#it would be a shame if something happened to it

[summertimesadnessirl]

The problem is...

We never escaped gender essentialsm.

We just got rope a doped.

Men were like "the girls are getting liberated! Let's make liberation about peer pressure and drug assisted date rape!"

Then that meant most women went back to being anti sex for a while, so men went

"Cool, the girls want to be in charge? Let's give them all the responsibility and none of the authority!"

Then they got to do weaponized incompetence while women were so used to being infantalized that they fell right into attempts to prove themselves until it was too late and when they were emotionally exhausted they were like "have you tried submission? Maybe if you don't want all the responsibility and none of the authority you might like to just sit back and do what someone else wants with no pesky thinking or yelling at men and feeling guilty and triggering your childhood trauma by feeling like you're doing the same infantalization that was done yo you as an infant?"

And then women were like

"Maybe I can just get a job and some cats dude idk." An the girls were getting financially liberated, somehow all the hiring practices became more strict and more based on "networking" and more companies started having strict dress codes and codes of conduct and the degrees for female dominated professions suddenly involve a ton of student debt and the way to get jobs in male dominated fields involves an apprenticeship that is bestowed upon you by a group of men and then the pay in female dominated feels dropped and men were like

"Hey girl boss, wouldn't it be nice to take a break from the harsh realities of capitalism with some billionaire sugar daddy smut on kindle that's cheaper than all the other books? Hey did you know you can torrent 50 shades of grey? Wouldn't it rock to quit your job and just sexually service some insane rich guy and rationalize his insane behavior all day?

And women were like

"Nah screw that if you want me to suck dick for money I'm going to come as close as I can to seizing the means or diversifying my portfolio or whatever and suck lots of dicks on onlyfans for a small amount of money each so none of them can back me into a corner"

And men were like

"Sorry, now you don't deserve human dignity and you can't expect brigades of trolls not to come after you and you can't expect people not to financially discriminate against your job or stalk you or SA you or publish revenge porn that would be good for your career right also we're gonna make your job illegal and also you're a Dubai toilet are you sure you don't want to go back to the 1950s household, sweetie? It doesn't seem like you're very good at running your own lives maybe if you just pretend to be a child and do pilates a man will take care of you. Maybe women's lib was a mistake? Everyone makes mistakes baby it's okay."

And any women left over got

"Actually you are persecuting and oppressing men and all the stuff you had done to you that you are afraid of replicating like a cycle of abuse and also we will literally take over the government and... you know those nice queer kids who were always nice to you and would make out with you or maybe just be your friends without asking anything other than friendship in return? Yeah we're gonna torture and possibly murder them if you don't do what we say. You know the nice non white people who seem like they don't do as much cisheteronormativity as us because of the legacy of us raping and torturing all the members of their society for years and commiting weird sexual violence on them so they aren't perfect but they don't do gender roles the same way we do exactly and also we hate them anyway and are always looking for excuses to hurt them? If you get married maybe we won't take away their rights. Maybe. We might have to fuck around and do it anyway. We can't have them breeding with you, unless it's us forcing you to performatively have sex with them in fetishy ways that make you feel racist and dirty. Of course we can have sex with whoever we want. You know there are so many warm, kind, feminine women in other countries who still believe in love. Don't even think about trying to have sex with the gays, we will turn that into fetish fuel for men who want to rape them. Oh, and you didn't care about the child poverty rate, right? Because right now eggs are awfully expensive and there was price collusion in Kroger and some other grocery stores- it was in the news. And no one is blaming the high cost of ice cream or chicken breasts or apples or rice or bacon or noodles or hot wings for why the guys who want to cut all social safety net programs got elected sweetie, just eggs. Kinda a coincidence that the guy behind that is having some big sex scandal with his children's mother? And it would all be easily solved if they were married. Anyway, we're going to repeal no fault divorce and hiring discrimination laws and post thousands of fake job listing's online and conduct real interviews for them and not tell you, and we're just going to wait right here watching all this soft core porn of women cooking with their tits out. No pressure. Whatever you decide. It's your choice."

i miss when "don't normalize this" actually meant something. i miss when we would point out toxic thought patterns and note "you're romanticizing something tragic". i miss when you could actually call something antifeminist and you'd be taken seriously. what actually happened.

no, it isn't fucking normal we have teen girls saying "tee hee girl math girl dinner i'm just a girl." no it's not fucking romantic that your man lured you away from your hobbies and your career so you could raise his children and rely on his financial support. yes it's fucking antifeminist for you to say "i'll explain this mathematical concept so the girls can understand it". just because you put it in pink and make it wear a bow doesn't mean it's a safe little doll. it's still the same wolf.

you are being taught to casually accept gender essentialism and bigotry as the natural rule of order! you are being taught to self-admonish and self-control! you are not just being boiled! the water has practically evaporated! this is no longer a thought experiment, my love. this is a genuine problem.

[ms-demeanor]

In my college American poetry class we had to do memorized readings of three poems, one of the ones I chose was Langston Hughes' "Weary Blues" because I'd already built a dramatic performance of it in high school.

This was an interesting college class because it was tiny (16 students at the start of the quarter, 12 at the end) and because it was *poetry* a lot of people in the class fudged the readings and did them the day of class, which meant that they weren't really prepared to discuss them. After two excruciating classes in a row where I was the only person ready to discuss the readings (in the second class I literally had to sit on my hands to keep myself from trying to speak after the professor said "Alli cannot answer for the rest of the hour, somebody else say something" and then nobody did for another ten minutes of the most awkward silence I have ever encountered), the professor brought in lyric sheets for "Summertime" from Porgy and Bess.

He started the class with our normal written quiz, then asked who was ready to talk. I was, because of course I was, but nobody else raised their hands.

"If you're not going to talk, then you're going to sing," he said, and handed out lyrics to everyone. "We are all adults, and we have an adult agreement that you will read the assignments and be prepared to discuss them, and I will lead discussions and teach you about the readings. You are not holding up your end of the agreement like adults, so I'm treating you like children, and your participation for the last three classes will not be based on your quizzes - which is good news for a lot of you - but on doing a sing-along today. So I'm going to sing this first, then we're going to sing it five times together, and then we're going to talk about the song together, and you are going to do your readings before my next class or I am going to be handing out more lyrics and we'll sing another song together like kindergartens."

That class is why the four students who dropped did so, but everyone who stayed was prepared for discussions for the rest of the quarter.

Anyway, that was before our second poetry presentation so by that point I'd already sung with these people and had no shame, so i decided I was going to actually sing the singer's part in "Weary Blues."

I recorded it on my phone and asked my friend Lindsey, who was in the class and happened to be a choir director, to listen to it and tell me if it sounded terrible. She said that it did not and asked if I had any vocal training and I said no and she said "you should join a choir" and i felt very flattered and continued practicing and memorizing the poem.

We had to give critiques of each person's performance, and most people were generally polite like you normally would be when giving feedback, but apparently one young woman was still pissed at me for being a suck-up and doing the assigned readings.

"First of all i couldn't even pay attention to the rest of the poem because you sound like a man. I think singing was a weird choice and singing like a man made it impossible for me to take your reading seriously" and i was a bit surprised (so were other people) but simply said "thank you, that's good to know, i was trying to sound like a man because the speaker in the poem describes the singer as a man, it's good to know i hit that mark" and we moved on.

Lindsey and the professor both checked in on me at the end of class, Lindsey to say "practice made that sound really really really good you should join a choir" and the professor to say "i was leery when you asked to sing part of your poem, i don't usually allow that but I'm glad i did" and both to ask if I was upset by the other student's comments.

I was not upset. Mentally i was jumping up and down and doing backflips and was bummed because the other student was probably just being mean and didn't actually think my voice sounded masculine.

But now I'm finding videos with titles like "is that my mom or a dude? Learning about the contralto range" and I'm like haha wait yeah, gender euphoria is stored in the vocal cords.

[coquettepascal]

brave girl

summary: you decide to try something new when you believe you're home alone. joke! you aren't home alone. at least joel is willing to help.

tags: 18+ smut, joel miller x afab!reader, dbf!joel (it's mentioned twice,) pillow humping, f!masturbation, sexual frustration, getting caught, crying, insecurity, anxious!reader, softdom!joel (kind of idk,) soft!joel, neighborly!joel, tooth rotting sweetness, clit rubbing, kind of size difference-y, praise, nicknames like baby, sweet girl, sweet one, brave girl, etc.

a/n: yayy i wrote a fic !!! this is VERY birthday girl adjacent btw so if you liked that you'll like this (and vice versa!)

wc: 2.2k (not beta read)

You know this isn’t how he wants you.

No guy willing to fuck around with his best friend’s daughter wants it to be like this, where she’s sniffling and crying into his shirt, pushing herself not to squirm away from him. The normal idea of this would be for him to meet you at a beach, or a barbecue, or something else summer-y and sexy, and then you’d fuck and then oops-wait-you’re-his-daughter!? That’s how this should be, right? 

But no, instead you’re in the midst of your semester off, and sure you had met Joel a few times over the holidays when you came down to visit your old man, but you didn’t think this would be happening. 

Joel shifts behind you, reminding you that the position you’re in sucks for him. You’ve heard him complain about his back before, and now the ridge of your twin size bedframe is digging into his spine. You wish you had the energy to move or help him, but your eyes are bleary and your body is frozen from anxiety, which is better than the embarrassment of earlier. Thinking about the humiliation… a flash of hot red runs up your neck at the memory.

You had been trying something different. After scrolling online for a little while on some forums, you made the decision to try humping your pillow. Penetrative sex wasn’t something that felt good for you, and rubbing your own clit gets boring after the fourth night in a row. So yes, you decided to desecrate the pillow you’d been frustratedly tossing and turning on for the past week. 

It had started out okay. And literally just okay is how you would describe the experience. After being excited at the idea all night last night, and into the morning before your dad left for work, you had basically jumped onto your pillow the second the door clicked shut. Your flimsy undies were supposed to work as some sort of extra friction, and they kind of did, but eventually you just resorted to rubbing yourself while you were hunched over your pillow. The friction just wasn’t right, your pillow was too soft and there was nothing to truly rub against so it just frustrated you more. Your anger peaked when you realized that you had been all excited for no reason and you quickly lost steam on the jerking-off part of your morning, resorting to huffing and puffing into the pillow which pissed you off so bad. 

But when he had found you, or rather, just opened the door, you were crying. 

