#i don't think i cut MYSELF just by scratching my nails are not that sharp and i did not use that much pressure and the cut is going in the o

[thegeminisage]

most of the time its like yeah whatever im aging ive been doing it my whole life. and then sometimes a cut you got literally years ago opens for no reason???

[lostcauseinc]

Please put little chastity belts with locks over my sleeves and hide the keys so I can’t cut without your permission, no matter how badly I want to…. Take away my favorite blades and lock them up tight… then, you can watch my increasingly pathetic, desperate attempts to find something, ANYTHING to break my skin. First it’ll start with forks, pens, keys…. But then, when you catch me trying to cut myself with them, I’m sure you’ll scold me and punish me by taking them away…. then, with no options left, I’ll have to resort to trying to helplessly rub and grind my wrists on table corners and scratch them with my little nails... but no matter how desperately I try, nothing will work. All I’ll be able to do is grind myself on the outside of the box, because at least I know my blades are in there, and sit by as you watch me slowly slip into heat as days and days pass by without me earning that release… Then, finally, when I’m at my limit, once you’ve finally burned the humiliating sight of me trying desperately to cut myself with whatever I can get my hands on into your brain, and once I’ve been good enough to earn it… reward me with a fresh, new blade…

God, you're so fucking pathetic.

Obvious content warning.

I'd check your skin every night just to make sure you haven't cut at all, wrapping your arms in thick bandages and daring you to so much as touch them, threatening to toss out your blades and tie up your wrists if you try taking them off.

I think a more fitting punishment would be to hold you down and so so lightly trace whatever makeshift item you found across your skin, tracing over scars but barely touching the skin. Making you beg until you're a sobbing little mess for permission to so much as scratch your skin raw, then reprimanding you for being so impatient. Forcing your hand still as I trim down your nails so you can't do shit until I let you, locking up more and more things until every sharp in the house is safely hidden away.

You'd make such a pretty picture desperately trying to find relief from anything, wouldn't you? Just an adorable little thing slowly losing their mind while I get to watch. It'd be hard to finally let you have it, I'd be so fucking tempted to see how far you'll go to get your fix, what you'd do for me to earn the right to cut back.

But I would, eventually. Because I'm so gracious, aren't I? And you're so good for me, aren't you? But even after all that waiting, I don't let you run off with your reward. Maybe I force you to let me watch as you break in your pretty new blade, telling you how cute and pathetic you look all the while. I might even give you instructions, forcing you to be slow and careful and to thank me after every cut for letting you have this.

I think it'd be adorable if you had to ask permission for every little mark for days afterwards. Like I need you to prove to me you can control yourself, that you'll keep being good and sweet for me. Threatening to lock everything up again, to make you wait even longer next time if you aren't perfectly in line. But I'm sure I wouldn't have to worry about you misbehaving, right? You'll learn the first time. You're a good pet.

[kaiser1ns]

KIKI KIKI i have a questionnnnn what is ur favorite thing about chika??

NYX MY LOVE , sorry for the delay but here we go !!! this is going to be like a selfship post but anyway enjoy :3

one of my favourite things about him is his eyes — the color and the form. i can stare at them all day and observe the way he expresses his emotions with only just a look: they widen when he is excited, narrow when he is sceptical, when he looks away showing disinterest.

especially love it when his eyes go big and he just stands there with no thoughts in his brain, looking like a cute small kitten.

of course, you would have guessed it ... his arms !!! i don't even have to talk about it, just know that once i get him to hold me, i am not leaving his embrace and he doesn't have a choice letting me go either. i'm also kinda tall, slightly above the average, 168cm (5'6") and chika is 183cm (6'0") so it's gonna be so much easier when we hug or kiss. wrapping my arms around his waist, while he hugs my shoulders. hugs !! from !! behind !! where he wraps his toned arms around my chest and i can feel his heartbeat, resting his head on top of my head or me hugging him from behind, my arms wrapping arous his waist while my head rests on his back. he doesn't have to bend much just to lean slightly forward while i tilt my head up and then steal a kiss.

next is his jaw ! i just found it so attractive for some reason, it's not too sharp just perfect. it's actually a little embarrassing talking about things i found attractive in fictional men because i do find them appealing in real men. neck/collarbone/jaw kisses are a must ! just appreciating every part of him and showing it in kisses, so many kisses!

i have a little bit of a long nails so it's really calming for me when i trace all over his arms, squeezing the soft flesh, scratching it, feeling his muscles tightening... i think he will love receiving massages, and good for him because i have magical hands, gonna make him relax because for someone who looks calm, he is very tense! don't worry baby, i got ya ♡

next his lips, those soft lips, that i can kiss every day and night ♡ tiptoeing to reach his beautiful and soft face, cupping his cheeks with my hands and leaving a loving kiss. kissing his neck if standing close together, as the height difference is literally perfect. surprising him with a quick peck on the lips or cheek by pulling him down by his collar or reaching up. when he smiles, oh my that smile im melting, blushing and giggling because he is just so cute i could nom nom him. i will always nom nom chika !

i'm not done with his arms. play !! fights !! one of my love languages is physical affection and i also tend to show my love by hitting and biting. so i launch at him with all my might, fists flying, slaps landing with sharp snaps. he barely flinches, effortlessly twists out of my grips. i go harder, twisting his arm back, and he responds with just enough force to match me, never more. i know he could easily overpower me, but he’s learned where the line is—never crossing it. i taught him well. play fighting with chika is my favorite time ♡

okay but his fashion sense, im stealing his wardrobe, all of it !!! he dresses so nice i would like to wear his clothes all the time, oh my god his shirt would probably be slightly oversized and i will use them as pajamas. mmm, yes we are the dress to impress couple, hitting pose 28 !!!

