a bed. Like kissing and touching and-”

Shane makes a show of checking his watch. “We have thirty minutes.”

“Wait, you wanna…?”

“You’re my friend. I’m gonna help you figure this out,” Shane puts his hand on Rick’s, giving him a meaningful look. “And I’d love to fuck your ass again.”

Rick rolls his eyes again and looks out the window. Shane realizes he went too far.

“I’m sorry, okay? C’mon, baby,” Shane puts his hand on Rick’s neck. Rick turns his head, giving Shane the opportunity to pull him into a kiss. Rick kisses him back immediately, pushing his body into Shane’s space. He’s unsurprised by how good Shane feels. His lips taste sweet from the cola he’d been drinking and he smells good like something woody and manly. He remembers where they are and pulls away.

“We’re at work, we shouldn’t,” Rick states even though there’s plenty of other reasons why they shouldn’t.

“We’re off the clock for the next…27 minutes,” Shane replies. “We can get in the back and make out at least.”

Rick blushes, not making eye contact with Shane. Shane reaches over and cups the other man’s chin.

“Or you can come to my place after work and I’ll touch you there.” Shane’s tone is low and flirtatious.

“Goddammit, Shane,” Rick groans. He’s happy that they parked on a secluded road as he pops open his door and climbs out so he can get in the backseat. “Get back here.”

Shane smiles before joining his friend in the back.

[mistandshcdow]

‘Men Have Called Her Crazy’ by Anna Marie Tendler — a Review

CW: this book discusses suicide, SH, EDs, mental health institutions and other triggering topics in detail, and they are touched on in this review.

Going into this memoir, I was expecting an intimate look at Tendler’s mental health crisis, her complicated relationship with various men in her life, and some insight as to how she dealt with being betrayed by her famous husband. You’ll get one of those things from this, and it’s not the one you want.

By intimate, imagine you’re sitting in on Anna’s three hour psych examination where she is narrating every detail and breaking down what it means in real time. That happens in the book. She also describes every inpatient class she goes to, every random man in the hospital who dares to glance at her, and every relationship she’s ever had going back to high school. Oh yeah, except her husband of six years, who makes not a single appearance outside of nameless references to “my husband.” He is never named, nor is their relationship even touched on.

She touches on other relationships though, and although they’re undoubtedly shitty, none of them call her crazy. Her mental health condition is addressed by only one boyfriend, the singular one she notes as being caring and dedicated. It comes to a point where she has to literally imagine a man calling her crazy, a man she has met all of once over ZOOM THERAPY and immediately hates for little reason. In fact, the only people in Tendler’s life who do insinuate she might be crazy are WOMEN, a fact she seems unable to unpack or dwell on, and why should she when she can say “Fuck men” and sell her book as a gripping feminist narrative. That’s not what feminism is, Anna.

The one man who deserves the biggest “Fuck you” is not present. Tendler has the right to write about whatever she wants and that includes leaving out Mulaney, but if you’re going to push the book as a tell-all memoir that is almost entirely centered around men shortly after your very public divorce, leaving him out totally feels unnatural and disingenuous. If it’s legal issues that keep her from mentioning him, then maybe she shouldn’t write the damn memoir.

Tendler is frankly unbearable to be inside the head of. She’s privileged (although she repeatedly stresses her financial hardship), judgmental, pretentious and somehow painfully uninteresting all at once. The real problem with this book is that it is boring, and the reason she feels the need to go into excessive detail about everything from her tiny wrists to a step by step guide on how to inject IVF hormones is because there is not enough content to fill a whole book without discussing Mulaney, which she can’t/won’t do. In the final third, readers are spoiled with pages upon pages of her talking about her designer dog, which I’m sorry, is not particularly compelling in a book that’s marketed as an exposé.

If your conclusion near the end of the book is “men are the cause of all my problems” then I don’t think you can really call the book memoir considering we can tell no self reflection was done—ma’am, you are severely mentally ill. That isn’t your fault, but it’s not your male barista’s fault either; it just sucks. By the end of the book, Tendler has learned nothing, digested nothing, and reflects on nothing, which is evident from the way she writes about herself. She is clearly still not in a good place and that is totally fine, but it doesn’t make for an honest memoir. The book ends by her going through her psych report in again, painful detail, complete with her calling every comment she disagrees with misogynistic for failing to accurately describe her experience. I think Tendler thinks that anything she doesn’t like or 100% resonate with is misogyny, which is uh, an interesting take from a rich white woman.

Women are allowed to be mediocre. Women should be allowed to be annoying and pretentious and self indulgent. Tendler is allowed to be these things. Doesn’t make this book any better.

If you loved this book, you’re probably a cis white woman. I can’t prove this, but I’m pretty sure I’m right.

2 stars.

[kharmii]

*eats popcorn while reading the recent post*

Love how once they have no arguments left go back to insulting and name-calling instead of wanting to talk.

Shows they either don't know how to respond or know they're in the wrong and go back to name calling to save their face.

Honestly I welcome the changes in the US and I hope other countries follow suit. This insanity has to stop. This pandering to a small but obnoxiously vocal minority has to stop.

The US elections this year made Amish people go out and vote. From what I've heard they don't give a fuck about elections usually but they are so pissed off by the left they used their voices and went voting.

Everyone is fed up and tired of this leftist bullshit and being dismissed as everything in the book if you disagree. Everyone is fed up with the indoctrination that is happening everywhere. Everyone is just fed up with being pushed around by crybabies who complain about everything in the world but can't understand that its all their fault if their life sucks.

Yet I can only feel pity for people who are nothing but a product of parroting leftist propaganda all day and night alienating everyone who cared about them. Leaving only others who are parroting the same bs in a giant echo chamber that distorts their worldview and destroys their minds...

Hope one day they wake up and see what they did.

The Amish people want to be left alone to live how they want to live. They got caught under the ever widening umbrella of government regulation and the surveillance state. That's why they came out and voted. It was over the raw milk issue.

There's an increasing demand for milk right out of the cow because store bought milk is full of additives. The government doesn't want the people to have that option, even though our food supply is being poisoned with chemicals that are illegal in most other countries. Another Trump promise is to get flouride out of the drinking water and lab produced oils and sweeteners out of the food supply.

The Amish people voting goes to show how leftist harpies have to infiltrate every society forcing their world views down everybody's throats. They can't leave people alone to live their lives how they want. This is why we fought for independence back in the 1700's. People wanted to govern their own way and not have some distant government across the sea ruling them. This popular image expresses that sentiment:

We won a local victory. The colleges churn out brainwashed teachers who will move into conservative towns with the intent to push their Fail Ideology. In our high school for a while, we had this nasty feminist bitch principal surrounded by a cabal of nasty feminist bitch teachers. They forced the kids to read that Ibram X Kendi book Stamped, which was an anti-white racism guilt trip. That (whacko Twitter personality) guy was later found out to be a C-student borderline retard con artist only accepted to a mediocre college because of DEI.

Those women would target boys for disciplinary action while girls got away with murder. One boy got kicked out of sports for a year because of a social media post on a locked account. He made light of the George Floyd incident by posting a photo of himself with his foot on another guy's head. There are countless examples of that, -parents complained like crazy- and eventually the school refused to renew her contract forcing her out.

-So this election, she ran for the school board. Another person ran for the position on a platform of running against her and her left-wing antics. She lost after a bitter fight where her clique of feminists would go around town taking down the opposition's political signs. Damn right teenage boys should be able to make jokes on social media without having their lives ruined! Cancel culture won't age well. People like George Floyd are trash who died like trash. We don't owe them anything.

[tetsunabouquet]

KNB Headcanon: Mental Health

A/N: We know about Akashi's weirdly written split personality already and whilst I'm not the person who's fond of diagnosing characters there are a few I definitely want to talk about.

-Aomine Daiki: Many have stated they think this man is depressed already, and I do agree with the general consensus. The consistent habits of sleeping on the rooftop, the way how even his friendship with Momoi became more strained, makes it clear he's mentally in a dark place and pretty exhausted with his own talent.

-Speaking of the To-Oh team, Sakurai. I already mentioned in my headcanon about Hyuga, that I feel like Sakurai's apologetic nature shouldn't have been treated like a joke or something to mock as I think he hides some deeper issues. His low self-esteem and self-blaming nature filled with loathing for himself makes me think he's either been bullied since childhood or he has an abusive relative. Children who grow up in an highly critical/verbally abusive households typically develop patterns like apologizing for every god damn thing as their parents will treat their child as an emotional punching bag and they are held responsible for things outside of their control all the time. I swear, To-Oh is the most emotionally broken team after Teiko Middle School.

