#i may not be a professional but i think anyone could see the shit wrong with my organs

[the-withering-system]

Umm not a great sign when your radiologist pokes your overy and goes, "huh"

Ma'am, please I like my surprises post procedure. She was so stoic until she saw them too

[tapenbreak]

𖦹. “𝐏𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, 𝐖𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔?” — (𝐒𝐘𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐘)

𖦹. — 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. as they say, every innocent church boy has once been fucked by their cute friend in a bustling cafe, at least once—right? or something along the lines of that. 8.4k words. (unplanned.)

𖦹. — 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 . . . purest of people, male sydney who so stupidly thought this was merely meant to be a study session, dubious consent that slowly morphs into full-on yearning, established friendship, cock sucking, fingering, anal fucking all in the holiest of pretext to teach, manipulative, model student, male reader (amab) that really just means well, yeah. least, sydney thinks so while being bent in half.

𖦹. — 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬, doc?: “I think he was cute to begin with, but then he patted at his belly spouting some shit about how ‘warm’ it was after my pc shot his load inside and I’ve never needed anything more than to bend some bitch over in the cathedral they pray to.”

Although it may have been unfortunately irritating to some, actually, more like many, really—he’s always truthfully prided himself for his unwavering professionalism and unmatched dedication when it came to school itself. More notably, his unending studies that seemingly only keep on piling up like an intimidating mountain never meant to be ultimately finished.

Or perhaps, what he’s naturally grown more accustomed to for having blindly pursued it for the entire span of his youthful, blossoming life; the Temple’s dictating principles—the questionable need and obligation to importantly preserve his untainted being, virginity, to be more precise. Dutifully stray himself further from the tempting sin that is, well. . . the numerous activities of life itself, most of which his peers mindlessly participate in themselves. As though they could hope to pitifully understand the church boy’s stifling path towards the underlying answers he continuously seeks, strives forward in an unnerved will to earnestly discover.

See, there’s undeniably no need to try and somehow explain the sheer amount of efforts Sydney irrefutably puts in to eventually achieve his long-term goals, correct?

At least, he’s positively and oh, so naively thought so up till now. Ah, brother Jordan’s perpetually warned him of others that may possibly lead him astray, whether intentionally so or not. Stray, golden, strawberry blonde strand of hair delicately placed behind the curved tip of his heated ear, well-preserved lips discreetly pursued inwards into a thinly veiled frown because honestly—he’s confidently speculated of you as otherwise, hm. And weren’t you supposedly meant to be his sole salvation of sparkling light and reprieve from that terrible and horribly selfish town you both regrettably reside in?

Which, couldn’t be more wrong for that matter—could he? Foolishly and frustratingly so, all too trusting that he can sometimes be. Consistently mindful of the potential threats that lay at bay, promising utter defilement if given the chance to swiftly sink their claws and pearly canines in the tender flesh of the boy’s untouched being.

Particularly, not this time it seems—not with your overly distracting presence perfectly positioned in front of his calmly seated own.

If it were anyone else, certainly they would’ve predictably seen this coming way before he has so, but pristine innocence itself—has always been the initiate’s first and foremost, silly shortcoming, hasn’t it? Oh, pointlessly stupid, Sydney. . . It’s inherently your fault for happily sticking along to the deceptively beautiful place that is, the starving tiger’s drooling maw, yeah?

So, really—it’s merely natural for it to have somehow derailed the way it did. An absently made lie to falsely convince himself of such, that he’s indeed above the rest of this sickeningly pervasive town in return, isn’t he? Right??

Unlikely. For as the all too well-known saying allegedly goes; the excessively ambitious bird unreasonably flew close towards the infinitely scorching sun, right?

Hah—

“. . .What are you doing?” Curiously peering upwards from the neatly laid and spread sheets of papers he’s meticulously sorted atop the creaking, wooden table. Almost faltering in the instinctual, heated sigh that’s bound to solemnly come out of his usually quiet mouth as his shimmering gaze automatically locks with your. . . annoyingly bored one, apparently. Since, what’s the exact point to be pleasantly inquiring him with the delightful idea to silently study together in some bustling cafe stationed nearby if you, yourself—won’t even tentatively participate in your aforementioned suggestion, huh??

“Studying.” Poorly fabricated falsehood at most, he can effortlessly see through that. Straying eyes sluggishly evading his as if to secretly rid yourself from some misplaced guilt incessantly residing within your thudding chest. Though, swiftly recovering with a quipped, cheeky retort of your own soon after—as it is so expectantly common of you to do, yet still. . . can’t truly bring himself to be sincerely annoyed by that endearing antic of yours. “—and modestly admiring the view in front of me. I can’t do that?”

Hmph, that sole and insignificant compliment shouldn’t have suddenly brought forth a crimson flush to his cheeks, beautifully painted his complexion a deeper hue for your. . . ah, so stupidly childish, cherry lips to unabashedly grin back at in muted satisfaction for his lack of response. Ahah, pretty please—do get a grip on yourself, Sydney, before he’s indecently ruined you too!

Seriously. . . For a well renowned model student collectively respected by most at the establishment you two simultaneously attend—you’re ostensibly quite the sneaky trickster on multiple occasions, aren’t you? Especially towards him for some particular reason which, he hasn’t remotely registered as to why yet. Yes, he’s been somehow oblivious to your unmistakably evident flirting during all this incessantly wasted time because well, that’s how he’s been continuously raised to be, despite the strikingly opposite demeanour of his other parent, Sirris.

However, fine. The religious boy might as well reluctantly grant you this momentarily acquired victory for his infuriatingly stunned silence to eventually catch up to, someday. Arrogantly emboldened by that mind muddling smile you oh, so proudly wear amongst your enraptured features—further pushed towards the edge by the reasonable expectation that he’s bound to similarly allow you to selfishly step all over him as so many others do, but no. . . Not today, considering the weighted amount of importance he relentlessly dedicates to maintaining nearly perfect grades amidst his plentiful classes.

Merely an exception made for that one tiring, swimming course however, as athleticism and specifically, raw stamina has unluckily never been his main strong suit. Truly no need to embarrassingly reminisce upon the various moments he’s nearly drowned in the incessant, violent waves of water within the limited pool, helplessly fought for his life in that surely. . . dangerous area. At least, he nearly thinks of it so—unless, some other snickering students were the guilty culprits responsible of disrespectfully splashing loads of liquid in his unfortunate direction? Oh, that too.

Though, that harmless treatment seemingly ceased altogether the second you consequently stepped into his previously mundane life. Huh. An enigma, indeed. Must be what gaining a friend in your reclusive bubble similarly does, probably. Yes, probably. Unbeknownst to the agitated huffs and shrill shrieks delinquents ultimately make at the sheer sight of your figure constantly sticking to his blissfully ignorant side, y’know—like a true, amiable friend does, right?

“You said we’d only be coming here to study, but all you’ve been doing for the past hour is just. . . staring at me! Do I have something on my face? Is that it?? Or is it—really, really that amusing to poke fun at me, huh??” Stubbornly settled upon the illogical fact that this is unquestionably a ploy methodically thought out by yours truly, objectively intended to spur him in a state of constant nervousness and mumbling bashfulness around you. Well, that is to say, he’s not sparingly letting you off the hook this time, no!

Conclusively blind to the sudden thump! he’s sorely responsible for by—of course, hastily slamming the dusty cover of his used, worn book downwards, fiercely landing itself against the furniture’s now disorganized surface. And there he inevitably goes as per expected, apprehensively jumping in fright to his own undoing with a clumsy huff. Immediate jolt coursing throughout the entirety of his curved spine upwards before finally, nearly losing balance of his glassed frames delicately placed atop the curvature of his pointed nose.

Oh. Maybe he’s—uncontrollably lost his cool there, huh. Talk about being humiliatingly disruptive in an otherwise, intimately tranquil space solely reserved for relaxing and such. Fortunately, it seems you’ve mainly reserved a private space firstly for that, having feasibly anticipated that sudden, usually concealed temper of his.

“Ah. . . Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud. I’m just slightly confused and frustrated at the same time because you said you’d—we’d study together for once, and I was looking forward to it, you know?” Ultimately deciding upon awkwardly easing the persistent prickle within the all-too delicate curve of his bobbing throat or, is it his ears, maybe? Forsaken by how sheer embarrassment comes to muddle his aimless apologies, strains his well-placed, intentional words in a desperate attempt at making you understand that first and foremost—he genuinely cherishes the preciously made, quality time you both simultaneously spend together. No matter how futile or short-lived it may be in the face of. . . unavoidable external factors like the distinctly noisy school bell, yet there’s no such rule when it comes to that, especially outside of the school’s limited bounds.

Although, evidently—he only intends for that to be solely interpreted as a friend namely would because certainly. . . the insistent butterflies that wildly flutter within the depths of his tensed tummy, has his thumping heartbeat hurriedly beating against the cage of the flustered boy’s chest is—something most friends frequently experience when the other is decisively near, yes?

. . .Certainly so. There’d be no other explicit reason as to why—the initial shock at his spurred reaction is soon dampened by a slight snicker from your cunning mouth. My, do you actually find the irritated pout presently adorning his puckered lips all that funny, too?

“You have a lot to say on the matter, I see. It’s true, I did make you come here to study with me—but, don’t you think your way of studying is pretty inefficient, Syd?” Purely uninterested in whatever recent remarks he’s made up till and, oh my god—do you ever faithfully listen to him or merely play coy with the poor, naive initiates to your hearts content? Incidentally irked at how a hint of curiosity tentatively peeks forward at your unforeseen commentary, has his nose scrunched upwards in utter bewilderment.

Inefficient? Him?? To say, he’s notoriously prided himself on swiftly achieving far more of the Temple’s various duties and additionally, more than a few unmotivated members that garner no interest towards the establishment’s dedicated ambition. Unsurprisingly so, preferring to sluggishly dust at some messied rooms laid askew, here and there—which, largely ends in one carelessly dozing atop the tousled beds, even going so far as to set the unused broom aside like it’s particularly nothing!

“M-Me?? You think my method of studying is inefficient? How so? What’s unfulfilling about it?” Overwhelmingly astonished, perhaps more taken aback as to why you might necessarily think so considering his sticking-to-the-books methods he habitually executes with thought out grace. Still, can’t stubbornly deflect such a statement if the model student himself is the one lamentably pointing that out. . . .Is he really, though?

“Hm, let’s put it this way—what’s the point of studying if the methods used aren’t efficient and doesn’t aid in easing your brain into learning, huh? Like for example, what’s your second weakest subject in school again?” Thoughtful mind earnestly coming into focus at the subtle nudge of your teasing foot provokingly pressed against his crossed one beneath the low-end table as if to. . . ahah, temporarily catch him off guard, impatiently center the focus of his working brain onto you—as if, he isn’t doing that already. Sometimes, or more like the majority of it all, you truthfully do act like a petulant child eagerly begging for its parents unwavering attention.

And that, he’ll happily give forth to you if such is needed. Solely if you wistfully promise to do the same in return, of course—fair trade and all, regardless of the inborn selflessness he proudly possesses. Properly trimmed fingertips timidly curling inwards in mild embarrassment at having to carefully admit this aloud to you, of all people, despite already consciously knowing it yourself, too.

“Well, I mean—you know what it is, it’s. . . science, I suck at science. Despite my mom’s teachings, I just can’t seem to grasp the material properly no matter how hard I study. Maybe, I’m just really bad at it.” Alright, honestly. . . that little sore admission of his, did somewhat drain whatever lingering aspirations he potentially withheld earlier in hopes of truly understanding the inexplicably difficult basis of that confusing subject. Shoulders sorrowfully slumping downwards, resembling that of a—funnily enough, dejected little puppy that’s been meanly kicked by its owner or better put, crudely denied a sweetened treat for its lacking efforts.

“But, ah—you’re pretty good at science, aren’t you? In fact, you’re my mom’s favourite! She talks about you nonstop, all the time. To the point that it gets a lil’ bit annoying, though I can’t really complain, can I? That’s just how good of a student you are, after all!” And there it comes, as endlessly expected. . . an unspoken plea for your eventual needed aid that’ll be so nicely granted in due time, since—well, that’s exactly why you’ve generously brought him here, correct?

“. . .So, is it fine if you taught me instead? I feel like I’d understand it better if it came from your mouth. Your way of explaining is more comprehensible than my mom’s weird—you know, comparisons to. . . uhm, uh. . . sex, every time.” Merely articulating that singular, oh so dreadful word causes a pronounced shiver to noticeably make its way throughout the passage of his tensed spine. Yes, yes, it’s expectantly natural to participate in these sort of activities—that he’s exceptionally informed of. Even if briefly envisioning your normally unperturbed self in those indecent situations further stokes the burning ache in his groin like no tomorrow.

God, coming forth to visit the confession booth would serve him some good right now, wouldn’t it? Enough of that, however—alternatively wishing to concentrate upon the more pressing matter at hand as he meekly regards you with irresistible, puppy doe eyes from underneath the reflective rims of his glasses. Oh, oh. Surely, you wouldn’t have the stone cold heart to selfishly refuse him of such?

“Pretty please? I’ll think of a way to repay you, I promise! Swear! We could. . . ah, even do a pinky promise if you wanna, too?” Candidly clasping his palms together with a resounding slap!—an ushered and frantic request for you to explicitly accept as though, you’re his sole remaining hope. Which sort of is the case considering his lacking amount of friends, unfortunately so.

Idiot. Haven’t your parents ultimately taught you better than to credulously place your barren trust in a deceptively attractive boy? One whose glimmering eyes shamelessly ogles at his silken skin like he were a freshly ripe, juicy peach shortly prepared—prettily available for the taking? Yours, especially.

Don’t think so.

“Sure thing, I could do that for you. What kind of friend would I be if I couldn’t, anyway?” Nodding pleasantly in return to the uttered query and to say, he admittedly didn’t expect to necessarily get this far with you when taking into account your supposed habit of—however irritating it may be, to gleefully demand some sort of payment in exchange. As to what that may conceivably entail? That, he’s thoroughly uncertain of in the worst way possible, to be fully left in the shadowed, lurking dark like this. . . But, no way you’ll likely insist upon a suggested favour for something this straightforward, huh??