For whatever reason, you felt embarrassed about the pillow situation. You’re how many years old and you can’t make yourself come? Fingering yourself feels “weird” so instead you humped a pillow? Shame quickly overtook your frustrated feelings and you ended up crying into your sheets, clit abandoned and fingers slightly wet. Maybe you just weren’t meant for something like this, maybe you just weren’t meant to have sex or be sexy. What kind of girl were you? Surely a broken one, surely a stupid one. Nothing could feel worse than this self-created humiliation. 

Except, obviously, Joel finding you. 

“Are you oka– woah,” is what he had said before slapping his free hand over his eyes. Joel was annoyingly quiet sometimes. Without his work boots clomping beneath him he was a quiet guy with quiet movements so long as he was on carpet, so you had no clue he was in your house. He wasn’t there last night, so what the hell was he doing there now?

A little yelp had left you as you tugged your shirt down and shoved your pillow back to its rightful spot on the bed in a flurry of movement. Blush pink had crawled onto your face and shameful red snuck up your spine, seizing your neck to stiffen your posture. 

“What are you doing here?” You had asked, a guilty lilt to your tone.

Joel was standing there, clearly also flustered, with his hand still over his eyes. 

“Your dad kept sayin’ he’d fix the cabinet in the upstairs bathroom but he didn’t,” Joel begins to explain, his hand dropping from your door knob. “He’s back at work now and I uh— It’s my day off so I figured I’d lend a hand. Then I heard you crying or uh, something.”

You decide to stare into the bottom corner of your room, beside Joel’s feet.

“I was crying.” It isn’t a lie. 

Joel nods, almost takes his hand off his eyes, then decides to keep it on. 

“Why?”

And you probably shouldn’t have answered honestly. You should not have told Joel that you were crying because you feel like your pussy is broken, or maybe that your brain’s broken, and that you haven’t come in weeks because you keep getting so in your head about it. But you did, and that wouldn’t have been so bad. Would it have been bad to vent to your dad’s friend about how you can’t bust a nut? Yes, always. But it’s worse because it’s Joel, Mr. Fix-it-Felix himself, who just has to help everyone. 

But you didn’t exactly say no when he offered.

So now, you’re here, with your body cradled between his thick thighs, the denim of his jeans scratching at your lower back while one of his arms cradles the upper part of it. Joel said it was fine for you to put all your weight on him, and so you did. Your head rests on his shoulder, eyes focused on the aging, freckled, skin of his neck. 

You had warned him you’d probably keep crying, but he said it was okay. 

“You bare under the shirt, baby?” Joel asks softly. Your head nods your answer, eyes burning. 

The shirt is draped between your thighs as your knees are propped up but apart. Joel’s hand comes down and hesitantly hovers there, fingers just brushing the fabric before cupping you through the fabric.

“Can I touch underneath?” He asks.

It takes you a second. Humiliation is still coursing up and down the lengths of your arms in little waves of tingles that tickle weirdly. Can Joel touch underneath? You barely know how okay you are when you’re touching yourself, can you really handle him doing that? 

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

His chest moves heavy underneath you, a steady beat of up and down that reminds you of those automatic baby rockers. Joel doesn’t move his hand from where it is on you, and he doesn’t look down at you either, thank God. The anxiety, the unsure tension in the room, it’s stunting you from getting what you need. You don’t know what you can and can’t handle, you don’t know your body anymore. Something about this situation, which is already twisted, is only made worse now. Both of you know that much, but Joel seems to know more.

“Do you want to know?” 

His voice is quiet still, a rumbling noise that still shudders with nervousness as he says want, like he knows you might say no. Joel is someone you can stand saying no to, you know he’s faced greater disappointments than not helping his best friend’s daughter get off. But, you don’t want to say no. You don’t want to say no, but you don’t want to say yes either. 

You just want it to happen. 

One of your hands, the one that was reached up to clutch onto his shoulder, trembles as it comes down to guide his hand underneath. Your shirt drapes still, allowing you some modesty, a shield from his eyes.

“‘M not shaved,” you say apologetically, your voice tight from tears. His hand is just sitting there, motionless, and that sense of frustration is back. You don't want this from him, if you wanted something still you'd go back to humping your pillow. 

Please, you want to say to him, please show me this can be good, that I can feel good still. Take me somewhere I can't.

He's too hesitant, gently cupping over the somewhat trimmed hairs. Deep down you know why he's hesitating, he feels bad about this, but you're already crying so what's the use in anxiety?

“Joel,” you say his name like a reminder, even though you're just as scared as he is. He responds quickly, nodding and saying “yeah, sorry,” before his hand is finally moving.

“M just gonna start like this, okay sweetie?” His voice swims in your ears, quiet as you rest yourself against his chest again. Joel's movements are slow, practiced, as he rubs just over your lips, applying pressure to your clit in a gentle way. Everything he does is him testing the waters, making sure it's still okay. 

“Are you scared?” he asks. 

And no, not exactly. You aren't scared of anything in particular, you're just overwhelmed, but that's a lot of words and you can't find the words to put together a sentence right now. You hum something similar to a “kinda” and luckily he gets it.

Finally, he sinks a finger deep enough to actually feel how needy you are. A puff of breath leaves him, and maybe he’s surprised at how wet you are considering how scared you are. Another weird noise escapes your chest as you push your face higher, nose to his adams apple as you try to disappear beneath his jaw. Slowly, he begins to rub over your clit. It’s only one finger, a little overwhelming, and you squirm at the pressure. “Too much,” you complain. 

Joel, thankfully, doesn’t seem insulted by this, and instead eases up with the pressure. Your knees start to close together subconsciously, everything in you feels so conflicted and you don’t know if having Joel Miller help you was the best idea. But then he starts talking.

“Don’t want you to focus on my hands, sweet one,” he says. It isn’t self deprecating, but more of a suggestion. “Want you to focus on me, okay? It’s just me.”

Your eyes, which had previously been squeezed shut, open. You can see the freckled, tan, skin of his neck. It’s bumpy, and you can see little hairs that stray from his normal beard pattern. There’s a birthmark just below his collarbone that you’ve seen before when his shirt’s neckline slides the wrong way, so you must be tugging on his clothes in some way. You focus on that spot as his voice continues to lull your mind.

“It’s just me, right? Just Joel, you know me, hm?” He asks. It’s as if he wants to keep you in the moment, to keep you as awake as he seems to be. Joel’s head settles down more, his bristled chin resting on the top of your head as his hand works a little more intensely. 

You barely even recognize that you’re still crying as you let out a soft “uh-huh.” Big, hot, tears are rolling down your cheeks as you cling to him. His wrist is warm as it rests between your legs, his hand even warmer, but you try and listen to his words. 

“Yeah, it’s just Joel. I’m just helpin’ you for a bit, okay baby? You gonna let me help you?” It’s working. You can feel your stomach tightening, and even as tears still spill out, you’re nodding yes. If there were any words you could get out of your mouth you’d tell him yes, yes please help me, but unfortunately nothing will come out. Joel isn’t doing anything specifically technical with his movements here, just rubbing your clit slowly, using any of the wetness that leaks out of you to his advantage as he talks in a smooth tone. 

“You’re doing so good, so perfect. You just keep focusin’ on me, alright? I’m right here, I’m holdin’ ya,” he reminds you. Your eyes shut for a moment again, and your hands that were flopped beneath his bent knees are now gripping at your sheets. He notices you squirming and tilts his head down so his cheek rests on your head now. Against your back is his chest, his heart thumping beneath his skin at a steady beat. If he is hard, you don’t know, but you don’t care either. He’s helping you right now, this is about you. It’s about you, tucked under all his warm, soft, body. It’s about how he feels so safe for no reason, and how he’s encouraging this. It’s about how he’s fine with you crying, that he isn’t pulling away or asking if you’re okay. Joel knows it’s okay because he’s making it so, he’s grounding you with words and setting fire with his hands. “Just me and you, me and my brave girl,” he says. 

It’s probably the softest orgasm you’ve ever been brought to. A choking feeling crawls up your chest, choking your noises while rushes of blood bloom up your body to your head. It leaves you dizzy, breathless, boneless, and nearly deaf. You can barely hear what Joel is saying, but he’s definitely realized that he’s helped you plenty.  Your chest is heaving as he presses a kiss to your scalp, mumbling words about how brave you are, how pleased he is. It’s the first real orgasm you’ve had in a really long time, and maybe he knows, because he doesn’t make you move at all. Joel lets you lay back on him, removes his hand and adjusts your shirt so you’re covered again.

“That’s a brave girl now,” he murmurs softly, “you just rest now.”

[thelov3lybookworm]

Teddy Bears

Summary: She... doesn't dislike him?

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 2186

Warnings: tiniest bit of angst? no angst? idk but it is kinda chaotic lolll i love it

A/n: based on this request 😋 @mellowmusings ily thank you for giving me this idea hehe I HOPE U LIKE IT POOKIE 🥹

also @potatoplace and @sapphicmsmarvel, dedicated to u two cus i love u lots ur the best 🥹

(also something funny to distract tato from cramps hehe)

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYYY!!!🥳🥳🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

If there was such a thing as Fae Going Mad List, Azriel was sure he’d be on the top of it.

He was not sure how to describe the feeling of helplessness that he had been feeling for quite some time now. Some days, it was barely a speck of awareness in the back of his mind. The others, he didn’t even want to leave his bed. It took sheer willpower, his shadow’s encouragement, Cassian’s constant nagging and the hope that maybe, that day would be the day Y/n finally gave him anything other than her signature condescending glare that she wore when it came to him that got him out of his pity party most days.

The fact that the person evoked such feelings in him did not care also gave him a bit of a reality check, enough to break out of the haze of self hatred.

Remember the plan.

Azriel glanced sideways at the little shadow that floated next to his ear as he climbed up the steps to the training ring, brows furrowed. Of course he remembered the plan. Or whatever half assed thoughts he called a plan, anyways.

Waking up, he had been filled with dread and determination, telling himself that enough was enough, today was the day that Y/n will have to tell him the reason she always had her nose turned up at him, as if she could not be bothered to look at him without contempt.

The training ring was mostly empty, as it usually was when the sun was high in the sky, except for two figures on the far end towards the edge. Cassian’s wings towered over the two, casting shade onto the smaller figure sat beside him.

Once again, the sight of the back that should have been proudly carrying her own set of wings stabbed a dagger of guilt into his heart, making Azriel wonder if he should even have the right to talk to her.

After all, it had been his fault she had lost her wings.

It was well known that after a female became eighteen years of age, her wings had to be cut off. Knowing the traditions, Rhysand had gathered Cassian and Azriel and decided that one of them had to be with her at all times of the day. She had been like a sister to Rhysand, and the only friend outside of each other, so the need to protect her was not questioned.