-Mitobe. His refusal to talk whilst he has the ability does make my own autism radar tingle. I've never met a person outside of the autistic community who hates being verbal. I do think he has some high functioning autistic qualities, but his great emotional support system of his family and friends definitely seemed to have provided him with some preventive treatment to the point he just can flow along in his social life. I also think he's somewhat parentified with the care he provides for his younger siblings.

-Speaking of his friend group, Koganei. The way he lacked focus on how to spend his energy prior to Seirin and how he's stated to hate sitting still just gives me the vibes that he was diagnosed with ADHD as a child but he's one of the lucky ones that has been outgrowing his ADHD. Which is why he might be able to read Mitobe so well. There are plenty of people who have ADHD and autism and if Koganei did attended some ADHD program as a child he might have made some childhood friends on the spectrum. Perhaps that might be how they became friends considering they go way back.

-This ADHD conversation obviously brings me to the one and only Kotaro Hayama. This boy is like the posterchild of ADHD and he's definitely one of those people who isn't outgrowing their ADHD diagnosis. This boy lives his life energetically and unapologetically, and he will be that way as an adult too.

-Kiyoshi: See my tragic teddybear headcanon. This boy is parentified too because of how much care he gives back to his grandparents. Kiyoshi isn't the one taken care of in his household, it's a give and take with how old they are.

Honorable mention:

-It's difficult to place Murasakibara. I've seen some people make autism claims, but Murasakibara shows plenty of behavior that's very much anti-autistic in a sense? Like his tsundere-like nature doesn't really fits with being honest to a fault like most autistic people are, etc. However, I do feel like he shows some signs of being emotionally stunted and to be at the level of a small child. What kind of mental health issue might be paired with it and if he'll outgrow most of his childlike mindset, are things I am not sure on.

[maximum-potential]

Miraculous rant/analysis:

Gamer (Talking about the fandoms issues colorism, need to find salt in every character, and with a bit of how hawkmoth works well as a concept)

Let’s start small with the general synopsis

Marinette beats Adrien's video game tournament partner, Max, so she can replace him and spend time with her crush, but Max akumatizes into a villain.

Here introduces a contest to which max has been looking forward too since it was announced, it’s clear he’s passionate for the game.

“Max is sexist because he was only mad at Marinette >:((((“

..are we forgetting Marinette never signed up? She wasn’t aware of the competition, she should not have been allowed to join at the last minute much less move on all without having ever signed up- SHE DIDN’T EVEN CARE ABOUT THE CONTEST ITSELF- she makes that clear with Alya until Adrienadrienadrien makes an appearance

Are we forgetting that max was unfairly booted of his spot when Damocles damn well should have stepped in and told Marinette that since she never signed up she couldn’t just- shove herself last minute in a competition WHILE HE WAS ANNOUNCING THE WINNERS- they were already decided, max was already decided to move on until this girl (who he’s shared a class with before) shoves herself in and kicks him out of his spot for a guy she’s only known for like- a month knowing full well how much this meant to him.

Are we forgetting max never lashed out at her until he was under a SUPERVILLAINS CONTROL- he just congratulated her and left to collect his emotions like a normal rational human being-

Max is shown time and time again to be respectful, polite and one of the most stable and mature- no he’s the most mature figure in the main cast, Lukas a close second, Each time he’s gotten akumatized he’s never lashed out until he was alone. He adores and respects his mom, he praises her at any chance and she adores him back, he has nothing against woman at all??

Gamer is a perfect example of an issue that on the surface seems like a small issue but in the mind of a child it feels a lot bigger.

The reason gamer works is because max is a middle school boy, he didn’t lash out and be rude to Mari for beating him- he accepted defeat but was still torn about it, he still couldn’t shake the bad feeling that came with losing as easily as an adult could.

Hawkmoth used and amplified this emotion, that’s what makes the concept of him seem so scary if you think about it. You genuinely can’t feel bad unless you want to be used and turned into a pawn in some supervillains game

Stick this in a cast full of middle to high schoolers and this is just a perfect feeding ground for akumas.

“Max cheated in gamer”

..Since when?? No seriously since when.

This is something the fandom entirely made up, based on one scene.

..one scene that can easily be accounted as a visual representation of how max was really good at video games- if he was cheating then they would have over explained the hell out of that like how they treat Lila, this is a show for 7 year olds.

Let’s not mention how it’s just- impossible- like I’m sorry programming cheat codes into your glasses would not only be impossible but- unusable?? Like I wear glasses if combos were blasting into my eyes that would harm my chances if anything. It would just be one big distraction.

It’s a visual aid to show max is good at games. The shows full of that stuff- it’s not a superpower or anything that’s just for the hero’s, Marinette uses it outside of the costume. This scene is meant to show max is good at games and has memorized combos

Now I’m out here figuring out why max is so demonized for stuff thats obviously not his fault if you just- watch the show. Oh wait of course- this fandom has a colorism problem.

The fandom has a problem with singling out the darker skin characters like Alya and Max while glorifying the (sometimes racist) characters such as Chloé and Marinette and SHOWERING them in salt. Even when it’s completely unearned, moving from critic to straight up bashing.

“I admit I was sexi-“ do you even know what sexism is? If adrien pulled the same shit gamer would gun for him as well, that’s gender equality if i say anything. Just because Marinettes a female doesn’t mean people aren’t allowed to be mad at her.

All and all Max did nothing wrong in this episode other then getting akumatized,,which if that’s considered a crime then the entire cast is a worthless lump of jerks. Even rose, even julekas even luka, and especially chloé.

[ladykailolu]

Remember the Marigold getting murdered Scenerio

Imagine it’s the 3rd day of trial, Phoenix is defending Godot

(bonus is it’s with the help of Maya who managed to spirit channel a particularly determined and bitter Mia)

and Phoenix has finally found out who the real killer is

A older (16) boy who went to the neighboring high school, who Marigold caught dealing drugs before stabbing her

And as Phoenix presses him to get him to confess on the stand the boy finally snaps and says

“It’s that bitch’s own fault she’s dead!”

“All she had to do was shut her mouth!”

“I told her I would let her go with no issues if she kept her mouth shut!”

“But that stupid girl just had to keep going on about how “I had to pay for what I did””

“Going on about “upholding justice” like her stupid whore of a mother did, and like her idiot uncle or something would do, and like her fool of father would want her to do”

“If anything, her father should go to jail for raising her to be a god damn idiot!”

“My parents raised me for success, and I wasn’t about to let some dumb bitch fuck it all up”

How would old Godot, sitting in the defendant’s chair, and Uncle Phoenix at the defense table react to that

(And Ghost Mia for the bonus)

The knowledge that she died trying to make them proud of her

[I’ve been watching a lot of homicide documentaries and things in courtroom outbursts]

Poor Marigold Fey was in the wrong place, wrong time. This reminds me of the Aiden Fucci case--a 14 year old boy who killed 13-year old Tristyn Bailey via 114 stabs.

Mari probably caught the guy meeting up with someone else near a forested area and tried to run away to notify the police, but he caught her by the wrist and dragged her into the woods. Then stabbed her until she stopped talking or make any kind of sounds for good. Mari had died at the scene long before anyone found her body.

Imagine if on day 1 of the trial, it began as a missing person's case. Marigold wasn't found out to be dead yet, but she was missing and hasn't come home in quite some time. She missed classes which was entirely unlike her, and Godot, whom she lives with, hasn't seen her come home. Throughout the trial, Godot is upset, mind racing, trying to think of where she could be and what happened to her. It's tough simply not having answers of what happened to your own child. At this time, the most likely suspect was Godot. He was the closest one to Mari, and Mari wasn't known to have enemies. He must have done something to her, right?

They don't have a body or any signs that there was violence or bloodshed during the investigation, so they don't accuse Godot of murder. Yet.

Then they find Mari's body, cold and lifeless, stuck with several knife wounds all over. It's a bloody, tragic mess. And when Godot hears of the news not just of his daughter's violet death but that the blame was being focused on him, his heart breaks. There's simply no coming back from this. He could never heal from someone so dear being ripped from his heart again.

At first, it's his bitterness and anger that keeps him fighting, but by day three when the truth is revealed, Godot is simply burned out. He has no more energy to fight. Only despair. He lost everything all over again, and when he's found not guilty and allowed to walk as a free man again, he'll never feel free. He'll never feel okay again. The whole point of living, to work his coffee shop, to stay among the living was to support his daughter. It was pointless now.

