#ive never put on a binder before

[bugbxyjunk]

yall r jorking my peanits right now im never watching tutorials again my binder fucking fits the peopl lied to me,,,

[wabblebees]

thought id update to say; i survived opening night!!! and not only that, it went REALLY fucking well, and people seemed to REALLY REALLY like it omfg... god this is so crazy

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley/female reader This is the last part before the epilogue

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise honey, remember?” You nod, but your eyes stay glued to the windshield, tracking the raindrops sliding on and off the glass. “Hey,” he reaches for your hand, pulling it into his grasp, “it’s okay. You’re safe.”

“I’m with you.” You repeat the mantra, the one you repeat in the shower, in bed, in the living room. I’m safe. I’m with you. 

He wants to look away from the road so badly long enough to see your eyes, really see them. It’s how he knows where you are, if you’re there, or here, or somewhere else. Just in case, he reminds you. “The kids are with Gaz and Cami. Soap is sleeping in the guest room. They’re all together, and they’re safe.” You nod again, but answer as a robot.

“They’re safe.” He can’t do it. He pulls the car over and you turn in alarm, watching as he steps around to the passenger side door and pulls it wide, dropping to his knee.

“Look at me-“

“You’re getting wet!” You sputter, grabbing at his jacket, but he stills you.

“Look at me, mama.” Your eyes are full of tears, and he cups your cheek. “Where are you?” Your lip wobbles.

“That room.” He pries your fingers open and places your palm over his chest.

“What’s that?”

“Your heart.”

“Your heart, sweet girl. It’s yours. Count them for me.” You shake your head, clenching your eyes shut, and he squeezes your knee. “Deep breath. Count them.”

“O-one, two, thr-we, four…” he does it with you, quietly, supporting, but not coaching. Not leading. You have to do it, you have to bring yourself back. “F-ive… five, six, seven, eight, nine…” each beat steadies your voice until you’re sitting a little straighter, breathing a little deeper.

“There she is. There’s my girl.” He wipes a tear from your cheek, “that’s it.”

“Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…” you reach twenty five, and then give him a nod. He is thoroughly soaked now, but who cares. It’s not even close to what matters.

“Where are you?” He presses a slow kiss to your forehead.

“I’m here, with you.” You meet his gaze, clear and focused, and he nods.

“Okay.”

“You could have told me.”

“Not as fun, mama, I wanted it to be a surprise.” You’re standing in the middle of the room, looking around, smiling. It’s the same room he brought you to years ago. The room where he put the ring on your finger, the room you told him you’d spend the rest of your life, his life, together. The curtains are the same, the decor, even the bedspread.

“Si,” your voice wavers, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you against his chest.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.”

You're surprisingly not nervous at all, though he's not that shocked. You have a few tattoos, medium sized, black and grey like his. No sleeves or anything that extensive, but you picked up a small collection during your travels. 

"Wait... are you serious?" You squeak, eyeing the chair and then the guy sitting beside it, Mark, the same guy that's done almost all of Simon's work. Simon's still not sure how he convinced him to come out here and do this, but he suspects the sentimental piece of this occasion had a lot to do with it. "What... what is it?" Simon glances at him, and then nods, holding his breath as he pulls the stencil out of the binder to lay it flat in front of you. 

It's a ring. Black and grey to match your other tattoos, but the same shape, band, everything, as the one you lost. Except- 

The stone frames three constellations. Orion, Phoenix and... "Lyra." You whisper, tracing the line work. You look up at him with tears in your eyes. "Orpheus and Eurydice." 

"Everyone says it's a tragedy, y'know? That he failed. But those people have never felt the way I feel about you." His throat is unbearably tight, and he swallows to keep it together. "They don't know how I'd go to hell to bring you home, they don't know how desperate I'd be to look back and and make sure you're still there with me," he breathes deep through his nose, chasing away the tidal wave rising in his chest. Mark, thankfully, has decided to pretend to be busy with something else. "They don't know how I'd let myself be ripped apart just to see you again. To spend eternity with you." 

"Simon..." 

"You don't have to do it," he rushes out, squeezing your hand, "just say so, and we'll leave. I won't be mad." You reach for him, tugging him close by his wrist and standing up on your tiptoes, trying to bury your face in his neck, seeking you safe space. 

"I love you. I love... I love you." He brushes your tears away. "I want it. Yes, of course. I want it." 

"You sure?" You cast one last look at the drawing, and nod. 

"Eternity with you." He smiles. 

"Eternity." 

[minimomoe]

How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (but it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

AN: Thank you for sticking along to the end!! This story is now COMPLETE. I'm glad I have added some silly (and sexy) fluff to Sukuna's tag.

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII XIII. (completed)

Throw the Rules Away

~A few years later~

You flipped through a thick binder of tattoo designs as you leaned over a wooden counter. The soft buzz of needles vibrating came from the corner of the shop, and scents of disinfectant and mint filled your nose. You stopped at a page with an intricate crescent moon, tapping your finger over the page. 

“Finally gonna get something?”

Choso Kamo materialized in front of you, wiping his hands clean with a towel. He was teasing you, looking at the page himself and nodded approvingly. Instead of his usual two ponytail hairstyle his hair fell just above his shoulders with strands of his bangs falling into his eyes. You made a face and smiled. 

“Maybe. You know I hate needles.” 

“So you got your husband to work at my tattoo shop that you visit almost everyday,” he snorted. 

You tapped the temple. “All part of my master plan. If I do want a tattoo, Sukuna will do it for me,” you laughed. “Speaking of him, is he almost finished?” 

“Yeah, he should be cleaning up now,” Choso said. You waved you off so you could go to Sukuna’s station. He was doing just as Choso said he would be– wiping down the client chair, putting ink back into their baskets, shoving things back into their places. You have never been able to sneak up on Sukuna, his senses were too sharp, but it didn’t stop you from trying. You managed to be a foot away from his body when his hand shot out from behind to drag you close to the side of his body and you chuckled. He spun you around so that you would sit on the vinyl chair and you swung your feet above the floor. 

“No kiss?” You pouted. “I guess today wasn’t a good day.”

“How needy,” he shook his head. Sukuna’s large hand cupped your chin to tilt your head up. His tongue swiped over your mouth before sliding inside, and his lips moved against yours until you were clutching the front of his t-shirt, your head spinning from the lack of oxygen. He moved down to your jaw and neck and you gasped. 

“We should stop before Choso accuses us for fucking in here… again.” 

“Let him complain,” Sukuna said. His hand went under your shirt, tickling you until goosebumps riddled your skin. His hand covered your breast and you moaned louder than you meant to even with your lips pressed tightly together. You tugged at the short hair at Sukuna’s nape, not sure if you wanted to push him away or urge him on. 

“Okay, okay let’s slow down,” you breathed out. You baited Sukuna in despite knowing his high sex drive, and you didn’t know how much restraint either of you had left. It was hypocritical of you to say given that he stood between your legs that were wrapped around his waist. “I promise we will continue this later. You just cleaned up this place,” you laughed. Sukuna removed his face from your neck and stared at you with heady eyes. It made your stomach flip over but you shook the thought of continuing out of your head. “I promise, you can do whatever you want when we’re at home.”

“Whatever I want?” He said with a raised brow. 

You bit your lip mischievously. “Sure, why not? You know, I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo myself, but I don’t think I want one in a place where everyone can see. The quicker we get out of here, the quicker you can tell me the best place for your eyes only.”

Sukuna didn’t want to wait any longer. You were nothing but a tease and he would play along. There wasn’t a part of your body that he doesn’t know extensively, and he planned on marking the most private parts with his tongue and teeth before the needles. He threw your squealing body over his shoulder, grabbing your purse with his other hand and made his way to the front of the parlor. 

“Put me down!”

“I hope you guys didn’t do anything in there even if you cleaned up,” Choso scowled when he saw the two of you. 

“She never lets me do anything but my patience is running thin,” Sukuna rolled his eyes to Choso. 