“Though, you know—“ Oh, never mind! Legitimately, what did he wholeheartedly assume to himself to begin with?? “My way of studying when it comes to particular subjects like science is. . . pretty specific. I’m just letting you know in case, cuz’ knowing you—you’d start squirming at the mere idea of it, alright?” Slight prickle of hesitation finding itself within the swelling of his held breath, wondering as to precisely what you may perhaps, be indirectly referring to for an added precaution to be meticulously placed beforehand. “—And just an important reminder that you specifically asked for this first. . .”

“So, don’t back out on me now, Sydney.”

“Huh? What do you mean by tha—“ Hitched breath immediately faltering in its wake, momentarily tipping backwards to then, clumsily land atop the cushioned beanbags squishy exterior with a sudden, delicate oomph! Fluttering lashes and eyes instinctively squeezing shut out of pure, utter reflex on his end from mostly, having wrongly anticipated something else altogether. No, no—it wasn’t a melting kiss, at all!—what’re you talking about? Nevertheless, please wilfully ignore the modest pucker of his peachy, expectant lips.

And for a supposedly fast-working brain, it fails to rightfully catch up to the salacious absurdity of your inexplicable gestures in time—accordingly process the unforeseen, present warmth of your lingering palm neatly settled along the creeping edge of his inner thigh. Affectionately smoothing over the ruffled material of his perfectly fitted trousers poorly concealing the natural curve of the flustered initiate’s slimmer legs.

“W-Wha. . . ? What’re you doing??” Like that’ll presently answer the mind boggling questions hastily swirling throughout the crowded turbulence of his psyche, somehow appease the searing, unbearable heat intimately dusting his blooming face so—ah, damn it. You’re unreasonably too close to his dearly cherished proximity, you know that? But, of course you would, as you’ve always been pleasantly considerate of his preferred need to retract away from other’s unwelcoming touches—grazing nearly too close for his supposed liking before he’s mentally keeling over like a screeching, hot boiling kettle. And here he is, similarly blazing in that same hysterical manner from the mere dizzying proximity you’re now both sharing amongst two boys, which. . . really shouldn’t be remotely happening, at the moment.

Yes, honestly speaking—even if he doesn’t like to presently face the evident cues on their own, he’s got a semblance of a rather. . . lewd vision curiously peeking through the tendrils of the blonde’s usually enclosed mind. Sorrowfully rearing its ugly head towards a blissfully ignorant alternative as if to mock the very delicate fabric your esteemed friendship is crucially built upon.

Ah, really!—now isn’t the appropriate time to be embarrassingly sporting a straining hard-on crudely presenting itself before your very eyes. Incessantly throbbing like an insistent reminder as to why you two cannot ever supposedly call one another, simply ‘friend’, either. Nor should the even more humiliating way your expanding pupils are coolly drawn towards its shape that’s poorly hidden underneath the slim material, be his ultimate undoing. Akin to how a drooling predator has seized its prey right beneath the inescapable grasp of its unrelenting claws.

Speaking of such, he does somewhat feel that way right now, timidly shrinking in face of your sheer silence or perhaps, it’s another one of those meddlesome ploys of yours he’s grown familiar with—to further mess with him till he’s inevitably become beet in the fullness of his cheeks. Mhm, surely. . . That’s all there is to it and nothing more.

Although, he’d be more surprised at the clinically made statement that spills forth from your lips soon after, however.

“What does it look like? I’m tutoring you, obviously.” Peering your head slightly to the side as if it weren’t blatantly obvious that you were indeed, purely teaching him how to do whatever this is—and not well. . . however else you can call the current position you forcibly have him in. Noticeably firm grasp atop the pervasive spreading of his open thighs resembling one of those—ah, uh—various videotapes his parent, Sirris, withholds in the back of their popular shop which shall not be named. No, he’d prefer not to reminisce upon its increasingly erotic nature at a consequent time like this one. So irritatingly indecent that he cannot hope to regard you wholly in your eyes, too. Y’know, how is he allegedly meant to do so, anyway??

“A-Are you??” As though, further questioning you twice might potentially snap him from this daze spreading itself amongst his brain tirelessly working overtime—solely intended to make sense of this, even if he’s struggling to keep up with it, himself. “Because I don’t think. . . ah, I really don’t think this is how you usually tutor people.”

“That’s because this isn’t conventional tutoring, Syd. I guess you’ve never done it before, then—since you look. . . . ahah, got that look on your face, again.” Almost tempted to meanly huff back in return for your sheer audacity to snicker in a situation such a this one, yet he stops himself in time. Merely due to the relaxing sound of your laughter discreetly echoing throughout the confidential cubicle you’ve solely reserved for the two of you. Which, ah. . . was it intended to be scandalously used like this from the initial start? Between two promising students supposedly meant to be quietly studying amidst the bustling cafe’s welcoming environment—instead, settled atop each other like the obscure, romance films the initiate secretly views in tranquil privacy?

Oh, gosh—seriously, he cannot take any more of this. And neither can the thumping, warming blood making its way downwards to the swollen tip of his cock, apparently.

“How is this remotely meant to help me understand the teachings of my mother again??” Helplessly craning his neck sideways in a futile attempt to maintain eye contact with yours truly, that is—if you’d oh, so generously give him the time of day to do so. Though, something else subtly inches at him that you’re probably far more interested in reenacting the next unclear footage that’ll present itself in his mom’s class or something along the lines of that.

“Didn’t you know? The body tends to remember better than the mind and you know, you’re pretty forgetful, yourself, at times. I’m just helping you, that’s all. So, be more grateful, will you?” Obviously, no one save for yourself would have a cheekily made up response ready for his reasonable inquiry. Nonetheless, the indistinguishable puff of an unfinished giggle that spilled out of his poorly sealed mouth, wasn’t necessarily done on purpose, either.

Such a shame, yes, that one cannot help but to be intimately pliable under the methodical ministrations of your. . . almost reverent fingertips—not the least bit hasty in your movements and instead, mindful in how your softened palms perfectly cup the surface of the initiate’s quivering thighs. Nor should it further fluster him due to the seamless nature, in which his perched legs presently find themselves hooked along the curvature of your reliable shoulders. Always secretly liked the feel of them, didn’t he? Though, not like he’ll ever outwardly admit it for the life of him—regardless of whichever gruelling trial the Temple dutifully presents before him.

Truly, he should’ve initially seen through your deceptive methods from the mere start, shouldn’t he? But, what is there to do when he’s received such a sheltered upbringing from the slightest second he’s been brought into this tainted world, to begin with? Foolishly taught with repeated chants that certainly many shall eventually come for his pleasurable innocence—beautifully witness it fester underneath caring hands. For the addictive way it prettily spills itself from between bitten lips, nudging teeth poorly serving its purpose by failing to stifle disastrously wanton moans is too nice of a sight, isn’t it?

Yet, by god—could he not have fully anticipated how right it sinfully feels to experience the slippery tip of your tongue tracing across previously untouched skin. Unsure whether to direct his busying hands upon the parting of his open lips in hopes of partially concealing the needy whines your surroundings shouldn’t be privy to pervertedly hearing, by chance. Or, to where your head currently resides and that is, comfortably nestled between quivering legs bound to buckle beneath the sheer weight of your dizzying actions. One precarious moment you’re swiftly chucking the hem of his pants down—and the next, you’re boldly laving the flattening surface of your. . . ah, ah—oh gosh, warm tongue amongst the tensed muscles of his fluttering tummy.

Although, not quite for long as it seems your prime focus descends below to where a pretty, weeping cock embarrassingly greets your line of sight in turn. Inwardly irritated at this stuttering heart of his, beating within the confines of his ribbed cage as your attentive gazes—his, being far more blurry, at this point. Especially, with his unfound glasses laid askew somewhere around here, after being carelessly knocked forth thanks to your tactic pouncing. Quite the gentleman that you can be, at certain times. If not purely acting like an unabashed horndog, which he’ll never verbally say so, but doesn’t mind it in the slightest. Not that it withholds much importance for the time being, not when you’re simply a feathered breath away from making actual contact with his inexperienced cock , and—. . .

Ah, wait! You’re going to make genuine contact with his. . . hah—riddled with sheer and absolute embarrassment to even be uttering that one out in the plains of his clouded mind.

“Y-You’re going to touch there?? You know that’s a dirty place, though—!” Maybe it was an incidental mistake on his part, for requesting that he have his protective and reassuring chastity belt removed, after all. Solely for all intended purposes, of course; that occasionally didn’t have to do with any sinning, no—not due to the crude heat pooling at the bottom of his tummy whenever glimpses of you, by chance—filtered through his distracting brain during solemn prayers. Definitely not.

And yet, still—he makes no sudden movement to personally stop you from doing so, despite the jolting whine that ceremoniously slips past from between bitten lips. Head lolling backwards with a heaved sigh at your experimental lapping of his dribbling tip as though to test the waters, somewhat. . . ? That, or more along the insistent fact that a flicker of relief briefly flashes throughout the frantic beating of his thudding chest, only to immediately still upon your pretty mouth perfectly suited to envelop his length whole. Unashamed in the way you’re practically shoving the, well. . . nicely slim girth of his virgin cock past uncharted lips which, he may or may not have sometimes, fantasized about in the private remnants of his mind. Albeit, at ill suited times whenever you’d linger in the welcoming nature of his timid presence. But, certainly not like this! Truthfully speaking, he had envisioned it to be far more romantic than—ah, your unending exploration of his now vulnerable body bared for your grateful eyes solely.

Yes, not with your admittedly. . . soft lips thoroughly swallowing him down to the hilt that the initiate’s instinctually registered the surface of your throat merely bumping against the leaking head of his cock. Unable to cease the magnetic pull of his expanding pupils drawn to where you’re presently settled—that is, pervasively sucking on his cock and perhaps, either unbothered by the copious smearing of his translucent pre-cum glistening along the puffiness of your lips or, blissfully ignorant of its sticky texture adorning the bottom half of your pleasing face. Unconsciously admire the slight flutter of your twitching eyelashes temporarily caressing along your heated cheeks in sheer, utter concentration dedicated to pleasuring him so. Plus you’re evidently taking delight in the accidental squeeze of his soft thighs pressed against your head—like a pair of warming earmuffs meant for yours to wear, even though it’s the comforting heat of his naked skin instead.

Ah, remarkably so, he must be progressively turning into a pervert himself from the abundant amount of time he’s spent his free days with you. To genuinely revere your debauched state as such, wishfully yearn to bear witness to more of you like this. Considering how he’s grown accustomed to an unperturbed version of yourself delicately fabricated in his pictured mind, untouched by the degeneracy that others around him similarly indulge in. In spite of that, however—there’s an almost gleeful joy to know you’re no exception, divine being that’s shockingly immune to temptation laid at your reaching fingertips.

And you do so boldly reach—in your confident manner that he’s now used to. Stubbornly refusing to relent with the noisy suckling of your slippery mouth enclosed around his inexperienced cock, more like you’re openly relishing in each and every whine that threatens to alert unsuspecting and ignorant customers nearby. Repeatedly tugging on each and every individual strand of your now thoroughly messied hair in a vain plea to at the very least, ease up on that. . . ah, warmth surrounding his sensitive tip, further guided towards the edge from those drawn out slurps!

Oh, that’d be a shame, yes. To be precariously caught in a lewd position like this, for all to see—innocent, ol’ church boy receiving such treatment from the adored model student known by all. Gosh, the inexplicably absurd thought has him pathetically quivering underneath your lips, importantly dedicated to have him shyly swipe a taste of the addictive nature that is, none other than melding sin itself. Because if that is so, the cradling heat of your head preciously nestled between the comfy embrace of his spread thighs. Intimate hold of your fist deliberately stroking along the veiny base of his pulsing length to make up for what your undeniably tight throat unfortunately cannot reach, all the while paying devoted attention to his puffs or rolling breath. Quiver of his puffy bottom lip accompanied by the slight shudder in furrowed, thin eyebrows and noticeably tightening of his neglected balls. Then, he’d graciously welcome it so, with open arms, again and again.

Oh, God and heavenly deities watching from above; please do forgive him so, for the disgraceful noises that are rolling off his stuck-out tongue, too.

Restlessly echoing the methodical scripture of the Bible’s commandments won’t conceivably make up for the erotic act he’s indulging in—and neither for the incoming approach of his release, teetering over the steep edge.

“W-Wait, please—I think, ah. . . My tummy feels all weird and hot inside, a-and I think I’m gon’ cum—I’m cumming—“ Breathlessly announcing beforehand, lest he rudely spilled the sticky mixture of your slippery saliva along with a heavy load of his seed upon your pristine face. Surely, that isn’t his proper intentions whatsoever nor an actual way of repaying you back for coating the entirety of his weeping cock in your wet spit.

But, like the sneaky prankster that you are, that he’s so often reprimanded in the desolate area of the library; you disappointingly retract yourself away from his abused cock in turn, letting it slip free with an audible squelch! and an even lewder pop! to noisily ring throughout the confines of your shared cubicle. Cruelly deprive him of such a well-deserved orgasm that was soon enough, at stake, within reach for his shivering frame to melt into—whine at in sheer protest from the distracting press of your thumb atop his swollen cock head oozing creamy pre for you to appreciatively tut down at.

“Sorry, wifey. You don’t get to cum yet, not till I’m finished prepping you up for the most important part of the lesson. Just a little more. . . —and I promise it’ll feel even better than before, alright?” Behold what you seamlessly do—softly caressing away at the almost spoiled, hidden part of him that was bound to irritatingly swipe at your dizzying hold along his weeping length, though you somehow shush him first for such—as if happily conscious of that predictable response. And he, in turn, cannot hope to go against you for it, either.