I imagine that after this trial is over with, after that kid was put away for life, after the funeral for Marigold finally ended, and she was laid to rest, something changed in Godot. He looked older, frailer. Quieter and lived like a shut-in. Feenie tries to check-in with him, but Godot hardly responds. He essentially fades out, and the memory of him stays a memory for Pheonix, Maya, and everyone else who knew him.

Every father's day and every one of Marigold's birthdays and major holidays, Godot visits Marigold's grave to lay flowers at her tombstone and spend some time with her. And he prays. He takes comfort in knowing that Mari is up there with her mother, and someday, he'll be with them too. He hasn't touched her room since her death was announced. Her bed was still unmade, her clothes strewn over her desk chair for days since Godot told her to put it all in a laundry basket. He would never touch any of it as if he was trapped in a delusion that she would come back home someday.

Do you think that if Maya or Pearl channeled Mia and let her speak to Godot that Mia would say that Marigold is doing ok now? Would Mia even know? Or maybe they would channel Marigold and let her talk and describe where she is. Or maybe the ghosts simply don't know where they are and their memories are limited to the physical world.

Either way, it'd be sweet if Godot could talk to Mari from time to time. It might be another reason to live--if he could only hear her daughter's voice. Even now, Godot spends a lot of time sipping coffee and thumbing through Marigold's scrapbook, looking over her baby pictures, her kid pictures, her quinceañera pictures, etc, etc. She was a princess through and through. His princess.

And sometimes...Uncle Feenie and Aunt Maya join Godot in visiting Marigold's grave. She was buried next to her mother, Mia. And they reminisce about Marigold, all the cute stories of her childhood, that time she spilled the coffee beans all over the kitchen floor, the way she looked just like a princess during her quinceañera, her first dance with her father, all those pictures she drew in crayons of everyone close to her, how bright she was.

Her mother would be proud of her. Her father most certainly is.

[alpydk]

Hello my angst loving friend! 🫂

What is your favourite book - or if it's a struggle to choose one, what are your top 5?

Thank you for the ask. <3

Top 5 books... there are so many good ones, so I'll give in no particular order. - Expect waffling and the blurbs for each and a favourite line from each.

Battle Royale - Koushun Takami

"A class of junior high school students is taken to a deserted island where, as part of a ruthless authoritarian program, they are provided arms and forced to kill one another until only one survivor is left standing."

It's vicious, it's graphic. I've read this book so many times from cover to cover and it's just a good every damn time. I recommend everyone read this, the movie is so close to it which I love but the characters become so much more impactful.

“You all have your own distinct personal backgrounds. Of course some of you come from rich families, some from poor families. But circumstances beyond your control like that shouldn’t determine who you are. You must all realize what you’re worth on your own.”

John Dies at the End - David Wong

"My name is David Wong. My best friend is John. Those names are fake. You might want to change yours. You may not want to know about the things you'll read on these pages, about the sauce, about Korrock, about the invasion, and the future. But it's too late. You touched the book. You're in the game. You're under the eye. It is crucial you keep one thing in mind: none of this is my fault."

I read this when it was a pdf/text doc online during my job in a call centre. The book is a wild ride of drugs, sanity questioning, and shit that you'll remember suddenly when you least expect it.

“Let's say you have an ax. Just a cheap one, from Home Depot. On one bitter winter day, you use said ax to behead a man. Don't worry, the man was already dead. Or maybe you should worry, because you're the one who shot him.”

I have no mouth and I must scream - Harlan Ellison

"The story is set against the backdrop of World War III, where a sentient supercomputer named AM, born from the merging of the world's major defense computers, eradicates humanity except for five individuals. These survivors—Benny, Gorrister, Nimdok, Ted, and Ellen—are kept alive by AM to endure endless torture as a form of revenge against their creators. The story unfolds through the eyes of Ted, the narrator, detailing their perpetual misery and quest for canned food in AM's vast, underground complex, only to face further despair."

I can't even remember where I came across this. Probably @s--mine and the video game? Either way you want angst, this is it through and through. There is no happy ending, there is no saviour mary sue. There is only pain and gods will I go through it again and again. Truly a masterpiece.

“The explanations a writer gives himself for having written any particular book are more often not the real reasons why that book has been written. Honesty is not the issue. Understanding is. A man does not write one novel at a time or even one quatrain at a time. He is engaged in the long process of putting his whole life on paper. He is on a journey and he is reporting in: ‘This is where I think I am and this is what this place looks like today.’” The”

Blindness - Jose Saramago

"A city is hit by an epidemic of "white blindness" that spares no one. Authorities confine the blind to an empty mental hospital, but there the criminal element holds everyone captive, stealing food rations, and assaulting women. There is one eyewitness to this nightmare who guides her charges—among them a boy with no mother, a girl with dark glasses, a dog of tears—through the barren streets, and their procession becomes as uncanny as the surroundings are harrowing."

I initially saw the movie of this with Mark Ruffalo and Julianne Moore and fell in love with it. No characters have names, they only have the actions they play in the story. The layout of the book is written in such a unique way that almost makes it difficult to read, but it's a work of art through and through. Again an awful lot of angst. I know what I like and it's all psychological. If you're not up for reading it, I 100% recommend the movie because Julianne Moore blows it out of the fucking water with her character.

“…the habit of falling hardens the body, reaching the ground, to in itself, is a relief.”

1984 - George Orwell

"Hidden away in the Record Department of the sprawling Ministry of Truth, Winston Smith skilfully rewrites the past to suit the needs of the Party. Yet he inwardly rebels against the totalitarian world he lives in, which demands absolute obedience and controls him through the all-seeing telescreens and the watchful eye of Big Brother, symbolic head of the Party. In his longing for truth and liberty, Smith begins a secret love affair with a fellow-worker Julia, but soon discovers the true price of freedom is betrayal."

A classic that I recommend to everyone. It needs to be read, question your surroundings, question what the government force feeds you day in day out. Do no accept anything but what you feel for that is the only thing that is ever really true. I devoured this book in less than a day, it's online as a pdf so go find it. There are no excuses for having not read this,

“Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing.”

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

My partner says I put to much into this but what do they know. I enjoy talking about books and movies and games. (I like talking.)

Shout outs to other books not on the list:

The Combat K series When Hitler stole pink rabbit Lullaby Children of men We need to talk about Kevin The Witcher Series Do androids dream of electric sheep? The fifth mountain And so many many more I have on my shelves.

[altschmerzes]

gang you would not believe the week i am having. extended explanation of my current nightmare under the cut. please understand this is also mid ramp-up to finals season at my second year of law school and still trying to find a summer student position which means one million cover letters and applications.

when i moved to canada i tried to import my car. i did this twice, once by calling a company before i left that does this professionally, and they were like oh don't worry about it. you're fine, you don't need to do anything. i get to the border and the man at the border tells me the same thing. don't worry about it. you're fine you don't need to do anything. i go to the dmv here to try and title my damn car because my registration is expiring and i need to do that. the woman who works there is like oh you needed to import it :) but also get your driver's license first, trust me. okay. i go through the hell process of getting my ontario license. i now have my ontario license. i need to get a safety inspection and two forms from border control. sure. i don't have the first fucking idea how to do this but i'm sure i can figure it out.

fastforward. i got in an extremely minor accident on wednesday. entirely my fault, i was slightly distracted for a moment in stop and go traffic and a like. spider in my sleeve or something bit my arm and i hit the wrong pedal. got a ticket, spent 90 minutes dealing with the cops including the part where one of the cops spent several minutes lecturing me about how he can and should seize my car on the spot because it's registered out of country and i live here and that's tax evasion. i explain that i have been trying to get this dealt with but everybody kept telling me i didn't need to do that or worry about it. he tells me that's not his problem. sure. not his problem. understood. this has now become a problem that Cannot Wait though.

so what do i need to do to get my car registered here? still need those pieces of paper. i can get the safety inspection done at any old canadian tire, which, sure. that's fine. word. so what about the border forms? well. i call the canadian border services agency. i sit on hold for a while, and eventually the man on the phone not only can't seem to fucking comprehend anything i'm saying at first, he then also tells me that the solution to my problem is to drive to the fucking us/canada border, go back to the states, then drive back immediately and get the form then. oh my gd.