“He’s joking, Cho. I wouldn’t dirty up your studio like that,” you mumbled, still over Sukuna’s shoulder. You shimmied out of his hold and Sukuna was quick to steady you on the descent down. Once you were on your own two feet again you hooked your hand in the crook Sukuna’s arm. 

“Good. At least one of you has manners.”

“I try for the both of us,” you wave on your way out of the building. Sukuna catches the keys that you throw in your direction with ease, and you sit comfortably in the passenger seat while he takes you home. Somehow you managed to get all the paperwork needed for Sukuna, or more accurately, Uraume did all the heavy lifting, and he was now a full fledged member of society. Getting him to work with Choso was a happy accident. Sukuna admitted to you that he did his tattoos himself, and it made the gears turn in your head. Choso didn’t ask any invasive questions, and was glad to have extra help. Choso told you that Sukuna was popular with the ladies even with his bluntness and clear rejection. The thought of it made you smile. Try all they might, other women didn’t stand a chance with the dark magic and centuries of affection between you and Sukuna. 

“Remember when you tried to kill the mailman?” You pointed at the delivery truck that was stopped at the same red light in front of you. Sukuna smirked, fond of the memory as well.

“I protected you, did I not?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. Everybody’s terrified to leave a package on the front door now.”

“A job well done then.”

“I guess so,” you giggled. You gazed out the window and sighed at the setting sky. “It’s starting to get dark early. The sky is already pink like your hair.” You had said it so softly Sukuna wasn’t sure if you had meant for him to hear it. Your face was completely turned from him but you traced your fingers down the veins of his right hand in your lap. It amazed Sukuna how you echoed yourself from years ago. You were the only person who ever saw beauty in him or compared him to the mundane. Many people said his name as a curse, he preferred it that way, yet you said it like it freely, often with a smile tugging your lips. 

“Choso informed me that he will be going on vacation soon,” Sukuna said, tasting the new word in his mouth. “Should we travel soon ourselves? Do you still enjoy the ocean?”

You whipped your head around and your eyes lit up at his question. “I love the beach.”

“Then we will go,” he nodded. “I will take care of it.”

“Music to my ears. Just let me know when I have to take off work.” You pressed a kiss on his cheek. The action made the tips of his ears flame despite the fact that he has and will do raunchier acts to you. A very long horn interrupted your lovestruck staring contest to remind you that you’re holding up traffic at a greenlight. Sukuna glared at the driver behind who promptly stopped their honking and you snorted. Sukuna’s hand remained in your lap until you returned home.

“Hey honey,” you sang to Cleo who purred against your feet as soon as you opened the front door. “It looks like I left my music playing by accident. At least you weren’t bored.” 

You picked up her and spun her around to the beat of the song. It ended with a flourish, and so did her patience to be carried. Cleo hopped out of your arms and disappeared behind the couch. A new song with a melancholic melody started and your eyes brightened in Sukuna’s direction. You held your hand out for him to take.

“Dance with me?”

You positioned his hand on the small of your waist then clasped the other one tightly. You were expecting awkward shuffling to ensue, but Sukuna led the dance far better than you imagined, guiding you around the open space of your living room with ease. 

“My baby, my baby. You’re my baby, say it to me,” you hummed along.”I usually only sing that part to Cleo but you bumped her out of her spot.” 

“The cat will be fine,” Sukuna grinned. Never would he have thought that being called someone’s baby would give him such joy. Cleo would have to understand. “You like this singer. We should have her perform here.”

You paused your swaying to give him an incredulous look. “Here? In the living room?”

He stared at you like it was a normal luxury to spend money on. Times like these reminded you that Sukuna hasn’t been a constant fixture in your life as much as it felt like it. Even with all the catching up he has done, tiny, humorous remarks always fell through the cracks. 

“I don’t think she does house calls… but we can go to her concert. We’ll put it on the list of all the things you have to experience.” 

A new mark on Sukuna’s finger caught your attention. You turned his hand over to get a better look, and your breath caught once you saw that he had tattooed your initials on his ring finger. It was peeking out from beneath the silver wedding band that you two had bought a year prior, in the same sharp style that matched everything else on his body. 

“Well now you have to tattoo me!”

A wicked grin cracked Sukuna’s face. He laid you down on the couch, nudging your legs open with his knee. You rested on your elbows as you watched him rub his hands up your thighs. There was hunger mixed with admiration in his eyes. You tugged the belt loop on his pants so that he would fall right on top of your face. You rubbed your nose on his cheek before he leaned down to whisper in your ear. 

“Let me find the perfect place to mark you as mine.”

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[dimpledcherry]

would you write eddie munson x fem!reader smut?

where eddie’s chilling in his girls‘s room, bored because she’s taking a shower. he’s kinda snoopin’ around & finds a pastel pink book. he’s curious & starts reading it, realizing it’s her diary. he skips to the last page, dated just a few days ago. his eyes widen, not believing what he’s reading about his innocent girl.

sure they had sex. and not that vanilla, too. but he would’ve never thought his girl had thoughts like that. on this very page, his girl wrote her hidden fantasies. things she never even thought of telling eddie, too embarrassed. she’s talking about how she wants to call eddie „daddy“, or be choked, be humiliated to the brim, be filled by his cum till he’s dry, want him to be in complete control. she wants to be fully submitted to him.

before he can put the diary away she comes out of the bathroom, catching him. he confronts her & she tells him how embarrassed she is etc. they talk it out & he reversals that some of the stuff she likes he likes too. then they make out & they try out some of the stuff.

Oh my god you're an evil genius, time I put my 4 years of journaling to good use! - also ive been working on this all week and the 'h' key on my keyboard keeps getting stuck and its making typing no longer fun :/

Written Fantasies

Summary: ^^ the ask Pairing: Eddie x Reader Trigger Warnings: Smut / Embarrassment / hands on throats - no chocking Content Warnings: Diary Reading / blow jobs / impoliteness / shoe frontage / demands / deep throating / reader masturbation

MY EDDIE MASTERLIST BABY!!!!!!!

The space was as recognisable as the back of his hand, and as comforting as his denim vest: lightly coloured walls, cabinets around the room, shelves and counter tops filled trinkets and lifes memorabilia: photos of events, pretty candles, books, small trinkets of days out, wrist bands and broken watches that simply just meant too much.

Things changed every time he entered this space: photos changed frames, boxes gained new records, the cassette piles grew, and the books changed order.

Eddie clocked - while laying on your bed waiting for you to come back from your shower - that not only had the books changed but new ones were added. when he sat up to take a better look: there were 4 books, all identical sat up together leaning on a pile of published books.

The 4 were pink, all the same size, some slightly thicker, one especially thinner. All with individual dates written into their spines: 1983, 1984,1985, 1986. He weren't no idiot, his brain sorted that they were diaries.

He felt a twinge of pride for you to have the left out on display - almost like trophies, proud of your past. He knew a lot about you but you'd seemed to have never told him you wrote a diary. Eddie knew it was standard procedure you don't read people diary: just as you don't snoop in artists sketch books or dungeon masters binders. But who would he be kidding if he said he didn't wanna read it.

He thought a moment, concentrating and recognising the shower was still running. He didn't have to think too much, the boy was running on curiosity alone. Sat up on the edge of your bed, he leant over and pulled 1986 into his hands.

It started with him just flicking the pages: most of it empty; a few loose sheets tucked into the back; a pen clipped to the elastic closer. The filled side of the book was set out meticulously: a yearly planner already almost filled with exams, cheer practice, birthdays, appointments, dates with Eddie, every Tuesday marked with Hideout at 7, every odd Friday marked Hellfire!.

There was this warmness in his heart, knowing his life was just as important to you as it was for him. He believed every I love you, but know he understood every I love you.

He flicked through the book more: budget planners, goal pages, period trackers, and the body. Filled with your typical too-curly-to-read handwriting, every page filled line for line. Some sitting half empty signifying the end of an entry.

Eddie couldn't possibly understand what you had to write about for long that you wouldn't just tell him or your friends.