The day it had happened, Azriel had been on his resting day after a week of training. Back then, none of the three Illyrians were allowed to train on their rest days, or else the Lady of Night would have their arses.

Naturally, Azriel was supposed to follow Y/n around.

Of course, she didn’t want him to.

"Azriel, I am not a baby. You will leave me alone-"

"I won’t."

She huffed, pausing her angry march up the side of a hill she was trekking to get water from a nearby river. "You will."

Azriel glared right back. "It is my duty to Rhysand. I-"

"Fuck off!"

She had thrown a wooden bucket at him, fury radiating off of her, and it had infuriated Azriel, how she acted like she was oh so better than him. He knew she was, sure, but it maddened him all the same.

And in a bout of frustration, Azriel spread his wings as far as they would go, then beat them and flew off, back towards the house where he planned to spend his ‘rest’ day doing exactly that and not wasting precious time on someone who was too ungrateful to accept protection.

Deep in his heart, he had dreaded the future, somehow knowing he would live to regret his decision.

And he did. Regret and shame had become best buddies of the shadowsinger, following him around more closely than his shadows did. If only he had not listened to her, he could have saved those beautiful wings he wished he had the chance to cherish.

But thinking about his shortcomings and faults was not going to help him today, so he pushed those thoughts in the back of his mind, to be picked up and inspected later. For now he needed to focus.

What’s your problem with me?

Why do you not like me?

Why do you always fight with me?

How can I make it up to you?

Azriel repeated the words in his head as he marched towards the edge of the ring, pushing his shoulders back and lifting his wings. Eyes focused, fists clenched.

When he was almost upon the two, Y/n turned, lips parted as if mid-sentence. She stared at him, dissecting each part of him with just a glance. Disarming him with just a glance.

And all words flew out of Azriel’s head. The only that remained were extremely unhelpful.

She’s beautiful.

No, what was it?

How’s your problem with me?

"Hey, Az."

Azriel blinked, nodding at Cassian, not missing the sight of the smirk on his brother’s face as he stood. Cassian ignored the lack of words from Azriel and walked closer, clapping him on the shoulder and leaning in to whisper. "Lover boy finally got balls?"

Azriel shot him a sharp glare, pulling his shadows closer to himself. "Shut up."

Cassian grinned lazily, lifting his hands placatingly before walking off, whistling an infuriating tune.

The same one Azriel had mentioned reminded him of Y/n.

Asshole.

Azriel watched Cassian disappear through the archway into the dim interior of the starwell, swallowing, before turning back to Y/n, who was drawing her legs back up over the edge, beginning to stand.

Those thighs-

"Wait-" She paused, glancing at him. Azriel swallowed, feeling his stomach flip and trying his best to ignore it as he moved closer to Y/n. "I wanted to talk."

"To me?" She mumbled, brows raised. Her voice did things to him, as it always did, but the surprise in her voice distracted Azriel.

"Well, do you see anyone else here?"

She scowled, lowering her legs back down and letting them swing. "I have no obligation to listen to you, you know. Being nice would do you a favour."

Azriel sighed, settling down next to her, faintly noting how the sun was hitting her back, making her hair look a shade lighter. He also noted the way she was squinting to see, peering up at him.

That wouldn’t do.

He spread his wings, lifting them slightly until she was sitting in their shadow. He did not miss the quick glance she shot behind her, nor did he miss the slight widening of her eyes and faint blush on her cheeks.

That could be from sitting in the sun too long,but Azriel liked to think the reason for her blushing was him.

"I’m sorry."

She hummed, turning her head to stare down at the city. "What did you want to say?"

"I…" he paused wondering how to go about this, then decided it would be best to get straight to the point, seeing as Y/n herself had mentioned, she had no obligation to listen to him and could very well walk away if he beat around the bush. "I just wanted to know why you dislike me so much."

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I’d like to know and maybe apologise. I’m tired of this- this cat and mouse chase."

She snorted. "What’s the point in apologising if you have to ask me about the mistake you made?"

Azriel looked down at his lap, chagrined as much as he was frustrated. "I cannot remember what I did, I am sorry. Please tell me?"

Surprise flickered over Y/n’s beautiful features before she straightened, clearing her throat. "Oh, um… you said please."

Azriel raised a brow. "And?"

"I didn’t think you would, this is a surprise."

Immediately, Azriel felt his lips turn down at the corners. "You’re so funny."

She smiled coyly, the fire in her eyes was at complete odds with it. "Do you or do you not-"

"Fine, fine. I’m sorry."

She huffed, shaking her head. "Now you’ve annoyed me and I don’t want to tell you."

Frustration bubbled over, and Azriel pushed to his feet, glaring at her when she tilted her head back, confused. "Have a good day, Y/n."

He turned away, knowing he should stay and let her bully him to her heart’s content, but telling her, again and again, how he wanted to repent and make things up to her, being vulnerable enough to let her take jabs at him and not fight back was unfamiliar. It made unease crawl under his skin.

It made him worry that if he let his mask drop enough to make her comfortable talking about what had bothered her, she’d see how weak, how pathetic he was and be disgusted.

Maybe this whole plan was useless, pathetic.

"Az- wait!" He paused, glancing back at her. "I’m sorry, I went too far."

Azrie ducked his head in a shallow nod, looking away from her.

"You were trying to make things right and I- I’m sorry."

Azriel shook his head. "It’s fine. You have the right to-"

"That’s right! I do." Brows raised, Azriel turned back to her, surprised at the sudden change in her tone. "You did the worst thing ever to me and never apologised. I have the right to be angry."

Azriel swallowed, nodding. "I shouldn’t have left that day. I should have apologised and begged for forgiveness sooner."

When she didn’t say anything Azriel lifted his head, scared of her reaction. But she simply stared at him, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you talking about? Shouldn’t have left where? When?"

"Your wings? This is about that, no?"

Her eyes widened, lips parting. "Oh my- mother, no! Not at all, no, Azrie! Why would I ever- you dumb male, I would never hold something like that over you!"

Azriel swallowed again, unable to look away from her. "Then- why not? If I hadn’t left, you wouldn’t have lost them-"

"And maybe I would have lost something more precious. Everything happens for a reason. Maybe if I hadn’t lost my wings that day, Rhys wouldn’t have made rules to ban wing clipping his priority. I do not care about that. I am not mad about that. What I am mad about is far more important than that."

Azriel blinked, shifting on his legs. "Oh… then what made you dislike me, if not that?"

She rolled her eyes before poking him in the chest. "You fucking stole my teddy bear and pushed me after you did."

Azriel blinked, then blinked again. "I- what?"

"And you still haven’t given it back to me."

Azrie’s lips parted, then closed, then opened again. At this point, he was trying to remember if someone had mixed up some sort of drug in his food, because what in the hell?

"I- I don’t remember."

She huffed, wrapping her arms around herself. It took all of Azriel’s willpower to not look. "Of course you don’t remember, asshole. I was playing with my toy, and you snatched it from me, and when I fell, you didn’t even help me up."

Azriel stared at her, incredulity dripping from his voice as he tried to hold in a snort but failed. "Y/n, are you being serious?"

She scowled, pushing him back. "Stop laughing. I am being serious."

"I’m not laughing!" Despite the words, Azriel’s lips twitched, lifting.

She huffed, turning away. Azrel instantly felt bad, so he lunged to grab her hand, tugging lightly.

"Sorry, sorry. I will get you that teddy back, yeah?"

Y/n peered at him, frown still in place. "What if you don’t?"

"I will."

The burn of a mark made Azriel wince, making him pull back the lapels of his shirt. There, over his left pectoral, was a small mark in the shape of a bear. Just amazing.

"Hmm. I believe you, then."

Azriel refrained from rolling his eyes, feeling himself break out in a fond smile. "So am I forgiven?"

"Give me a reason to forgive you."

"I’ll get you three new teddy bears."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

He nodded dutifully, placing a hand over his heart. "Really."

She smiled then, the sight ethereal, almost otherworldly in its beauty. Azriel couldn’t help but stare at her lips. They were so- so beautiful, mesmerising, he wanted to-

No. Stop.

He forced himself to look up into her eyes, his focus finally shifting to his rapidly beating heart. He could almost win a racing competition, he was sure.

Y/n smirked at him, a knowing look in her eyes before she turned, heading to the stairwell, and this time, Azriel said nothing, just watched her go.

Right before she disappeared through the archway, though, she paused, glancing back. "By the way, I never disliked you. It was just funny seeing you squirm. See you later, shadowsinger!"

Azriel blinked. So all that… effort, for nothing?

She’s funny.

A shadow whispered.

Mother help me.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Permanent Taglist: @berryzxx @sarawritestories @milswrites @throneofsmut

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[jasper-dracona]

I’m so glad you liked and shared my tags!

Also to add on to that thing with academics:

The delight of additional evidence to support a hypothesis, or even just a general idea, is always great. But also it must be made clear that anthropology and archaeology as disciplines have made incredible progress on their understanding of what previous hominins were like since, say, the 60’s. They haven’t been working with the assumptions of them as stupid, strength-and-dominance prioritizing, “primitive” people for quite a while now.

I think we all need to be more conscious of the fact that, for any academic discipline, we the public are on a serious delay from the experts. We always are! And there’s no shame in that, it’s actually kind of a good thing, as long as you’re aware of it.

Ideally the public receives information once a discipline is starting to approach a consensus on a topic of scientific debate. And some people have a skewed perspective on what debate looks like because they’re familiar with spectacle debates, but it works differently in science.

Scientific debate is a process that operates on the order of decades, and it’s usually very impenetrable to the layman. It takes place in the literature and at conferences, and the ultimate goal is to challenge each other, to push each other to do better science, find more evidence, and refine our techniques, so we can collectively get to the bottom of the question at hand. It isn’t about yelling at each other, it’s a mutual challenge to keep doing better and to keep learning.

So we only really start to hear definitive answers around the time that a consensus is being reached and an answer has dozens to hundreds of good, diligent papers backing it up, and decades worth of conferences spent refining the answer and considering other possibilities. Which is great! Because it means that we only really hear about it when it’s well-supported and is about as close as science ever gets to saying something is definitively true.

It means we aren’t really hearing about bad, unfounded conclusions based on shoddy evidence or flawed methods.