so i did that. i make the two hour drive to niagara fucking falls and i tell the us border agent what i'm doing there and he's like you can't do that. you need to export it from the us first or you'll get a five thousand dollar fine. and i'm like. okay. thank you sir. have a nice night. thank gd they give me no issue returning on the canadian side. so i make the drive home. having achieved nothing. nobody has given me any actionable information and the only thing more confusing and complicated than importing a car for personal use in canada is exporting one from the united states. literally on the government website it says 'every export office operates differently' which made me almost collapse into tears when i read it.

last night i decided okay, tomorrow i am calling a professional import/export service to throw myself on their mercy and beg them to help me. i might need to leave the country for a few days to get this dealt with bc it's possible i can't export it except for from us soil. all i am trying to do is follow the rules and every single person at every juncture of this nightmare has given me different, conflicting information.

just had that phone call. the good news: i am not going to need to go to the states for several days to deal with this. some nice lady from a company who does this professionally is gonna do the paperwork for me and has found me apparently the only us/canada border crossing that will let me do the us export shit from this side of the border. the bad news: it is an even farther crossing than the one i drove to yesterday, and i’m gonna have to wait a couple days to do it and then do it immediately, which means missing more class than i already missed yesterday trying to do this. hopefully then it will be sorted.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Damn Right the Perfect Queen Uses a Cane

Fairbanks is somehow simultaneously too small and too large a town. Apparently one of my very best friend's partner has been friend with Elva Birch since they were both teenagers, so that's a degree of Kevin Bacon I was super not expecting but shouldn't have been surprised by, because I KNOW how small a town Fairbanks is. None of which is strictly relevant to why we're talking about the second book in the Dragon Prince of Alaska series, but it is a fun little Fairbanks Fact. Which is even wilder because this book starts in Florida. So let's talk The Dragon Prince's Librarian.

This is, as is typical on this blog for sequels and mid-series books, a SPOILERIFIC REVIEW. Be warned.

Ok guys, I swear we aren't going to do all six books of this series here, and I know I am way overdue for the next Dresden Files book, but where I take just...every single possible issue with how the Dresden Files handles disability, this book handles it SO FREAKING WELL. Tania is realistically tired, realistically has good and bad days, realistically uses mobility aids, and realistically has that all-too-familiar feeling of "No, no, you don't even get to DREAM of being rescued from this situation because a) it will be too painful when it doesn't happen and b) you getting rescued doesn't fix the hideous inequities of the US healthcare system and frankly, that shit NEEDS fixing."

Additionally, I appreciate that Tania doesn't hate her cane. She recognizes that it lets her move and stand independently and it can up her quality of life, if only in small ways. What she hates is that the cane is UGLY. And that is entirely fair, because there is nothing worse than a boring, utilitarian mobility aid that stands out from you and your aesthetic rather than integrating with you. And Rian, absolute PRINCE that he is (pun fully intended), doesn't try to fix or cure Tania, he gets her a beautiful cane that integrates with her personality and aesthetic. That level of support literally made me cry. And then I cried MORE because while Rian couldn't fix the American healthcare system, what he COULD do was donate a ton of equally beautiful canes in Tania's name in such a way that the people who need them most can access them, the process for getting them is as simple and barrier-free as possible, and Rian took care of ALL of this so Tania did not have to expend spoons on it. The care and attention included in how thoughtful and well-executed this was was absolutely breathtaking. Literally, our reality is not this good, and I love that this book took such care and respect with how disability/chronic illness and mobility aids are handled. At no point did any of it feel patronizing, infantilizing, catastrophizing, or an attempt to "fix" something that was "broken" or "lesser." Just A+ no notes, and I don't say that often about representations of disability in books.

The other thing that I just felt in my bones about this book is how the end of Tania's academic career played out. She literally got gatekept and gaslighted because the Small Kingdoms erased every single trace of her master's thesis, her primary sources, and even her ADVISOR (who was paid to disappear, not killed). This very handily gets Tania kicked out of school, and as her health worsens, she also loses her job and health insurance, so by the time Rian shows up at her front door in Florida, Tania's life has literally fallen apart and it is 90% Rian's fault. Which makes the whole fated mates thing SUPER awkward, because she's rightfully pissed with him for torpedoing her degree and academic career, and also he then gaslit the hell out of her about that until he realized they were fated mates, came clean, apologized, and...proposed. It was awkward as hell, you guys.

And let me say, as someone who went to grad school, had someone gone from admitting they torpedoed my life and gaslit me about it to proposing marriage, they would have been super mega deadsies. Like, no questions asked, they just would have been annihilated by the sheer force of my rage.

But fated mates and romance novel, so Tania just mostly spends the whole book going "remember how you torpedoed my thesis?" in varying tones. Rian is literally never living that down, and he shouldn't, because frankly he was lucky to SURVIVE admitting that.

Overall though, I was so happy with the representation of disability and a healthy, positive relationship that includes a disabled person, as well as Tania and Rian as characters, I was willing to overlook insufficient consequences for fucking with a grad student's thesis. Because this book was a delight to read, and it is UNQUESTIONABLY my favorite book in the series.

[waterforlorn]

day three. october 9th. 9:02am (it's crossed out a bunch of times)

we've been making slow progress with driving. i think nico doesn't like it, but he's too stubborn to tell me and thinks he's got to like .. do it for me cause he's the one taking me out on this ...trip or whatever. i don't mind slow progress, i always enjoyed long drives, i always felt free on the road - always moving with no end in sight. yeah, it's a pretty good feeling actually. i almost forgot how much i enjoyed it.

i'll ask him later if he wants me to drive for a while, but he said he has some place in mind for today, so i'm .. letting him. as for emotions and thoughts. doing pretty well. a little restless, i guess, but what else is new. it's been a bit rough, but i'm holding on. i think nico's helping even though he isn't doing anything specific. but with him i feel .. calmer. it almost feels like i can control the urge.

not forever, though. i can feel it scratching inside me, begging to be released. i'm not giving up, though. not for now, not for a while i hope. i know my resolve is gonna falter at some point, but i hope that by then we'll be away from people so i can't hurt anybody. actually.. right now would be okay. it's just us on this long-ass fucking road for miles. although... i dunno if letting go's gonna fix the issue, never really did that, did it?

i remember that little fuckwad carter in school thinking that his height gave him the right to push other kids around. other kids being me. the little boy who always sat alone and not ONCE got to unpack lunch in school cause my mom never fucking MADE any for me. she didn't even think about it, or what it meant for me in school. cause kids notice these things. a kid coming to school with bruises, no lunch and second-hand clothes? pfffht. fuck her. took me a few weeks to get vengeance on him, but ... yeah, i'd do it again. but the voice never quite shut up, not for long. he had to get stitches when i was done with him. he never dared fucking touching me again.

but the calm lasted for like what? a day? it wasn't even always me looking for trouble. it always found me regardless. kind of a little like now, only that i signed up for it this time. fuck, no idea why i'm thinking about all that shit, or writing it down even. nobody's business but mine.

guess i'm just tired of fighting it. i do miss the army. every. single. day. sure, camp's ... fine and i wouldn't do much different if i got a second chance, but army was simple. do or die. fucking sarge johnson saved my life, i wonder what happened to him. wonder if he ever looked for me to see if i stuck to his program. i did. i am. mostly. i try. i can't just drop a mission mid-way for meditation, or lunch - or training, but i AM trying my best. i don't think nico realizes how bad it's looking inside me. i'm not sure how to tell him.

i suppose part of me is still hoping i won't have to. i also don't want him to feel guilty. it wasn't HIS fault he triggered it. it's my fault for being unable to fucking control myself. which only shows in how i keep hoping one of the cars passing us stops - or for someone to stop us. cops. anybody. how badly i want one of them to challenge me so i can let go. fuck. i've been fine for so long. why the fuck am i so restless lately? nico helps, but i can't rely on him for every minute of the damn day.

ugh anyway. emotions, thoughts. blah.

emotions... i'm annoyed at myself. thoughts? we've left the interstate and nico said we're taking a detour. wonder what he's up to, but he won't say. we're gonna sleep in some motel in minnesota tonight. safe to say i'm curious. no doubt it's gonna be something sappy. but i'm kinda waiting for it.