LAST BUT NOT LEAST his amazing and pretty long hair. i don't like men with long hair, but there are exceptions like chika, my pretty princess. i bet its so soft and fluffy, running my hands through it will be like me playing with clouds. playing with hid hair would calm me down in seconds, even making me fall asleep on the spot. occasionally dying the yellow tips again almost turning myself into a minion with those yellow painted hands. i love his hair and the style he has it (please bae don't cut it, i will love you no matter what but please dont)

OVERALL I JUST LOVE CHIKA, ALL OF HIM. he climbed the ranks to be one of my favorite characters faster than anyone, so he set a new record !!

(please someone get me a boyfriend because im so lonely and the way i cope is by liking and obsessing over fictional characters, thank you!)

[inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800]

GUDRUN (290 DC)

Warnings: Slightly descriptive violence and SA, timeline alterations, and OOC of Yara.

Note: English isn´t my first language, so sorry for the probably mistakes here.

"Come on," her older sister, Yara, with hair as black as the stones of their home, called to her, "father wants to see us at dinner."

No, he doesn't want to see us, she thought sadly.

Only a year had passed…

She was still hearing the screams of her dead family. Her father screaming and cursing the storm when the king left, the heads of her brothers nailed by pikes, both men and women screaming, fire and blood everywhere.

Her father Balon was devastated, not only had he lost the rebellion but his Greyjoy offspring was in danger, for the only male he had left was in Winterfell as a hostage. Theon, his fleet-footed older brother, was his age when he was taken.

She floated out of the sea and looked down at her feet as she walked along the beach. She hated the sand that stuck to her like second skin and how painful it was to move sometimes in the hard clothes and icy water. However, everyone would look down on her if she complained, she was a damned Ironborn, she had to be strong and tough if she wanted the acceptance of the Ironborns. And she needed it, man did she, the place was small and they practically knew each other.

"You've taken a millennium, woman." Yara complained as if she were her progenitor, hands on hips and voice thick. "Next time I'll leave you there and won't let you in the house."

This is not my house, she wanted to say, but she didn't have the guts.

"I'm sorry," she managed to say. Her sister looked at her tenderly and took her hands even though they were frozen.

Yara really was an Ironborn.

She had boots made by her own hands, with the very fox fur she hunted, her steps were determined and she did not flinch from the pain and the combination of wasteland, like a living goat. Her chest had a couple of sharp knives that not only served to cut vegetables but to scratch, hurt, and remove the hand of the bold who dared to touch her, extensive back ready to be filled with oxygen when she threw herself into the frozen ocean, arms strong as a warrior's and more agile than the skin of a living fish. Added to her Greyjoy-like beauty, she looked like she was made of salt and sand.

"What are you thinking of?"

"About our mother."

Yara stopped walking for a second. Gudrun knew she'd messed up, but she continued, the pain in her chest and the tears in the dawn seemed never to end.

"You know we can't talk about it here."

"But at some point we have to, you and me. Father and his people have already complained and gotten used to it. But I don't…"

She felt her voice falter.

"Not now, another day" spoke Yara, jumping up and down as if she were a wildcat "And that's my last word."

"Yara."

"Yes?" she replied a little annoyed, sure she thought he would insist.

"Has father talked to you about being a rock wife? Uncle Victarion mentioned it was something sacred…from the Drowned God," she didn't let fear creep into her voice, the Greyjoy story was extremely macabre.

"Yes, he has, whether I was swayed by it is another thing."

"Aren't you afraid?" Gudrun was small girl, but she was anxious when she turned ten, the age the rock women bled.

"Of what?" Yara looked at her defiantly. "If father threatens to marry me off, I'll run away with the fastest ship, you know, The Pearl and go to Winterfell to retrieve my brother. Or else I'd infiltrate deep into Highgarden, they always need waitresses and I highly doubt there's anything to tease me there, the continentals are very refined."

"And if you don't manage to escape in time?"

"Well, I'd kill fat Krak" she pointed to the blacksmith who was just passing by "because he'd be the first to come to the call and try to pull me away from the knives, I wouldn't allow it. I would take the opportunity to make myself as unrecognizable as possible and annihilate any asshole who wants to catch me. If our family intervenes, I would throw myself into the water and beg until my throat atrophied for the Drowning God to come to my calls, at least I will get enough distraction to swim to some nearby island, if not…, I will cut my future husband's jugular vein when he tries to stick his penis in my vagina."

In the Iron Islands there was no such thing as refined language, both men and women said insults and swear words, spat and treated their wounds with salt to make them burn hotter and stronger.

She jumped up and down to catch up with her older sister.

And she held her breath as she watched the pikes…, there were three reminders of what would happen if another rebellion happened. A damn year passed and they were still there, rotting, because of some stupid morality her uncle and father had.

Yara turned to look at her.

"You know, Rodrik always smelled like firewater, his feet too. He was always head-butting our brothers and me, you were still too little for it. He called it the tradition of the salute. If we had won, the rocks would be more bathed in alcohol than salt. He made scratches on his face after his first fight, saying they would make him more…tough. Maron, the other one, was a liar of the worst kind, once made me kiss a damn goat saying I'd get more heat that way, and all I got was a little flu, plus ugly pimples. Once he made Uncle Aeron believe that the Drowning God would manifest and the poor man almost drowned, again. While Rodrik had his fists as fat as a pig, but accurate as lightning, lies were Maron's weapon. Father gave him a well-deserved slap that day, so much so that it filled his mouth with blood like bitter paste. He deserved it, the slimeball… Then there's our grandfather Quellon, he was well dead when it all happened. They dishonored his marine tomb, extracted him as one does an animal, took his head and left him nailed there too. He was wise, as everyone says…"

They passed the pikes by and by the time Gudrun realized it she was inside the foul-smelling, filthy castle that she had to call home.

A servant appeared and sent them to clean themselves with rags and buckets of cold water that had a smell similar to the sea. Gudrun cursed under her breath. She loved the sea, as long as she was inside, but going out was total hell.