Also, wait a second there—did you just casually refer to him as ‘wifey’? Akin to how a husband would’ve ceremoniously called along after his beloved and cherished wife on a sunny afternoon so that she may fetch him a cup of brewed coffee. A seemingly trivial nickname withholding all the spilling adoration one might possess by chance.

However, before he can remotely register that salacious statement and let the lavish heat of his churning bloodstream traverse towards the tip of his ears, you do the honours of redirecting the devious and moist surface of your tongue downwards—below; a forbidden place that he hasn’t necessarily explored due to the overwhelming guilt that’d perturb him in his nonsensical dreams. Resounding squeak at the foreign sensation of something else, something besides the overly nervous pads of his fingertips circling around that flushed rim—worming its way through his previously sealed, puckered hole. Smoothly breaching past what shouldn’t have been disturbed to begin with and, ah—ohhh, that certainly feels. . . weird. Shamefully pleasurable, type of weird, he mentally admits.

“Y-You’re really, hah, pushing it—. . .” If that was supposedly intended to be read as some dignified scolding then, it certainly falls short when wracked between muted babbles. So like you, to reduce him to a pile of mush, that is. Experienced thumbs inching forward, nudging upon the squishy flesh—spreading his asscheeks apart much to his humiliated bearings, in further pursuit of burying yourself in its velvety warm insides. Hot, slippery tongue laving across clenching walls that immediately twitch at your intrusion of the sensitive bundle of nerves, leaving behind crescent marks etched in the softening skin that’s unused to such treatment.

Oh, holy, holy Father—is this what Heaven feels like when you’re warmly enveloped in its comfortable embrace? Because if so, please do not stop until I’ve succumbed to this sinful pleasure.

And Gods from above, forbid that you stretch this on any further then it needs to, maybe due to a cautious need that he fully enjoys himself—however, what he salaciously desires at the moment is for you to remove those fingers that reach further than his does—sinking in the warmth of his greedy hole hungrily sucking at the feel of your two digits. Oh, perish that meaningless thought, now you’ve seemingly allowed another to join in, scissoring at the exceptionally tight ring struggling to adjust to its sudden intrusion. Seamlessly allowing you to be granted a full view of slicked and wet insides, sticky strings of fluids predictably snapping away once you’ve deemed his untainted hole to be sufficiently loosened.

Loosened? That’s—. . . Speaking of the devil, of what will be the one to ‘loosen’ him or perhaps, better put; ‘stretch’ his quivering entrance dumbly clenching around absolutely nothing whatsoever—‘course unless you grant him the selfless permission to be the one to adorably choke around your pretty cock. Dizzyingly bear witness to its pulsating girth imprint itself within the smooth surface of his tummy, bulge at the repeated snap of your hips, hah—that wouldn’t be so bad.

So, you do so—wordlessly gazing in absent thought at the debauched sight you’ve aided in creating. Stray strands of strawberry blonde hair splayed across the softened surface. For the delicate elastic that once held those docile locks have now unraveled anew; such as is the same with those glimmering eyes that would similarly stare back in an absent flush, reduced to a melding pool that wants to swallow all that you allow it to.

Truly, resembling that of a meticulously drawn out masterpiece meant for its sole purpose to be hung in a sophisticatedly built museum, thoroughly admired for all to potentially see. But, no. . . However else, it seems you’ll be the one to intimately keep this ruined appearance of his, to your egoistic self. And for that, he doesn’t withhold any sort of complaints, no—none at all, really.

“You look nice like this. With your loose hair down like this, I mean.” Puffing out almost. . . shyly from between parted lips, straying eyes traversing downwards to where his are, too—that is, your tented bulge showcasing itself through rustling trousers. Silently cursing him for being the sole one to blame for your unusually heated state. Although, there’s a twinge of smugness that secretly peeks through concealed uncertainty for knowing that he’s irrefutably responsible for this. For the fact that your length is dribbling out copious amounts of sticky pre to stain your underwear sheer in a similar debauched manner, restlessly throbbing underneath the weight of his tentative palm placed atop it. So, apparently; even you do get shy, too. Under the necessary circumstances like this one.

“. . . It’s so warm.” Outwardly shuddering at your poorly stifled hiss that drawls past bitten lips meant to fuck, furrowed deepening in dwindling concentration from those explorative rubs of his. Unable to help himself, that is—since it’s far too addictive to feel its hot outline twitching along careful stroking, circling around your leaking tip like a soothing balm dedicated to temporarily satisfy your aching cock. Not for all that long, it supposedly seems and he’s not vocally protesting either.

“Fuck, why do you think that is exactly?” Hitched breath barely slipping from an open mouthed ‘o’ at your snuffed annoyance, for it is so unlike you to be using such crass language to begin with. Albeit, it seems he’s come to unfurl at the methodically placed platitudes you roll yourself in—like a lovingly formed gift adorning a pretty bow atop it all. Maybe greedy of him, to eagerly scratch away at the useless plastic paper he bears no interest in and instead, peer in awe at the tainted sin that greets the church boy in turn.

And for that—he holds no particular answer because he does indeed know as to why you’re churning a heated mess in the depths of your tummy, precariously straining against swiping fingertips that experimentally paw at your now loosened belt. Absently leave it to jingle and sprawl along the carpeted floor to then, let your impatient cock finally spring free from beneath its restricting confines. Ungraciously land atop the flat of his tensed stomach with an even lewder slap! to stain its softness with a milky trail of sticky pre-cum. Oh, wow. Certainly didn’t expect for it to be. . . so pleasurably appealing to gaze upon as though it’d just about taunt him to dip it inside his needy, begging hole.

“I won’t lie. . . You’re really asking for it, Syd. Either that, or you’re just dumb. Well, you sort of are—who’s the one that had to pick up after your spilled pieces again? Me, of course. But, you’ve gotta know by now it wasn’t out of mere kindness, right?” Spilling forth from between open maw before he’s gotten the allotted time to potentially gasp at in fraught surprise—immediately process the salacious announcement which he’s been inwardly craving for. Ah, will you do so? Be so generous to grant him the rare opportunity within cupped palms or perhaps, obsessive hands that pinch and prod at unmarked skin? “So, I ask you this; and I’ll only ask you this once.“

“Pretty please, dearest Sydney—will you allow me to fuck your pretty pink, dripping hole? Because either way, I really can’t fucking wait, right now.”

Hah, it shouldn’t be so indecently effective to the warmth pooling below—for your vocal request of his uttered consent. Truthfully, is there any genuine need to secretly inquire what’s so painfully evident?? Teeth nudging atop his puffy, bottom lip that hopelessly quivers in face of your seriousness regarding the rather. . . embarrassing prospect at hand, here.

“Please—. . .” Eventually drawls out from parted lips, trembling arms hastily hung over fluttering lashes that don’t dare to steal a glimpse from angled gaps. No, for he wordlessly fears that if he were to catch a supposing glance of your strained expression within this very instant—the initiate wouldn’t be able to mutter another solemn prayer devoid of wanton desire, to be railed into the nearest surface below. Still, hung along a teetering thread that’s bound to disastrously snap under the guise of your undeterred focus. Urging him to mirror those spoken words in the filthiest manner possible considering his rare share of utilizing such disdainful vocabulary. But yet, nonetheless, he does between stuttering gasps. “—F. . . Fuck me.”

“That’s my good boy. I knew you had it in you after all, hm?” Unspoken sighs silently tumble forth from what supposedly must be your shared cubicle, but he cares no further at the mere idea of getting possibly caught in this form. Not with the dribbling tip of your eager cock lamentably dragging along the surface of his spread asscheeks solely presented for your intended amusement. Half lidded gaze inwardly pleading from under, at how each tentative nudge of your hot, red cock head momentarily knocks out each quivering breath out of him—deepens this burning urge to guide you in the intimate walls of his puckered hole.

Which, he so graciously does the honour of doing so by a shaky grasp held upon its throbbing girth. Tightening palm clumsily placed atop your hipbone for wordless support as you finally. . . finally—do continuously ease yourself in all at once, stretch the aching emptiness deep within his stirring guts that longed to be deliciously filled to the utter brim.

“H-Hah—you’re tighter than I expected, but that’s okay.” Muttering from between ushered curses, wistfully cooing down at the glistening droplets of shiny tears that threatened to spill past the entire length of his crimson cheeks. Of course, not due to some unsuspecting pain supposedly coursing throughout the hefty and sudden stretch of his now thoroughly defiled hole—no, because that’s where you surely belong. Or so, he’s subconsciously deluded himself of such. Nestled deep in the warm softness of his drooling insides that so gleefully welcome your veiny girth, like a comforting flesh light preciously suited to be molded to yours truly. He’d ask for nothing else, truly.

Instinctually, his sweating hands delicately place themselves along the reassuring curvature of your shoulders which he oh, so does adore to often rely on in times like these. Yes, supposed encounter where you’re dizzyingly getting fucked full within an inch of your life, now that your drooling tip has nicely settled deep in the melding suckling of his clenching walls. And he possibly can’t help the mutual huffs of shuddering breaths that collectively fall forth from both of you—resembling that of those foolish students that like to sneak around the peaceful library he dutifully manages; one telltale hand down each other’s pants. Gosh, even thinking back on it now—embarrassingly knowing he’s no better than those pervasive harlots that noisily fuck in semi public places, if not; then unabashedly out in the grand open. Unable to hopelessly lay off one another’s greedy touches in the same manner that he presently is doing so, but. . . please, don’t take pitiful notice of that minor aspect.

This is what it’s like, is it not? Straining features furrowing deeper in a scrunched expression of unadulterated bliss—useless, little finger that he has at his disposal, to barely stifle the pleasured moans that’s bound to roll past firmly pursued lips. Something about the affectionate way you shush that teensy, disruptive method away with a mouthful of your cherry-perfect lips enclosing themselves around his digit. Because even if he secretly wishes it so, those trained eyes of yours won’t dare to momentarily stray away from that scarcely concealed note of wracked gratification painted along the heat of his face.

“Don’t run away from me, Syd. Tell me—I wanna see it, I wanna see your face when I’m properly inside you like this.” Considerably gentle despite the undeniable amount of control which you possess in this unbecoming position, practically folded in half by the slight hunch of your heaving back looming over his ragged figure. That is, ignoring the miniature distance that only noticeably shrinks with each of your practiced thrusts inside his greedy hole—not to mention, sloppy squelches! loudly ringing throughout the limited confines of the cafe’s walls—that he blearily hopes no passerby catches note of. Merely millimetres away from ineffectively bumping your foreheads together in a connected touch. “The way your eyelids flutter, shit. . . hah, your hole is clenching in on my dick like the perfect cock sleeve. Does it feel that nice to have someone’s cock inside you like this—with your best friend being balls deep inside your hole??”

“U-Uh huh—“ Obviously can’t hear you when he’s helplessly babbling revised prayers, as though that might erase the sheer depravity of this situation—excuse him of the unbridled enjoyment he’s partaking in. Ironic in its nature, considering the holy pendant formed into a pictured cross, loosely hooped around his neck and continuously bouncing due to the precise humps your fat cock has to so kindly offer him in return. One hand splayed atop his marked waist as if in an afterthought, something to hold onto lest he ceremoniously was guided to the nearest wall—thanks to your eager fucks, too. Bump his precious head against, which you’re softly cradling in additional carefulness.

Judging by the whiny begging uncontrollably escaping in response, something along the lines of ‘please, don’t stop’ and ‘feels so good’—ah, he cannot distinguish much when reduced to he’s a cock-drooling mess, tattered shell of his usually composed self.

Ah, talk about sickeningly intimate it is to be unbearably connected to one another like this. Irrefutably against the sheer prospect of cruelly pulling out and Gods, he honestly doesn’t want you to, either. Please, please. . . heavens from above, don’t dare to cease in the repeated slaps! of your balls taut with sticky seed—against the receptive spreading of his open thighs. Nor mind the bold movement seamlessly acted out on automatic, to desperately hook the length of his legs—definitely unused to this much, of course—along your waist in a silent plea or rather, ploy to messily keep up with the slight roll of your untiring hips. Forbidding you from so much as popping your oozing tip out before then, soon enough; you’re savagely ramming it deep inside once more, hissing at the cushioned nerves that greet your tingling head and so forth.

Utterly smitten is what he is, so much so that he doesn’t remotely take notice of your fist now loosely pumping at the neglected length of his quivering dick between slippery skin. Oh, oh—y’know, that’s far too cruel to be simultaneously stimulating both ends of his overly sensitive, tingling body! “Hah, you can’t—ah, suddenly do that!” Open mouth unconsciously falling forth at the constant press of your flattening palm along his glistening tip. Head falling backwards in which his entire curved spine follows along to, arching in a way he’d never have thought possible if it weren’t for your cock driving itself deep inside his squishy, warm walls.

Still, in a vain and pitiful effort to alert you of such—fingertips digging deeper in the delicate texture of your flesh, almost deep enough to draw spilling blood. Though, not his intention at all to instil searing pain in you whatsoever. Not at all, truthfully! It’s just. . . ah, it’s becoming increasingly clear that he’s nearing inevitable release due to your added pleasure inducing actions from both sides. Inefficiently peering up from below lidded lashes and stray pinches of your now thoroughly marked back to signal his eventual descent into adoring defilement.

“S-Slow. . . down—“ He hadn’t meant to meaninglessly scorn you like you had any shred of chance of doing so—but, it’s ultimately humiliating to feel the teetering edge of himself reaching his dreaded limit. Glassy eyes stupidly rolling back to meet pitched darkness once that sickeningly long coil in his stuffed tummy finally snaps. Pink tongue prettily sticking out for your cherished gaze to etch into focus all while slobbering over the added thumb you’ve generously lent to suckle upon—drool over and coat it in transparent spit as the first load of milky cum uncontrollably squirts out of his swollen slit. Crudely stains the momentarily pristine surface of his clenching tummy and even going forward, to drip amongst his slackened jaw.

Ultimately, he must certainly appear as a wracked mess before you with dripping globs of his dirty release adorning the entirety of his upper body. Heaving chest puffing at each ragged gasp that crawls out of his sore throat from the sheer muddled consciousness he’s presently bearing, at the moment. Clutching onto the remaining familiarity there is and that merely happens, to be your observant self perched atop his bent figure.