He found the dog eared page, the scruffily written date marking yesterday. Eddie smiled to himself, feeling a little giddy. He knew he shouldn't but he really couldn't stop himself.

As he read down the page: a recall of your date to the record store and diner, small notes of your gushing over Eddie's chivalry (he always thought holding doors open and little pet names were usual things), a detailed explanation of his outfit and how you loved it (he read that a few times, remember to wear his little thigh harness around you more often.). And as he continued to read, the writting felt less confident, as though there as a topic waited to be hinted at.

He skipped over to the next page and down it, finding a few words grabbing his eyes: touch myself, embarrassing, chocked, him, daddy.

His eyebrows rested in his hairline, eyes almost leaving his skull, the warmth on his checks wasn't imagined. He jumped back a few lines:

Jesus I feel 14 again. I dont know why he does this to me. I see him everyday, and yet im still pinning over him like he's some untouchable deity.

He reads down

We have sex so much but like every night I end up touching myself thinking about- its so embarrassing! I feel like ive been poisoned!! literally none of my friends are like this about their boyfriends!

yeah we all talk about sex but they all have usual sex and normal fantasies but like I feel like a deviant. if I ever told anyone what I really want they'd all look at me so weird

but if I think about sex with him about him all I can think of is his hands and his lips and his voice! and if Im actually honest with myself, all I want is him. I cant stop. ive got into this habit of thinking about him before I go to bed and like every night I touch myself to him.

literally seem like I cant just have him- and I so can but I want so much more!

like if I really thought about it: I'd love him to just use me, do whatever. He could fuck me, make me fuck him, cum in me, chock me, spit on me and I'd be so fucking happy!

Or like, my brain keeps thinking to what if we're fucking and someone hears or we're almost gonna get caught and it turns me on so much! I feel like a pervert.

Eddie felt himself hold his breath.. he was no prude, under his bed was riddled with lost porn mags, he know a lot about kinks and fetishes but something about hearing from you - sweet, quite, calm you- shit! He was getting all flustered.

And like also! keep calling him Daddy in my mind too - I dont know where thats come from but it feels so right! I just really want him to just have his way with me. I dont know how on earth I tell him this. this is so embarrassing.

Eddie was transfixed by your confessions: the sound of the water had slipped his ears. Let alone, he hadn't heard the floor creak and wind chance as you entered the room.

"Jesus babe! You scared me- can't make a guy jump like that!" He yelped, the towel hitting the bed making him jump back into real time.

You laughed at him at first... until your eyes danced around him... and what he had in his hand. You didnt need to ask to know. And almost instantly you felt your body tense, mind go blank and cheek redden. Hands sat in on each other, lips rolled in, eye popping out almost. "Um-"

Confident as ever, he laid back into your pillows, straightening out his legs, "Didn't know you thought like this, Sweetheart.." He started reading, "Kinda want him to fill me until hes dry-"

You leapt onto him - to be honest the word doesn't cut it. You practically jumped on him, trying to grab the book from him but he was swift... dodging your hands artfully as he continued reading. His light and teasing voice was harmonised by your loud commands for him to stop. The room had laughter too: Yours was embarrassment and his was humour.

After a particularly wobbly Eddie! he put the book down, giving you a perfect moment to sling it back onto your cabnit. "Please stop." You frowned.

"Awe sorry baby," He laughed, pulling you down for a cuddle, "It's really hot though." You whined, "It is! Fuck babe," He sighed, "I really didn't think you'd wanna do anything like that!" It surpassed you how he had this ability to never be ashamed or embarrassed about anything. He dipped his head into your neck, "Like being chocked, filled with my cum. fuck, even messy..."

"Shut up!" You leant up, hands flying to his face, coving his mouth and you were straddled to his hips. "I can't believe you- I'm so embarassed!"

"Why?" Earnest and lovie as he moved your hands down.

"You were never meant to find out..."

"Why, you know im into anything?"

"Embarassing."

"No its not."

"yes, it is."

"You know," he started rubbing your thighs, "I'd love to fuck you dumb, fill you up, have you all messy-"

Now you'd be lying if you said he wasn't affecting you- you were embarrassed but so secretly turned on. Your tummy tensed, the blood went to your head, your thighs stiffened. But still your embarrassment was bigger, "Stop making fun of me!"

"Baby baby baby" He cooed, pulling your hands from your face, "I promise i'm really not."

You whined at him, he mimicked you back, pulling you down for a delicate honest kiss. It was deep and slow, him offering his truth to you. And who wouldn't melt into that? His hands now found your hip and your neck, in to your lips his mumbled "Roll over."

You gasp as he rearranges you both, your back now to the bed, "Wanna try something." He sat up continuing, "We can't your little sexual fantasies now-" You squirm in embarrassment, "But" He began stroking your cheek in efforts to pull you out your head. "I wanna try something new.""

He leant down planting a sweet kiss to your lips though you tried to chase him for a second, he was already moving down into your neck, planting even sweeter ones there. You could never stay quiet for his sightly chapped lips and heavy hands - small mewls slipped from you. "Good girl." Quiet, practically breathed from Eddie.

"We can't try the public-people-home stuff, but" another neck kiss, "I do.." another kiss to the other side, "really like the idea" a kiss under your ear, "of having you fully submitted" a kiss to the shell of your ear "to me"

The way you gasp makes Eddie sure he's hit gold with you. As he talks, your hand in his hair pulls and squeezes more, "How about," He moves along to kiss your cheek, "I get you on your knees" Another kiss, "no pillow, because desperate whores don't deserve kind treatment." A light kiss to your lips, "And I let you blow me?" Another kiss, "But" Kiss "I'll be holding your head," He was now resting on his forearms, fingers lost in your hair, "Pushing and pulling you exactly how I want?" Another light kiss met with a hearty pull of your hair, "Fill that little mouth up with my cum."

God you were in heaven - how did you manage to get a boy like him. All you felt you could do was nod at him. A tap of your thigh and you were on the floor kneeling between his legs as he sat on the edge of your bed.

Looking up at him, the shy coy expression fell naturally on you, "Pretty girl, aren't you?" He complimented. "Get on with it then." It was like a switch was flipped.

Excitedly, you get his belt and jeans off. His dick was hard and pretty as ever - not too big but a little wide, a more red tint than the rest of him already bleeding pre cum.

You got personal with it, licking the beed off, replacing it with a kiss. Eddie couldn't help the sigh - you ruin him on the daily no matter what you do. You could get lost playing with his head. He helped by tucking your hair behind your ears, keeping his hands on your lower head and jaw.

The kisses turn into kitten licks met with you looking up at him, his spaced out satisfied look made you smile, "Shit- open your mouth for me."

Sat up a bit more, the head of is cock resting on your lower lip, palms lost behind his calves: you were ready to try something you never thought you'd get to. The hands in your hair pushing you down slowly, and pulled you back up even more delicately - he giving both of you the space to gauge how yous felt.

"Suck it a bit harder" You did. "fuck-you love this, don't you?" You nod.

It was really all he needed - he didn't even need verbal confirmation, just the feel of your nails in the backs of his legs and how your eyes were rolled back and closing was enough, not to mentions the light noises in your throat. He pushed you down with more force, hands now cupping your cheeks and jaw.

He didn't make you deep throat him - neither of you needed to go that far at the moment. The half of his dick that was still straining your jaw send your brains both tumbling.

Eddie yanked you off him with a rough tug to your hair pulling a throat whine out of you, "Shit babe- you're a little slut aren't you?"

You nodded dumbly, "For you- love you."

"I love you too," A thumb stroked your cheek, "Daddy loves you."

Maybe it was the name. Maybe it was the humiliating reminder he had read you diary. Maybe it was the whispering in the empty quiet house. Maybe it was just him. But you were sure he'd just written you off to hell. You felt a beed of slick drop from your cunt.

And Eddie practically felt it too: he could see the haze covering your pretty eyes and the cheeky smile that covered your face.

A thumb toyed with your lip, he continued, "Gotta get you a little collar with my name on it." And with that you basically purred at him. Eddie was sure he was lost in you as you started to barely suck his thumb.