Yara waited for her because she knew that nothing made her more desperate than having sand, pebbles and who knows what on her body. Gudrun rubbed herself with the rock soap: hard, white, scratchy and if not handled well, it would crumble into little pieces or cause ugly wounds on her body. She remembered her first solitary baths, her back was full of blood from the cuts from her mishandling of that stuff, plus it filled the whole shower in bits. Her father sent her almost naked alone with a towel to pick up every little piece and when she did, as a mockery of the Drowned God, it disappeared completely in her little hands. Gudrun had hated him so much, so much that when it was over the next dawn, she silently prayed for her father to die. And then she slept cuddled like a cat in the middle of Yara and Theon, the only siblings she loved.

She got distracted thinking about it and a small piece slipped in, Gudrun cursed under her breath and squeezed her eye, knowing and groping where the piece was. It took a couple of minutes, it had happened before, she pulled it out, but now the little piece wasn't white it was red, causing her eyes to water in pain. She threw the rest over there and put the towel on, ignoring the possible infection in her right eye.

"I'm done, Yara."

Her sister behind the door walked in as soon as she finished the words. A few years ago, when Yara was five years old, she was taking a shower when a drunk came in with the intention of raping her. She screamed and defended herself with a metal bar that formed the precarious shower. She was screaming so loudly that her uncle Victarion immediately entered, pulled the man away from her, called the others and a massacre ensued.

Quickly, Rodrik punched him to knock him out and defend her honor, Maron joined in later, then the men loyal to her father. They beat him to a pulp, stuck him on an iron cross at Uncle Aeron's expense, slowly cut off his fingers and toes, hurled whips and insults into the mouths of women and men.

Don't touch a Greyjoy daughter was the mantra shared by her father's bannermen.

Then Yara herself pulled out a rusty dagger, to make it hurt more, and cut off his limb, lifted it amid screams and threw it into the sea to be swallowed by fish. She vaguely remembered a small shark appearing and jumping up to catch the limb or perhaps it was one of Maron's lies to give it more drama.

From that day on, Theon or Rodrik would stand guard when one of the two took a shower. When they both left, it was just the two of them left to protect themselves.

Her sister looked at her quizzically, she had her sleeves covering her eyes, as if she was crying.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just…" she tried to keep her voice from getting hoarse from the cold "I got a damn chunk in."

"Be careful, sister" Yara teased playfully. "I'll be out in ten minutes, I'm faster than you. Wait, here." She threw a dagger at her, which she managed to catch.

She nodded and stood on the other side of the door. She tied back the brown hair she owned, almost everyone had black hair but her. It was the most precious thing she had because no matter how much salt or light it got, it always stayed moisturized and beautiful. Yara was teaching her to braid her hair so it wouldn't bother her when it was time to shoot arrows or to avoid being caught by one, because her father trained them for stealth and that included attacks with the bow, he had a good aim, but she managed to hide and camouflage herself very well, it was the only talent she possessed.

She looked at the dagger, she was a bit clumsy with weapons, her hands were sweating and she got very nervous thinking about her opponent's next attack. The other iron children teased her and called her "the continental trash". Sometimes she felt she deserved it…what kind of rock woman didn't know how to defend herself? She fixed her gaze on the edge, it showed her the small face of an eight-year-old girl, her soft cheeks and walnut-colored eyes. He felt like crying, it was said that her brown eyes were like those of her mother, who walked barefoot through the corridors calling for her children who would never return.

Except for Theon, every night Gudrun prayed that he would return, that the wretched Eddard Stark would free her brother from the cruelties of Winterfell and that he would come, and it would be the three of them against the world again.

A servant glanced at her as he swept the courtyard.

Gudrun threw a spit on the ground with a defiant look, she was never to show weakness. For better or worse her luck she was a Greyjoy.

"Gudrun?"

"I'm here" she replied instantly, the door opened and Yara stepped out resplendent as a nereid with her clean clothes on.

"What were you thinking of? Because defending myself I doubt it" she pointed out as she awkwardly held the dagger.

"That the continentals don't know the fucking difference between a nereid and a mermaid."

"Continentals are imbeciles by nature" she stated as if she knew the whole world.

"Yara…"

"Yes?"

"Will you tell me something to put me to sleep? Something about Theon, about Mom, about whatever, about pirates, about the sea."

"Sure, little sister" so as not to look so soft in the eyes of the others, meaning Tristifer Botley, she kicked some dust towards the boy "but first we have to give the peeping toms a beating."

"I wasn't looking, I swear. Y-your father is calling both of you for dinner" The boy's tan face was shades of pink, he always got nervous when Yara was around.

"Really?" her sister challenged, stepping in front of the boy. There seemed to be something between them that Gudrun could not understand. "If not, I swear I'll kick your ass in practice tomorrow."

She took her by the hand again and they both walked towards the living room, without waiting for Tristifer's answer.

Before, there were decorations made of sea minerals, beautiful and flooding the place with pleasant sea scent. Now, everything seemed to be dry, dark and odorless. They both trotted to the living room, more to have fun than to anticipate the parental call. Dinner was almost always heard snorts of old gentlemen, stupid drinkers and if they were fortunate, they ate a delicious fish ceviche with seafood. Gudrun's mouth watered, she adored that dish like almost every iron man. Lemon was rare, so the lower people used the cheapest orange they could find. While here, it was made from green lemons, the product of the plundering of the bravest and most experienced pirates. Gudrun wished she was a pirate and in command of her sister Yara instead of cooking ceviche for a husband.

When they entered, the room was half full. They made room for each other by elbowing and squealing, close to their father. Gudrun allowed herself to forget the torment of today and what was to come for some good ceviche and Yara's storytelling.

@arryns

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@greyjoyofpyke

[cherriesrae]

Shortbread kisses

word count: 2k

“ Hungry eyes were on him, making him feel wanted. Most of the people attracted to fine just stare, his sharp jawline making saliva collect in their mouths. He knew what he was doing, a lot of people have a thing for a masculine authority figure. It tickled a part of their brains Harry liked to scratch. His hair is pushed back by his now accentuated hand, rings missing for the night. Harry puts his glass to his lips when he sees her.” Or Harry goes to a sex club and Y/N comes back into his life

This story contains mentions of drinking and sexual acts. If any of this could or would trigger you, or are under 18 I recommend you stay away from this fic and DNI with this post.{masterlist}{taglist}{carrd}

Harry had never taken himself as an orgy kind of guy, never. So when his nail tech recommended it to him, it threw his mind for a whirl. Not only did he decline Tara's offer, but he almost fired her on the spot until she explained herself. The freelance nail tech explained how he had only been so stressed lately, and it showed.