[television-pil0t]

I don’t wanna be touched I wanna be loved. I wanna feel loved. I wanna stop crying. I don’t wanna be needy I wanna be needed. I don’t wanna hurt this much but I don’t wanna die. I wanna handle it myself but I’m at my breaking point. LMAO IVE BEEN HERE FOR A DAMN WHILE! SINCE JULY APPARENTLY! I wear the same clothes to school everyday. I don’t wanna try. My head hurts and it’s spinning. I’m tired of bleeding. I’m tired of punching and burning myself. I’m tired of finding every way out of this. I hate being worried he’s cheating on me. I hate how nonchalant he can be. I hate that i have any problem with him whatsoever GOD IM SUCH A ASSHOLE! WHY AM I LIKE THAT! WHAT THE FUCK DO I WANT FROM HIM! IM THE ONE THAT LET HIM BACK IN MY LIFE AND NOW IM COMPLAINING IT BITCH ITS YOUR FAULT ITS ALL YORU FAULT! Why do I complain so much. Am I asking to much to be loved a little bit more? Yes. Because he’s giving me all he can. We talked about it before. God he’s fucking trying. I’m gonna throw up I hate myself. I’m never gonna be good at art. Programming is a joke. I’m shit at technology. MF probably dosnt EVEN really want me around anymore. He used to talk about how much he wanted me. He said he needed me once. My dad used to hug me. I used to have worth. I used to be worth something. Why did this happen. I used to have so much to me. I used to be so nice. Why did he touch me. WHY DID HE TOUCH ME! WHY DID MIDDLE SCHOOL HAPPEN! GOD I WISH I WAS JUST MOLESTED ON THE INTERNET WHY DID IT HAPPEN IN REAL LIKE! WHY DID HE RUIN MY LIFE! I used to be so fucking nice! I used never be obsessed with someone! I was fucking normal! Why did he have to hit me. Over and over and over! I used to be so fucking nice I CANT GET OVER THAT I USED TO BE NICE! Now I’m such a asshole! Manipulative ass FUCKING BITCH! Using there mental illness as a landing pad when I do something wrong and have the gall to act like I’m better than everyone. MF you wanna go protest. Protest against yourself you fuck up. All this because a guy in 8th grade? All this because some guy when you were 5? Get the fuck over it! SHIT AS IF I CAN BLAME THEM! I’m just a fucking asshole! My bf probably still sends nudes to the gc. He still probably talks shit. He probably likes his friends. LMAO HE PROBABLY FUCKING FLIRTYS WITH THEM ALL THE FUCKING TIME AND I JUST DONT FUCKING KNOW BECAUSE “you get jealous so easily” MF I JUST WANNA DIE GOD DAMN IT IM CRYING AGAIN! I JUST WANNA FEEL SAFE! I WANT SECURITY! I WANT A FUCKING APOLOGY! I WANNA BE TREATED BETTER! EVEN MY PARENTS FUCKING HATE ME! HIS PARENTS WILL TO WHY WOULD I EVEN GO OVER THERE IM A AWFUL FUCKING PERSON WHY AM I ALIVE I SHOULDVE DIED YEARS AGO! I’m a fucking pussy that’s why. I just wanna be ok so fucking back. God it hurts. I cant keep going but I refuse to stop. I don’t wanna die. I just want better. I need better. I can’t be surrounded by fucking hell and be expecting to thrive in it! I’m the the rose in concrete god damn it! I was just a kid. FUCK I ALWAYS SAY THE WRONG THAT! AND THE WORST PART LMAOOO HE DOSNT EVEN TELL ME WHEN I SAW SOMETHING WRONG! HE JUST TALKS SHIT ABOUT ME LMAOO!! “Lol you never learn” YEAH I FUCKING CANT! CALL ME OUT PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME! I can’t talk to my own bf about my issues not only has he given up by I just feel like he would say “damn boi it’s not that serious” I scream! Maybe if I scream until I bleed I’ll finally be heard. By everyone. I’m tired of this. I’m not ready to be a adult. I’m not ready for any of this shit. God my heart hurts so bad. I feel like I’m just in year one. So much anxiety. Nothing to ease the pain and who’s fault is that. Mine. As always. Who am I crying to? Who am I asking for help? Nobody. Because it never goes well. I just wanna be told I’m loved. Im needed. Tell me it’s gonna be fucking alright because this world sucks. Im not gonna be able to leave out of my apartment until 26 at this rate because of government and inflation and my bf is just saying “save money” UGH LOOK AROUND!! WERE ALL TRYING! It’s so hard to make ends meet! It’s so hard!!

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ LINE-UP FOR SECONDS

tw. real incest + psuedocest, a lot of niisan, dubcon, manipulation, coercion, threesome, breeding mentions, degradation, yandere undertones wordcount. 6.5k

a/n. late happy bday present for my one and only @seijorhi ♡ iM soRRY IM SO LATE but i hope you like it. i love you so so much you're an amazing person and just the biggest inspiration of my life i would do the impossible for youuuu

baji keisuke x fem!reader x hanemiya kazutora

“Would you mind moving your fat ass to the free spot of the bed by any chance?” You can’t help but let the smile grow on your cheeks as Chifuyu groans and whines at the mere suggestion, repositioning his elbow right between your shoulders to squish you straight back down into the covers, so you almost receive a face full of hardbacks and paper. You try to roll onto your back to get from underneath him altogether, to which your clingy friend only lays his body right back onto yours.

“‘S not my fault your room is so cold. I’ll freeze.”

“Matsuno, get off!” you giggle once the tickle of his breath crawls from your neck all the way down your spine, shifting enough to get a hand along his side and send him skitting off of you. Ticklish. Your saving grace. “It’s not even me who keeps the room cold. It’s the damn apartment.”

You’d met Matsuno way back, and despite being a couple years younger than him and an -exhausting brat at the time- apparently, he’d always been there for you. No matter how much Baji had tried to keep you away from his less than stellar ‘hobbies’, there had been the one meeting, and then a second, and a third— and somehow you had managed to endear the older boy enough that years later, you’d still be friends.

Your begrudging best friend only rolls his eyes before plopping himself a more respectable distance away from you on your bed. You stare at the side of his handsome face until he gives you another look, then shifts a little closer, scrunching up the plush between you two. You really can’t get distracted again though, so you frown down at the mess before you. And understanding as ever, Matsuno runs a calming hand through your hair. You’ve been pretending to do work for a few hours now, but at this point the words barely have any meaning left. Just black ink on a page that’s making your head hurt.

A flash of dark hair passes by your door from the corner of your eye, catching your attention too easily. “Chifuyu, d’you think you could keep from flirting with my sister every fucking time you’re around or what?” The deep voice catches you slightly off guard, ripped out of your less than coherent thoughts to pry yourself up onto both elbows. But the way his sharp, brown eyes linger on you for a few breaths too long to be without meaning doesn't.

You right yourself a little more automatically, pulling at one of your spaghetti straps when the position pulls the top too low for your liking. Not that he has anything to say about what you do or how you dress anyway, but the instinct is still there. Even the hand in your hair slows a little. Your brother doesn’t disappoint in his reaction when he crosses his arms over his wide chest and makes a little ‘tch’ at both of your silences. Still ever the distrustful older brother, it seems, even though you’re definitely old enough to know by now. And so does he, for that matter.

Of course, you and Keisuke have talked about it. You often joked that you stole his middle school boyfriend away from him, pulling grins and disbelieving chuckles out of him when you’d be making dinner alone in the kitchen. Sometimes, he’d just turn the tv up loud enough for you to cup your hands over your ears and walk out. No more words are needed between a big brother and his younger sibling. And he’d found his own best friend just as quickly, so it wasn’t ever an actual issue.

Your relationship is about as unremarkable as they come. Or— it had been, until a few months ago. You’re not entirely sure what changed, only that his eyes find you a bit more easily now, like a blaring warning sign that sends shivers all up your spine. Lingering gazes that you can’t help but overanalyze, because Baji Keisuke is surprisingly good at not letting himself get read. And though you feel that same unease settle into your stomach when he meets your eyes again, a colder, harder glare, you pipe up. “You’re so jealous, nii~san.” The over exaggerated way you jut out your lip and snuggle into Chifuyu’s shoulder is enough to get your friend laughing, though your eyes stay on the noiret in the doorway. “But I’m sadly not his type. He’s all yours.”

“You’re stupid,” Chifuyu snorts when you finish, pushing you away from him with a hand on your forehead, then clicks his tongue. “I’d sooner die than fuck either of you.” His laugh is pleasant, soft and gentle and it makes you happy to see him so happy- eyes tracing the glint of the ring that sits on his fourth finger, definitely after the state you’d pulled him through only a few short years ago. It’s a good moment. Only spoiled a little by the expression on Keisuke’s face when he places a hand on the top of the door and tracks his eyes over your smile, down your top, staring at the exposed of your thighs like he’s got something else to say.