He'd never had you so spaced and floaty. Sure you've both spoken through sex before but nothing like this, nothing so painfully skilled in what the other actually needs to hear. Sex had never felt so possessive until right now.

The sight of you both was like it was from a porno: you, puffy lipped, half lidded eyes and big breaths; Eddie, pointed look, panting, loved up eyes.

The other hand dropped from your cheek and sat around your neck back - the pressure alone made your eyes flutter - and the sight went straight to his dick.

He popped his thumb out your mouth and brung you up for a dirty, messy, deep kiss. No coordination, just lust. Teeth smacking teeth, uncomfortable postures, hands gripping and clawing where ever they could.

He pulled away, standing up as if to leave. But you whine is stopped when you see he leant against your cabinet. Very idolly, he picked up the diary searching for the place he left off on, commanding a "Come here" using his fingers to make a curling motion, not even bothering to look up at you. "Crawl" He sneers almost as you go to get up.

Granted the space wasn't so big so the crawl was more of an awkward on-you-knees- shuffle but boy did that embarrassment climb back up inside you. If this was with anyone else, the pang of embarrassment woulda been too much, but something in Eddies low murmured tone did something totally new to you. "You're a good little pet, aren't you?"

His eyes never left the book in front of him: flicking through pages, scanning for the right sentence. He began reading off again. Completely as though it was the Sunday news paper and not your kinkiest secret fantasies.

"Eddie stop-"

"You know thats not my name." Eyes still in the book, tone stern and cold. You positioned on your claves between his legs, just waiting. "Thought you liked this? I know this isn't as good as being caught but its pretty close, right?" Finally he looks over.

The sudden feeling of something under you made you squirm, "Go on," He continued, "Get yourself off while I read your silly little diary."

The feeling that swelled in your belly was indescribable. It was overwhelming, unignorable and life changing. Like a duckling to its mother, you blindly listened: beginning to slowly rub yourself on the top of his foot.

"Suck my cock too, Sweetheart." He completely disregards you, finally finding his place on the pages. But he didn't start reading until he could feel your lips kiss his cock head.

You try to loose yourself in kissing him and the weight on your tongue but the perching reminder of what he is reading keeps pulling you out. The blood in your ears and the cotton in your brain were getting thicker.

You felt a ring or two pull on the strands of your hair, your gasps causing you to suck his in harder. You felt the rings apply more of a push at certain points of Eddies reading.

It's all sort of too dirty to really feel like its real life. Nobody really experiences this stuff right? Like it's all just movie magic? Clearly not. Clearly somehow you'd hit the jackpot. Somehow in small little irrelevant Hawkins in the mid 80s, you'd met the jack pot.

The sound of a book hitting a surface pulls you from your slack, readjusting yourself back to the present, you felt two hands play with your hair with more intent.

"Fuck-you sure know how to suck a dick, don't you?" He tucked some behind your ear, making you look up at him "Who taught you that?"

"You-da-daddy." Jumbled delivery thanks to the cock in your mouth.

"Sorry couldn't hear you."

"da-daddy" You tried, but sadly coming out more like 'dabby' thanks to the 5 inch obstruction in your throat.

The palms by your ears tighten, "good" It was almost like an extended sigh, "You gonna take it? Tap me if it's too much, yah?" Serious and caring, you nod.

"Yes" You respond to the eyebrow raise, "Yes daddy."

"Good little thing, aren't you?" Another tuck of your hair, and he pulled your head back in opposition to his hips going forward. He was using you clearlessly, not yet pushing you down as deep as he could, but rather just enjoying your lightness.

The room enters a soundtrack of hisses and hums, some slurps and some groans.

"I told you to get yourself off." It wasn't rude but you felt like you were being told off. Your heart pinged in your chest.

It was annoying how good it felt. Yes your knees stung and the carpet has turned into staples but who cared. The hands behind your ears making you deep throat him were heaven, the foot under your clit was heaven, Eddies musky smell was heaven.

Hums and hisses turned into the sound of fabric rubbing and small 'fuck's and 'shit's. And at this rate the streams of dribble coming off your chin and too the floor was definitely anything but disgusting.

Looking up at him and seeing him looking down, heaven too. "Gonna cum in your mouth." You really couldn't help the whorish whine. "Don't swallow it."

Something about that single demand got you were you needed it too. The swelling between your legs seemed to his its peak, the sheen of sweat tripped and your body felt like it was burning. Finger burring into his thighs, tummy tensed: you came over his foot, eyes rolled into the back of your skull.

Eddie using this as the perfect moment to use you. Seeing a moment where you'd given him your everything, he gripped you harder and thrusted deeply into your throat.

Still in your post orgasm haze, the 2 boney hands drag you up by your arm pits, a leg helps keep you stood. "Open." You couldn't even see him at the moment, but you knew behind the black was a man staring at you with all his love.

So you did as he told. Mouth open, cum threatening to spill, "Good, swallow." There was a hand to your throat, and them butterflies danced again. And then there was a light press to your lips that helps bring your eyes back open.

Neither of you could help getting lost a bit in the other - this was a big step, a big new, a good thing too! Eddie broke your moment off and tucked you into his chest, coddling you.

"I love you"

"I-love- you too"

He laughed at your breathiness. "Can we have an actual conversation about this now"

"Gimme a minute- I think my brains all mush."

He laughed again and gave a kiss to your hair.

[jksnrabbit]

DNDADS OCS, BUT THIS TIME ITS S2

THIS TIME i present TWO . TWICE the character for One post because i couldnt be bothered to make 2 debut ref sheets for them both

Luis and Santiago Sanchez, originally made as dnd characters for a campaign that never took off, so i smushed em in s2

here's an introductory comic to how luis and lark met, simply cause ive had this comic in my sketchbook for ages and it makes me cackle everytime

fun facts below the cut!! [i wrote more than expected]

☆ i made them sometime in 2022, before the s2 teens made it to heaven, so now idk how they can be part angelic considering angels r just eyeballs, but fuck it. if there can be half demon characters, there can be half angel

☆ theyre both peruvian [because i dont see enough peruano characters in media istfg]

☆ newly moved in to san dimas! moved in the same neighborhood as the oak-swallows-garcia family

☆ i believe these are pre-season 2 ep 1 ocs. like, maybe a year or 2 before the events of s2? idk . time is fake

☆ some inspiration for these two was taken from jim and barbara from trollhunters! i still love that show so i blended it with my own experiences and dndads and here. mental illness incarnate

LUIS

☆ bisexual nurse dad! since he was supposed to be a dnd pc, i had him as a life cleric, so to explain for his healing magic i decided to have him be ½ celestial, maybe aasimar

☆ that being said, he does not know of any non-human heritage nor magical healing. he just thinks he's naturally good at healing

☆ having magic immediately puts him on lark's radar, leading him to investigate luis. luis is just happy to have a new friend

☆ divorced from santiago's mom

☆ can't cook For Shit. it doesnt matter if you give him instructions, if it involves a stove/oven, there will be smoke

SANTIAGO

☆ transgender king!!! he/they legend!!! no im not projecting dont @ me /j

☆ chismoso/nosey to the point where, in san dimas, a hotbed for doodler activity, it puts him in danger. and you best believe he's snooping on this weird dude who's hanging around his dad so much [lark]

☆ new transfer to teen high! mainly just concerned with joining the track team

☆ unfortunately also the king of running in his binder. god save this kid

☆ due to celestial heratige, hates taylor swift's part demonic energy - he chalks this up to just not liking his vibe

[firnen-the-teragram-teabag]

i just put on a binder for the first time ever and its like what is this feeling is it gender euphoria ive never liked the way i look this much before and im actially crying because im so overwhelmed but its like a good thing im so happy

[lifblogs]

Choices

@ailesswhumptober Day 25 Humiliation, Betrayal, "How could you?"

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 1519 Summary: Crosshair is contacted by Hemlock, and he has to make a choice. He made it. Now he has to live with it. READ ON AO3

“How could you?” Hunter asked.