" Harry, listen, it's nothing personal, I promise." She brushed away the filed nail dust and shut the drill off, " it's just that when I'm not having enough time to myself, it puts me to my breaking point of stress and I break. So instead I have put the free time I would spend watching Dynasty on Fridays and I have some fun." Harry knows how into that show Tara was, never really sure if she was into the show or Liz Gillies more.

" I just don't think it would be for me Tara," she cuts off his rejection.

" And that is okay, but it's safer than the more popular ' one night stands' you favor so much, trust me. You have to show up with clear STD tests, condoms at all times-" she stops to think. " Well unless agreed by both parties." She turns on the file once again. " I'll message you the phone number to one of the clubs I go to."

Harry truly didn't think it was going to happen, but here he was, in a suit nonetheless, filling out the paperwork. Tara wasn't kidding when she said it was safe, a photocopy of his driver's license, birth certificate, and recent address were all on file.

" Okay Mr. Styles, if you go and follow that hallway it will lead you to some lockers where you can keep your personal belongings you don't want to take into the main floor. You'll be locker 215, the combination is set to your birth year." Listening to the man at the front desk he finds his designated locker for the night and is surprised by the lock, it looks like one you would see for an automated lawn gate.

Walking out to the main floor, as the secretary said, walking up to the main bar and getting a scotch. Harry had left his jacket suit in his locker, so with his sleeves rolled up he leaned over to the bartender and asked, " How am I meant to pay if I was told to leave my wallet in a locker?"

" Everyone is checked in through the system by locker number, so you tell me and I'll add it to a tab." The black woman rocking purple box braids and bold eyeliner explained to him.

" Okay, it's 215." The bartender hands him his drink and he quickly throws it back, promising to sip the next one. With that Harry walks away and looks around.

Hungry eyes were on him, making him feel wanted. Most of the people attracted to fine just stare, his sharp jawline making saliva collect in their mouths. He knew what he was doing, a lot of people have a thing for a masculine authority figure. It tickled a part of their brains Harry liked to scratch. His hair is pushed back by his now accentuated hand, rings missing for the night. Harry puts his glass to his lips when he sees her.

Barely dressed, a short white sundress tucked above her ass, a sheer white thong on display. Even though he could only see the back of her and the left side of her face, he knew it was Y/N. The same woman whom he had a schoolyard crush on, who wore some form of pigtails all the time, his Y/N, still radiating innocence even when her breasts are out and two men are standing on either side of her. One man is licking into her through the thong while the other is putting his lips wherever he can.

Harry decides he wanted to see her face, and once he did, she makes eye contact and doesn't let go. It makes Harry remember how her mother used to own a bakery, how he would get lunch there every Wednesday and Thursday. How her mother encouraged him to come in more often, and how she gave him free coffee in the mornings. How he overheard Y/N begging her to stop because she had a crush on him and it was " embarrassing".

She blinks and breaks eye contact when the man not eating her cunt puts a thumb in her mouth and pulls her to look up at him, he can hear him ask her if she was still interested in getting fucked by him. She shook her head no and looked back over at Harry. He nods and she walks over to Harry.

" I guess the whole part where I act like I haven't been watching is a bit too taboo for us hmm?" Harry chuckles out, setting his drink down to be forgotten about.

" Hi Harry, can I kiss you?" Y/N asks, trying to be polite.

" Well I sure hope I can do more than that-" She decides she's done waiting and jumps in to catch his slightly chapped lips. Harry pulls her off, " Is that any way to be good for me?" Harry watches her eyes gloss over with more want than he had ever seen. "Let's sit, so I can get you on my lap. How does that sound Love?"

" Good, that sounds good," Harry pulls her into his lap on the nearest couch.

" Why don't you ride my thigh for a sec? Hmm? So I can get acquainted with these beauties?" He asks, referencing her tits. She slides over and begins to grind down, her clit still being sensitive from the other bloke. Her arousal was audible and Harry was eating it up, leaning in and catching one of her areolas in his mouth.

He gently bit down on the tip, coursing a mewl out from the back of her throat.  Y/N threw her head back in relief when Harry shifted his knee up, giving her a new angle to fuck herself upon. Letting go of her nipple Harry leans into her ear.

" Does that feel good Y/N? Better than to two men who obviously weren't aware you were my good girl, hm? Do I need to get you a leash? I think we both know you're done whoring yourself out without permission." Harry's words cup her ears like a melody, sending her into momentary bliss, he treats her earlobe as his own personal chew toy, grazing it harsher than most would like. For her though, makes her gasp as if she had never had air before, and he was only just now giving it to her.

" Can I- Can I-" She can't even get her words out.

"Let's get on the floor so I can get you on my cock? Hmm?" He noses into her neck, " how does that sound?"

" Good! Amazing even!" She's huffing and puffing out in arousal. Harry, lifting her off his pant leg, can see the not subtle damp spot on the area.

" Would you look at that? You're even soaking through my trousers." She grabs ahold of his belt, taking control of the situation. Harry is pushed onto the ground and is mounted like a horse in the blink of an eye. " Desperate are we?" He kicks off his shoes.

" Condom?" She is all business at this point.

" In the left pocket." She takes it and pushes off his briefs and slacks to his knees. Condom on- by him-, she begins to lower herself onto his prick as Streets by Doja Cat starts to play. Like it was setting the mood for the events to occur.

Y/N felt herself stretch out around him, a pleasurable burning sensation fluttering through her abdomen. She didn't get a good look at his size before she was sliding on but, " Oh wow," her little remark she had said while fitting him inside her said it all. Sure, over the years Y/N has seen his prick a few times in passing, sometimes it was just behind the pants she has dropped a glass of water on, other times it was his speedo at the pool or accidentally walking in on him in the showers in the boys changing rooms at school.