An example of when this process failed horrifically was the MMR scare that led to the modern antivax movement. The fear-mongering of the news was rampant, spurred on by a single paper, which would later turn out to be deeply fraudulent and financially motivated, with unethical treatment of child research subjects to boot (thank you to investigative journalist Brian Deer for his diligent work on uncovering all of this. He’s written a book about his work and you should read it). It was one paper. And after all the fear-mongering had already been going on for a while, several similar studies (with significantly more ethical methods) finally finished up and published their findings, and repeatedly failed to get the same or even similar results to the original paper by Andrew Wakefield, failing to corroborate its findings. If Andrew Wakefield hadn’t run around doing tons of interviews, if the news had bothered to look into the matter with more scrutiny and stopped using fear-mongering to hold people’s attention to make more money, or if the news had even just waited a while to see how other experts responded, then the MMR scare wouldn’t have happened and we wouldn’t have the modern anti-vax movement as it exists today.

So we can’t be treating every published paper like a golden monolith of truth just because it got published. That is evidently a dangerous practice. But we then also have to be aware that when we finally start hearing about something, then it’s almost certainly not a brand new idea in that field. It probably an idea that’s been kicking around and gaining evidence and support for a while.

We have to know that we’re on a delay because we don’t and shouldn’t hear about a topic until a debate approaches being settled, and so that we understand that academics aren’t stupid for “not realizing something until now.” Experts have been thinking about this for a while, but it is important that in science we are cautious and patient in accepting new ideas as correct.

So yeah, every time you look at a popular news article about an academic discipline being like “wow look at this cool new evidence of X” and think “what, like that’s news? Wow guys” remember that they’re probably actually saying something like “look we found more evidence of this idea we’ve had for a while! Isn’t it so nice to find more supporting evidence to further increase our confidence in our conclusions :D”

DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THE NEANDERTHAL CHILD WITH DOWN'S SYNDROME? Because they're all I've been thinking about when I'm sad for the past few days. Their existence makes me less sad.

[keferon]

Oh lord… I’m now imagining Knight Blurr getting to one of those bad regions and both he and Shockwave somehow get separated. Blurr gets ambushed by said overzealous followers of the council and is about to be turned into a demon himself but then Shockwave just comes in and unleashes the powers of hell.

It would be suuuuch a shame if something like that happened huhuhuhuh

Also imagine Blurr becoming used to Shockwave's appearance a bit too much and forgetting he's an actual demon. Being all like teeheee he's such a big softie. Severely depressed but still very gentle he wouldn't hurt a fly he's always so careful around me~~~~

And then getting caught/stabbed/poisoned/cornered by some fucked up Senate devotees and seeing Shockwave going berserk on them. Like. Watching him fight and remembering that OH sHiT he's very much a living weapon

[be-xkyy]

How about the Yanderes training their little babies to be the perfect yanderes to keep an eye on their darling when they aren't around? And I'm talking them telling what you did down to how many breaths you take. Full on lil snitches to anything you do!!!

Hi dear anon, well I think everyone would have their kids keep an eye on reader in one way or another 🖤

Would the Yanderes train their children to watch over Reader?

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★

Yandere Farmer Link

Yes, this man would have his children watch you 24 hours a day. He would teach them from a young age to be completely aware of you when he is not around, he would train them to tell him everything, EVERYTHING, who comes home when he is not, if you talk to someone (whoever), who you call on the phone and he would even make sure his children inform him if you do something that he forbade you to do at some point and you did anyway thinking he wouldn't notice.

Every after he comes home with his older children following close behind after a long day of work on the farm, his younger children would already be waiting for him sitting on the porch steps, they jump to their feet when they see him approaching, they run up to him and start quickly telling him everything that happened while he was gone.

"Enough. Speak one at a time, we can't understand each other. So your mother was on the phone, huh? Well, everyone go feed the horses while I talk to your mother."

Yandere Cowboy Link

Yet another one who shamelessly makes his kids watch you, he finds it funny and might even joke about the fact that his kids watch you, he would call them "his little spies" but if you scold him he would tell you that it is a "cute" thing that his little ones care so much and that just shows how much he and the kids love you, he doesn't need anything else to convince you.

His older kids (four and five years old) come over to tell him everything you did that day, he listens intently while rocking his daughter (one year old) on his hip and kisses her chubby cheeks from time to time, he laughs as he hears his kids fight each other over who tells the "wrong" story, he ends up calming both kids down before they start fighting and get your attention.

"Come on, come on kids, stop fighting before mom finds out and scolds us all, how about we go see your beautiful mother and ask her what happened today?"

Yandere Dilf Link

I think in his case it's more about his worry, paranoia of losing you, something happening to you or you leaving him rather than really wanting to control you, his son and especially his daughters will tell everything about the day to their father since they hate seeing him so worried (he's a good father) if you are more reluctant to talk to him and still don't accept your new life, your children would try to keep their father in the loop.

When he comes back from work and steps foot inside the house his children would already be there ready to ease his worries about you, they would take him to the couch and he would start telling everything to their father who would relax when, he hears nothing strange or suspicious happened in his absence, he would pat his son on the head and kiss his daughters on the cheeks before getting up from the couch to look for you.

"Here you are, honey. The kids told me that today you planted the daisy seeds I gave you... I'll bring more for you tomorrow and if you want something special, just ask, okay, honey?"

Yandere Sugar Daddy Link

He has no shame as I said, he would have no qualms about putting security cameras all over the house so he can see everything you and the kids do when he is working in his office, he would even ask the kids in front of you what they did that day, what YOU did that day, even though he has already seen everything, of course. But he wants to see if they are honest.

His son is more vague with his answers, although the boy wants his father to feel proud of him, he does not want to betray you, his daughter on the contrary tells her father everything from what she did that day, what her brother did, what you did, what the maid did, what the neighbors did... she rants happily while her father listens attentively with a smile on his lips.

"Look at that dear, our little princess is quite an observer, she sees everything. And she would never hide anything from her daddy, right little princess?"

[canine-witch]

What is your shadow side?

The Shadow Side is a piece of ourselves that we do not wish to accept, for a multitude of reasons. They could be social reasons, religious reasons, past experiences, ect. Originated in Jungian psychology, the theory is you can begin to grow and become more happy when you face your shadows and accept them.

My intention today is to help the collective find a place to start doing shadow work on this aspect of themselves, if they so choose.

Drink some water, pick a pile, and feel free to discard what does not resonate

🌧️ personalized readings avaliable on kofi 🌧️

─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Pile One ~ The Roses

Your shadow is isolation. You may have had an experience in your life, that made you think you could do it all alone. It is a toxic independent and individualistic mindset. You may struggle with materialsim or a sense of constant lack. You may see your medical issues as something you can easily overcome. You don't want to rely on others, because others have dissapointed you far too much.

"I can do it all alone."

No one human can fight all their battles alone. There may be manifestations or blessings coming in through people, which you are blocking by thinking you can make it all on your own. You need to cease isolating yourself. Seek medical and professional help as you need it. Slowly begin to trust humanity again, there is good and bad, and dark and light, like anywhere. Stop thinking you are alone, no person is ever alone.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Pile Two ~ The Angel

Your shadow is combativeness. You are always the first on one the battlefield, and the last one to leave the war. Defending what you love and experiencing riteous justice is not a bad thing, but you can hurt yourself with your anger. You aren't fighting wisely, nor very effectively. You end up not understanding when the time is to drop people, arguements, and swords. You have healing to do, and fighting like this is just a toxic outlet.

"My anger consumes me; I can't not fight."

You may have a lot of pent up frustrations collected over years of injustice. Something that may be benefical is volunteering in your community. Maybe even seeking a career path which allows you to do good for others. If you are angry over the treatment of animals, perhaps you could volunteer at shelters or advocate for adoption agencies. If you are angry at the justice system in your country, perhaps seeking the ability to control some part of it by pursuing a career would help. Look inwards and see what you care the most about, and put the energy into helping directly. Your anger is justified and right, but it need to go somewhere else.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Pile Three ~ The Jellyfish

Your shadow is obsession. This may be varying levels of obsession, but you lean into them heavily depending on the day. This may be a concept, person, or place that you associate heavily to childhood or a past wound you cannot release. It is misery manifesting as a fixation. It may have a grip on anything, from your heart to your financials, and you need to accept that this is not joy, it is sadness.

"This reminds me of what I have lost."

You may be fighting the concept that you are sad. That whatever happened is something that hurts you to this day, and shows up in your life as vices. You shouldn't feel shame or feel guilt about these emotions or wanting to process them without pain. But, pain can lead towards transformation, and you are stuck in a spiral. You do have the strength to persevere and face whatever you need to. You do not have to cling to this energy, for your own sake.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Pile Four ~ The Beach

Your shadow is your broken heart. You may have been heartbroken by a past lover, or someone who you were close to betrayed you, and perhaps used you. This left you with a flurry of emotions, each one swirling and chaotic. You reflect this energy outwards, and can't seem to catch a break or be able to slow down. Or when you do, you procrastinate.

"My heart is broken, and I will never love again."

The only way to mend your own heart is through yourself. You need to find peace and prosperity from the inside, outwards. You need to change your mindframe, release the pain that others gave you, and redefine your life. It may be difficult, and the work may be hard, even excruciating. But you can, and will, save yourself. You are a dedicated person, but you need to learn loyalty to yourself first, before you can mend your broken heart. Do shadow work, affirmations, and spells that will bring you self love. Do mirror affirmations and try to change your mindset. You will be okay again, but it is up to you and nobody else to decide that.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Thank you for trusting me with your time and energy! If you want a more in depth reading, my comprehensive readings listing is 🌧️ here, through kofi. I'd appreciate the help!

Have a wonderful day, and I hope this helped you! 🌧️

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

""They will tell someone they're in pain, someone they trust, and that person will say no they're not. That didn't hurt. It can't have. They're being selfish/dramatic/lying."

Yeah, that sounds like an awful thing for a child to experience. The reason it happens so often is that a lot of adults have a default assumption about child behavior something like "If a child acts like an ordinary experience was some kind of torment for them, they're probably lying or exaggerating or being manipulatively dramatic in an attempt to weasel out of having correct discipline imposed on them, and the correct reaction is to punish or at least shame them for it so they learn it's antisocial behavior and adults will not indulge it." If you have that as a default assumption about how children behave, it is likely to make you abuse children. The correct thing to do with that assumption is discard it and replace it with assumptions that are more respectful of children's explicitly and implicitly stated preferences, not add a bunch of "but if they're autistic or..." disclaimers to it."

This is it exactly.

Autistic or not my parents did this with real injuries and real allergies and illnesses. Neurodivergence asides they had this bias and assumption of me and it would have been abusive whether I was autistic or not. I already had autoimmune conditions and shitty connective tissue as a child. I had joint problems and bones that grew in at uneven rates. I was already reacting to the sun and having near constant headaches, I had some kind of pneumonia on and off, allergies and asthma, all undiagnosed too.