Hunter’s words weren’t what broke Crosshair. It was the way he said them. Crosshair had expected his brother to snarl at him, yell at him, scream. He hadn’t expected the quiet way he said the words, the way it seemed like his breath was nearly stolen from him from his pain.

Crosshair turned his head away, as Hunter, and Wrecker were put in binders.

“I’m sorry.”

“A load of good that does,” Wrecker snarled.

“Please make sure Wrecker gets taken care of,” Crosshair said to a passing TK trooper.

“Shut it.”

TK troopers were about to lead them away, but Hemlock entered from the main hangar doors of Tantiss.

“Let them stay,” he ordered. “I want them here for this.”

Crosshair was immediately tense at hearing his voice, and he backed away half a step before he could master himself.

Hemlock was massaging his left hand as he came up to them.

“Where’s the other one?” Hemlock asked. “CT-9904, you promised me all of them. If you don’t deliver, well—”

Crosshair held out a hand, heart going colder than Barton IV in his chest.

“Wait! He’s probably disguised as a stormtrooper. He came in with the scientific research vessel.”

Wrecker let out a wordless cry, and charged at Crosshair.

A stun blast brought him to his knees.

Crosshair did back away then. Not so he’d be farther from his brothers, but perhaps he’d be farther away from all of this.

Oh stars, what have I done?

They’d taken him back despite what he’d done to them, they’d made amends, he’d made amends.

This whole squad, this family was being torn apart. It was nothing. They weren’t Clone Force 99 anymore.

Hemlock spoke to a TK trooper, and he was sent off with a squad to search for Echo.

“Please… please don’t hurt them,” Crosshair said in a halting, bland voice, finding it difficult to show any of what he was truly feeling, especially in front of the man who had tortured him to near-insanity.

Hemlock let out a small smile, even laughed a little. “CT-9904, that was never on the table.”

“Then give me what was on the table.”

“Hmm, it seems you misunderstood.”

“What?”

“First, let’s see if your squad knows why you did this. Did he tell you?” Hemlock asked.

Hunter, and Wrecker were silent. Their helmets had been taken along with their weapons, and Wrecker’s glare cut deep.

“We accepted you back,” Hunter said. His eyes were wide, muscles in his face slack with hurt, confusion. “I don’t understand what went wrong.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It wasn’t you,” Hemlock said, pacing in front of them.

He grabbed Hunter’s face, and Hunter had a blaster pointed to his head when he tried to pull away.

“You see, it was me,” he said. “Your brother betrayed you all because. Of. Me.”

He let Hunter go, and Hunter looked ready to spit on him.

“I still don’t understand,” Wrecker said. “Crosshair, how could you?”

Hemlock patted his injured chest, which had Wrecker bending forward from the pain. Crosshair nearly lifted his rifle.

He could do it, couldn’t he?

He was fast. He could take Hemlock out.

But who would survive then? He needed his family to survive, needed Omega to survive. Strangely, he himself wanted to make it through this night.

“Oh, don’t you see by now?” Hemlock said. “It was for her, for Omega. I admit, the odds seemed against me when I reached out to CT-9904. He’s always been severe, cold, callous.”

Crosshair growled. That wasn’t true. It just wasn’t true!

“But he escaped this facility before with Omega,” Hemlock went on. “And I was told by the operative that brought her in that Crosshair was rather protective of her. So I used her as leverage.”

Hunter did growl at that one. He tried to get up.

He was whacked in the head with a blaster, and was sent to his knees with a groan.

Crosshair gripped his rifle even tighter.

He’d lost control of the situation, had perhaps never had it in the first place.

Hemlock was in charge of all of this. Crosshair had never stood a chance.

His gut plummeted.

He’d made a mistake.

How could he fix it?

The manpower and firepower he’d be up against was impossible. He’d be killed in at least two seconds. He’d never even make it to a ship to leave the hangar and contact Rex.

“She’d better be okay!” Wrecker cried.

“My specimen is fine, in a sense. Not that she’s ever leaving this mountain again.”

“What?” Crosshair cried. “That—that wasn’t the deal!”

Hemlock smiled, hands behind his back now, as he turned to him. “Oh, you misunderstood me. I never said you could have her. I just said I wouldn’t kill her if you brought me Clone Force 99.”

There was something akin to excitement in Hemlock’s eyes, and Crosshair realized his wording too late.

Blasters were now pointed at him as well.

Panicked, he fired at an approaching TK trooper. The shot burned through their chest, and they collapsed to the ground. Before Crosshair could fully understand the shots that had been fired, the shots he’d missed, he was on his knees. He gasped as his helmet was ripped off, his rifle smacked from his fingers. A blaster was pressed against his head, still hot from firing a stun blast at him. A very handsy trooper took his sidearm and felt him down for other weapons, and for comms. Crosshair grunted at his rough treatment.

“Hands behind your head!”

He slowly raised his arms. He couldn’t see a way out of this, especially as his comms were handed to Hemlock. How could he even fix this? Crosshair looked at Hunter, his sergeant, his leader, his brother. Hunter looked away.

Hemlock came forward as binders were slapped onto Crosshair’s wrists. He tried to lean back, but there was no leeway. He sneered as Hemlock  leaned over, grabbing his face.

Crosshair swore he was going to faint from the terror that awoke in him from being this close to him again, from feeling his gloved hand on his face. His scent of warm spice washed over him, and Crosshair held in a gag. His hot breath was on his face, as close as a lover’s.

He tried to look away, but the forceful, bruising grip didn’t let him.

He could only gasp and pant as he withstood being touched by this monster.

“Look me in the eyes,” Hemlock said.

Crosshair couldn’t follow his command.

He shook him, and Crosshair grunted.

“Look me in the eyes!”

The blaster pressed harder against his head.

Crosshair did so, trembling all over from it, sweating.

Hemlock leaned in even more, his blue eyes full of nothing but hot, sadistic pleasure.

“Omega’s not going to go free,” he whispered to him, like this was some sort of secret. “And neither are you.” Crosshair’s head began to bow at the weight of those words, the sheer horror of them making it difficult to even breathe. “I’m not done speaking to you,” Hemlock said. “Look me in the eyes!” 

He was whacked against the back of his head, Crosshair grimacing at the bright, throbbing pain. Shaking, mouth going dry, he met Hemlock’s eyes again.

“Please,” Crosshair begged. “Let her go.”

“No. But, thank you, CT-9904, for bringing me everything I want.”

Hemlock stood, and motioned for them to be taken inside.

Crosshair couldn’t even scream as he and his squad—well, they weren’t a squad anymore because he’d broken that—were made to stand, and led inside the mountain.

Crosshair looked up at the sky, at the moon, the stars, thankfully this dank, humid planet had gifted him a cloudless night.

I don’t suppose I’ll ever see those again.

He had paused too long, had tilted his head too far back.

He was soundly smacked right above his left ear.

“Keep moving,” he was ordered. “Head down.”

I’m sorry, Omega.

I’m sorry.

The last one had been for Hunter, for Wrecker, for Echo.

For everything he’d ever done wrong, for all the choices that had led them here.

They were all taken inside, never to see that sky again.

And it was Crosshair’s fault.

Hemlock walked beside him, and he tried to not throw up, though his breaths were now very shallow.

“Thank you for playing your part, CT-9904. And just so you know, I wasn’t planning on killing Omega. I’d never kill that specimen.”

She’s a person, Crosshair wanted to argue.

But oh, he was so stupid!

He should have seen that, known that, but he had panicked when the threat was spoken over comms, and all he could think was that Omega had to be safe. He would do anything to keep her alive, and he supposed now his family saw the depths he would go to.

Shame burned through him.

They’d never forgive him for this.

He’d never forgive himself.

And Omega would never forgive him.

I’m sorry.

The hangar doors shut behind them. They were sealed in the mountain, all prisoners to Crosshair’s choices.