—

Living with your big bro had never posed an issue. He wasn’t the cleanest and you had to see a whole lot of him, of course, but as a broke student there really wasn’t anything to complain about. Kei nii takes care of you, pays for the apartment without much complaining, he’s not the worst cook in the world, and best of all- he wouldn’t stand for you bringing home regretable fucks you’d feel embarrassed about when sober. The problems start with his best friend, the one currently splayed out on your couch in only sweatpants that sit much too low on his hips not to be distracting.

Pretty, clear skin of his shoulders and chest are almost entirely covered in tattoos, you’d basically seen the collection grow over the years. All toned and pretty and distractingly available all the time. You should rephrase: the problems start with Hanemiya Kazutora’s way of eating you up with his eyes. His way of looking at you always had been distracting, from as soon as he came out of juvie years ago and basically went back to spending all his time at your house. The house of your mom back then, which felt a lot safer than you do now. You can’t help but feel— off.

That’s what it is. There’s something off about Hanemiya’s eyes, something you just can’t put a finger on. Like a giant snake waiting for you to get into range, or a cat staring down at your vulnerable neck. Bright eyes that track you all the way from the door to where you shrug off a drenched coat and trace over you as you walk to the kitchen, wordless. After a few moments he chuckles though, nodding at your choice of clothing. “Nice shorts.” They’re Kei nii’s, not that you really thought much about it throwing them on. So you smile in thanks.

There’s a part of you that feels bad for being so creeped out whenever he’s around. A part that loves scolding the other half of you for being so hung up on the idea of jail, of what he had done when he was younger. Everyone makes mistakes, and you of all people can’t hold past actions against him if you don’t plan on doing it for the two other prominent figures in your life. But it’s just— you turn to lean against the dining table as he gets up from the couch and runs a hand through his hair— you trust your instinct. It makes the hairs on your neck stand up any time you have to be alone in a room with him.

Hairs that are very much on end right now, filling a glass with water to distract yourself a little. “Where’s Kei nii?”

“Out… he’ll be back soon though,” the soft voice comes from your left, your focus on the floor, then the door as you hear him walk a little closer. You’ve thought of bringing it up to Keisuke before, but always decide against it. Those two have been through a lot together after all, and it’s not like you actually have a solution. So you suck it up and send him a tight smile when he comes to rest against the table like you are, all skin and charm and a cologne that smells familiar enough to make you a bit nostalgic.

And in truth, it’s not like he’s been mean or particularly unlikable. If it wasn’t for the major creeps you get any time he smiles or feel the brush of his skin over yours, you’d probably be able to have a crush on him for a little while— until it dies out one autumn and you’re back to being just Keisuke’s little sister. You’ve sure had your fair share of innocent or not-so-innocent infatuations with the majority of his friends, each and every one earning you a disgruntled squeeze or string of explicits from said brother. Usually ending in some derivation of ‘fucking gross’ and a chuckle by you.

But you still have to get up and walk around when he turns to you, picking up the remote from the coffee table to flick through a few channels. You nestle yourself instead into the couch, the soft background noise doing little to actually make you feel more at ease. You’re in your own house, shaking about Kazutora following behind. It’s silly, Keisuke would definitely say it is.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you hated me,” he chuckles when you shift from your spot on the couch as soon as he lands on the other end of it, curling your legs to your chest. You give him a wide eyes look when you feel him staring, but he laughs. “Relax, bun bun. I’m not going to bite.” The slight flush of his ears and the way he props his feet up on the coffeetable are brushed off casually, but a cold shiver still covers your back in goosebumps.

“Of course I don’t hate you,” you mumble back, uncurling your hands from the tight grip on the plastic tool.

“But?”

“No but. I don’t… I don’t hate you, Hanemiya. We just don’t talk a lot.” You ignore the prickling of your skin when he hums, eyes flicking back to you every few seconds.

“You still got that boyfriend?”

With a deep breath in you manage to relax your shoulders, and rest your chin instead on your knees. “Mh-no, we’ve been done for a while. He up and left one day and didn’t bother even telling me about it so… it was pret~ty easy to figure out that it was over.” You turn your head to the side then, curl your feet into yourself a little more when you notice he’s still looking. Your cheek is pushed out on your knee. “Kei nii told you about that?”

His bright eyes seem to glitter when he smiles, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth for a second before he nods, looking from you to the documentary playing before you, then back. “Yeah, he has this amazing ability of not shutting up when it comes to you. It’s like he expects me to have a better idea of how to handle his pretty, little sister or something—” The little laugh that falls out of him rings sweetly through the room, the compliment almost flying over your head. “Which I don’t. Not one like you anyway.”

“I don’t—”

The door swings open hard enough to make you jump an inch. Kei nii does lift an eyebrow to see you sitting in the middle of the room, tilting his head in confusion. “You two bonding all of a sudden? That’s a first.” His low voice breaks the thick silence that was built to let out a low sound, somewhere between a chuckle and a hum. Before you can think of a response, he drops his eyes a little to your legs again, so you spread your knees to make sure nothing’s exposed, but no. You’re all covered up, and if he notices your frown his way when putting away his coat, he doesn’t mention it.

“It’s not,” you quickly quip back when his lips curl into a satisfied grin, letting him pull you from your spot to sit there himself, “we just haven’t talked a lot.” It’s a pretty feeble excuse, you’re plenty aware. Though all the years you were the one skitting around him most days after all, happy to let Kei shoulder most of the conversation responsibilities if it meant that you could slide off to your safe, little room. If it meant getting rid of the constant feeling of eyes on you. Isn’t this the same big brother that told you to trust your gut when you first started going to college parties?

When he tugs you back a little by your hand, you turn over your shoulder to watch his suspiciously blank face turn a little softer, a little sweeter. “Don’t go yet, just sit back down.”

“You took my spot.”

He’s not shaken. Just pulls your arm down more, and even with the little bit of pressure you can feel the way his strength works in on you. The look isn’t just for show, it says, I’m stronger than you. “Sit,” he says again, mouth corners curling up when you grab his shoulder to hold yourself from toppling into him. It doesn’t really work, and before you know it you’re falling over with your knees either side to catch yourself from falling right on top of him.

“Fuck you,” you whisper at him when Keisuke chuckles under his breath, using his free hand to clamp over your hips and pull you down properly, which means you’re now— in his lap, chest heaving a little too close to his and your shirt ridden up over his forearm, basically eye to eye. “Nii nii…” It shouldn’t be weird. It shouldn’t be a big deal to touch your own flesh and blood like this, and you know you could laugh it off. If only his eyes weren’t so damn dark and blown out, you would.

“Should I come back in a couple hours?” Kazutora suddenly clears his voice from the other side of the couch, sounding a bit too amused for your liking, and you can feel the heat from your chest climb just as quickly all the way to your cheeks and ears. “If you two want to get it on…” They probably glow with an obvious color of embarrassment, your lip lifting in protest. But Kei nii just looks satisfied with himself, narrowed eyes pinning you in place. Kazutora grins at you too, a toothy, gleeful smile at your misery. You dig your nails into the soft skin above your big brother’s collarbone in an attempt to make him let you go.

“What is— Don’t be fucking weird, we…” you bite your lip when you glance back over at your brother, his hands still on your hips. “Niichan, this isn’t funny. Lemme go.” It’s not quite so easy to ignore him when he drops his face into your neck, second arm wrapping around your shoulders to keep you in place as you jerk back. Because yes, you’re aware you’re the pervert here. His mouth is just- basically on your tits, and the breath he blows out goes through your shirt and tickles and he’s never ever asked for affection this way before. You’re not sure whether to curse him out or encourage him to let it out.

For a few seconds you sit like that, squished to your brother’s warm chest, your own shallow breaths seeming much too loud. But then you find the other man’s gaze, the way his tongue swipes out to wet his lips, and it has you pushing yourself off of Keisuke’s lap. Your brother doesn’t look too happy, but you really don’t care.

“I’ve got a lot of work left tonight, so you can eat without me,” you breathe out too quickly, busying your hands with the edge of your top when you stand. “Goodnight, aniiki. Goodnight, Hanemiya-san.” And then you’re out of there, legs a little too shaky, and with two sets of eyes trailing you all the way down the hall. You don’t manage to get much done.