But, that’s of no importance to you, is it now? For the entangled limbs you’ve now collectively fallen into—a heaping thread preciously formed from him to you, there’s no other way you would’ve gone about it, after all.

Here and now, he’s acknowledged it, too, himself—whether the Temple allows it or not, the distinct reverence in your eyes and the unspoken bond shared amongst you two. Uncaring for how twisted it may be in the critical eyes of his worshipped religion, the shocked gasps that will surely follow at the discovered ignorance of the strict restraints placed upon oneself.

Even if you haven’t properly spilled your seed in him yet, the mark has been done—effect irreversibly washing on his cracked perception. Since you’ve laid your claim, staked the original urge you’ve been meaning to this whole, extended time. Beared witness to the melded fluids you’re now licking along in renewed affection, brought upwards at his petulant tugs for your returned proximity near his own. Yes, he does indeed know it so and evidently, so do you.

And honestly, he doesn’t wish to let go of your warming skin closely held against his own anytime soon, either.

[watarfallar]

Incorrect quotes because they're funny

Scar: You have an impressive pain tolerance. Grian: Thanks, it's the trauma.

Scar: Where are you going? Grian: To either get ice cream or commit a felony. I'll decide on the way.

Grian: Scar, no. Scar: Scar, yes.

Scar: Do I least have a chance to explain myself? Grian: This is America, so nope! Scar: This isn't America, this is OHIO!

Scar: How do ethical philosophers feel about murder? Grian: Well, it’s frowned upon. Scar: Okay, but what if the reason you want to murder someone is to make your life easier? Scar: That’s okay, right?

Scar: Grian, this morning, I called you abhorrent and reprehensible, and I’d like to withdraw that statement- Grian: Aww, thanks- Scar: But I can't. Those are the 2 words that best describe you.

Grian: Remain CALM! slaps Scar multiple times

Scar: My head hurts. Grian: That’s your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity.

Grian, in the hospital: Will you visit me when I get out? Scar: Lol nah, I hate graveyards.

Grian: Would anyone know any good vendors for professional-quality brass knuckles? Scar: I know you’re serious, but you say the scariest shit sometimes.

Grian: Can I have your number? Scar, visible texting: I don't have a phone.

Scar: I wanna sleep for 40 hours. Grian: You know that's called a coma, right? Scar: Scar: That sounds so refreshing, I could totally go for a light coma right now.

Grian: You are, of course, wondering why it is I have brought you here tonight. Scar: Actually, Grian, after all these years, I just sort of go with it.

Grian: Try not to roll your eyes at me. Scar: I don't have pupils.

Grian: Hey. Scar: pissed off You… complete …ASS, Grian! You show up here after WEEKS, and you say “hey”?!

Scar: I love hearing Grian shouting at someone else. It makes such a nice change.

Scar: Any idiot would know that. Grian: I knew that! Scar: See?

Grian: I know this isn’t going to end well and I don’t care. So don’t you try and stop me, Scar! Scar: I wasn’t stopping you. I was asking if you had a spare camera so I can record this.

Grian, looking at their reflection: Now, that's rubbish. Who's that supposed to be? Scar: Well, that's you. Grian: Me?! Is that what I look like? Scar: You don't know? Grian: Busy day.

Scar: hiding something in their coat I think we should adopt another kid! Grian: No. Scar: Why not? Grian: Because when you say “kid”, you mean “cat”, and we already have fifteen of those. Scar: unzips coat Sixteen.

Grian: Breaking News, Scar has disappointed us.

Grian: You are an absolute fucking dork. Scar, singing: Yeah, but I'm your dork! Grian: sighs Yeah, you're my dork.

Scar: You know how some people consider “may you have an interesting life” to be a curse? Grian: Yes…? Scar: Fuck those people. Wanna have an adventure?

Scar: I think I should be allowed on ghost hunter tv shows. Grian: I think that would be dangerous for the ghosts.

Scar: Okay, two person huddle. Grian: You can't huddle with two people. This is just a hug.

Grian: I couldn't do this without you, Scar. Scar: Sure you could. Not as stylishly, of course.

Grian: CHARACTER. FLAWS. ARE. FUCKING. IMPORTANT. Scar: Me when someone tells me to stop eating mayo packets like they’re gogurt tubes.

Grian: What's gone wrong, Scar? Scar: Hey! That’s one hell of a thing to say to a person. Just because I’m calling doesn’t mean there’s a crisis. Grian: That’s technically true, I suppose. Why are you calling? Scar: Well… There’s a crisis.

Grian: I know one person who finds me funny! Scar: Okay, who?… and you can't say yourself! Grian: Okay then I'm out.

Grian: Did you ever have like a pet run away and find it or anything? Scar: I had a lizard that I burnt.

[nightbutterfly09]

Am I doing the wrong thing?

Hi everyone. Thank you for reading and liking my previous creation, it meant a lot to me. As you may have discovered I am deeply in love with Mr. Sae Itoshi (and many others btw I just struggle with creativity) and here I brought you another Sae x reader fanfiction that I hope you will enjoy. Any recommendations and requests you'd like to see are accepted and in the future I'll try creating those "delusions" for you all. I appreciate all of your support and once again, it means a lot to me. <3 Now go ahead and enjoy.

WARNING: VULGAR LANGUGE = SWEARING --> PROCEED ONLY IF YOU'RE COMFORTABLE!! About the story: You are a manager in blue lock who got pushed into this because your father couldn't understand why you'd hate soccer for 'no reason'. This is why he he contacted your uncle, Ego Jinpachi to take you in as a manager right after the program starts.

Actually it is quite convenient, this means no school for you and instead you get a paper that says that you worked as a professional manager for x time.

Also... maybe your mother also supporthed your dad's view because she is sick of you being at home and gaming, reading, watching videos and sleeping all the time.

Maybe the reason Ego and Anri want to push you towards romance is actually because of your mom. Although you doubt your dad knows this. AS he'd definietely be against it, even if you grow to like the sport.

But that's just your hunch.

This will obviously be longer than a oneshot but I don't plan on making it very long.

-part 1-

As blue lock’s manager you’ve seen many many supposedly handsome men. However none of them ever caught your eye. No matter how many times Anri-chan teased you, being their age and all, you couldn’t find anyone that seemed special from a romantic point of view.

But there were two guys who you knew particularly well. That was Seishiro Nagi and Rin Itoshi. The former you went to kindergarten with, not to mention you lived next to each other and shared hobbies together. It was natural for you to become friends who kept in touch till this day.

The latter, Rin, you know him from highschool. Your parents moved away just before your highschool years so you had to make yourself familiar with the new streets, the new people, and of course high school. Him and you were seatmates for as long as you two remember and while sometimes you wished someone else sat nearby, you both enjoyed the other’s company.

There they both were, it was pure fate bringing you and your friends together, through those two you got to know Yoichi Isagi, Bachira and many more better. You had to admit what those two had was already intriguing but as time passed and you followed Isagi’s growth, he drew you in more. 

You went from despising football to becoming fascinated with it. Not that you’d play it yourself.

In the U-20 match you saw Sae for the first time. Till then Rin only talked about him, and eventually he seemed to fess up at his name’s mention. But you never interfered in what might’ve happened. Rin would’ve told you if he was comfortable with it. You were positive about that.

Now, he was the man who caught your eye. Those beautiful movements that could destroy anyone in a split second. You felt like if you looked away you’d lose him. “Never seen you staring that hard.” Your uncle smirked, taking his eyes off his diamonds in the rough. “Ego-san let her be, it was time for her to start taking an interest in someone.” Anri giggled and leaned on the top of your head. “Stop it- seriously, I just think he’s good… and maybe too beautiful to be an actual football star.” 

After the match you got a piece of paper from Rin. He frowned as he handed it to you explaining how Ego and Anri instructed him to give you Sae’s number. “Add what do you even want with this? Don’t tell me you fell for that piece of shit already!” His eyebrows twitched in anger. Your face went beet red. ‘Should I take his number? But that would mean I admit that he was interesting. Why do those two love cornering me? This is worse than getting killed in League (Leage Of Legends) more than the times you die. WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME IN THESE SITUATIONS??’ 

“Oi? Earth to Miss manager?” He sighed and just tossed the paper in your hand. He was much moodier after this match then you would’ve anticipated him to be. Guess that stolen-not stolen goal from Isagi really struck a nerve.

As the boys were changing, Ego and Anri were on a conference or whatever with the old geezers you decided to go up to look down at the football court. A few months ago you despised football from the bottom of your heart, and now thanks to your father you are a manager working with your uncle and Anri.

Deep in your thoughts you didn’t notice a silent crimson haired guy lean on the railing just like you. “Are you Y/N L/N?” He asked, making you turn to him and crumple the paper in your hand. “Y-yes.” Oh lord. The Sae Itoshi approached you while he had not even the slightest idea of you and not to mention the state you were in. You just discovered you might like Rin’s older brother, which he’ll definitely be salty about, and now you were red and sweaty too.

He scoffed. “Ego Jinpatchi said you were worth a few minutes, so who are you?”  ‘Huh? My uncle said that? Why would he say that? That’s dipshit. I am boring as a rock- unless he is me, but this sport driven prodigy is in no way like me? Why would he say that.’

“He did? Y-yeah well, of course I am as interesting as the deep sea for divers..haha” You gulped.

“I don’t know what to tell you, truth be told I’m terrible at making small talk or talking about myself.”

“Yeah, me too, usually comes out to be pretty awkward.” He sighed. “So? Get it over with, I have nothing better to do anyway.” He wiped his bangs out of his face. He probably just showered, he didn’t look sweaty… and also, you hate to admit but the shampoo he used really made you fall harder. 

You sighed and tried hitting those stupid thoughts out of your brain. ‘FOCUS’ “Well, I am the same age as Rin, so two years younger than you- as far as I know, I go to his school. I hate football, but watching it lately has been strangely fulfilling my boredom. I am Ego’s niece and Blue Lock’s manager.” You pondered what else you could say when Sae reached out to grab the piece of crumpled paper from your grasp. “Wait no-” His eyes went over it. “Why do you have my number?” You try laughing it off.

“I guess there are two adults who really love playing cupid today…” You sigh as you become more and more annoyed at those two matchmakers. “They really want my forever single ass to find a love interest you see, so they do everything they can to achieve this.” “Well if you had texted me I wouldn’t have answered either way.” “Well I thought as much prodigy..” hinting that he’s way out of your league.

“Actually, let’s do this. My parents are pestering me that they’ll be stuck without a granddaughter so they’ve been trying to control my love life through my manager. All the way back in Spain too. Quite a pain in the ass if you ask me.”

“So, you want me to be your girlfriend?” Your eyes widen and your eyebrows run up like you never though they could. In one word, you were shocked to your core. “More precisely, fake dating.” He nodded. “Beneficial for the both of us and there won’t be any harm.” ‘When did my life become a soap opera/shojo anime/romance movie??’ “Are you for real?” You gulp while blushing. Fake dating usually starts with both people hating, or not liking each other. You failed that the moment you saw that face. And here you are now. 

The same boy who you never thought would talk to you in any form, was asking for a fake relationship. To make his parents calm down??

He grabbed your hand and pulled you closer. You look up to him still unable to contain yourself. “So is this a yes?” “I have no idea.” “Well you have till I’m here to decide.” “But this is ridiculous. You are a star in this industry and you live your life in Spain, now you want me to be your fake girlfriend.” 

“You don’t seem like a bad person.” He chuckled. Now one thing you know 100% that if Rin can’t smile if he’s not happy then he’s the same. Plus that genuine Itoshi smile is undeniably unmistaken. It’s one of a kind.

“Okay.” You gulped. “I’ll be your girlfriend.” You still had no idea what this would mean for your future or his but life is about making stupid decisions in the end. 'No? Do you not agree?'

See you in the next part. Have a nice day/night/etc. -> part 1 (HERE) -> part 2

[scrubbinn]

_____ HRT: 15 months: “Human”

“Hey Mayday. How's my girlfriend doing today?... I hope you can hear me in there. I'm recording another tape for you in case you forget everything again. I just got back from the doctor, they ran some tests, still couldn't figure out what's up with my knee. I think maybe I'm just cursed, with this broken human body. I guess you don't have to deal with that now huh? Lucky.”

“It just sucks, you know? Not a single medical doctor in Canada can tell me what's wrong and then when suddenly, magic exists, it gets regulated so you can't use it for medicine! Ugh. Rules are dumb, why do we even have them. Also sucks that I have to walk here every time I miss you. Which is a lot. Why does everything have to be so shit?”

“Speaking of shit, you should have heard me go off on that doc when you first started… cocooning? I’m blanking on the word. But I just went off on that man, It felt so good just to throw everything back in that pompous jerk's face! He had it coming, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to go off on a medical professional. He does have his uses, I suppose. You weirdly seem to like him, and at least he can put in enough effort to care about your physical health. But you should have seen how he reacted to you, he makes me so, so, so, AAAAARG! Sorry, you don't like yelling right?”

“You know, when I heard about you passing out nearly half a year ago, I thought, this is it, I'm going to lose her forever. I guess I did, when she decided to forget me. That's not fair, I just, I can't help still being mad about it. After everything we went through, and everything you went through with our friends and family. This really meant more than all of those memories put together? God you're such a dummy. I wish I could understand you.”

“Getting to meet you all over again, I didn't hate it like I thought I would. No matter the memories, it really was still you. Just, a little different. Sorry I kept pushing you to remember something… Maybe it was wrong of me. But every time I saw your face, your eyes looked back like they were trying to remember anything. It made me kind of happy, like I was important enough that some small part of you didn’t want to let go of me. I thought we were making progress. But if we have to do it again when you come out. I might actually start to hate it.”