[humunanunga]

top surgery

The morning of the surgery, I woke up a few minutes before my first alarm clock. It was set for 6:00am, like the day before when I had to make sure I was dressed in time for the drive to my pre-op appointment a two-hour drive away. But my ride, my medical power of attorney, my secondhand family, had his alarm clock set for 6:15. So I waited until his went off too so he'd have a chance to brush his teeth before I washed the incision area one more time with the special cleanser. Forgetting I didn't need to wash my hair this time, since I already did the night before, my shower was shorter than planned, and so we still had time to idle before driving the scenic route to the surgery center.

More time to hype up my friends, and more time for them to hype me up.

9:30am finally arrived, and so had we. The door was still locked ten minutes later, so I called the office and the voice on the other end said they'd let the nurse know we were here. My driver and I were let in, I changed into the hospital gown, minutes passed as more doctors trickled in against the weekday morning traffic. They took my heart rate, my blood pressure, a urine sample, and the first doctor tried to install the IV needle into my left hand. She had difficulty chasing my vein, which can happen when patients have to abstain from food and drink before surgery. Needles didn't usually affect me, but hunger and dehydration probably made me more sensitive, because I did get woozy. The anesthesiologist ended up getting it done in a few quick motions on the right hand, taping it securely in place and running me through all the risks of anaesthesia and all the factors that made it more likely I'd wake up nauseous. And the surgeon quizzed me on the prescriptions she'd listed for me the day before, and what to do about the binder (leave it alone). At my request, my dad-in-spirit stepped out for a moment while she drew lines on my skin.

And then I was ready.

And finally, the surgeons were ready.

I was led into a spacious operating room, and I asked if I needed to strip down before getting on. They said I didn't, that they'd take care of that. So I stepped on, they covered my legs in a blanket since the room was chilly. I took note of their caps, one with a pig print on it and another with Carebears. I could hear a loud whirring from a machine somewhere out of my periphery while they finished hooking me up, putting an oxygen mask on me, telling me to take deep breaths.

They warned me earlier that the IV drip may sting, but I didn't feel that. What I did feel was the anaesthesia taking effect, so I said goodnight, I'll seeya later.

…

I remember going under. I remember a vague sense of the passage of time, like when you take a nap on the couch with the TV on but don't remember what you were thinking about whenever you wake up.

It took a lot of insistent pestering to wake me, and at first I thought it was my driver trying to wake me. But then I remembered where I was, and I started to respond. Everything felt heavy and cold, but someone put some kind of heater under my legs and it felt so good to warm up again. I was shivering intensely, but the doctors were patient and helped me into the soft pajamas I brought. Pajamas my roommate gave me.

The nausea never came, and when I had tomato soup for lunch and the potato soup for dinner, I couldn't imagine anything tasting better. I was able to take my first post-op selfie as promised on the way back to the hotel room, where one of my dear friends had sent me flowers. Everyone congragulated me, but once I made it back to the bed with the neck pillow, chest pillow and sleep mask from my roommate and her mother, I was only awake again to eat, drink, take pills or watch day become sunset become night.

And I felt so, so loved.

The the sutures holding my grafts in place and the (admittedly itchy) binding over them were removed this week, and the surgeon was delighted to see how well my nipples were healing this early on. I was still pretty tired from how early I had to wake up for the drive to my post-op appointment, but I was giddy seeing my bare chest in the mirror for the first time.

And, so, here I am now. Still under the care of my roomie, my friends and my family while I wait for mobility in my arms to come back. Able to shower again, as long as I follow instructions. Caring for the incision sites while they heal. Tingling the same way skin does when feeling comes back after escaping the cold. And safe from sweating into a binder through any more summers.

For transparency, it may be worth mentioning that I have a history of ideal health. Compared to my brother, my driver and my friends, I'm lucky that I haven't even had any side-effects to deal with. No post-anaesthesia high or nausea, no pain even when I tested out going off the prescriptions. But there's already enough horror stories out there to fearmonger transness with, or to prepare for all the risks and worst-case scenarios; so how about a happy ending to cleanse the palate with this time.

[aneurinallday]

The Tragedy of James Steerforth

Chapter IV: Old Friends

“Mr Bradbury, I don’t understand,” David protested. “You don’t like the rewrite? But your feedback last week was so positive. You assured me that I was on the right track.”

The man behind the desk lit a pipe and began to puff, filling the cluttered office with the potent smell of expensive tobacco smoke.

“Things change, Mr Copperfield. There’s a lot of competition out there. We need to be careful what we put our stamp on.”

On the desk between them sat a thick manuscript, lovingly penned and carefully bound. Calligraphed on the front page in graceful cursive was the title: The Personal History, Adventures, Experience and Observation of David Copperfield the Younger of Blunderstone Rookery.

“Is it too fantastical?” David asked, picking up the manuscript and nervously cradling it in his lap, “I admit, I did change some names and physical attributes, but only to protect people’s identities. Everything else is truthful. This is the story my life, as it happened, with no embellishment. This is my complete and honest autobiography.”

“Mr Copperfield, we’re not going to publish this.”

“But I - oh.” David paused. “Forgive me, I don’t wish to argue, but I’m just - I’m just confused. At our previous meeting, you praised my writing so highly. Are you sure I can’t change your mind with another revision?”

“It’s not the writing that’s the problem, Mr Copperfield. It’s you.”

“Me?”

“The truth is, we’ve received a report about you.”

“A report? About what? From whom?”

“From an old school friend of yours. He gave us a review of your character that contradicts your memoirs. He said that when you were boys together, you got him into all manner of trouble - running around London, wreaking havoc, sneaking out of the dormitory at night to visit strumpets.”

“What!” David exclaimed, “Sir, none of this is true, I swear. There was occasionally some trouble, but nothing serious. Just boys making fools of themselves, as boys do. I certainly never hired the services of any ladies - I didn’t even know how!”

“Is that so?” Mr Bradbury leaned forward. “Your friend said that you had rich benefactors who kept your pockets full and your reputation spotless. He also said - ” the publisher lowered his voice to a whisper, “ - that you got the clap off a trollop, and you travelled all the way to Yarmouth to see a doctor under a false name, to make sure it stayed hush-hush.”

“But that’s absurd! I went to Yarmouth to see my childhood friends! Ask them, they’ll tell you the same thing.”

“I don’t know, Mr Copperfield. Your friend was quite credible. He spared us no details.” The publisher inhaled deeply from his pipe. “It seems you’re not exactly the poor, tragic orphan you portray yourself as.”

“What can I do to prove these accusations false? The Peggotty family can corroborate my version of events! Ask them!”

“You mean the Peggotty family who were promised a cut of your royalties? I’m sure they’ll say whatever you tell them to say.”

“But - ”

“Mr Copperfield, I recommend you seek publication elsewhere.”

Silence filled the office. David trembled for a moment, then gathered up his things, rose stiffly, and bowed his head with a jerk.

“Before I go, may I ask…this gentlemen who claimed to know me at school - who pretended to know so much about me. What was his name?”

“I hardly have to divulge that.”

“Are you going to tell anyone? The other publishing houses, I mean?”

“No, this’ll stay between us. Anyone unlucky enough to pick up your manuscript is welcome to deal with you. Good day.”

“...Good day, Mr Bradbury.”

David left the publisher’s office in a daze, walking past rows of printers and binders busily churning out novels. He held his hand-written manuscript close to his chest, as if to shield it from sceptical eyes who would tear its narrative to shreds.

Stepping out of the arched doorway of 85 Fleet Street, he paused to glance up at the view above him - a stern, seven-storey façade of pale bricks. Barely a half-hour ago, he’d walked in that door with a heart full of hope, and now he was walking out with his fledgling career in tatters.

“What’ll I tell Agnes?” he wondered. She’d been so happy to see him excited about his new contract. He could already hear her voice reassuring him everything would be fine, giving him perfectly sensible advice. Sometimes he wished she would be less supportive and more cruel, just so he could feel like he deserved her.

Tears stung his eyes as he walked the streets of Central London, but he blinked them away, breathing deep to steady himself. It took him a minute to realise somebody was calling his name.