At least once even before being a teen I got some kind of infection that made my jaw swell shut so bad I couldn't eat or drink anything except through a straw. I was not brought to a doctor, I was left to sleep off the fever on the couch drinking vitamin water and chocolate milk.

The fact that my stepmother would later punish me for expressing pain or surprise at something -like dropping a knife near my foot etc- or that adults in my life treated me like I was trying to avoid fresh air, sun and exercise for no good reason, or any amount of sensory issues that were piled on top was all kind of besides the point. I was being forced to eat foods I was allergic to and told I was acting out if I got sick to my stomach, which had nothing to do with autism.

I'd like to say my mother wasn't as bad, but when I was a child and ants had infested my mattress and were biting me at night, she would rather believe I was experiencing some kind of temporary psychosis because of the divorce and just kept telling me the wounds were from scratching at my back -even where I couldn't reach- and that I was imagining the bugs. I learned when I was a baby at some point not to go to adults when I was having a problem for a reason. She did not want to deal with the needs of 1-2 kids and it just always showed.

Autism probably made it worse, sure, but the whole approach to parenting is always a problem.

[honeylouwho]

our little secret ; soldier boy

synopsis: ben is your sneaky link and the sexual chemistry is undeniable.

cw: nsfw (18+) / sneaky link!ben / daddy kink / borderline fauxcest / squirting / p-in-v / age-gap / consistent hook ups with ben / fem!reader / reader is besties with hughie campbell word count: 1110 love note: thought i would take a break from clark and visit this cutie

Like clockwork, you showed up at Ben’s place. Just after dinner, right before bed. It was a routine that you had been participating in for a little over a month now, sneaking over to Ben’s and sliding in between his sheets so he could fuck you until it was hard to speak and your body was quivering. You would never admit this, but Ben was the best you ever had. In other words, you were completely dickmatized. 

As soon as Ben let you inside, his fingers were locked onto your belt loop, pulling you closer until your body’s were pressed together. Roughly, because nothing with Ben was ever gentle, he pushed his lips against yours, backing you into the front door to close it. This was the routine, the same one you did every night, the pair of you always up to nothing good. 

In the morning you would sneak out, quietly tiptoeing out the front with your clothes tucked under the wing of your arm, wearing only one of Ben’s shirts and dirty panties from the night before. Sometimes they even had Ben’s dried cum on the ass. 

As one of Hughie Campbell’s best friends, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell anyone about this. Maybe Hughie worked with him, maybe they had a common goal, but you knew how the rest of the boys felt about Ben— especially MM. The worst part about it was that this would be a huge shock to everyone if they found out. You were just too sweet for Soldier Boy, too girlish, too lovely. Every time you had considered coming clean about your late night activities, shame washed through you, feeling like Ben’s on-call whore, which didn’t suit your character at all.

Tonight you were back in Ben’s bed, fileted out like his after dinner snack, “my dessert always shows up on time,” Ben had told you, the look in his eyes already fucked out as he climbed on top of you. 

When you first started hooking up, you really weren’t even sure how it happened. He said something about how you looked too tense, how you took life too seriously. One thing led to another and his fingers were buried deep inside you, whines and moans filtering throughout the room. From that moment on, you were hooked. Drunk on desire and desperate for his approval.

“You ashamed of me?” Ben had you completely undressed at this point, dragging his finger from the base of your chin, down your neck, and over your stomach. He stopped just above your hips, waiting for an answer.

The way he was on top of you gave him all the control, but that’s how he liked it. You couldn’t say you didn’t enjoy it because that would be a damn lie. Being thrown around like Ben’s personal toy is what you looked forward to everyday. Constantly being around Hughie meant that you were often around Soldier Boy, and he knew better than to make suggestive comments toward you around others, but between the both of you, you would share lust-filled glances. It was a longing desire you felt throughout the day, leading up to your late night calls.

“Yes,” you admitted, Ben’s thumbs lingering on your hips while he laced the rest of his fingers around your back. He pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, getting you in your favorite position. You felt mean for being ashamed of your extracurricular activities with Ben, but you knew he liked you a bit ashamed. It was part of the game for him. 

The position you both liked to start in was very basic. Laying on the bed, with your legs dangling over the edge. Ben fit himself in between your legs like a puzzle piece, his hard cock eager to enter you. Propping yourself up, you watched Ben slide his cock into you, eyes dilated as the full length of his shaft disappeared. Ben let out a self-righteous whistle, enjoying the way you always sucked him up desperately. It was his own personal show and he was subscribed to every season.

“What’s there to be ashamed about? You think I’m a bad guy, sweetheart?” The words came out in short breaths, filtered between grunts. You squeezed around so tightly, it was sensory overload for the both of you, but Ben would never admit that you drive him a little crazy. That’s just not who he is, even if he is completely pussy-whipped.

“Uh huh,” you admitted, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Mouth watering and eyes fluttering, you sunk deeper in the bed as Ben bottomed out. 

“Or is it because you hate that you like older men, huh? You just want a father figure,” Ben grunted, one of his hands pushing your legs from the way they were wrapped around his torso to give him enough room to pull his cock almost all of the way out before slamming back into you.

Father figure. Your stomach turned, hot arousal twisting you up completely as you squeezed around him, your arrival approaching quicker than either of you had anticipated. Ben could get you to finish quickly, but never in just a few thrusts. He was far more experienced than you, knowing exactly what spots to press against, which areas to rub, so when he felt you nearing your first orgasm of the night, his eyebrows perked up while amusement caused a sparkle in his eyes.

“Father figure?” Ben tried again, and he was met with the same reaction of your walls clenching, the slick arousal sliding out of you and coating your ass. It clicked for him, a mischievous smile brewing, “what? You wanna call me dad?”

Tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill over the corners. His words, combined with the way he was thrusting inside of you just felt too good and your body didn’t know how else to express the emotion. Quivering underneath him, Ben leaned forward but remained in between your legs. Fingers eagerly moved against your clit, soft and steady as he whispered in your ear, “Dad will take care of ya.”

That’s all he had to say to bring you to the edge, your orgasm washing through you. Although, this orgasm was not like the others Ben had given you, it was much more intense and a lot wetter than the others, spraying against his abdomen. There was an unfamiliar shake in your legs as you gasped for air.

Ben chuckled in disbelief as he looked at his soaked abs, his cock still tucked inside of you. Bringing a thumb to your cheek and wiping the single tear that happened to escape (an act that was so unlike him), he couldn’t help but comment, “don’t worry, darlin’, I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Doing Time 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

Note: Since' I'm vibing.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You never expected it to be like this.  

It’s still surreal to you. The frigid halls, the concrete walls, and the bulletproof barrier between you and your own brother. Despite all those troubled years, of him being lost, you just never could think he’d end up here.

On the other side of a window; where you can’t hug him, you can’t hold his hand, you can’t even poke him for being the annoying the little brother. You can only stare at him and grieve. You try not to show it. You try to be strong for him. Maybe it’s a lesson. 

You wait for the guards to bring him as you sit in the stiff chair. As you think past to the days when you and Vaughn were just kids, when his antics were harmless, it’s all so distorted. Like a dream. Like it never was. 

You remember pushing him in the swing at the park, laughing with him about jumping in puddles, but then there are the other scenes stuck on replay. The boys teasing him until he hit them. Until he held them down and filled their mouths with rocks. He wasn’t violent then, not in your mind, he was just protecting himself. Now you see, that was only the beginning of a twisted road. 

The door on the other side opens and closes. You look up and lean in, trying to see around the walls of the booth. Other inmates sit along the row, facing their own loved ones, soaking up those few minutes they can. 

Vaughn is shoved into the seat across from you. The guard hooks the chain of his coughs to the desk and pats his shoulder with an unheard warning. You sit up and grab the receiver. He does the same, reluctantly. He won’t look you in the eye. He hardly can as his left one is swollen shut, his nose is split at the bridge, and he wears a stiff neck brace. 

“What happened to you?” You gasp. 

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. He hovers the phone away from his battered face. His tattooed knuckles clench. You repeat your question. 

“A fight.” He shrugs and wince. 

“A fight? You didn’t think to tell me when I called? How—the guards--” 

“The guards don’t give a shit,” he hisses. “Just the way it is.” 

“Why--” 

“I did what I had to. Some guys in here are just looking for it.” 

“Vaughn, look at me,” you demand and lean forward. 

He closes his eyes and takes a breath. He opens them and meets your gaze. Shame twitches in his cheek. You’re the only person who calls him anything but V. He sighs. 

“I was being stupid. I ran my mouth and... shit, I woulda been killed if it was for this other guy down in Block D. Saved my neck,” he gulps. “Really, he did.” 

You frown and rub your forehead, “he saved you? Didn’t think there’d be much of that in there.” 

“Huh?” 

“Like you said, the way it is. Why would someone help?” 

His eyes dart away. For all his sneakiness, he’s never been able to lie to you. Still, he can’t admit it. 

“Who was it?” You ask. 

“Who? Why? You got friends in here?” He snorts. 

“Well, you won’t tell me why they helped, so I don’t know, Vaughn, give me something.” 

He rolls his eyes; at least, the one you can see. “Okay, okay. He’s got pull in here. He’s... been here a while. Kinda the big dog.” He sniffs and lowers his voice, “he’s got a lot of friends.” 

“You mean he’s in a gang?” 

“If that’s what you wanna call it,” he scoffs. 

“What would you call it? I’m not stupid. Someone like that doesn’t do you a favour out of the goodness of their heart, so what’s the catch? Tell me.” 

“Sis, you don’t get it. You don’t survive in here unless you got someone to watch your back.” 

You drag your hand over your head and sit back, “I know. It’s-- it’s just that sounds dangerous. Vaughn, you said you were going to learn from this.” 

“He’s not the worst,” he says. “The guy, he’s got a code. He keeps people busy so they’re not hanging around sharpening shivs. It is what it is, but it’s better than the alternative.” 

“Still punching each other in the face. Beating each other senseless,” you accuse. 

“Look, it could’ve been worse. You should’ve seen the other guy. And the one who helped me, everyone is afraid of him. I got him in my corner. You want me to make it out, that’s how.” Vaugh shifts and touches the neck brace. “And sure as shit I’m not gonna turn around and spit in his face. I owe him my life.” 

You think. He's right, you don’t know anything about being inside. And you don’t have any other suggestions. At least he has someone looking for him when you can’t. They might even be able to protect him from his own worst enemy; himself. 

Still, new allies mean new enemies. At least, going by the TV shows. You doubt those are accurate. What can you do but let him figure it out. Pray that he does. 

“Tell me who.” 

“What?” He snips. 