And when someone comes to the apartment barely an hour later, you pretend not to hear the way the bed squeaks in the other room, muffling low groans by wrapping your pillow around your skull. If you don’t die of embarrassment, maybe suffication will do.

—

The next day is uneventful. You do your very best not to linger in any room with either of them too long. It’s not subtle, and you’re pretty sure you can feel the burning of Kazutora’s eyes on your face every once in a while, but it’s easy to ignore when you’re distracting yourself with cleaning up their mess. Whatever was said after you locked yourself in your room, you’ll never know. But you’re not particularly curious. You can’t help but think about it too much, the way his hands had flitted up along your sides with a bit too much eager possession, the barely tangible brush of his lips along your pulse point.

If it was someone else, it’d be romantic. You put the towels down in their spot in the bathroom, and fish out your phone when it vibrates against your thigh. A message from Chifuyu, curiously prying about your silence. But what can you say? That you’re having doubts about living with your older brother now, after almost five years of peace? That everything that happened last night felt the furthest from platonic, and that you hadn’t shaken him off like you should’ve? You look up when someone clears their throat, leaning against the doorframe as he does.

“You’re being rude.” It’s short, direct, his voice dripping with something you can’t quite pin-point. All you’re sure about is that he doesn’t sound too pleased when he says it, but it’s not mean. “Y’know Tora has had a rough life. He’s only around as often as he is because I don’t want him to feel alone.” Not exactly why you’ve been avoiding them— today, at the very least, but it still makes you grimace. You clean up the counter, put the toothbrushes left, right, left again- anything to keep yourself busy. Anything not to have to look at him. “The least you could do is pretend like you don’t hate him. I don’t like all your friends either, but you don’t see me making a fuss.”

“I don’t hate him,” you say again, voice threatening to break. It’s nothing you haven’t said to yourself before, but hearing it like this hits a bit harder. “What do you want me to do, niisan? I don’t have much in common with him.”

“He really likes you, you know,” Keisuke suddenly says, shutting you up instantly. “He says you make him feel at home, like he’s got some family of his own.” You should feel guilty, his tone says. And you do, disarmed with a single, simple sentence. This isn’t really news to you. Kazutora had come up here and there in conversation with your best friend before, about his home life, how Toman had been everything to him growing up. It’s a slap in the face to you, someone who’s always had someone.

“I went and got us some lunch. Come join us,” he asks, though it’s more of a demand. One you’re more than inclined to abide by, considering your actions all day. If he noticed, Kazutora most definitely did as well, and though it wasn’t the reason you’ve been walking on eggshells, it definitely hasn’t helped. Keisuke’s dark hair is damp, falling over his eyes as he leans forward to check your phone when it lights up. You stay silent though, biting your lip as you drag your nails along the white porcelain of the sink. “Okay?”

You nod. One short, deliberating motion as you try to find words to your thoughts. You want to speak up, really. You want to be an adult and talk over whatever it— that situation yesterday night— was, but your tongue feels so heavy. Too heavy to speak, let alone ask the pointed questions that are glued to your tongue. Seemingly knowing you won’t speak, he lets out a deep sigh and walks further into the bathroom. His hand comes to rest on your arm, his fingers wrapping loosely around your wrist.

“You’ve never been this fucking quiet in your entire life,” he grins, handsome face relaxed when you turn to face him. “Is that what a man’s gotta do to get you to stop acting up? Huh, brat?”

Heat flares right back up under your collar before you can help it, putty with the way his eyes flick from your eyes to your lips and back again. As easy as breathing, he rakes his hand up along your arm to tug you into him, letting you topple unmoving against his chest until you can smell his shampoo and the scent of fresh linen. “My little sister likes to cuddle, ‘s that it? You touch starved or somethin’?” Your hand shoots up and fists into his shirt to push yourself off, but you don’t quite manage to let go.

Not when he wraps his strong arms around you, not when a puff of air comes to the crown of your head, and not when his thumb presses comforting circles into your skin. “You’re so tense,” he mumbles into your hair, “don’t be like that. I can touch you, you’re family. You’re the one making it weird.” It’s soft and true and you instantly feel a bit sorry, because maybe Keisuke’s just going through some stuff. Maybe he needs this. But the silence still drags on too long, his hands sliding down your back, down, down, down until—

The buzzing of your phone breaks it. And Kei nii groans out loud, brows furrowing deep and harsh when you move to pick it up. His arm stays clamped around your waist, pressing your body too close to his own glowing skin. “Why the fuck-,” his eyes narrow further when he snatches the device from your hand, “is Chifuyu texting you still. Why is… I- are you two fucking or something? I thought you said I didn’t have to be worried.” His voice is low enough to have your hairs standing up on your arms, growled with such a visceral, sudden anger that you open and close your mouth a few times like a fish gasping for oxygen. His face is so close to yours when he stares you down, waves the phone back and forth in your peripheral vision.

But why- you have nothing to feel guilty about. “No, we’re not! He’s engaged, and he’s my friend, niisan. Why are you like that- a-and let me go!” This time you do push against his chest, an affronted furrow coming to your own face when he glares. You understand being worried about a mutual friend, but how can he even think that. Accuse you of doing something so vile. “He’s like a brother to me!” you breathe out to placate him, making a pitiful whimper when his grip on you gets a bit too tight for comfort. “Niisan, believe me, I’m not doing anything like that!”

You put all the force you have in your arm to widen the distance between you two, but Keisuke quickly puts your phone down to grab your chin and make you face him again. His hold does let up a little as he looks down at you with those deep, blown out irises that glint in the harsh LEDs. And then he clicks his tongue, leans down until you’re basically nose to nose and you slump in his hold. You can’t help it, it’s instinctual. If you want out you’d really have to fight, and you don’t actually want to hurt him, right? This is your big brother, the one you love with all your heart. Even when he’s mean and a hassle, even—

You freeze when his lips meet yours, first ever so gentle, but quickly pushing down more when you don’t pull back. Not that you’re in the state to do much of anything except listen to the pounding of your blood rushing past your ears. He leans in more and kisses deeper, pulling you by your belt loop into him as you shake and tremble, tongue brushing against your mouth. You finally pull away at that, almost toppling back from the harsh movement. “Don’t say stupid shit like that,” he grunts, straightens up to regard you and the way you’re looking anywhere but him. “You’ve known Tora for longer than you’ve known Chifuyu.”

He stays for a few seconds of silence, his own chest moving up and down hard enough to show under his shirt, before running the back of his hand under his nose. Your own head is spinning, confusion and anxiety mixing into a tight ball that sits at the top of your throat and keeps you from saying anything. “Come eat.” You don’t speak when he grabs your hand and laces his own fingers between yours, or when you pass by Kazutora who’s propped up on the bed. If he heard any of the commotion in the bathroom, he doesn’t let it show.

Just gives you a long, languid up and down that sends more cold shivers down your spine. Kei nii places your chair closer to his before forcing you down to sit, rakes his fingers along your back again, then plops into the chair himself. Like nothing ever happened. And the other dark haired man sits down across, tapping his hands on the table a few times before he smiles, pointing at the food. “Baji, wanna share?” His lithe voice rings loud through the apartment. It’s colder than usual, you think, biting your bottom lip hard. Kazutora’s smile is still off, a little too turned up at the corners, a little too predatory.

It only seems to widen when he meets your eyes without faltering, his own cheeks flushing a little. “You know what they say, sharing is caring.”

—

In a way, you anticipate the knock before it comes. Your music isn’t loud enough to entirely drown out the sound of the two of them watching tv or the call to some other friends, but it’s enough to keep you with your head down in the books. You have too much to think about as it is and not enough time in the day to make all the mangled pieces fit. Because the more you think, the more you remember— things you never took notice of now amplified with a spotlight. Keisuke had always been possessive, had always been unrelenting on any man you ever hung out with. You used to think it was a little funny, a little cute.

But with the memory of his lips on yours, the way his hand had slipped along your spine to keep you in place… Your body has a strange sensation that starts in the low of your belly and spreads all around. You pull out one of your earbuds to listen for the noise of them. The tv is out, and considering the phone call earlier it isn’t a stretch to think Kazutora has left for the night, and your brother is taking a shower like he usually does before bed.

You groan, raise your arms above your head, and drag yourself from your desk to let yourself drop into the covers with all the dramatics of a toddler. And it’s as you’re thinking over everything yet again, any sign you may have misread— the knock comes to your door. You turn your head towards it. “Hey, brat,” he mumbles, sounding … quiet. Keisuke isn’t loud by nature, nor is he particularly talkative, but he’s never quiet in the way that he sounds now in front of your door. “Did you lock me out of your room?” he asks at the silence, gently jiggling the handle a few times.