“...Hey, you are happy right? This is what you wanted, yeah? You know I'm ok with you not being human. When you told me you were thinking about this, I supported it. Though, I'm still having trouble getting used to it. I don't really know how to feel now that you're like this. I just, I want what makes you happy, and I know you want the same for me. It's just been difficult right now. To keep smiling. I… I went to that sushi place we were going to go to. They had really good unagi. I ate so much I could barely afford the bill, haha. I know if I go there again without you, it's just going to taste like nothing. If you're not there with me, what's the point? This moment. The world has color again, I can taste things again when I'm in this room, and it hurts so much because you're not here. I'm sorry I… I'm trying not to cry in front of you hun. I'm sorry.”

* * *

“You don't mind if I stay here tonight do you hun? I don't really feel like walking back home right now. When I’m with you I- um, hello?”

“Oh didn’t realize anyone else was here? You’re Abigail right?”

“And your May’s mom right?” Are you here to see her?”

“Yes, I haven’t actually checked in since I heard the news. Is that. Her?”

“Pretty sure yeah. Unless there’s another girlfriend shaped cocoon that I missed. D- Do you need a tissue?”

“No, I’ll be fine, thank you… Pardon, but would you be able to answer a question? I don’t really understand this whole therian thing. I’m still a little shocked when Mich- Mayday said she was doing this sort of thing in the first place. I’m fine with it, I support her. But, did she need to do this?”

“Huh, what do you mean?”

“Well I mean, did she need to change? Isn’t it just safer to hide? She’s doing such a brave thing but there are so many people that might hurt her. It's my job to worry about her, and I know this city is better and all with this sort of thing, but what if she gets attacked when she visits, what am I supposed to tell my sister if she asks what Mayday is up to. My family doesn't even know her name is Mayday now.”

“...Oh. Oh, this is weird seeing it from an outsider perspective.”

“I'm sorry? What do you mean?”

“It's that you don't get it, I mean I forgot it until now, but you don't understand. It would have been more dangerous if she didn't do this. She's in pain, her gender, Her body, her species. They don't match her brain. It's not like it's a choice either. She's hurting. Her staying human, she might have made worse choices. Ugh, I'm sorry hun. I should have realized how much this means to you, I'll be here, for real this time. I'll be here for y…

Oh my god, it's tearing. G-g-go! Get a doctor!”

“What? Oh! Uh, right!”

“Hun! Can you hear me? It's me! Follow my voice!”

“A…b…i…

Mimic HRT: 15 months: “no longer”

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[fxckn-sxck-fr]

ARE YOU KIDDING?? PLATONIC YANDERE BATTINSON HEADCANNONS PULEASE 💕 💕

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒…

!!! GN reader, stalking, breaking and entering, hidden cameras, kidnapping, I feel really bad for Alfred…

Sorry if this is egregiously long and disorderly, I just have a lot of ideas with this one.

There’s a possibility the two of you barely know each other. Maybe you’re a worker at Wayne Enteprises, or just a stranger on the street who did a kind gesture to him once. He’s the type to get a friend-crush — where he wants to be your friend, but he’s too shy to actually talk to you — so naturally the next logical step is to follow you around all day to figure out where you live. This would honestly be the longest Bruce Wayne has ever been out in public during the daytime, granted in his Chevy Corvette.

(Alfred would probably start to get worried, seeing as Bruce always tries to return to the mansion as quickly as possible.)

I don’t think it would surprise anyone to know this man is a heavy stalker. He knows virtually everything about you, from your social security number to how often you brush your teeth. His journal even has a diagram of every freckle and blemish he knows about on your body, just in case he needs to identify your remains some day (he has a very grim outlook on the fate of everyone who enters his life). I’d like to imagine him having a separate journal for you, just to keep tabs on how you’re doing.

Hidden cameras around your house are a must. With his nightly obligations as The Batman, he unfortunately can’t stop by your window to make sure you’re safe as often as he’d want to, so he finds himself remotely checking in on you more than being there in person. If it makes you feel any better, he has the same exact set-up in Alfred’s room. It just makes him feel more at ease to have quick visual access to two of the most important people to him in his life.

Naturally, in order to install these cameras, he’d have to break into your house when you’re not there. This would turn into something he does on the regular, possibly even while you sleep. I at first felt like he may take a few keepsakes from your house as he does this, but I think it’s more likely he’d leave things behind for you instead. Maybe a generous amount of cash, new appliances to replace broken ones, refills of food you were running low on… who knew that The Batman was like the tooth fairy?

God, I have so many ideas, but a lot of them actually focus on Alfred. Bruce is the type to kidnap his new “friend” very early on, driving by his fear and anxiety of something happening to you. He’d obviously see nothing wrong with this; I mean, the guy stalks you and breaks into your hours, why the hell would this be out of the question? So, that got me thinking… how would Alfred react to this?

I wish I had a clear answer… but, again, I have so many ideas, and it’s hard to put fully flesh them out in a clear and concise way. But I’ll try to give you the bare bones, and possibly clarify should there be a follow-up ask.

Idea 1.) Bruce actually tells Alfred he kidnapped you. Well, maybe he’d say something more on the lines of, “I had to save them, I had no other choice,” but Alfred’s a smart man who easily reads between the lines. Hell, maybe Alfred’s had his suspicions for the longest time, walking in on Bruce watching your security feed or discovering his separate journal about you, but the butler tried to rationalize this, as he didn’t want to believe his young master was up to… whatever this weird shit was.

(I can actually see him confronting Bruce about his behaviors a couple of times, and even considering bringing this up to a professional, but that’s beside the point.)

Anyways, back to Bruce holding your unconscious form in his arms. He’d ask Alfred if a room could be prepared for you, his tone eerily casual considering the situation, and the poor butler has to put on his best calm act and convince Bruce to take you back home. While I don’t see him getting through to Bruce, there’s a small chance that he does, and you wake up in your own bed the next morning blissfully ignorant to your own almost-successful kidnapping (all thanks to the butler).

(Now I’m thinking about Bruce holding you up to Alfred like, “can we keep them??” And Alfred has to be like, “no, Master Bruce. Put them back where you got them from.”)

From here on, Alfred decides to try and herd Bruce’s strange obsession with you on his own, too scared to get professional help involved. There’s no way in hell he’s getting his young master taken away from him; not after he vowed to keep him safe to the late Thomas and Martha Wayne. And besides, Alfred did manage to convince Bruce to take you home in the end, so surely that means there’s still hope, right? He hasn’t failed his responsibility just yet…

Of course, as I said before, I don’t see Alfred getting through to Bruce in the end. It’s hard to say what Alfred would even do at this point. Maybe he threatens to call the authorities, which would hurt Bruce enough to feel the need to run away. This would start a huge manhunt for “the runaway billionaire” who “snapped under all the stress” (Alfred made sure to neglect telling police about him also being a kidnapper, instead framing it as though Bruce was going through some sort of mental breakdown).

Don’t even get me started on how confusing this would be for you, LMAO. Imagine going to sleep one night, only to wake up in some sort of abandoned apartment complex with Bruce Wayne of all people. That sounds like a fun story to write, not gonna lie.

Idea 2.) Bruce doesn’t say anything to Alfred and instead keeps you in one of the spare bedrooms. It doesn’t take long for the butler to stumble upon you, narrowly missing the lamp you swing at him as you make your escape. Since you aren’t familiar with the mansion’s layout, however, you find yourself aimlessly running through the halls, and eventually into the chest of a confused Bruce Wayne, who just came out of the Batcave. As Bruce practically drags you back to your room, he runs into a disheveled Alfred, who obviously wants an explanation.

“This is my friend,” Bruce simply answers, a hint of fondness in his gruff voice. “I had to save them, so I brought them back here.”

Now, as I said previously, Alfred probably has had his suspicions for the longest time. So seeing you trying desperately to weasel out of Bruce’s grip mad him realize what his young master had really done. Like with the first idea, Alfred will try to calmly explain why this was wrong, making eye contact with your pleading gaze. But I think this conversation would go south quicker, since Bruce is much less willing to give you up now that you’re settled in. I can see him starting to tear up cuz yandere Battison is lowkey a manchild, I don’t make the rules, begging Alfred to let you stay.

This is the route where Alfred might feel it’s better to comply, at least temporarily. You’re a live hostage in this situation, and the stress of that is too much to make a definitive decision in the moment… and it doesn’t help that Bruce was starting to get erratic. So, he hesitantly relents, trying to ignore the hurt look in your eyes as you’re dragged back to your room.

Remember, this is only a temporary solution. Alfred could never live with the idea of Bruce doing this, and I can see him continuing to do his very best to convince his young master to let you go. Perhaps he may have to take matters into his own hands, helping you escape behind Bruce’s back…

Idea 3.) I’m keeping this one short and sweet; what if Alfred is just as much as a hostage as you are? Remember that Bruce cares just as much for his butler as he does for you, so it’s highly likely that he never lets Alfred leave the mansion either…

[hells-greatestdad]

—- As Loona, Helluva Boss. Contains…a lot of cussing, but otherwise nothing too wild. Thanks for writing with me!

Today had been slow.

Which…definitely wasn’t a good thing. Because if Immediate Murder Professionals didn’t get enough clientele per week to meet the budget, Blitzø would lose his shit. Then Moxxie would get all wound up because of course he’d take it out on Moxxie, then Millie because her precious pint-sized lover got his precious feelings hurt. Then, ohoho, and then- all three of those fuckers would turn right around and blame her. Because it’s always the damn dog’s fault. Right.

Loona huffed quietly through her nose as if that would expel the festering anxiety, carding a paw through her shag. Crimson eyes narrowed at the list of prospects and people expecting a follow-up. Look at all these whackadoos, acting like they’re not gonna end up in the exact same shithole. Hysterical, really.

Twirling and tapping her pen against the legal pad for a moment out of habit, the hellhound finally reached over with the same paw and absently dialed one of the more impending customers.

Nickelback was thumping in her head, and the usual drone of Hell’s pandemonium breezed through I.M.P’s piss poor insulation, and…she may have pressed three instead of five.

“Yeah, hey, this is Loona from I.M.P.. Was just calling in regards to your appointment for the murder request of-“

A beat of silence to verify this dumbass was actually this dumb.

“…Uh, quote: That crazy bitch who stole my fifth wife. My favorite wife. End quote.”

"Huh... I don't seem to recall having a fifth wife... I'd say my favorite was my first. Also my only wife."

He didn't know what he expected when he opted to answer an unknown number calling his cell, but this is actually kind of entertaining.

"I also don't think anyone stole my wife.... pretty sure I'd remember that."

He'll just... ignore the pang in his heart at the reminder that his wife is absent. She certainly wasn't stolen... he knows where she is. And he will likely never see her again. But she's still his love regardless.

Still. His voice on the phone at least sounds chipper.

"Sounds like that could be a number of people, being that this is Hell. So I'm afraid you've got the wrong number."

[broomstickart]

The Piece of Violence

Part 1: Dream Come True

You and Ghost are separated from the group and make it to a safe house. He bandages your wounds and tells you to sleep. Where he then catches you talking in our sleep in which you may have been having a seggy dream including none other than Ghost himself.

CW: Unprotected P In V sex, fingering, general debauchery, pet names if you're not into that (sweetheart, love, darling), kind of rough, he puts his fingers in your mouth idk

3k words

No use of y/n

I don't know what happened. One second, we were making our way through the city then the next a rain of bullets, like that I got separated. Ghost found me quickly, assessing any damage I may have taken. Wrapping a makeshift tourniquet around my leg until he could see the extent of the wound on my upper thigh.

Shit, I hadn't even realized I had been hit, "I'm sorry sir."

He didn't say anything which wasn't out of the ordinary but the look in his eyes was. He seemed, I have to be wrong, stressed? Worried maybe. That was cause for concern.

He hoisted me up taking most of my weight with ease.

"I can walk." I assured him.

He hesitated a moment before releasing me, nodding as I tested my weight on the injured leg.

"See, perfectly fine."

He grumbles something under his breath but then storms ahead. I'm not sure where were going to go or if we can even meet back up with the rest of the team. Regardless I follow, through the back allies until we get to one of the safe houses.

"Sit." He orders, the second the door shuts.

I comply, plopping down on the dingy sofa in the middle of the "living room" if you could call it that. Ghost immediately kneels in front of me and starts poking around the small gash high on my thigh. The image sent my imagination drifting to forbidden places, especially with my Lieutenant. A woman can only do so much. It has been over two months since anyone has come near touching me in even a professional manner. It's like the guys thought I'd crack at the slightest contact. Ghost is the only one of them to even seemed remotely interested in getting to know me when I joined the team a year ago.

He didn't say much but he listened, and paid attention. Maybe that's why I am flustered. I've let myself get too attached. He's my superior I can be thinking of him that way. But the way his hands feel on my thigh sent a shiver through me.

I have to shut my eyes and lean my head on the back rest of the dusty sofa thinking of puppies and rainbows. Mind out of the gutter you idiot.

"Take your pants off." Ghost grumbles.

"What?" my eyes flying open.

Another uncommon emotion flashes across his eyes, amusement.

"I need to dress your wound, considering you have one pair of pants I don't think you want me to cut them off." he responds.

"Yeah, yes, that makes sense." i stutter as he shuffles back to give me space as I shimmy my pants around me knees.

He didn't say anything else had he cleaned the small abrasion. It didn't even need stiches; I don't know why he's taking so much time to clean it. My imagination can't take much more of him between my legs before I get brash. Damnit, and the way he keeps glancing up at me assessing my pain level, which is minimal, is going to tip me over the edge.

He abruptly stands and drops himself into the matching dingy armchair in the corner, "Rest, you need it."

"It was a scratch, I'm fine, sir." I try and argue.

"Rest." He grunts, this time as an order.

Quickly pulling my pants back up I laid back on the sofa "Are we meeting the rest of the team somewhere?"

No response.

"Have you been in contact with them?" I ask again.

Annoyed at my lack of compliance, he crosses his arms over his chest, manspreading even more, if that was possible. My eyes flicked for only a millisecond to what was now at eyelevel with me before looking back up to his face. Where his eyes are already on me.