“Just tell me?” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. I’m curious. What else are we gonna talk about?” You say. 

“Yeah, guess you wouldn’t wanna hear about my cell mate’s shits,” he snickers. “Guys name is Rogers, Steve. Don’t know what got him in here but he can hold his own. He’s like a walking Ken doll. Maybe a bit forgotten but, put together.” 

“Ah, you interested?” You wonder. 

“He’s not my type. You know I’m picky.” He smirks then chuckles only to wince in pain. “Stop making me laugh.” 

“Well, I hate to put an even bigger smile on your ugly face but I did add credit to your commissary. Phone time too. You gotta call mom.” You try to roll the tension from your shoulders, “I won’t tell her about the fight but you promise to call. She’s on my ass.” 

“Thanks,” he deflates, “I... I didn’t mean to hurt her. Or you. Ya know?” 

“I know, Vaughn. There’s time,” you assure him. 

The rest of your thirty minutes is spent trying not to fixate on his bruises. It makes you sick to think about what happened; to imagine him being beat like that. You have no illusions about prison, you’re terrified, and you don’t deny it’s his own fault he’s there. None of that can change that he’s still your baby brother. 

When it’s time, you don’t want to go. The unhook his cuffs from the loop and force him up. You watch him go before you leave, escorted by a guard into the hall. 

You stop by the desk to schedule another visit. You tap the pen on the form as you think. You look up at the uniformed receptionist. 

“Can I get another form?” You ask. It’s a bad idea. 

“Sure,” she’s unfazed by the request and slides another form through the slot. You write in the time and date then pause as you try to remember the name; Steve Rogers. You don’t know his number but hopefully that doesn’t matter. 

You sign and submit both forms under the window. The guard takes them and reviews them with a quick skim of her eyes. 

“Rogers?” She reads aloud. 

“Yeah? Is that a problem?” You wonder. 

“Not my call. Needs to be approved. Even then, the inmate needs to agree,” she puts the forms next to the keyboard and types. 

“Oh, well... I guess I’ll wait and see.” 

“Not saying anything,” she drones. “It’s just... he doesn’t get visitors.” 

“How long has he been here?” You ask. 

“Can’t disclose that,” she rebuffs. “But maybe he’ll agree, just for a change in the days. Board’s the real problem.” 

“Well, thanks. I appreciate the help,” you put the pen down. “Have a good day.” 

“You too, miss.” She responds without looking away from her screen. 

You turn and drag your feet toward the doors. You kind of hope it’s denied. You’re too embarrassed to go and ask her to just shred the form after all. 

⛓️‍💥

The prison calls to confirm both visitations, not so much to your content. The more you think about it, the worse the idea seems. The man is not only a stranger, he’s a convict and a criminal. You don’t even know what he did.

And what are you going to say? Your whole intent is to thank him but now you think he might just laugh in your face. What if you make it worse? 

And you can’t not go now. If he showed up and you didn’t. If he ever finds out it has something to do with your brother, you may have just put him in danger. Oh, why don’t you think things through? Maybe you’re more like Vaughn than you care to admit. 

You drive to the facility. You check in with the guard, they do their usual search, then take you into the visitors’ bay. Your brother looks better than the last time you saw him. In better spirits too. No trouble to report, at least none he will admit. 

Your half-hour goes to fast. You remind him to call your mom, your mind wandering to your next thirty minutes. The guard tells you to stay as they take Vaughn away. You do. For fifteen whole minutes before the door signals another arrival. 

The guards lead the inmate to your booth. You look up at him shyly. He’s tall, thick arms, broad chest, muscled bound shoulders. The jumpsuit clings to him tightly as if they can’t get one to fit properly. His blonde hair is made paler by streaks of silver. His blues eyes are edged with crows feet and his already handsome face defined with the lines of his age. 

He’s older than you expect but no less intimidating. He sits, his posture unwavering, and he stares at you blankly. They hook his cuffs to the desk and leave you. There’s only expectation in his expression. He is not the one who starts conversations. 

Vaughn’s right. He doesn’t look like the typical inmate. 

You wait but he doesn’t move. You grab the receive and put it to your ear. You chew your lip as he tilts his head. He slowly reaches to pick up the one on his side. 

You gulp but can’t find your voice. You stare at him helplessly. You eke out, “hi.” 

His cheek dimples, “wasn’t expecting you. Mostly ‘cause I don’t know you.” 

“Um, uh,” you sniff and shake your head. You fidget with the cord. 

“Take a breath, sweetheart.” 

“Sweetheart?” You echo. 

“Well, you got a name?” 

You clear your throat and give your name. It steadies you, just enough. 

“You saved my brother. Vaughn.” 

He scoffs, “you’re that ugly bastard’s sister? Why on earth are you bugging me?” 

“I just... he told me what happened. I wanted to thank you for saving his life.” 

“Saving his—Is that what I did. Well, rest assured, I didn’t do it for his sake. I did it because I can use him,” he leans forward on his elbows, crossing his arms. He keeps the receiver between his shoulder and ear. 

“He’s still alive because of you,” you argue. His constant stare makes you squirm. 

“He’s alive as long as his mouth isn’t aimed at me. Let me make it clear, I hold not kinship for your brother. In fact, I was five seconds away from smashing his teeth in myself so your visit is entirely unwarranted and unnecessary.” 

You’re taken aback. Not just by his statement, but by his language. He’s eloquent. 

“I... so why did you show up?” 

“Curiosity. Boredom,” he shrugs and sits up as he grabs the phone with his hands. “Not much to do in here, in case that isn’t obvious.” 

“Well, glad I could entertain you,” you adjust the receiver then slowly move it away from your ear. 

“Hey,” his suddenness catches you. You keep the phone hovered an inch away. “Where are you going?” 

You arch your brows, “you said it yourself, this is pointless.” 

“You got time left. Might as well use it,” he counters. 

“I’m not going to sit here and be mocked, Mr.--” 

"Steve,” he chuckles, the first time his expression cracks. “Or you can use my inmate number,” he points to the digits across the left side of his chest. “You wanted this and I didn’t let them drag me here for a measly five minutes.” 

“I don’t have anything else to say to you,” you tilt the receiver away and he shows his palm, a gesture to stop you. You pause and put the speaker back to your ear. 

“We’ll figure that out along the way.” 

“Why?” 

“Sweetheart,” he pauses then says your name, “fine. Can I be honest with you? I’d like to talk to someone who doesn’t piss five inches from my bunk, anyone who isn’t trying to get something from me, who isn’t trying to stab me in the back. I thought you were a reporter, I was gonna say no. I didn’t so please, let’s keep talking.” He takes a breath and lets it out through his nose. “Let’s just have a human conversation.” 

You tweak your lips and think. You did drag him here. He stares back, placid. You’re not sure why you stay but you do. You settle in with the receiver. 

“So, where do we begin?” You ask. 

“Why don’t you? There’s not much going on in here. Not anything you’d wanna hear about.” 

“Um, okay, I don’t know...” 

“You look like a teacher? Or librarian?” He ventures. 

You squint at him. You’re not sure if it’s an insult. “Admin. For a clinic.” 

“A secretary. Close enough. You like your job?” He runs his fingers over the desk. 

You shake your head, “does anyone?” 

“I guess not. Why don’t you like it?” He waits. You have no answer. It’s still awkward. “Come on. It’s the same thing in here every day. Humour me.” 

You exhale, “alright.”

What’s the worst he can do? Laugh about the office drama? You think it’s just as silly. And you are the one who started all this. It'll be a unique experience you hope you never have to think about again.

[inseparabiles]

#highkey envy everybody in the tags#who gets asks like 'please write piss kink yesterday'#where the fuck are you getting your freaks from#high society life has made me so prim and proper#got my pinky up when I drink my fucking tea

would you like write smut like that? is that why you haven't because you don't get asks like that and you would if you did? asking for a friend

It's genuinely. Like don't get me wrong we do like writing our genfic, we do love our all of that that we're doing anyway and people seem to like reading, but it's like

I guess it's been oddly branding? And I don't know if it's that people now take that brand as a "well you wouldn't do this thing and asking it of you would be weird and I'm going to respect your implicit boundaries by not doing it" or if it's more like "we, the audience that you have, want this specific thing that you're already writing and when you part from it it's HIGHKEY WEIRD and OFFPUTTING" or a mix of both but

would we like to get the kind of unhinged requests that we're seeing all over the tags? Get slapped in the face with an ask that's just so out there? Write explicit for the sake of explicit without having to find a better excuse for it? Yes. God. Yes. We would.

[dorothytheexplorothy]

"this is probably one of those books where everything is a representation of something significant in real life". yup! they're called feelings. the characters have emotions and interactions based on what they experience. those are a metaphor for real life feelings!

you know that dreary, painful, depressing feeling you experienced reading the book? that was you, on some level, engaging in a constructive way with the art. you describe the plot of the book as "pointless" due to the lack of explanation behind events and, perhaps inadvertently, almost juxtapose that with the uncomfortable aspects of dreariness and death; this must've added to your frustration. do you think the author deliberately left the book in this frustrating state, to add to the message? if not, in what ways do you think the "pointlessness" changed the message of the book, and was the intended message hurt by it?

your sense of empathy has sharply noticed that Gregor would probably feel frustrated and confused at having turned into a bug without explanation. in fact, it seems like the way Gregor would feel about his situation is exactly how his family feels about him - now that he's a bug, they eventually came to see his existence as "pointless", leading them to just let him starve. do you think Gregor's family were acting in a fair way towards him? if so, what would Gregor say about that? if not, what should they have done instead, and why? what message can be inferred about the nature of care and love?

the themes of a father complex and the artist's struggle don't resonate with you, and that's ok. and you're right that the novel can be interpreted however you like - no one will stop you! so: when in your life have you felt pointless? have you ever felt frustration at things that are happening to you without explanation, or out of your control? how did you react? what would you do if you suddenly turned into a bug, like Gregor?

you don't have to relate to Gregor's point of view - after all, it seems like it wasn't an easy situation for his family either. how would you personally feel if your son or brother turned into a bug? would you also be scared, or compassionate, or angry? has someone ever inconvenienced you unintentionally? how did that make you feel? how did you react?

anyway. it's ok to not like a novel, whether it's a "classic" or otherwise. the thing is, they seem to think the work didn't engage them, while at the same time describing in detail the ways it affected them emotionally. this suggests to me they don't think their emotional experience "counts" as engaging with a work, which is unfortunate. ironically, this paints a view of the world where their worth is completely determined by externally measurable virtues, like actions and abilities. I'd be curious to hear where their apparent belief that a work should be judged purely on its external events, rather than the internal emotional processes of the characters, originates. if they were suddenly turned into a bug, and had nothing of material use to offer anyone, do they think they'd still deserve to be cared for? I think they would still deserve that. do they feel like there's a sense in which they might one day become "useless", and what kind of feelings does that possibility raise for them?