But never in her wildest dreams did she ever think that the same Harry she had known throughout high school would be the one to fuck her on the floor of a sex club floor.

Meanwhile, the only thing running through Harry's head was " Don't cum, don't cum, don't cum." Because if he does now, he might as well fall off the side of the earth, move to Mars, and pretend that he actually likes the taste of kale.

Y/N was so warm and inviting , walls squeezing him just right, just like he had imagined in his prepubescent years. Her petite moans sounding like liquid gold in his ears, making his reach up and take hold of her hips, rocking her faster than before.

Harry had never given so much of his brain-stored wank material to one person, but here he was.  Letting the same girl that he used to think of during his Thursday night when he was in a boyband ride his dick.

All while getting caught up and lost in the feeling of his fantasy on his legs, he can see the two men from earlier come from behind to join his fun. Harry watches from his newly opened eyes as a blonde who had been eating her cunt earlier comes behind and grabs her left breast, bringing it into his mouth.

Harry has to force himself not to lose his mind at the fact her noises weren't for him anymore, he shared them with the eye-candy bodybuilders. The other man from her earlier group comes and puts his mouth on her neck and tweaks her other nipple, his black t blue braids falling on his melanin-rich skin.

If this were any other night,m with any other woman, Harry would let his wildest fantasies about them come to life, even now he can imagine the way his cock would bulge out of the blondes throat, the curls of the other natural hair type falling on his neck while he gets taken from behind. But Y/N?  Y/N is his.

" Oh, Harry!"  Y/N slurs out at a high volume as he starts to ram his hips up into her, like her cumming on his prick was all he needed to do be he died.

Harry had decided he had enough with sharing what he proclaimed as is and flipped the pair so she was underneath him. Angling up to her g-spot like her lifeline was attached.

" We'll leave you alone man," One of the two- he isn't sure which- says behind him. The same man who spoke dropped something next to him, but he didn't focus on it until the other one spoke in his ear.

" Said something about his being the same model she had at home., grabbed a clean one for you." Harry could feel the roughness of his 5'o'clock shadow on the back of his neck. Reaching around he grabbed- what he now realizes is a vibrator- and turned it on.

" Thanks, mate, I've got her from now on though, she's mine." He can hear a deep chuckle behind him and their footsteps walking away before he places it on her clit. " Do you like that Princess? Just enough for you?"

" Harrrryyyy, fuck," she was a panting mess beneath him, " Im gunna cum-" she was cut off by Harry turning up the speed on the toy in his hand.

" Do it," he whispered in a somber voice, and that was all it took for the tension to break in her abdomen. Soon he was following behind her with his own release. " Fuck Princess."

Not long after the movement had stopped a- what he assumes is a waitress- came by with towels for the two, " Sir," was the only word she spoke to the two before Harry tied off the condom and threw it away in the whiskey that was still nearby.

" Hi Harry, I miss you. How've you been?" He looked down at the still dazed girl beneath him.

" Good Y/N, better now that you're back in my life. What're you doing in New York? That's pretty far away from your mother's bakery, no?"

--

Tell what y'all are thinking about this!

Requests are still open! And I would love to see y'all's fic ideas!

This post is based on a @harryforvogue idea they had

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[ashintheairlikesnow]

I am having an INTENSE knee pain day (🥰chronic🥰) might I request Jameson suffering as well, please! It really does help to some degree❤️❤️❤️

Also: Ash could we maybe get a wee lil snippet of Allyn comforting Jameson on a pain day? (Imma got my period today and it huuuurts and now I need to project :'3 but only if you have time and feel inspired, don't feel ever obligated. Luv you, theo <3)

CW: Recovering whumpee, chronic pain, former pet whumpee, brief masochism mention

-

"It's all right," Allyn soothes, laying their hand on the side of his face. Their palm is cool and dry against the heat that flares, his embarrassed flush burning hot as a fever.

"No, it's not," He snaps. He's not angry at them - but at the throbbing ache rolling up his thighs and down his calves, waves crashing on a shore. High tide, he thinks, with a bitter, caustic humor. An acid in his throat he doesn't let out. "Nat gave me money-... was going to buy you a real fucking dinner, but I can't even stand the fuck up-"

His knees are locked, half-bent. His fucking dog legs, made to crawl. He can see the stupid fucking straps, the braces Brute made him wear. He can see how he left them in Brute's house but he didn't really leave them behind.

Allyn runs fingers through his short hair, their nails scratching at his scalp, and he exhales with a shudder at the simple comfort of the sting. "We'll eat here," They say softly. Before he can protest that he can't exactly sit at the table, Allyn adds, "We'll eat on the floor, laying down. Maybe Ms. Yoder will go get the food for us, or something."

"Or something," He whispers, and turns his face away from them. "I'm a fucking mess, Allyn. Go back to the big guy, yeah? Just head downstairs and tell him to take you back. This isn't your shit to deal with. I'm-... I'm not your shit to deal with-"

"No," They reply, taking his chin in hand and turning his eyes back to meet theirs. They smile, their rainwater voice tastes a little grassy on his tongue. The taste of rain in humid green spaces. "No, Jameson. I won't do that. Do you know why?"

"No, I d-don't fucking know." He groans, biting back almost all of the sound. Not quite. Their hands move, then, pulling the blankets back to show his bent fucking legs. They rub their thumbs into his kneecap on the left leg, circles and pressure.

Jameson gasps - the pain doesn't leave but it changes. Becomes something layered instead of flat and overwhelming. They work with one hand while slowly, slowly stretching his leg out to flat on the bed, inch by inch. The muscles protest, twinge, and then knots are worked out a little at a time. It doesn't stop the pain, but it's... bearable.

"Because I am learning in therapy that free means deciding for myself," Allyn says, looking calmly at his other leg as they work on that one, too. Jameson watches them - the sharp angle of their jaw, their soft lips. The wave of their red hair, caught in a clip at the nape of their neck. Everything about them is so fucking elegant.