I cursed myself for getting caught objectifying him. Rolling on my side, in an attempt to avoid any unnecessary eye contact. I could have sworn Ghosts' eyes shifted to what I though was curiosity. I have to be losing my shit here.

I jolt upright, making the muscles in my abdomen ache at the sudden movement. The dream I was immersed in still floating at the edge of my mind. It made my cheeks flush and the ache between my legs unbearable. I can't be dreaming these kinds of things; it was borderline disgusting. My Baptist mother would be ashamed. Running a hand over my face, I trying to think of anything. But the only thing that flashes across my mind is what Ghosts hands were doing in my unconscious delusion.

"Sleep well?" he asks amusement dripping from him.

I snap my head in his direction. Caught off guard by the fact he was awake and by the question. He can't know what I was dreaming about, Ghost may be brilliant at reading people, but he can't see into someone mind.

"Why so quiet now?" He practically purrs, leaning forward bracing his elbows on his knees.

Shit. Mortification washes over me at the recognition that my fatal flaw had finally done me in.

"I was talking in my sleep." I mutter more to myself as a defeated realization.

"Quite a lot actually." He added cocking his head to the side. The hint of amusement still lingering.

All the times I had wished he would speak more because of that intoxicating accent, slipped from my mind. Because right now the last thing I want was for him to keep teasing me about a human reaction. I'm surrounded by a bunch of bulky muscled men all day, I'm going to day dream a little.

Trying to come up with something to say I unfortunately let myself get distracted by the state of him. He still had his mask on, boots and all but the tactical gear was shed on the floor beside him. Leaving his broad chest only covered in a too tight black t shirt. His arms exposed and good god his arms were lovely. I'm doing it again, god damnit I'm a disaster.

"Fuck." I grumble flopping back down on to the stiff sofa.

Ghost laughed, a deep booming chuckle that I've never heard come from him. It made me want to slap him or kiss him, maybe both.

I flung one of the throw pillows at his face "I'm getting some water."

"A cold shower might be nice too I bet." He called after me.

"Shut the fuck up." I barked back at him as I turned into the small kitchen.

Bracing my hands on the counter I attempted to calm myself to the point where I can look at him and not want to jump his bones. I'm failing miserably. The ache between my legs edging on painful.

"You know better than to speak to your superior that way, sweetheart." His voice sounds from behind me.

Now he's using pet names, great. I'm not going to last if he keeps fucking with me like this.

"I'm not in the mood for one of your role play scenarios, Simon." I snap at him, not turning to even look at him. If he gets to call me sweetheart the only logical thing is that I get to use his real name.

He hums, the sound closer behind me than expected. Then his hands come to rest on either side of mine on the counter caging me in. His torso flush against my back as he curls himself around me.

I can hear the blood rushing through my ears as I try and steady my breathing. The feel of him behind me and the feel of what he's working with hard against my back sending goosebumps across my skin.

"Then I'm interested in the scenarios you do have in mind." His accent thick, every word laced with the same feeling coursing through every part of my body. Lust.

Any restraint I had left dissipated as he spoke. After a deep breath I pushed back into him.

His right-hand shooting to my hip, gripping it hard enough to earn a soft whimper from me.

"Say no and I'll stop, okay?" He says firmly nuzzling the side of my neck.

I nod quickly as another pitiful noise escapes me.

"Use your words," He commands, "I need to hear you say it."

"Yes, fuck, yeah okay I got it." The words pour out of me as a plea, and I scramble to turn and face him, but he holds me in place.

Simon didn't need to speak to let me know he was in charge here like he was when you were working. The mere presence of him is commanding, and it only made you wetter that it was the same with situations like this.

His hands find the hem of my shirt and strips it from me. His movements were hurries and rough but with a sense of urgency that truly proved he wants this as much as I do. I was completely naked in front of him in a matter of seconds, still facing that counter. His hands roaming the curves and dips of my body.

Surprisingly, I wasn't self-conscious being so exposed in front of him, he's one of the few people I trust with my life. Not to mention, the way his rough calloused hands danced across my skin sent electricity through me. Setting every nerve on edge.

He's taking his time and I'm growing more antsy by the second, but I suck in a breath when his hand roams lower on my stomach, then lower.

The growling moan that rumbles from deep in his throat the second his hand reaches my cunt, made the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention.

"So wet for me already and I've hardly touched you." His voice gravely. His index finger makes agonizingly slow circles around my clit. While his other hand grips the back of my neck pushing my forward bent over the counter.

My hips moved on their own, trying to get more friction. Simon lets out a satisfied hum as obscenities flood from my mouth in a string of pleas and curses. None of which came out coherently.

"Oh, darling you're already a mess." He teases giving me a light but firm smack to my ass "Can't even think straight, can you?"

He was right, hearing him talk so much, made my head mush and his hands on me where the only thing holding me together. His fingers still working at an unbearably slow pace set my skin on fire. That familiar tension coiling low in my stomach.

Simon ground his hips into me from behind, and I groan in frustration when I realized he still had his clothes on.

"Simon," I beg, grinding back into him again "please."

His hands left me only for a second, before he turned me around and lifted me, so my ass now rested on the edge of the counter. He was careful not to bump my, not actually hurt, hurt leg. Finally able to see him again, I noticed he had lifted his mask to rest on the bridge of his nose. He was perfect at lease the little bit of him I could see. Scarred yes, mild stubble, sure, but his full lips and strong jaw were breathtaking.

Simon slowly knelt in front of me like he has earlier tonight. Moving my legs to rest on his broad shoulders and brought his thumb to massage my clit, the sensation almost too much after all the anticipation. The rest of his hand held me firmly in place as. His lips pressing gently to the sensitive skin right above where the bandage wrapped around my upper thigh.

I almost came undone for him right there the guttural moan let out as I tried to control my breathing gave me away.

"You're holding back," he observed a coy smile playing on his lips.

"I want you." I gritted through clenched teeth.

"You have me sweetheart." He says cooly.

"I swear to God Riley if you don't fuck me already, I'm going to stab you-" my threat cut off by Simon's tongue licking a broad stroke across my pussy.

"Hmm, maybe I'll bring my knives next time, love" He groans plunging a finger into without warning. While simultaneously digging his teeth into the skin on the inside of my thigh.

The combination of pain and pleasure rolling through me made my head go fuzzy. His tongue sweeping over the spot soothing the slight sting of his bite. He adds another finger stretching me further. Not painful, but tight, and so full.

The air gets stuck in my throat ripping another strangled moan from me, tension coiling tighter in my stomach.

"That's a good girl," He purrs the timbre in his voice sending me over the edge writhing on his fingers as he began pumping them slowly. Coaxing the pleasure from me dragging and it out until I was a whimpering mess, but he didn't stop. His fingers kept moving, curling inside me hitting exactly where he wanted and his tongue swirling around my clit. Pulling more and more cries and moans from me.

The tension building again at a mind-numbing rate. He increased his speed as my breathing shallowed. My legs already shaky began to wobbly, my body on fire. I reached for anything to ground me, so I gripped the edge of the countertop, my hips grinding against his hand.

"That's it, give me one more. "He commanded, standing slightly nipping at the skin of my breast before wrapping his mouth around the sensitive point.

This one rolled through me in waves, each curl of his fingers, swipe of his tongue, sent a deep shiver through me. My whole body buzzing with release. He lets me come down slowly this time slowing down with me but still drawing the pleasure out as long as possible.

Once he was satisfied, Simon stands fully his free hand gripping my jaw, opening my mouth slightly. Removing his fingers from my pussy he gently places them on my tongue.

He groans as I instinctually wrap my lips around them sucking lightly, sure to keep eye contact. By the look that glossed over his eyes there no denying he's holding himself back. And of course, like any sane woman dancing on the edge of a violent man's sanity would do. I took him further in my mouth sucking harder. Swirling my tongue over the pads of his fingers.

"Needy, aren't you?" he practically whispers.

This is the most talkative Simon has ever been and he was right of course, I am needy. I need him, inside me and by the look on his face he needs it too.

Reaching between us while he was distracted, I gripped him through his pants, hard enough to get his attention.

"Is that what you want?" He asks glancing at me through hooded eyes.

I moan around his fingers raking my teeth against them gently.

"Hm," He releases my face crossing his arms across his chest "Go on, take em off." He says nodding permission.

My fingers, shakier than was expecting, fumble with his belt for a moment. Before he gently stops me, his hands on top of mine and places them on his chest after placing a swift kiss to one of my knuckles. Heat flushes my face and other parts of me actually and I lower my head slightly. He literally just had his fingers in my cunt and now I'm embarrassed. Brilliant.

He looks at me again as he discards his belt across the room motioning for me to continue. His faith, instilling a new confidence in me. Dragging my hands down his torso, over every ridge and bundle of tensed muscles until I reached his waits. Gingerly, I untuck his shirt, my fingers lightly grazing the skin low on his stomach.

A shiver ran through him and he rolled neck releasing a quick breath. A smile sneaking onto my face as I undid the buttons and zipper before wrapping my hand around him again. This time just his boxers between me and his skin.

He let out a hissing breath and grips the counter on either side of my hips dipping his head beside mine

"Carful, love." His voice a warning, his lips dragging across my collar bone sending butterflies to my stomach "I want to be gentle with you."

"I don't want you to be gentle." I whisper stroking him again, God he's huge.

"Your still wounded." His voice straining.

"I don't care." Another tug had him pulled a groan from him.

Nipping at my neck for a moment as if reconsidering what he really wants to do but ultimately desire winning out. He quickly pulls down his pants and boxers just enough to free his cock before thrusting into me.

"Fuck." I half moan half yelp.

He's massive bigger than anyone ive had before. It stings slightly being stretched this much but the fullness and his cock throbbing inside me, ushers in a new wave of pleasure as well.

Simon pulls away just enough to lock eyes with him, a hand brushing hair out of my face and resting on my cheek "Say stop I stop." He assures me.

"I know. I trust you." I say before I grab his face and kiss him roughly.

He moans into my mouth as I rock my hips to take more of him. Diggin his hands into my hair, he pulls my head back to place a wet kiss to my throat. Pulling out slightly thrusting in hard. Going deeper and deeper until he was bottoming out. The stinging subsided quickly, replaced with the frenzy of pleasure and need taking over.

He was rough and sloppy and I clung to him as he coaxed me closer and closer the edge with each heated thrust. Running my nails down his back only made him moan and pound into me harder, making my vision blur. He dragged his teeth across my neck Right as I toppled into another torrent of writhing bliss.

"Fuck you're so tight." He growls before gripping my face and kissing me roughly, taking my bottom lip between his teeth.

Both of us breathing heavy he pulls out with a wince, and I can't help the small cry of protest as he does so.

"I'm not done yet, love." He assures, picking me up off the counter placing me in front of the small table in the corner of the kitchen. Bending over it on instinct earned me a small smack on my ass as I look back at him over my shoulder.

He was breathing heavy his chest rising a falling rapidly and he had feverish look in his eye. Like he could go on for hours. I'm not sure I can make it hours, but I am more than willing to do my best. Simon ran his hands over my shoulders down my aback to the round of my ass where his grip tightened holding me there. Completely bare in front of him. Taking his time, like he wanted to remember this moment forever.

It left goosebumps on my skin and my heart began racing again as he leaned over me on the table. Pushing just the tip in as one hand braced himself on the table by my head and then other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise. The first thrust was slow, dragging himself into further than he had before.

"S-Simon." I whimper, desperate for him to move again.

"Say that again." He orders, slowly pulling out.

"Simon." The moan is more of a prayer for him to continue.

He seems to enjoy it none the less as his body twitches thrusting into me with a force that wobbles the table.

The hand on my hip dragging across my abdomen between my breast resting at the base of my throat pulls me into him. Only adding to the intensity of each movement. The rough texture of his clothing while he slides in and out of me hitting that sweet spot that sends a jolt of pleasure racing through me. His body wrapped around me as I'm wrapped around him completely at his mercy. My mind went numb, knew nothing but him and then intoxicating carnal need I have for him. That knot in my core wound so tight it was painful.

"Simon" I squeak, through panting breaths. I need more of him, all of him.

Lost in this little cloud of bliss I didn't hear the front door swing open. Simons body luckily shielded mine, not that I cared right now. Simon seemed too though; a primal rumbling sound rolled out the back of his throat in warning.

"Well, it took you two long enough." Soaps chuckled.

"Get the fuck out!" Simon growled without his pace faltering.

The door clicked shut and Simon went into a frenzy. His hands roaming every inch on my skin his mouth on my neck surely leaving a mark. My body shaking uncontrollably as the sudden rush of pleasure fogged my senses. Writhing beneath him his persistence driving me over the edge again. My ears rang, and my vision blurred around the edges as I pulsed around him. It was so much, too much, but still wanted more of him. His hips began staggering as he neared his own climax.

"Simon," I whine, "I want you to come inside me."

"Fucking hell." He groans doing just that. Spilling into me giving me what I wanted.

All of him.

He stays curled around me for a few moments as we both catch our breath. His thumb rubbing mindlessly at my hip in soothing circles. Taking in the last few moments in our little bubble before we have to return to reality. 

[milfygerard]

Not to tell you how to run your own blog but I loved the discussions full of nuance and would love to see them more often. But also on the other hand I know people who did that often enough that they ended up a target of hate too. Apologies for sending the super chaotic album analysis ask, I was running on fumes too, it was 5am and I hadn't gone to bed yet. The winter months come and I always have trouble waking up before the sun sets, and falling asleep before the sunrise.