I think they're really showcasing some impressive emotional perception and literary analysis skills, and I think it's a shame that they don't feel like those skills are valuable - or maybe they don't feel like those skills would be received and validated for their value

goodreads reviewers aren't human

[takooyakkii]

he loves me, he loves me not ✿

DARK!CHOI SU BONG X F!READER

warnings : —MDNI angst, manipulation, verbal abuse, physical abuse, swearing, body shaming, swearing, sexual language, implied public sex, cheating, not proofread, crack

sum : you’re in an abusive relationship with su-bong but you still love him. not like you can leave anyway.

a/n : YALL IM GETTING INTO FICS NOW, ARE YALL PROUD 🥹 my vocabulary is bad I don’t know much complicated words im sorry 😭😭

w/c : 1-2k?? (i guessed)

another warning : if you don’t like or don’t feel comfy with dark content please don’t read this! this contains many things that I explicitly do not support in real life. this is just fictional, please be safe lovelies xx (*^‿^*)

“when it hurts but it hurts so good”

su-bongs slaps are like kisses. you swear he loves you. no matter how much times he hurts you, you love him, and he loves you too. right?

“y/n. where’s my cross?” he calls out to you. you pause as you remember throwing his cross full of pills in the toilet and flushing them out when he passed out last night. fear slowly envelops you.

“your cross? i don’t know what you’re talking about, honey.” su-bong darts his eyes at you, slowly standing up from the couch. “bitch, don’t give me that bullshit. where. are. my. pills.”

you flinch at his now angry tone. “su-bong—i swear, i have no idea…!” you lie between your teeth. su-bong stands there before walking up to you, backing you up into the kitchen counter.

“lie again and see what happens.” he places his two wrists beside you on the kitchen counter, trapping you inside his arms.

“okay—okay! i-i… i—“ he cuts you off. “spill it, you dirty whore.” he mocks your stuttering. “i flushed it down the toilet last night…” tears start threatening to spill.

“you…” he didn’t even finish his sentence before slapping your head hard, making you fall to the ground. “do you even know how much those cost?!” your nose was bleeding and your bottom lip was quivering, holding the place he had hit. “im sorry—i-its killing you!” you started crying.

“i fucking need it!” he roared. you always blamed yourself. you shouldn’t have flushed his cross. “im sorry, su-bong… please forgive me.” su-bong’s eyes softened before he sighed. “get the fuck up. you’ll make it up to me tonight.”

you already imagined ‘tonight’. him fucking the shit out of you and slapping your pretty face occasionally while your eyes were crying a waterfall. this is the life you live and will always live, su-bong would say. you’re his.

—

the next night, you two decided to go out for dinner. a steakhouse. su-bong had booked a reservation before coming. the waitress led you two to a table. su-bong never sat across from you, always beside you, holding your soft thigh.

you were picking something to eat before su-bong interrupts you. “hurry up.” he taps his finger against the table impatiently. you decide to settle on a scotch. su-bong rolls his eyes. “don’t you think you need something healthier? you’re getting fat. have a salad or something.” he complains. “oh… I’ll just get a salad then, thanks.” you obeyed. the waitress raised a brow at su-bong. “you sure?” she looked back at you and you nodded. su-bong glared at the waitress, his eyes shouting at her to leave already. the waitress glared back at him before leaving with your meals on the notepad.

su-bong gripped onto your thigh. “hey, why so nervous?” he stared at you so intensely, you were sweating. “no reason.” he grabs your jaw, laughing. “you’re gonna make a scene, baby. calm down.” you nod rapidly. “ok—ok.” you fiddle with your fingers under the table as he then wraps an arm around your shoulders, still staring at you before his attention goes to something else.

minutes later, your food and drinks come by. the same waitress had brung two glasses of coke and two scotches. su-bong raised a brow at the other scotch that you ‘didn’t’ ask for. “oi, lady! what the fuck is this? she asked for a salad, didn’t she?” su-bong slammed a fist on the table, making the cokes spill a bit. he starts catching attention from other customers.

the waitress narrowed her eyes. “sorry, we couldn’t make that salad.” su-bongs eyebrows furrowed. “why not?” the waitress decided to tell him straight. “because she obviously doesn’t want it.” su-bong was shocked at her back-talk. “bitch—“ he stopped before turning to you. “baby, do you want that scotch?” you sat there for a couple seconds, thinking about what could happen after you say yes or no. you silently nod. su-bongs eyes narrowed. “oh, really? well, guess what? you’re not getting that because you’re too chubby. so, you’re getting a salad tonight.” his grip on your thigh would probably bruise next morning. “now move it, lady!” he shouts at the waitress before she groaned annoyingly, taking the scotch back and bringing a salad. she couldn’t risk her job when she was already quite broke herself. :(

you were silently eating your salad as su-bong was eating his steak with a grin on his face. you just wanted to be you, but then again, you loved him. the waitress looked at you from afar while waiting for any upcoming customers. she looked away to go assist new customers. su-bong had sat you on his lap, taking a hold of your breast. you two were somewhat lucky since your table was in a corner where no one really noticed.

“i think you can make it up to me right here for trying to get that fucking steak when I clearly said no.” he lifts the back of your skirt up, looking down to slowly pull your panties down. he would take you anytime, anywhere. “s-su-bong, we’ll definitely get caught here…!” you panic, holding a hand to his chest. su-bongs eyes went sharp and he tilted his head. “do you think i care? at least they’ll know you belong to me.” he slightly lifts his hips up and lower her pants and boxers down to let his member free, then resting right below your bare pussy.

— sorry no smut

su-bong had fucked you right in that restaurant. almost proudly—no. proudly. when someone walked past their table he had just hold you and tuck your skirt below your ass, pretending you two were cuddling or something. something you two would never do aside from now. sadly for su-bong, he could get jailed for having sex publicly. he couldn’t risk you escaping.

—

you were sitting on your couch, watching some TV before su-bong walks in the living room, looking all ready-to-go-out outfit. he was going to the club again. you don’t know what he does there but you never ask. that’ll only earn you some bruises. “im going out.” is all he says. “bye, be safe.” you reply before continuing. “love you.” he doesn’t acknowledge that and just leaves. was this one-sided? does he even love you? you just want him to love you back.

su-bong was at the club just drinking, smoking, having drugs and definitely cheating on you. he would fuck a girl in a private room every time he’d go to the club while snorting some c0ke. you never knew. even if you did know and confront him, he would proudly admit that he did, not caring at all. all he had to do was fuck you and ‘apologize’ and you’d forget all about it.

you wait, wait and wait until you hear the door unlocking and opening from the living room. you checked your phone. it was 3am in the morning. you go to the door, welcoming him. “welcome back…” your smile being weak. “move out of the fucking way, slut…” he pushed your shoulder before walking to the bedroom and falling onto the soft sheets, sleeping almost immediately.

you smile and pull him onto the bed properly and tug the blanket on the both of you before holding him. no matter how much bruises painted your body by him, you’ll always love him. you believe that he’ll change sooner or later. hopefully.

this was just a lil test to see how i write angst, part 2 maybe?

@truefandemonium :)

[justgigity]

First Time with bf kento ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Cw: smut (obviously), p in v, oral (f receiving)

Summary: you’ve been dating kento for quite some time and you’re finally ready to take the next step. One problem, he’s completely oblivious.

“How the hell do you- ow!” You winced as your friend tightened the corset to your new lingerie set.

“Like that.” She grinned at you through the mirror before stepping back, admiring her work.

“Think it’ll work?”

“If it doesn’t, dump him.”

Truth is, you’d been trying to tempt your boyfriend for weeks. He’s a gentlemen, really. He’s careful and doting, opening doors and spoiling you till his wallet lacks its usual weight. But there’s just something missing-

“Sex?” Your boyfriend stands before you with a raised brow.

“Y-yes…I’m asking for sex, is that so hard to believe?” You look away in a mix of shame and arousal. Standing in front of him in this lingerie is something you’d never imagine would happen when you two first met.

“I just- wasn’t sure you were ready..” and it’s his turn to be embarrassed, maybe for the first time since you’ve met him. He’s usually so composed..

“You weren’t sure? The other day I nearly deep throated a popsicle in hopes you’d get the fucking hint!-“ you stop yourself, you’re getting too riled up over something so trivial.

“Sorry- sorry I just…I was-“

“Too scared to tell me directly what you needed?”

“Hey- I’m not the one who’s been acting all dense!” In one swift movement, he pushes you against your dresser.

“Do you know how long I held back?” He grips your chin.

“W-what..?” Before you can question him any further, he’s crashing his lips against you.

“Mm!- mm…” you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him down to your level. He pulls back, disconnecting your lips with a small ‘pop!’ And picks you up, rough calloused fingers digging into your thighs.

“I think I got the hint now.”

“Oh- really?” You roll your eyes, sarcasm filling your voice.

“Don’t get bratty, or I’ll hold out on you much longer.”

“As if- you look like you’re ready to devour me. No way you can hold back any longer”

“You wanna test that theory?” He retorts quickly

“…no.”

He chuckles

“Good girl..” he leaned down, peppering kisses on your inner thighs

“This is cheap material…not good for your skin” he mumbles as his hands run over the corset

“Be grateful-“

“Shh, let me take it off for you. I’ll buy you something of higher quality…can’t have my girlfriend wearing cheap lingerie.” You want to roll your eyes, if only he wasn’t so fucking hot like this. His fingers tug at both sides of your lacy sheer panties, tugging them down and carefully folding them off to the side.

“Seriously?” You raise a brow and a smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m messing with you..” he takes no time tearing the rest of the lingerie off you like a kid rushing to rip open his presents on Christmas morning. His eyes seem to soften as they scan over your body. he gently cups your breast, kissing the skin as if you were made out of glass. His delicate actions make you soften too.

“Nanami..”

“Shh baby…let me worship you, let me give you everything I’ve deprived you of..” with that, he leans down. Now face to face with your pussy.

“Hi.”

“…are you talking my pussy?-“

“Shh, baby. Don’t be rude..” he continues the greeting with a kiss to your clit, causing you to tense. He gently runs his tounge up your slit and once again to meet your clit. Keeping your thighs spread with his hands, sure to leave crescent indents from his nails. He leans closer, his mouth connecting to your entrance as his nose bumps against your clit, and you’re sure you’ve never seen the man so desperate. You’re his new favorite meal, and he’s oh so hungry. His tounge pressing into your hole, feeling the warmth envelop him. It only takes him about 7 minutes before your squeezing your thighs around his head, squealing.