“I was finishing up my paper,” you softly respond, thinking over your words. “I didn’t try to lock you out.”

The man on the other side is quiet for a few seconds too, before he hums. “You gonna let me in at least?” Though the thought does cross your mind, you do get up to unlock the door. The tall man steps inside, leaving the door open after him. He goes to sit on the bed and you follow. “So…” So, time to talk, you think in response, sitting down too. “You didn’t like it, ‘s that what it is?”

The question takes you entirely off guard. “Wh-what? No, I- That’s not- You can’t just do that!”

“Why not? If you liked it, and I liked it—”

“I didn’t like it, niisan!” you snap back, barely noticing how he turns towards you so his legs are spread either way. Every touch sets you on fire though.

“That’s not what your face said earlier,” his lips quirk up when you try to hit him, grabbing your one hand, then the other too when you try again. “It’s okay if you did. I know you better than anyone else, don’t try to deny it.” He leans in, as if to kiss you again, and you pull back- hitting your head against the headboard in the process. “Stop wiggling, I just want to try something. Don’t make such a scene.”

“Niichan,” you yelp, turning your face aside when he crawls closer, nuzzling along your chest up your throat. “Why me? Why me?”

“Because I love you,” he only says, a logical justification for the sin at hand. You can’t help the way your body warms, glowing under him. But it’s beyond you why you just lay there and take it when he lets your arm drop to cup your cheek, lean down into your space- so close you can see each individual eyelash and the small scar on the bridge of his nose. ‘Just let me,’ he mouths, before his lips are back on yours. There’s no innocence in the way he kisses you, the hand that slides into hair at the bottom of your skull and tugs. Just tongue pushing inside and greedy, wet kisses that make your stomach flip.

He groans when you kiss back, a throaty sound, pulling back to look at you. Your flushed lips and teary eyes are enough to have him huffing, diving back in again. He tastes nice, your mind supplies, and your mortification only burns through your chest hotter. “See,” he pants when he pulls back, “you want it. I know you.” He traces his finger along the seam of your mouth for a second, prying it open with a hum. “Someone we know told me you would, you’re a little slut- hm?” It’s unfairly effective, his fingers dipping inside your mouth and exploring your tongue, spit coating them as he presses further. “Y’should’ve told me, baby. If I knew my little sister was such a whore—”

“Stop, stop please. We can’t.” Though you say it, you have no intention of actually moving, everything hurting from the need, the touch. You want it, it rings through your skull.

“We can.” As his hand dips under your shirt, you can feel your panties cling to your pussy, a traitorous feeling of your own body working against you. You never wanted this, you didn’t, he’s wrong and you know it. But his large hand pawing at your tits under your shirt and the way he nudges a knee between your legs is working. “I can tell,” he whispers in a sing-song voice, thick lashes framing his dark eyes.

You let out a little sound he accepts with a grin, pulling his fingers out to kiss you again. Sloppier, letting his spit stay on your tongue. “My little sister just wants to get fucked by her big brothers, right? That’s what gets your pussy gushing?” He chuckles when you squeak at his hand, grabbing his wrist where it’s making it’s way into your pants.

“Please-” stop. It doesn’t quite make it past your lips, definitely not when he licks a stripe from your jaw down your throat, sucking a mark into the skin. Your body is so hot and everything is sensitive to the touch.

At this point you’re just as embarrassed of the situation as you are at getting turned on in the first place, of how you can’t manage to say ‘no’. Even though you know you should. Even if everything is crumbling around you. His self-satisfied grin only grows when the wet sound of his fingers sliding around in your wetness makes you slick more, your body actively sabotaging you. You turn away, bury your face into your pillow as he starts rubbing your clit. The rough pads of his fingers feel like heaven, and your thighs shudder when he rubs you just right a few times, biting down on your neck.

He grinds himself against you, head cocking back with a sigh. He’s hard. Your big brother’s cock is hard in his pants, and he rubs it between your legs enough to have you mewling and shuddering. It’s embarrassing, it is, but as long as no one knows… “Say it for me,” he asks then, already busy shuffling your shorts down your legs. He rubs a palm over your pussy, before landing a slap straight between your legs and laughing when your legs twitch. “Come on, tell me you want to have that ‘big brother’s cock’.”

He spanks your pussy again, before spitting on it and lazily rubbing that around. “Come on~”

“You started without me?” it sounds from the door, your eyes shooting open to watch Kazutora with only a towel around his waist. A towel that’s tenting over his cock, as Keisuke grabs your tits again and rubs himself against your soft thigh.

“Just a little. Hurry up, I’m hard as fuck.” He shoves his pants down to let you admire him for only a second, mind flip flopping between both men again and again. Kazutora does as asked, undoes his towel to scoot in next to you two on the bed, and groans when slapping your tits, pinching your nipple between skillful fingers. His cock twitches, glossy tip and red and so hard, it’s hard for you to imagine he hasn’t been for a while.

“Fuck, I knew you were gonna be so good. I fucking told you, Baji.��

“Yeah, yeah,” he breathes out, making room to let Kazutora latch his mouth onto your nipple and suck, his free hand toying with your clit. It’s unfair, the amount of stimulation leaves you a cockhungry mess. Your brother kneads your thighs for a few seconds, eyes narrowed, before he takes over for Kazutora to spit on your pussy again, leaning down to suck on your clit.

But he seems to think better of it and groans, getting up between your legs to pull your hips level with his. “I’m fucking her pussy though. Your big brother’s gonna fuck your pussy nice and full.” Your mouth is occupied by Kazutora’s, so you can’t even whine or say anything in response. But the effect is instant, pussy clenching and more slick mixing with the mess between your legs.

Kei nii grins, before lining up. “You like that?” Kazutora asks when he pulls back, looking too lovingly into your eyes. He’s all flushed, like a schoolgirl with a crush. “You’re a twisted little thing, baby. I love it though. I really do.” He sits up on his knees to brush some hair away from your face, then smiles so pretty. “Open up.” As Keisuke rubs his throbbing cock between your legs, arms clamped down on your hips like his life depends on it, you can’t help but whine out long and pitifully, something that makes him smile.

Another tap to your lips has you lulling out your tongue, letting Kazutora rest the head of his cock onto it. Your lips wrap around him as he sighs, placing his large hand on your head to push a little closer. While your brother slides in between your legs, stretching you so wide it stings, Kazutora stares at the way you swallow around the cock in your mouth and fucks into your mouth. Spit dripping down your face and tears clumping your lashes together, moaning incoherently. Kei nii pushes in deeper, places his hand on your belly to make you feel every inch as it slides into you so much more.

“You gonna let me breed this cunt nice and good? Fill you up, fuck my baby into you?”

You choke around Kazutora’s cock when it’s paired with a thrust from both men. “Shit, she likes that. You like your brother’s cock this much?” Your agreement is muffled, but Keisuke’s face lights up a little too eagerly when you still do your best to nod, bottoming out inside. Your pussy is a mess, spit and your own slick dripping down your ass into the fresh linen.

“Call Kazutora niisan too,” he orders then, thumb on your clit as he pulls back, narrowed focus on your cunt as it clings to his thick cock. “He’s been wanting this for longer than I have, y’know.” Kazutora lets you up to take some much needed breaths, before he leans down to kiss you again, cup your cheeks and worship your mouth. Tugging your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on your tongue. As Kei starts a ruthless pace, hard, deep thrusts creating a lewd ‘pap’ every time he bottoms out. His cock fills you up so well, it’s making your mind twist. “Come on, slut, say it.”

The string of spit between your faces is broken when he pulls back to gaze at you and your fucked out expression, fucking his cock into a tight fist with your spit. Your mouth falls open when Kei nii pinches your clit hard, legs clamping around his ass, and stare back at the half blond-half noiret as he waits. “Tora nii~chan,” your voice comes out high pitched and whinier than you’d like, but the way he reaches down to grab his balls is intoxicating. “Tora niichan, wan’you to fuck my throat as nii nii breeds me, please. Please, p-please—”

Keisuke chuckles. “You’re gonna make him cum.” But he doesn’t slow, just rocks the bed back and forth as he drives in and out of your pussy with a crazed focus, hitting your spot just right. You grab at his arm to dig your nails in while Kazutora gets back over your face, this time gripping your face tighter as you lick along the slit.

“Such a good little sister. Our little slut.”

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