Anyway I am not diagnosed with anything, never really could be with where I am, even more so as a woman (we don't even have ADHD meds, those with a diagnosis travel abroad just to buy them) but I have an inkling I might be ND because of many factors but mainly due to feeling like I'm an alien my entire life which no one seems to understand. I've thought about going abroad to get a diagnosis and then I read about what they were doing to ND people during covid and I went fuck that I'll stay wondering and alive. As for Taylor I think the biggest pointer for me was seeing her directing Me! and saying she needs to do less "dead face" or whatever she called it when looking at the footage. I went, oh I know that, it's the thing I also tell myself to do when surrounded by people. Later on I learned why that might be a thing I do lmaooo

the absolute dread i felt getting this anon notif like oh no...it begins

I appreciate the very valid concerns, ive seen how swifties can react to and treat blogs that post too much about subjects they don't like or see as valid. I also have mutuals ive seen get on the wrong end of swiftie harassment and it definitely seems overwhelming at the very least. I have a bit of luck/disguise on my end because ive kind of deduced that swifties seem to not care too much about me if they arent mutuals bc i am not technically a swiftie blog. She's definitely the special interest ive been talking about the most, but I don't post about her solely, I don't have her as my icon or in my url (girard <3) or mentioned anywhere that i'm a swift enjoyer except for me tagging her posts for mutuals who don't wanna see it. My actual posts that I write about her rarely get a Ton of notes and i make them pretty sparsely while also talking about and reblogging a ton of other random shit. I think this helps lessen the likeliness that I'll get someone who like...obsessively reads my blog to point out how stupid dumb and stupid my takes are and get attached to me in like a lolcow sense of trying to provoke me into arguing or entertaining them. If i do start getting some of that, I'll probably just turn off anon and asks for awhile and eventually theyll forget I exist or maybe even block me, imagine that <3

For the second part, I do encourage you to look into whatever neurodivergencies you think you may have even if a literal doctors diagnosis isnt a possibility! Part of the reason im pretty comfortable with tossing around words like autism is because I don't see professional diagnosis as a be all end all, nor do I think its bad to give yourself a "wrong" diagnosis while trying to understand yourself. Even if you don't end up identifying with autistm, I think being around autistic circles and learning about coping mechanisms and thought processes for other neurodivergencies can be so helpful for understanding yourself and your brain, and can bring really helpful. Like, I don't personally have DID or severe psychosis but talking to and reading write ups from mutuals has let me learn about them as like mundane mental health issues/NDs that anyone could have as well as issues i have had in the past with mild hallucinations or conceptions of personality. Most mental illnesses and NDs are treated very strangely and cruelly in general society and are considered aberrant or inherently bad or painful, but these are normal and often neutral (or positive! Which is often ignored or not considered) aspects of peoples lives.

If you are curious about self diagnosis, the most reliable and popular test online is the RAADS-R questionnaire which theres a great version of on embrace autism which i also definitely recommend scrolling through. They also have interesting articles, alternate tests and articles and tests for other neurodivergencies like OCD, which really opened my eyes to the likeliness that I've been suffering with undiagnosed OCD for pretty much my entire life. Theres also an autism forum if you want a broader spread of information and advice that might not be immediately accessible to you. I didnt touch on taylor much in this response (the dead face thing is extremely real, that and her talking about deciding to make the blood in anti hero purple glitter glue because she doesnt feel like a real normal human being in that directors on directors interview) but I do hope the other stuff is helpful and not too rambly <3 autism forever

[tobiasdrake]

Do you hear that? What's the sound? Oh, that's the sound of the BESTIE TRAIN COMING THROUGH, CHOO-CHOO!!!

A day in the life of Fubuki Clockford, let's goooooo!

Aww! The fortune teller says we're going to have good fortune. ^_^

Hey, don't laugh. This world features genetically-engineered homunculi and shinigami detectives who remotely kill people. Who says divination can't be real too?

I mean, she's probably trying to upsell a nearby casino but I'm going to remain optimistic. This will be our BEST. DAY. EVER.

Good for you, Fubuki! With your spotty memory and distractibility, you're exactly the kind of person that casinos prey on. Someone who could easily lose track of how much they can afford to spend or get swept up in the theatricism and not realize how they're being swindled.

Like... like off a building or something?

I dunno, let's see what the title card thinks.

That's a resounding yes! Come on, Fubuki! Gonna be sunshine and roses today!

Well. Probably not sunshine. In Kanai Ward. In fact, I think that would constitute a tremendously bad day, all things considered.

...protective rainclouds and roses!

Okay let's go see what "Someone fell from the sky" is about. Maybe they brought presents.

Aww, but I want to know your lucky number. It might be important later.

Also SQUEE I get to play as Fubuki. Y'all, I have been wanting to dump Yuma and go play as Fubuki since chapter 3.

...okay, chapter 2. As soon as Yakou was like, "She has an ability that will let her evade Peacekeepers with no trouble," I wanted to forget whatever shenanigans Yuma's going to get up to and go with her instead.

IT'S NOT MY FAULT, FUBUKI'S GREAT. FUCK YOU.

Incidentally, the window sign reads "COFFEE EQUALS *ONE* HAPPY DAY" so I am thinking we should get some coffee. <.< Though that might just be me falling victim to marketing.

Oh shit. There he is. In the middle of the street. Feral Population +1.

He had to have fallen from a building, right?

Okay, thanks for that clarification. Anyone know which building?

I realize you may find this hard to believe, and maybe harder with each passing moment that we talk, but I am a trained professional.

Or we can go with that as our opener, sure. I figured we'd slowly whittle down their confidence in us over the course of conversation but Fubuki's a master at going from 100 to 0 in record time.

HOLY SHIT HE'S ALIVE

We don't know how long he'll be conscious. Ask him questions quickly and see if he can answer. Then if he passes out, we can turn back time and ask different questions, over and over until Fubuki passes out. Straight-up min/maxing this interrogation!

I mean. She isn't wrong. These buildings are several stories tall and he landed on his face. On cement. His skull should be chunky salsa right now.

Clearly, Fubuki's great fortune is keeping him alive.

Three? What about three? Three what? Three muggers? Three rungs on a ladder? Three-

IS THAT A FUCKING D6 NEXT TO THE BODY!?

Did this guy use his final breath to read off the value on his die?

Oh my god, we're going gambling, aren't we? This case is going to involve gambling. Oh fuck.

...

We should go find out what our lucky number is.

I. Don't. Think he can, bestie. It's okay. Your Lucky Day powers scored us a valuable piece of testimony, unassuming though it may seem. Could you cast a glance at that die on the ground? I want to confirm what value it's showing.

Guys, it's nothing short of a Lucky Day miracle that he lived this long. He doesn't need an ambulance at this point. He needs a coroner transport truck to move him into the Restricted Area.

We have our mission. We must solve the mystery of the number three. At this time, our suspect list includes:

1 - The fortune teller lady. She seemed interested in pushing a number on us, and three is a number. Seems suspicious, lady. 2 - The Count from Sesame Street. There may be more bodies lying around. ONE! TWO! THREE MURDERS, ah ha ha! 3 - Yomi Hellsmile. Because he sucks and should always be considered suspicious. 4 - Halara Nightmare.

Right now, I'm honing in on Yomi as my prime suspect. Because he's number three on the list. Three's a pretty suspicious number to be at, Yomi. What else do you know about threes?

Let's go! Maybe we can get a little more context for the three.

You know what, that's a much better idea. We'll call that Plan B.

Because we should try it B-FORE trying to hear his dying words more clearly! If Plan B fails, we resort to Plan A-lternative.

...okay but I still want to know our lucky number. We can spare some time, right?

Drat. But. The number. It might be three. That could be a clue.

Plan B was a good effort but we didn't hustle fast enough. That might be because I stopped to try and get our lucky number from the fortune teller lady. I'm sorry for that.

How's Plan A looking?

Rudimentary first aid says that in the event of a possible broken neck, jerking the body around is--

I can't even finish my joke because look at his face. He can't take his eyes off that fucking d6. I wonder if it's a three again?

Nope, this time came up two. That's interesting. It implies probabilistic differences between "runs" of the same time period. I'm getting flashbacks to Zero Time Dilemma.

Hm... Okay, let's try again and see if we can get there faster.

[clairelsonao3]

Characters Out of Context Tag

I have @j-1173 (whose post is here) to thank for this procrastination tactic today! The challenge is as follows:

Rules:

Include one character quote — of your choosing ⁠— from each chapter of your WIP (or as many chapters as you'd like)

Give absolutely no context, save for what's between two parts of an interrupted sentence, should that occur. You may mention who said it.

Have fun, no pressure!

I gave myself some additional rules: Since I'm up to 23 chapters of GSNBTR, there's no reason not to include one quote each from ALL the major primary and secondary characters up to this point, so I'm going to do that (it won't quite equal out to one per chapter, so the MCs will get a few extra ones!). And because I'm doing that, I'm going to try to choose quotes that kind of encapsulate the "essence" of each character, or at least who they were at that point in the story. Wish me luck!

Oh, and I'm not going to mention who says what because that makes it more like trivia. And if there's anything I love, it's trivia!

Ch. 1

“Is that any way to talk to me?”

Ch. 2

"What have you so-called ‘experienced slave handling professionals’ been doing to the poor kid?"

Ch. 3

"Now a guy can’t even have sex with his own property without some social justice warrior calling it rape?

Ch. 4

“And calculus, and physics, and engineering. If I were free, I’d be a certified nerd,” he said. “And probably rich, too. But who’s complaining?”

Ch. 5

"You can tell me, you know." 

Ch. 6

“Your back isn’t nearly as pretty as your face, boy.”

Ch. 7

“You’ve been quiet. Secretive.” She kept poking her rhythmically with one of her sculpted coral nail tips. “But inside, you’re glowing. I see it.” Poke poke poke. “So there’s no use denying it, sweetie. What’s his name?”

Ch. 8

"Thanks for the relationship advice, dickhead. Have you ever even seen a girl naked without having to hide behind a bush?"

Ch. 9

“Nobody does anything for me. Ever."

Ch. 10

“And why shouldn’t they?” he said. “I mean, what are we trying to do here, Keith? Disrupt slavery, right? You’ve been in the corporate world too long, that’s your problem. You don’t question things anymore."

Ch. 11

"He's not mine," she said. "He's his own."

Ch. 12

"You could never, ever let me down,” he assured her.

Ch. 13

"And by the way, if you’re looking at the master being away as an opportunity to get away with murder, forget it.”

Ch. 14

“I’ve always wanted to see the ocean. But he didn’t take me, so I’m stuck here with a shit ton of time on my hands, and you’re still in the hole from the last one.” 

Ch. 15

“You know who I’m talking about. You have to find him, Louisa,” she continued. “Immediately. Normally I would never betray the confidence of a slave who came to me like this, but I can’t reach him now."

Ch. 16

 “The stuff he said about you was really awful, Lou; I’m not telling you this to cause drama. I just wanted to warn you.” She glanced quickly at the boy again. “Both of you.” 

Ch. 17

“She learned, and grew, and changed. She had a pilgrim soul.”

Ch. 18

“You’re so wrong. If I could only give you one thing in this life, it would be to give you the chance to see yourself the way I see you. Now and always.”

Ch. 19

“And to never, ever give up on me.”

Ch. 20

"You know you seem to have a real problem telling the difference between people and things?”

Ch. 21

“And everything I said the other day, about not giving up? It all still applies. Nothing's changed. Whatever happens. We'll figure it out. We always do. ”

Ch. 22

“Well, it’s a perk, no doubt. She invites some of us here sometimes to hang out, and of course, for such a rich guy, Jake is pretty chill. I like his vibes.”

Ch. 23

“What’s he been telling you? I don’t trust him. He’s a snake.”

I don't think I forgot anyone, but there is one character missing. It's better to leave them out at this point for spoiler-avoiding reasons, though.

I'm gently tagging @tabswrites @mysticstarlightduck @whither-wander-whump in case they would like to participate in this!

[something-about-sunflowers]

hi!! i'm the anon who sent the message abt ur post + victim-blaming. i just wanted to reiterate, i have no stake in that discourse and add that if anything, i agree with the broad points of your post at most (again, i only go here in a secondhand way. what the fuck is going on with someone's boss cutting off their subordinate's toe, making their subordinate eat it, and then being called the victim of that situation. help what the fuck).

to clarify, i sent that ask in good faith, and it was sent mainly because of the fact that the framing of "[character] is too competent to be abused by [other character]/you must think negatively about [character]'s competence to assume he could not get rid of a hypothetical attempted abuser" makes me very uncomfortable and i wanted to point out i thought ur wording may be harmful. i do not think that you are intending to make a point about irl victims of abuse and am not accusing you of anything — sorry if my original ask didn't make that clear enough! i don't think you are attempting to hurt anyone and i very much am not trying to get you to take down ur post (or anything similar?), i just believe it can be incredibly harmful to frame the subject of escaping or avoiding abuse as being about competency in any form, and at most i would ask you to reconsider that wording.

Right, so. I think the main issue here is: You're lacking the context. You say you're coming at this in good faith and, again, I'd like to believe that so I'll respond in kind.

I'm just gonna kind of rapid-fire some of the context and we'll go from there, we don't have to actually get into it and to be honest I'm probably not going to respond if you message me again because I really don't see this conversation going anywhere productive, since, we've established that I'm not talking about real people.

The boss who did the maiming (cutting off the toe) and forced autocannibalism is the one certain people say is being abused by the subordinate that he did it to. Said boss - Ed - is literally, essentially, the boss of everyone around him at any given point, he's well liked as well. The subordinate - Izzy - is supposed to be his second in command but has no way to enforce his own authority because Ed isn't enforcing it, he's significantly less well liked than Ed. He's literally nearly murdered by the people he's supposed to be in charge of and all it takes for it to stop is an absent request by Ed for Izzy to bring him tea. As an example of how well liked and respected Ed is in comparison to how disliked and disrespected Izzy is.

Izzy says some mean shit to Ed - which, arguably, doesn't really seem to faze him much? - and apologizes later for it. He makes some deals behind Ed's back - for what he thinks is Ed's own good (I'm inclined to say he's not entirely in the wrong, for what it's worth, not all good but not all bad either) - accepts what he considers to be fair punishment for it (a punch in the face, for the setting I'm inclined to agree it's fair). Imperatively, after he says the mean shit and apologizes, he's trying to leave. Ed is the one who insists that he stay.