He might as well be a fucking animal compared to their beauty. He was kind of pretty, once, he thinks - but all that shit was fucked and burned and cut out of him by now. All that's left is scars.

"Deciding what?" His other leg is slowly relaxing, too. He hadn't realized his hands were in fists until he uncurls his fingers and feels a sting in his palms where his nails dug in.

"Who I'm going to be. What I want. What's mine." They rub a thumb into the inside of his thigh, just above his knee, and he shivers at a rush of painful pleasure that blooms as a ball of warmth inside him.

He swallows, turning his head to see them watching him, their blue-gray eyes warm and soft. A tendril of their hair has come free, and he reaches up with aching knuckles to gently tuck it behind their ear.

They turn and kiss the palm of his hand.

"What... What did you decide, in therapy?" His hand tingles where their lips touched. He feels a spike of guilt at feeling this for someone who isn't Nanda, and reminds himself Nat said - and Dr. Berger said - that it's okay to move on.

Even if he was made for Nanda... it's okay to move on and keep going without him. It's okay to want to survive. It's okay to see the light shining in someone new.

"I decided that I like you," They say, simple as that. As if anything is ever simple, for them. They shift, moving into the bed and laying down beside him. They tuck themself under his chin, and the scent of their coconut shampoo mingles with the rainwater taste of their voice. "That I want you. That you're mine."

His eyes close, and he forgets - for just a second - that he is in such blinding pain at all. "Allyn, I-... I look-"

"Handsome. And hurting. But I am handsome and hurting, too." They press their lips to his cheek. "It just looks a little different, in me. I want to lay here with you and eat pizza on the floor and watch a movie with Nat. That's what I want, because all of it happens with you."

He can't open his eyes, or the tears will fall. Instead, he just nods and lays there, the crash of pain in his knees and legs failing to overwhelm him more than the sharp ache of his joy.

[borathae]

Hello sweet Sibi! I was looking through your Tags Masterlist and I noticed you had a Sex Ed section. I am not sure if you still answer those questions (and if you don’t I won’t be offended, please feel free to delete this ask), but I have a small q. So whenever I masturbate, I only engage in clit stimulation because I am scared of my vagina(Im an enby so probs some dysphoria). But I have been meaning to try fingering myself, but I don’t known where/how to start — do u have any advice for a noob?

Don't you worry, you guys can always come to me with sex related questions! My inbox is always open for them!

Okay first of all. There is nothing wrong with only wanting to stimulate your clit. I personally don't enjoy fingering myself either because it doesn't do anything for me. So when I jerk off and I only do it manually I also only go down to rub rub town instead of fingy fingy town lmao sorry for that stupid analogy 😂

No but, on a serious note. The awesome thing about masturbation is that you can't do anything wrong. Everything which gets you off is allowed and if this is only clitorial stimulation then that is perfectly fine and valid and also awesome!

But of course I also think that it is awesome that you want to try fingering!

Now, some advice I have for you.

1. Make sure your fingernails are cut and filed. You don't want to stick sharp & long nails up your vagina as this could lead to serious scratch wounds and open spots. (trust me I speak of experience, tried to fist my vagina one night and scratched myself open & then left an entire trail of blood from my bedroom to the bathroom hahahah). So please cut your nails and make sure that they are smooth and don't have any sharp edges.

2. Obviously also make sure that your hands are clean, but I guess you should always make sure that they are, no matter if you plan on fingering yourself or to just rub yourself.

3. You can use lube and use as much as makes you comfortable. The vagina should be self-lubricating when aroused, but there is nothing wrong with using lube when fingering yourself. It just adds another layer of fun to it! Just make sure that the lube is without added perfumes, tastes or stimulants as this could seriously throw off your ph-balance and cause yeast infections.

4. Go slow and give yourself time. Start off with one & once you feel comfortable add another. Then work yourself up to the number of fingers you want. Obviously if you only want to stick with one finger during the entire session then that is perfectly fine too.

5. If you realise that it's not for you just stop. You can stop any time and it doesn't make you any less valid if you truly realise that fingering yourself is not for you. There is no shame in that!

Now a few techniques which make it feel nice (for me).

1. Stick your finger(s) inside then make sure that your palm is pressed against your clit. Then move your hips in slow up and down motions so your clit grinds against your palm and your finger(s) shift inside of you.

2. To warm yourself up you can also start off by slowly tracing your folds and entrance. And each time you reach your entrance you could give it more and more pressure until you feel ready & needy enough for your finger.

3. I feel like reaching your g-spot is really difficult? But if you want to try you have to stick your finger inside as deep as possible and then wiggle it upwards. Your g-spot feels just slightly pumpier than the rest of your vagina. Stimulation to your g-spot should make the stimulation on your clit more intense and feels a little bit as if you are peeing (you know that typa pee that sends shivers down your back and you are like "damn that's a good pee" hahah yeah that's how good g-spot stimulation feels like)

I also noticed that fingering yourself will never feel as amazing as when someone does it to you. It's because your body expects the touches because your brain already tells it what will happen. So don't be dissapointed if it feels underwhelming for you.

Now off you go and have fun! 💜

[marshmallowprotection]

Sorry to... get a little dark here... and if it makes you too uncomfortable, you can ignore this, but it's been in my thoughts off and on recently.

So, um, when it comes to self-harm, when I bite, it's never enough to cause like actual harm -- I don't work at one spot. Except once. About a month or so ago. I chewed the base of my finger almost enough to make it bleed, and would casual gnaw on it absent-mindedly, or when stressed, 2ould bite down hard because the sharp pain calmed like 75% of my nerves and made it easy to think again. But it's honestly not my preferred way, so I left it alone. It's still a blatant scar, and I occasionally chew lightly still, sometimes on the opposite hand, but that's usually because I just need something to do, not a means of harming myself.