“Nanami! c-cumming!” You throw your head back, gripping the sheets under you as you yell out his name like a prayer. He continues his movements for moments after, letting you ride it out till you’re pushing him away in desperation.

“W-where the hell did you learn that…?”

“I read a lot.” He pulls back. He gently adjusts the two of you, he strips his own clothes off. You swear you’re in heaven, because he looks just like an angel right infront of you. His body looking jaw droppingly handsome in the dim llight of your bedroom. But just wait till he wips it out. The sound of his zipper and pants dropping is followed by a somewhat dramatic gasp. He’s around 6 inches. And he’s oh so pretty. His girth is enough to make you contemplate calling off work tomorrow. The tip is already leaking beads of precum down his cock. You can only assume he was that way the whole time he ate you out. You reach out, and he allows you to stroke him, precum glistening on your hands now. He pulls your hand away.

“It’ll feel better somewhere else.” He lays you back down, aligning his glistening tip with your needy hole.

“Can’t believe I’ve waited this long..” he slowly moves his hips, watching your reaction until his pelvis is flush against yours.

“Are you…ok?” He groans out. He doesn’t know how he’s deprived himself of such bliss. You almost want to laugh, but decide against it in hopes of not ruining the atmosphere he’s created for the two of you.

“I’m fine just…give me a second or two” you smile up at him. You can feel the stretch of his cock filling you, even without moving he’s managed to press against spots you weren’t even aware existed.

“Now.” You speak up, holding his hand tightly. Nanami slowly pulls his hips back, and forth…setting a slow pace, speeding up little by little as he examines your face for any signs of discomfort.

“You feel so good, my pretty girl…so- fucking good..” he groans, his cock already twitching inside you. His tip rubbing against your g spot, fat cock stretching you so good.

“Nanami- right…right there, please” you whine.

“Here?” He angles his hips.

“Y-yes! Oh fuck- yes, please” he grins at your pleading. You’ve never seen him so..devious. He’s fucking into you at a faster pace now, the sound of your whines and skin slapping against skin fill the room. You clench around him as you feel a familiar tingle.

“W-wait I think- think I’m gonna-“ you can’t even finish your sentence before you’re a moaning squirming mess, nanami follows suit not longer after.

“Oh fuck- fuck- I love you so much” he groans as his cock twitches, leaking ropes of cum one after the other into your pretty pussy. He slowly pulls back to watch it drip from your leaky hole.

“So pretty…you’re so pretty..” he collapses next to you, going limp as he clings to you. You smile, moving his hair out of his forehead to plant a kiss there. You contemplate something before whispering to him with a mischievous grin.

“I love you too…one more round?”

[cherryblossom-heart]

How life ends

Sukuna x sorcerer!Reader

A/N: A little intro to a series I want to make later

“Sukuna?”

A voice called him, like a siren in the sea. The soft melody of the voice traveling through each syllable of his name, a strange sensation invading the slumber of the Disgraced One

“Ryomen Sukuna?”

The King of Curses opened his eyes. The feeling of being underwater, an spectator of whatever endeavors Yūji Itadori would get himself into as he was stuck in this flesh prison he thought he could control. The brat had found himself to be troublesome for the King of Curses, his control over his body and soul stronger than expected.

Night sky and stars where the first images that welcomed Sukuna. Where was he? Didn’t the brat went to sleep for the night? It felt as if every part of his body was turning on one by one, his skin now prickling by it’s contact with whatever he was laying on. The smell of grass and dew found it’s way to his nose, filling his lungs as he understood he was in a forest.

“Sukuna?”

That voice, there it was again.

With speed impossible to capture with a human eye, stood up. It was a woman, a sorcerer, nonetheless. He had seen her around the school where the brat and the annoying white haired prick would do their so called training. The few handful of times he had seen her she was chatting up with the fake “Strongest one.”, her head leaned back as she laughed at something he had said.

One second later he was in front of you, his eyes scanning your face. There was no fear in your eyes, in fact it seemed you were slightly annoyed at him. He was amused at your demeanor, even if it’s disrespect warranted death but what captivated him the most it was your eyes, he was sure he had seen them before, his brain itching to get an answer.

“Good, you’re awa–“

Dismantle

A swift cut to your throat and your body fell to the floor, blood spilling all your clothes. A shame, he thought, you were attractive to the eye. He turned around, not bothering to hide your lifeless body from the moon light. How foolish of you to stand up so proudly in front of him, your head high as you faced him. Sukuna began walking away, thinking of ways to enjoy his free reign he had for the moment.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

You again.

His head darted to you, back to where you had been seconds ago. It would almost seem like nothing had happened if it wasn’t for the trail of crimson that fell over your body. Your eyes that had lost their life as soon as his attack reached you and now they were full of life, once again. You brushed your hair with your fingers, trying to clean it from the grass and blood it had.

Cleave.

This should be enough, he thought to himself. A red line showed across your chest, beads of red all over it. He found you interesting, even if you lasted for one more attack. A shame to have to end your life.

This time you didn’t go down though, the gates of blood that pooled down your body stop as quickly as they come back, the exasperated look on your face still standing strong.

“Are you done?”

He moved close to you, swiftly making his way to touch your neck. One more cut will surely do the job.

Cleave

Cleave

Cleave

Each one as effective as the last one, your clothes now completely stained scarlett but you were still left standing.

Every.

Single.

Time.

He goes for your heart, palm open as he rushes to you. Even if you can’t seem to be kept put down he still has the upper hand, his strength and speed superior than yours. Sukunas palm barely grazes your skin, the wicked smile splatter over his face, when a microsecond later, you disappear.

“It’s not going to work, you idiot.”

Idiot. You dared to call him an idiot.

His fist traveled in the air, aiming for your face. You blocked him, crossed arms stopping his fist from contacting with your face. You pushed him back, your own hands now in fists. His grin intensified, the challenge in front of his eyes igniting the flame of wrath he always carried.

“You are a foolish woman if you think your little tricks will work, I’ll take your life one way or the other.”

“Well, that’s what I want.” You deadpanned.

The rush for violence was quickly replaced by confusion.

“I… what?”

“Why do you think I’m here? It’s not because of your enthralling conversation skills.”

Dismantle.

Cleave

Dismantle.

Cleave.

Dismantle.

One after the other but none of them made any progress. Perhaps if he couldn’t bring you down maybe his domain would. His finger began the so feared form, the words in the tip of his tongue. Sukuna would enjoy your death like a trophy.

“Enough!” You yelled.

Sukunas body froze, as if strings suddenly appeared behind him and pulled in the opposite direction. His jaw was stuck, midway of pronouncing the two words that would take your life. Even his tongue felt trapped, stuck in this impassive state he fought against. What kind of sorcery was this?

Your eyes shined, a white ring over the colored iris.

It couldn’t be.

He didn’t remember much about you. Truth to be told he hadn’t really pay much attention to you, your face one of many that had gone after him. Your group of sorcerers had been slayed, all of them cut in half as the King of Curses laughed at their inferiority.

Sukuna had felt your power, or at least what you called power, a measly crumble of a technique that had saved your brother’s life from his slashes. Red eyes had seen yours, the white, bright iris staring back at him. How endearing, he had thought before his hands had suffocated your life, the iris of life gone once your neck cracked.

You had taken your last breath. He had felt it.

Yet here you were.

His eyes must’ve betrayed him as a mocking smile took over your face.

“Remember me now?”

You were alive, as yourself. Not as a trapped soul in a body that didn’t belong to you as you had to inhabit the same flesh prison. You were you, the exact same you he had murdered a thousand years ago.

“Yes, it really is me. I’m a little surprised you remember me, I wasn’t very memorable back then.”

Snap

The invisible threads that held his jaw and tongue hostage broke, making him gain control of his own body again. He moved his jaw, joints tense at the uncomfortable position it had been frozen in. Your power had grown, the first time you had face him it was only strong enough to stop his hand.

“How are you doing this, wench?”

You saunter in front of him, an obnoxious smile decorating your lips. “Oof ‘wench’? A bit archaic don’t you think.”

His muscles moved on instinct, his hands beginning to pull so he could choke the life out of you, but the strings that hold him still pulled his arms further back making a groan coming out of his lips.

“Tsk, you don’t learn, don’t you? You can’t fucking move, not without me allowing it.”

“I will rip your heart out of ribcage and feed it to yourself!” He screamed, his words carried by the echo of the night.

“Anger problems much?”

Sukunas blood boiled with each word you spoke. The nonchalance that you carried when you addressed him, as if he wasn’t the King of Curses that could end the world. As if he hadn’t already sealed your fate as soon as he saw you.

“You seem to forget who I am. I have killed you once already.” Sukunas words were sharp, almost as sharp as technique.

“You didn’t do a good job at it though, didn’t you?”

You were right. Whatever was that he had done hadn’t been effective enough the last time you had face each other. Perhaps his mistake was using his hands to end your life, in his younger years he had a dramatic streak, the sound of a neck snapping in two a sweet melody for his ears.

“Either way, that’s why I’m here.”

Sukunas eyebrow cocked in interest. This was the second time you had mentioned your death to him and most surprisingly you were not pleading to stop him from killing you. You had reprimanded him for his lack of success.

“I can’t die.” You started, anger lacing every word you talked. “For a millennium I have tried everything conceivable for the human mind and beyond, and nothing seems to work.”

Your eyes locked on his again and Sukuna could’ve sworn he saw a thousand years of tiredness in them.

“I was about to give up but then you came along as a nasty pest in Itadori’s body. So I thought ‘if anyone is going to be kill someone immortal then it definitely would be the King of Curses, right?’ After all, you were able to end a whole bloodline of sorcerers, one person shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

Sukuna’s mind raced through the information you had disclosed, his lips sealed as he thought of what you were saying. You had survived for this long and. Is you were seeking him for your own doom.

You wanted to die. How pathetic.

“What makes you think you are worth of my assistance?”

“Because I’ll owe you a favor.”

Sukuna scoffed.

“I’ll bring you to the surface, take over Itadoris body for a certain amount of time.”

Now that was finally information worth his time.

“How can I be sure you will be able to even achieve that?”

“How do you think you’re here? Luck?”

You smirked at him and Sukuna couldn’t remember when was the last time he craved a sorcerer’s death more. He was going to extinguish life out of you, the deal you offered was just a mere treat for him.

He would enjoy watching the light running from your eyes once more. This time permanently.

Thank you for your support! Comments and reblogs are appreciated