Another important thing to note: Ed has experienced abuse. His father was abusive towards his mother and while it's never shown or directly implied on screen, it can be inferred fairly easily that he was abusive towards Ed as well. Ed murdered his father. And while he has some trauma centering on directly murdering people as a result he has no qualms about having other people do the murdering for him. He orders a man skinned with an escargot fork, tied to something 'very heavy', and thrown overboard for being racist at him (fair). He's, arguably, committed several other murders directly and simply rationalized away his own involvement in the resulting deaths 'technically, the fire killed those guys'. This is what I mean when I say he could easily get rid of someone in Izzy's position (social and professional standing) who was trying to abuse him.

I could go on.

Regardless. I'll admit that maybe my wording in my response wasn't the best, though I maintain that my original post has nothing wrong with it. A misunderstanding on your part due to lack of context and by way of it not being a conversation with you does not fall on me.

My issue with the idea of the characters' competence in relation to the possibility of an abusive relationship is, actually, that I don't believe there is that disparity in their respective competency levels - at least not as wide as all that. I don't believe they're in an abusive relationship but it's not because I think one is too competent to be a victim. My mentioning their competency at all is because the same people who insist that it is abusive also insist on the disparate competence levels. It's infantilizing Ed to say that, even though he's so much better than Izzy in every way, Izzy still has this power over him. And again, I have to stress, Ed is the one in a position of power over Izzy in multiple contexts. It does reflect poorly on their interpretation of Ed to imply that Izzy is abusing him.

All that aside? I am not responsible for your discomfort and discomfort is not harm. I do try to be considerate in my wording but, as I said: I cannot, will not, and should not have to preempt every potential read of the things that I say. We understand that I'm not talking about real people, but fictional ones, that should be the end of this. After that, if you are still made uncomfortable on my views or my wording, the onus is on you to remove yourself. You came to my ask box. Anonymously. I do not know who you are to block you - and I'm honestly not quite sure how reliably tumblr blocks accounts of anonymous askers - you are more than welcome to block me for the sake of your own comfort. I will take no offense. I am a strong advocate for curating your own spaces online and the block button is my best friend.

Again, I'm not likely to respond if you send another ask. I honestly can't see this conversation going anywhere productive, as, we're really just talking in circles. That said, I hope you have a nice day, genuinely. And I do recommend actually getting the context and watching Our Flag Means Death, it's really not as serious as all this, it's got its darker moments but - ultimately - it's a rom-com. I'd maybe advise avoiding the wider fandom though, find yourself a small group and stick to it (ideally one that understands that anon hate, harassment, death threats, sui-bait, and doxxing are bad things regardless of what the target thinks about fictional characters - there's some crazy people in this fandom and they're best avoided).

[weaselle]

we're all familiar with throwing money at a problem until it fixes it, but this asshat is the only individual i've seen take something with good design that is functioning really well...

and then throw billions of dollars at it until it's ruined

not just twitter either, if you look at all the things that are wrong with the cyber truck, its mostly stuff the auto industry has spent the last hundred years figuring out, like how to run wiring through the frame but still be able to go through a car wash, that safety glass is the best kind of glass for car windows, or why you shouldn't glue your car together.

and Tesla was the leader of the electric car world until he bought the company from the smart people who actually invented the tesla vehicles ... now the E.V. market is trending downward - unless you remove tesla's cars from the data

not to mention the way NASA has been perfecting space travel for like 65 years but this jerkoff insists on spending billions to do it worse himself

he's gonna do it with Neuralink too, mark my words - it was a great tech development. I've been following the progress for years and years. It was medical tech, before he got a hold of it they had progressed it to a point where a person who was so paralyzed they couldn't even move their mouth to talk, could, with the chip implant, move a mouse cursor on a computer, meaning instead of lying in bed locked in their body with no way to communicate or recreate, now they could talk to people and play games and surf the web etc. I think that is both super cool and pretty important. But what he does is he buys a developing tech after someone else has done the decades of work making it viable, then he ignores everything they know about it and runs it into the ground. Of course he doesn't give a shit about the paralyzed people, he'll try to make it the "next big thing", ruin it, and then blame the people who tried to tell him he was ruining it.

I've been saying he's a mean dumbass since he interfered with the rescue of those kids in the cave in Thailand in 2018 and then said the rescue diver who actually saved them all only did it because he was a pedophile (twice! on twitter to his, at the time, 22 million followers) which of course was totally baseless.

I'm so glad that the rest of the world is starting to see him for who he is. He's incredibly stupid, and also an asshole.

and before anyone brings up him being on the spectrum (because i hear that defense of him sometimes?) let me just say, that's just something he decided for himself without any professional input from any kind of doctor or therapist, and since he has shown himself to be both an idiot and a liar, i don't believe him for a second, but even if it was true, A: a person can be both autistic and a horrible person, those are separate things, and B: none of the reasons i hate him have anything to do with characteristics he may or may not have in common with autistic people.

fuck that guy in particular

elon musk buying twitter and publicly embarrassing himself is a net positive because finally people believe us when we say he is not that smart. so many videos criticizing him before his takeover always had to add the disclaimer 'sure, he's a smart guy, but-' and now you don't.

not that you ever had to but god its so much funnier when people try to argue that hes smart now

[alyjojo]

Love Reading 🦞 - October 2024 - Leo

Singles:

Who is Coming In: 9 Pentacles & 7 Pentacles

Regarding: 9 Wands

Long-Term Potential: Page of Cups & The Moon

I think this is a case of you just reading the situation wrong. You seem to have regular contact with this person, probably at work or some place where you have to do a certain kind of social dance. Your kid’s friend’s parent who they swore was single. You seem to know for sure they’re single, they’ve always acted single and maybe don’t wear a ring or never talk about anyone - though they do talk about themselves. I’m seeing a gas station clerk for someone, and you buying coffee/soda regularly. They’re chatty but not necessarily warm, very practical and hardworking, I’m even getting “self-made”, successfully. They’re a very independent person which matters long term when you still have no idea whether they actually like you or not. They could be married. If this is a kid’s friend’s parent, their kid might stop talking to your kid and being all vague about it - random specific message.

For the most part, whatever the connection is currently, it will probably stay that. You may confuse being nice for flirting. I’m getting kind of a stoic sort of personality, more weathered and kind of rough, they’ve been through it in their life - and are not exactly the funny haha or super romantic type. Neither. Maybe you wish they were? They’re not 💯 If you flirt, it just confuses them. This person is very guarded, protective, cautious, and professionalism it’s important to them - they may take everything super literal and you need to actually spell it out. Most are platonic, some even married or have a whole family you didn’t/don’t know about.

Messages:

- No Hard Feelings

- I just don’t know what to say.

Oracles:

5 Pitch

Be as clear, concise and professional as you can be when you explain your ideas to potential associates.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Pisces & Virgo

Couples:

The relationship: The Star rev

The problem: 8 Cups

What to do about it: 9 Cups rev

Interesting energy for the advice. I can tell you two are separated, nothing has happened since this occurred. There’s a lot of alone time. I’m not sure whose decision it was, could be you or this King of Cups…them showing up as that shows that they love you. Could be someone has abandonment issues. Could also be someone tied up some third party - in a situation that’s ending. Could be your person or you are separated from someone else and trying to move on to other things - but unable to right now. 4 Wands at the bottom can show a house, family, assets and other things between you and an ex or a newer partner that still need to be sorted…I don’t sense it’s you moving on from this. You fear they have.

The Star rev and 9 Cups rev both show a feeling of like…you’ve lost your dream. Or you’ve gotten what you wanted but it turns out it’s not what you wanted at all. Or you were hoping they would feel this way. This person may have been playing around with your heart, the challenge is the distance between you and the hurt that has inevitably caused. The advice is to tune into what you do want, by seeing what you don’t. Or them. Someone may be indulgent with other options, flirtatious, jealous, selfish, they like too much of a good time and are then argumentative or snotty about it? You feel like 10 Cups is the only real option here, or move along. That could be switched too. If it’s a third party, I don’t see you even getting involved unless or until they’re offering you 10 Cups, you’re no one’s side piece. Or…you fear they have one, and until you know for sure you won’t engage with them or attempt to heal this. You already feel like you can’t, it’s too far gone, very pessimistic. If they’ve already made their choice to do something else, then the choice you need to make is the one that chooses you - or what you want, also.

Could also be whatever is “best for the kids” or you could be seriously pissed or triggered by some dumb shit your ex is doing around your kids…going to a bar maybe. Flirting. Wearing something “inappropriate” or with someone who is. I’m seeing someone use their kids as leverage to flirt with someone, especially a baby - idk if that applies or not but if so - I feel this rage 🙏 The snotty “fuck you” behavior may be completely valid, in some cases it’s not, apply however. Could be them.

There’s no progress this month with 2 Wands rev, and that’s an energy of playing it safe, staying right where you are for now - or on the other side, you could’ve already started down the path you intend to move down and it doesn’t involve this person at all…but that doesn’t make it easy. Leaving, The Hermit, is the challenge 😕 If you’re a third party, they’re not leaving their person this month and you could be feeling incredibly jealous and insecure they they’re going to make up with their baby mama/daddy or something. Or switch it. Recycle shows your dream isn’t over, though you fear it is…and maybe it is, but *something* is worth saving. Or learning. Could also be someone is extremely resistant to domestic life, having kids, picket fences, it’s not for them - they’re a partier, and the other person could be looking for a more home & family based sort of forever, specifically.

Messages:

- SCANDAL 🫣

- I’m exhausted with this 😴

Oracles:

4 Recycle

Learn from the past and apply it to creating your vision of the future.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Heavy Pisces, Aries & Scorpio

[daftpuppy]

hey so im new to the fandom cause i realized i am into it.. May i ask , if its normal to just have a default kink? I vividly remember watching videos about this before I was conscious, and id grind.. I, personally dont enjoy it, cause i find it weird, and a lot does too... im just turned on by it and idk why.. 😭😭😭

im going to be straight with you, I def not the best person to ask this question to at all! Hell i would 100% recommend asking anyone else.

i myself am still rather 'new' to the kink community as an whole (technically ive been doing this shit for years but im super on and off with it so i dont really count it)

but ill try to give some sort of answer (i would highly recommend asking others and looking at articles/reasearch papers so dont just take my word and run with it cause im probs wrong).

This is my first time hearing the term 'default kink' but i assume it mainly refers to having a kink in concept. Like how you would tell someone you liked piss broadly than saying omo specifically (I could be 100% wrong, i would greatly appreciate it if someone could tell me the true definition cause i couldnt find any thing about that term TT). Which in that sense i would thinks its fine, like imo its fine to have a kink that you dont really want to participate in but find it hot.

(From this point onwards Im mainly talking out of my ass, feel free to skip if its not really answering your question cause it probably isnt. Im just one passionate bitch who cant stay on topic)

For the later part of your question, i totally get it. Omorashi for me was something that turned me on but i also felt so disgusted by it for the longest time which caused me to basically stop doing it cause i thought it was 'too weird' and disgusting. It really wasnt until recently where I realised who gives a shit if its werid, and I starting seeing more posts on Twitter about kinks and taboo which only really pushed me further down the rabbit hole...again.

I think everyone has a right to think something theyre into is too werid and begin to hate it because of the way it turns you on, but i think a lot of it involves getting rid of societal expectations and just being you. Cause no matter what kink you have, if its piss or not, 99% of society will hate it and think you are weird for it. You cant please everyone but you can please yourself.

For you since you dont enjoy it cause you find it werid but get turned on by it, it can be a slippery slope. It may be a thing were you dont like participating im omo but like watching it, or maybe you prefer controlling. Idk thats for you to find out if you even want to.

Again, DO NOT TAKE WHAT I SAY AT FACE VALUE! Do more reasearch cause im a stranger on the internet, not some kink professional. When it was me in that position all it took was a mindset change. Realising that I should be able to indulge myself and not feel 'dirty' for it, letting myself understand that yes, a piss kink is weird, but it feels good to me so I should let myself experiment even if i end up concluding it wasnt for me. But it may not be the same for you and thats ok.

I cant really give you a definate answer cause i feel like its a pretty personal journey you have to take. You know, start out small and see how it goes.

anyway sorry about my college theis. Hopes it helps, im really just talking about of my ass rn. If theres someone who has a better take feel free to add, idk if i even answered the question lmao 😭

[shinyangelwombatknight]

Yooooo, so. Turnes out I gotta get my shit under control cause I can't continue to vent to anyone that lends an ear. This makes me realize I don't have a friend that I would feel comfortable talking with.

Don't get me wrong, I am so happy and even proud of my friends and our friendships, but I realized I don't really have that kind of relationship with them and I don't really want to...? I respect them. Sometimes things feel too personal to be platonic. Also, I have to be honest, I just don't feel it as much with women as I do with men. Having grown up with like zero women in my vicinity made it so I don't know how to consistently connect with women on a more personal level. Not to say that I absolutely don't, it's just that it takes me a good 45 minutes of conversation and established rapport to warm up enough to start bringing up my own personal opinions etc. and even then, it's kinda like medium relaxed, it's not like fully there. And although I'm making it out to seem like I get very little out of it, I do genuinely value those moments however superficial or well rather medium they may be. But anyway, the fact remains that I need more than this, I need more than I can hope for in a friendship. I either need like 2-3 more friends (mixed gender), or I need to find someone else.

My two current friends are girls, and I'm realizing this ain't it for me in terms of personal connection.

I gotta be honest, I don't see either happening lol. I'ma just have to get content with small talk damn. Which well yeah, I do genuinely enjoy small talk but damn.

I only hug one person, and it's cause they hug me, really I'm a victim of peer pressure! But anyway, I don't hug enough people. I don't hug anyone like that. But anyway, it's a fine line to tread to not shatter your ego.

There's this guy that I thought we might be able to be friends. He was the TA for a class I took last semester and hes like my age. We were always very friendly and I could tell he was significantly friendlier than politeness required which I took to mean he thought I was chill etc. But I don't think I could take the loss on this one if it went south because I'm still a student there and he's still a TA there, meaning we bump into each other in a professional setting like all the time, like all the time. And one thing about me is that I like to keep things professional.