But when I was chewing my finger, I did it right in front of my friends -- in front of my mom even -- and nobody noticed what exactly I was doing. They didn't recognize it for what it was. On the one hand, I was grateful, because I liked being able to do it whenever without anyone bringing attention to it, but on the other hand, it comes back down to that idea of -- no one ever knows what they do. They just let me do it and don't try to stop me, except maybe with a few worried words, but I'm careful, I have no intentions of leaving this world anytime soon. It's just something to stave off the anxiety or the boredom. Sometimes I just get the urge because, well, I'm a bit addicted. But it's off and on, those bouts of harming myself, and there's no real pattern. If I don't feel like it, I won't do it.

Anyways, what I'm trying to say it, what if the Choi twins caught their MC *in the act*? Biting or scratching or cutting, although the former two are the most on my mind. And I mostly can't stop thinking about it because, yes, they'd obviously be concerned and wouldn't want me to do it, but what would they think when I told them that... that I'm not depressed? I may be driven by anxiety or anger sometimes, but most of the time it's just a random urge. And I... and I like it. This whole thing started from mere curiosity. Sometimes I feel like a bit of a freak... but at the same time I'm conflicted, because while one part of me is sure that I am a freak for liking it, the other part is like who cares? I'm not hurting anyone, only myself, and even then I'm always careful...

And on rarer occasions, I have urges of... something to the level of "self mutilation" (if I understand the term right) like... wanting to just line the topside of my forearm with as many cuts as possible. Vent fics help me assuage(?) those, though, and I'd never be able to actually do that. I have enough self control for that at least...

Sorry again, especially if i was too detailed. Its just been on my mind so much here and there...

[417]

TW: Self-Harm

I’ve mentioned to you before that self-harm comes in more forms than cutting. It’s also about self-denial, isolation, shame, guilt, and more. 

There are many kinds of self-harm and they are all equal on the same of causing harm to yourself and I understand that it’s hard to stop once you’ve stopped. It can become what they call second-hand knowledge, but you have to be aware that it’s hurting you no matter how you balance it and no matter how you try to angle or postulate the thought. I don’t think you’re a freak, nor are you strange for the morbid curiosity. Some people like pain but there’s a difference between someone liking pain and inducing pain to yourself as a punishment or even to ground yourself from anxiety. 

You’re too young to explore the first one that I mentioned, and the latter can be harmful to your emotional health and physical health. Again, I’m not ashamed of you or trying to scold you, I’m sincerely worried that you’ll hurt yourself more than you intended in an instance and you’ll have more than a scar to think about when that happens. I don’t want you to get hurt! 

Remember when I told you other ways that you could cope when the feelings spring up? If you have a habit of biting a lot, you can get a stim toy to use rather than biting yourself. If it’s about an oral fixation, that can be the case with people who bite nails or suck their thumbs, the stim choice can be safer for you! There’s nothing wrong with that. 

I need you should explore that avenue to help yourself from getting overwhelmed and worked up over these latter properties. You know that you’re doing it and you know that it’s not making you feel better and that it won’t help you in the long run. Know that is an uphill battle for many people, not just you, so you’re not alone. 

But, once you’re aware of what you’re doing, you have to try to find healthier ways to cope. Relapse happens, we’re only human, but you need to hold yourself accountable and work on this. Write, stim, etc. I know you can figure out what works. 

[phael-the-trash-bin]

Backstory: the Incident part 2

Warning: mentions of torture and character death

A meaty fist slammed against my face, waking me with a start. Oh gods, everything hurt so much. One of the guards started to unshackle me from the wall, and soon I was being dragged up the stairs to the top deck of the ship. “Where’s Jules?” I gasped, trying desperately to catch my breath. The guard wouldn’t answer, and I tried my hardest to squirm out of his grasp. The guard only gripped me tighter and forced me back to the office of Captain Nyx. I was shoved into a chair, my hands bound with rope once again, and Nyx came into the office, shaking his head at me.

“What am I going to do with you?” Nyx paced for a little bit before finally sitting at the desk.

“Where is Jules?” I demanded. Nyx raised an eyebrow.

“I don't exactly think you’re in a position to be asking questions,” He scoffed before folding his hands in front of him. “We will be sailing into Zonfranian waters tomorrow. You have one day to live if you continue to not cooperate with me. So I ask you, where will your ship go, what is your next smuggling shipment?”

I remembered what Jules had said about Nyx killing us no matter what we gave him, so I said only one thing: “Where. Is. Jules?”

Nyx sighed and got up from the desk, walking behind me and placing a hand on my shoulder. “Boy, believe it or not, I don’t get any pleasure from watching suffering, even of the likes of you.”

I scoffed. “Eat shit Nyx.”

“I ought to shoot the two of you here out on the sea and leave your bodies for your captain to find. But I find myself in the position of needing to make an example of you, by showing my people that actions have consequences.” Nyx gestured over to a guard who grabbed me roughly by my bound wrists and forced me up.

“Remember, one more day to cooperate.”

And with that, the guard whirled me around towards the exit and marched me back to the brig. A strong shove left me sprawled back in the confines of the brig cell, and as I lifted my head, I saw a silhouette of a sleeping figure in the cell next to mine. “Jules…” I breathed out. The figure lifted its head and I gasped at the sight before me. The entire left side of Jules’ face was filled with slashes looking like they came from a whip, and the same marks littered his chest and back. “Jules, what have they done to you?”

I crept as close to the metal bars separating us as I could, and Jules did the same until our foreheads were touching, nuzzling in the comfort of one another. “They said if I cooperated they would let you go, but I tried to tell them… look what they’ve already done, they should just kill us already. At least you’d be free of this,” Jules rambled on.

“At least we’re together,” I whispered. “At least we’ll always have each other.”

I don’t know how long we sat there, just savoring the heat of each other. Hours, maybe. It wasn’t until I turned around to try and reposition myself that I realized we may have hope after all. I scratched the palm of my hand after accidentally swiping it against a nail pointing diagonally out of the side of the ship, and realized that if it was sharp enough to scratch, it may be sharp enough to cut. I began rubbing the ropes binding my hands against the nail, and I prayed. Please let this work, please let this work.