“Daisy! Daisy! Look over here!”

He turned to see a familiar figure approaching him. He recognised the ostentatious hat, the dark head of curls, the fine coat.

“Steerforth?” he gasped. “Can it be?”

Steerforth’s silver-handled cane tapped on the pavement as he drew nearer.

“Don’t look so surprised, Daisy. You know I can’t stay away from you,” he teased.

David stared at him in disbelief. They stood eye-to-eye, and Steerforth extended his hand. Remembering his manners, David hurriedly tucked his manuscript under his arm, and shook Steerforth’s hand.

“James, you’re back! I had no idea you were in London! My God, why didn’t you show yourself sooner?”

“It’s a dull story. How’ve you been, Daisy?”

“Me? I’ve - I’ve been fine. But what about you? Nobody’s heard from you in weeks! We thought maybe you’d left the country again.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Steerforth waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve been living my life, same as always. You know me - nothing ever keeps me down.”

“But after the storm and the beach, we - we parted on such bad terms, we weren’t sure if you were ever coming back.”

“That’s in the past. I had to move on eventually.”

“But what about your mother? She’s been losing her mind, searching everywhere for you. Why haven’t you been to see her yet?”

“That’s my business, Daisy.”

“I know, it’s just…You could at least write her a letter. Or send a messenger if you don’t want to see her in-person.”

“Maybe.” Steerforth’s expression turned serious. He leaned on his cane with both hands, and sniffed. “Listen, Daisy. Back at Yarmouth, back on the beach…that whole affair with the Peggottys. I’ve been feeling quite awful about it. Do you think I can be forgiven?”

“Well, I can’t speak for them. But I forgive you.”

“Really? Despite everything I put you through?”

“Really,” David said firmly, “You’ve made some…poor choices, but I believe you to be a good man.”

“You don’t hate me, then?”

“No, I don’t hate you. I never have - I never could.”

“I appreciate that, Daisy. I really do.” Steerforth looked very solemn. “I know things can’t ever be the same as they were, back when we were boys. But still, it would mean a lot to me if you forgave me. The things I did, the things I said…They were terrible. Truly terrible. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, my friend,” David sighed happily. “Of course. Whatever happened between us, I’m just glad you’re home safe.”

He was indescribably relieved. Relieved that his once-closest companion had turned out to be a good person after all. Relieved that he no longer had to live in a world where they weren’t friends.

“Thank you, Daisy.” Steerforth’s seriousness went away, and he grinned again. “Anyway, enough about me! Tell me what you’ve been up to. How’s the writing going?”

“It’s going well. I’ve published some short stories in The Morning Chronicle, and now I’m working on a full-length book.”

“A book? How wonderful! Is that it right there?”

He pointed to the manuscript under David’s arm. David instinctively tried to hide it.

“Yes, it’s - well, I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but it’s an autobiography.”

“No need to be embarrassed, my darling Daisy. Your life has had enough ups and downs to fill a thousand pages. You might as well earn some money off it.”

“That’s true…”

“So what did the publisher at Fleet Street think of it?”

“Well, they were pleased with…Wait, how did you know I’d found a publisher there?”

Suddenly, Steerforth grinned. He widened his eyes and trembled his lip in an expression of mock earnestness.

“Mr Bradbury, I swear, he was out of control!” he exclaimed theatrically, “Even at a young age, it was like he had the devil in him. All of us were afraid of him, but we went along with everything he said, because we feared he would make our semester a living hell. Mr Bradbury, for the sake of your poor readers, please don’t let him spread his lies any further! The man he pretends to be is not the creature he was!”

David couldn’t speak. Steerforth burst into laughter.

“I swear, no matter how many years go by, you’re still as much of a dullard as you were back at school. When I look at you, all I see is that scared, lonely little orphan on his first day, so desperate to make friends, so eager to please. Hanging on my every word. Tripping over himself to make me smile.”

As he stared at Steerforth’s laughing face, it took David a moment to realise that he’d been fooled. Steerforth wasn’t sorry. He had no regrets about anything. He’d only feigned remorse as a set-up to this punchline. The bigger the twist, the greater the satisfaction.

“The look on your face!” chuckled Steerforth, full of glee. “Of all the pranks I’ve pulled, this was my favourite.”

“Prank?” David uttered, “James, you cost me a contract that I worked very hard for. Because of you, I was dropped by Bradbury. Now I have to start all over again.”

“Oh, cheer up, Daisy,” Steerforth scoffed, “There are other publishing houses in London. I’m sure your grand monument to self-pity will be flying off the shelves in no time!”

“How could you do this to me?”

“Typical Daisy - so virtuous he can’t even take a joke.”

“What you did was no joke, James. You could’ve ruined me.”

“That was the idea. Good day!” Steerforth tipped his hat merrily, and walked away.

And so ended David’s first meeting with the reborn Steerforth.

As David watched him go, he considered the many years of friendship that had preceded this quarrel, and began to wonder if they’d been an illusion. Had Steerforth ever really liked him? Had he ever seen him as a friend? Or had he merely seen him as a pet, an amusing novelty?

Upon David’s arrival at Mrs Strong’s school, Steerforth had been the first to extend the hand of friendship towards him. He’d taken the lowly orphan under his wing, becoming his mentor and protector - defending him from bullies, even while being a subtle bully himself. Whether it was motivated by sympathy or by a condescending sense of charity, it was an act of kindness for which David would always feel grateful.

And from that day on, David had loved him. How could he not? Everybody loved James Steerforth. James Steerforth was everything: rich, stylish, handsome, funny, clever, and seemingly without flaw. He’d been the most popular boy at school, beloved by students and teachers alike. The sort of boy who was welcome everywhere he went, the object of admiration and adoration from all.

As the years had passed, Steerforth had proven himself to be selfish and irresponsible. His money and privilege had made him carefree and inconsiderate; and time and again, he’d treated other people poorly. Not because he meant to do so, but because he lived in a world where none of his actions had consequences, and where he’d always been sheltered from the reality of human suffering. Adulthood had brought him little maturity, and he’d charmed his way through life in a never-ending quest for pleasure, oblivious to the trail of destruction he’d left in his merry wake.

Yet still David had worshipped him. None of Steerforth’s shortcomings could ever dampen the gratitude that David had felt towards him.

And then, one fateful summer, David had made the mistake of inviting Steerforth on a trip to Yarmouth, to visit the home of the Peggottys, his childhood friends. There, Steerforth’s wandering eye had been caught by Emily, the fiancée of Ham Peggotty. The rest was history.

It was a mistake for which David would always blame himself.

“I should’ve known better,” he muttered as he began to walk in the direction of home. “I should’ve known you’d cause trouble. You always do.”

But the sabotage of his publishing contract was a turn of events that he could never have predicted. This wasn’t the misguided prank of a careless young man, but a deliberate act of malice, inflicted by a venomous and vindictive soul.

The Steerforth who’d returned from Yarmouth was…different. On the night of the storm, he’d lost something - perhaps his self-worth, perhaps his dignity, perhaps his sense of right and wrong; David wasn’t sure what. But it seemed that the best part of Steerforth had been lost with the sinking boat, leaving only the worst part behind.

Chapter V: The Uninvited Guest

[bugflies00]

has anyone else gotten this problem where like. ive had my binder (spectrum) since spring last year and i never had any problems with it for months. i didnt have to size up because my dimensions were exactly one size in particular . i wear it every day but never more than 8-9 hours like is recommended (i put it on at the very last minute before leaving my house and take it off the moment i get home i cant do much better than that), i have a day a week where i dont wear it bc sports, and on weekends i often dont wear it at all apart from like a dinner outside . like just in general i only wear it to go out and not at home . so i'd say im pretty much following all the safety stuff ? but for the past month or so ive been getting rib pain . so i thought i just needed a break which was a good coincidence bc i had like 2-3 weeks at home where i wore it essentially like maybe once . and now im back in school except . it still hurts when i wear it for a while ? im so confused like i thought giving it a rest was what i needed and i thought 3 weeks would be ample time? and it's not like my ribs have . Expanded? i dont think ive gained any weight either so like . why would i need to move up a size. and its kind of a problem because a) getting a binder at all was a hassle without my parents knowing so getting a 2nd one owuld be . Complicated b) i really really hope i havent fucked up my ribs somehow bc idk how i'd explain that to my parents??