After what felt like hours, I could feel the ropes start to loosen and give, until I was able to wriggle my hands out of the remaining rope. Wincing at the burns on my wrists, I turned to Jules and motioned to let me untie his rope. The ropes gave way after a great deal of effort on my part, and Jules began rubbing his sore wrists before reaching out and grabbing my hand. “Phäel , how are we going to get out of here? We’re unbound, but that doesn’t do much for us unless…” he trailed off, reaching to my head and plucking out a pin that had been holding my hair back. “Maybe we could use this to pick the locks!” Excitement crept into his whispers. And with that, he began to pick at the lock to his cell door.

After what seemed like an eternity, the lock to the door popped open and the cell door swung open with a quiet creak. Jules rushed out of his cell and immediately began working to open the door to my cell. Finally, we were both free! I grabbed his hand and motioned for him to follow me as we crept up the stairs of the brig. We were actually doing this, we were going to get out! I could feel Jules shivering from the night breeze, and gripped his hand tighter. Now we just had to find a lifeboat to escape on. We seemed to have lucked out, nobody was guarding the ship. Most of the navy men must have been asleep by now.

We snuck quietly along the deck, and almost made it to the lifeboat when a deep voice sent icy daggers of panic through my body.

“I’m disappointed to see you leaving so soon.”

It was Nyx.

I stood frozen in fear as Nyx raised his gun and pointed it directly at me. I couldn’t move. I felt Jules tugging on my arm but my feet stayed in place. Then everything seemed to move in slow motion. Nyx pulled the trigger and I closed my eyes, waiting for the impact. Waiting for death. But it never came. My eyes shot open as I felt a warm splattering of a sticky liquid hit my face and saw…

I saw…

Jules. No. No no no no no no no NO.

Jules’ eyes locked with mine before rolling back as his body crumpled to the floor.

Nyx reloaded his gun, but not before I let out a guttural scream and ran forward, slamming my body into Nyx and tackling him to the ground. I began punching as hard as I could, aiming for his nose, his eyes, anything. When Nyx seemed stunned enough to not react, I scampered back to Jules and began dragging his body to the lifeboat. I could hear Nyx calling for reinforcements, but all I could focus on untying the ropes holding the boat up. I could hear shots being fired as more navy men swarmed onto the top deck, but none of them hit their targets as the lifeboat began falling into the water.

I rowed for my life.

My arms were burning as I tried to escape. I saw in the distance the crew starting to arm one of the cannons, and I stopped trying to row. There was no point, there was no way we could escape, we…

We!

I turned and looked down desperately at Jules just in time to see him struggle to open his eyes. Thank Helm above he was alive!

“Jules, Jules, I’m here! It’s okay, we’ll get you to safety, you’ll be alright!”

Tears were streaming down Jules’ cheeks, mixing with the blood matting his hair and sticking along his face. Oh gods, there was so much blood. I held his head in my lap and grasped one of his trembling hands in my own. He weakly lifted his other hand to wipe away tears I hadn’t even noticed had started falling.

I lowered my head closer to his until our foreheads were touching, and I began to hear the sound of cannonballs crashing in the water around us. But I didn’t care. Because I was going to be with Jules forever after this. We would be okay, I tried to tell myself.

“Do you know my dear”, Jules sputtered, barely able to keep his eyes open. “I do believe I was a little in love with you”

And with that, he leaned forward and our lips met for only a second before his head fell back, eyes half open but lightless. He was gone, he was gone. But it was okay, I decided as I watched the cannonball soar closer and closer. I held Jules close to me and closed my eyes as I heard an ear splitting crack and felt a sharp pain, and then nothing.

Everything seemed to happen at once. I gasped for air, lungs heaving and trying to spit out the saltwater collected in them. I couldn’t open my eyes, all I could do was try to breathe. I felt bile coming up through my throat and I turned over just in time for my insides to start spewing out. As soon as I tried to move, I cried out in pain at the piercing sensation in my abdomen. I finally started to open my eyes only to find that I was alone. Alone but… alive. Oh no, please no no no no no no NO! I whirled my head around trying to find Jules, to see where he had gone, but he was nowhere to be seen. He was gone, he had left me behind. I began to scream. We were supposed to be together, we were supposed to go together, and he left me behind. I screamed and screamed until I felt like my throat would bleed any minute. Then I just layed there. On a piece of jagged driftwood. Alone.

A piece of wood from the shattered boat had embedded itself in my abdomen, and I couldn’t figure out how to remove it. I thought, maybe if I removed it I would bleed out faster... then I could see Jules again. I layed on my back and closed my eyes, the sun baking my skin as I waited for the inevitable, hoping, even, for the inevitable. But the inevitable never came.

Instead, I woke up in an infirmary. Except, it felt familiar. My eyes crept open only to find… I was on the scarlet spell. I was alive, on the ship. Maybe this all was a fever dream. I tried to sit up but the pain came from my abdomen again. I looked down to see blood seeping from a bandage wrapped around my stomach and chest. If that was real, then I was alive. Oh gods I was alive…. no, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this! I began to scream again, gasping for air as my lungs started to spasm. The familiar face of captain Daisi immediately came into view as she put her hands on the sides on my face and tried to calm me down but nothing would work. I couldn’t be alive, I shouldn’t be alive. “Where is Jules?!” I gasped, Daisi hanging her head for a moment. “No, no no no no, why did you save me, why couldn’t you have let me die?!” I was sobbing now, and Daisi leaned forward, wrapping her strong arms around me to try and steady my trembling form.

I cried and cried for what felt like hours, I shouldn’t have survived. I didn’t want to survive! I felt anger and betrayal and terror and so many emotions I couldn’t comprehend. Eventually the doctor on board forced a potion down my throat, and my eyes immediately felt heavy. Daisi let go of me and laid me back on the cot, my limbs felt too heavy to try to fight it. I drifted back off to darkness, praying, for the first time in a long time, for the strength to keep moving, even without him, even with the memories of what had happened. I prayed, and I slept. And I lived.