[k1rameki]

THE TIME HAS COME EVERYONE. ITS TIME TO TALK ABOUT MY EXTENSIVE LIST OF TABI HEADCANONS (hcs are under the cut plus this also counts as a little debrief of his human design bc jesus christ i put so much effort into making this man's design it went through a LOT of trial and error before settling on what i got now considering ive gradually made him less and less "human")

also quick thing b4 i proceed – please please PLEASE ask before making things w my tabi design bc ive seen a rlly cool papercraft made w/o my knowledge and that was kinda sucky so ya thats around it (other than the basics of no nsfw and such)

APPEARANCE HCS

first and foremost — hes half japanese because i remember his aside counterpart being japanese iirc and i thought that was really cool and wanted to implement that into my own little hc (also he speaks like a dozen languages bc of another thing i'll go into detail with in a bit

so many different facial features, scarring (theres a very elaborate reason for this tbh), moles, freckles, etc all bc why not?? (freckles is primarily bc of my bestie crow and now im obsessed)

lashes bc why not, give every man a pair of lashes i think theyre pretty

PIERCINGS. so many piercings. this is primarily because i am a very firm believer that tabi gets piercings done because he wants to feel human again so he finds comfort in decorating himself as much as possible for that reason and also the aesthetic

broken horn bc of the mod events, damage beyond repair and whatnot

HE HAS LONG HAIR BC I SAID SO ‼️‼️ i figured considering he's been invisible for so long he never really knew what to do when it came to cutting his hair, so eventually it grew out to around his waist, and he kept that hairstyle ever since (he prefers wearing his hair in a ponytail or smth bc sensory issues when it comes to hair touching his skin)

a lot of tater's hcs infected my brain hehehehehe especially the tail and his hands still being what they were when they were cursed (also. paw beans. /vpos)

HES TRANS ‼️‼️ hes also very dumb and has very little regard for his health and forgets to take his binder off a lot (trust me he gets scolded a lot for that)

GENERAL HCS

hes autistic and has adhd — the autism hc i lowkey stole from crow but the adhd hc ive had for a long long while now — one of his lifelong special interests is performing arts and musicals

chronic insomniac — sleep? never heard of her

plays like 5 different instruments but primarily specialises in piano and guitar

safe food is anything sweet or chocolatey — he has a massive sweet tooth and is obsessed w cookies and pastries in particular which ayana baked for him a lot (ill prolly make a whole other post for her in the near future but guys. pastry chef aya. hear me out)

an absolute boss at board games, especially monopoly, and he constantly loves screwing everyone over

extremely hyperfixated on pokemon and owns a bajillion folders filled with cards worth a buttload of money, and a dozen plushies + figurines (projecting bc pokemon is one of my hyperfixes dont judge me) his fav gen is absolutely johto

his eyesight is pretty bad but like. not bad enough for him to be needing glasses (unlike a certain someone cough cough agoti)

speaking of said certain someone, he and agoti do each other's hair a lot simply because its really fun and provides some stimulation, and also because it helps tabi practice with self care and such

VERY SENSITIVE TO SOUND AND TEXTURES, often times he will probably start crying if something sounds or feels wrong

sometimes he forgets certain words in english and has to resort to using what theyre called in russian

has the goofiest sounding laugh ever and i will die on this hill. when you get tabi cackling he will start rolling on the floor and making the most UNGODLY sounds

can speak like 6 languages fluently and a dozen others in simple conversation (NERD ALERT)

he sucks so hard at writing essays but is (for some reason) really good at maths

despite being the more serious one among his group of friends, tabis a dumbass and does a lot more stupid things than one would expect

[f4ngf4g]

Top Surgery Diary: Day 1

My dad mentioned that I should write about my experience with top surgery & that it might help other people, so I decided I'd do a little diary on here. It's going to get long. I'm chronically ill with pain & fatigue, and here's my overall top surgery experience:

I had it done yesterday, on the 20th, and at the last second decided to opt in for nipple grafts after seeing my surgeons results. I know personally I would look online, at google images, and see results i really did not like the look of, and so I decided I would never choose nipple grafts. After seeing the results from my surgeon specifically, I changed my mind. The point of me telling you this is to always always always look for results from YOUR surgeon before making up your mind about anything.

When I went in, I got changed into the surgical gown & the surgeon came in and marked up my chest. After that I had an IV put in. My anesthesia team came in and introduced themselves one by one, and then my dad was allowed back & picked up all of my belongings. Then the anesthesia team gave me a relaxer, my father left, and I literally do not remember anything else after that point, until waking up in the recovery center.

When I was just waking up in the recovery center, my pain was around an 8 out of 10. Personally, I believe this is because my mental walls weren't really up yet, as the more and more I became conscious the better it got. I'd say it's now like a 3-4. Dull ache. Sometimes the incisions have a burning or tingling sensation, maybe around a 7/10 on the pain scale for me. It usually only happens when I've moved "wrong" (I'm still trying to figure out my limitations, of course.)

It's important to note that the effects of anesthesia last longer than you think. After I went home, I basically slept all day and woke up only to pee or eat or take medicine. The anesthesia made it really hard to open my eyes after waking up, as if there was gunk behind my eyelids. I had the urge to pee a lot, even though not a lot would come out, but my dad said that was normal after an IV. Also, people say that your throat hurts due to the breathing tube they have to put in when you're under. When I first woke up, it didn't hurt at all - the pain gradually got worse through the day though. I'm glad I had cough drops on hand.

The emotional side of things can be rough. I woke up once extremely frustrated by how packed up I was - post op binder squeezing me, hoodie on top of that, and a mastectomy pillow on top of that. I had to sit in the bathroom with the hoodie off (hiding from my cat) and just try to breathe and calm down. It did pass and I went back to sleep.

At one point, the tightness of my chest and the post-op binder and all of the emotions going on was extremely overwhelming. I had a good cry, drank a milkshake, and laid down and just tried to breathe again. You'll never expect how good breathing feels - i know a lot of trans men get used to breathing from their stomachs as to not mess up binding. Breathing with my chest feels so nice, it doesn't feel bad on the incisions, it doesn't feel like a burn or a stretch. It almost makes the pain subside a bit. Focusing on breathing is a big one I'll recommend to anyone during recovery.

Honestly, it doesn't really feel real that I've had top surgery yet. I don't get to remove the post op binder until the 28th, so I haven't seen the results at all. I keep feeling like my boobs are just under the binder, waiting to pop out and surprise me, and because of that I don't want to get my hopes up. It's definitely weird.

I will add that, with emotions all over the place and having not actually seen the results yet, I've felt a lot of regret about getting the surgery (but I don't actually regret it, I am just in pain with a lot of weird sensations and "nothing" to show for it. I assume that this "regret" of mine is actually just frustration & pain wearing a mask)

I've not had any difficulties sitting up from a laying position, but wiping after using the bathroom has been surprisingly hard. Thankfully I bought an extended reach wiping tool, though I only really need to use it for a #2. I have a lot more mobility in my arms than I expected to have, but again, I'm still trying to find my limits.

My biggest worry was the drains. I am a very feel-based and texture-based person, so I was super concerned how it would feel to have tubes inside of me and sticking out - but so far, I literally cannot feel it at all. It's honestly kind of wicked cool to see the drains in action, but then again, I am not a squeamish person.

I did have a weird moment when I was sort of half awake, where I had some phantom-boob sensations. It was strange, but not upsetting or unnerving. It's only happened the once so far.

And that's my day one experience with top surgery. I'll keep this updated as I feel the need to. I'm happy to answer any questions as well

[bigbrotony]

I want... a big brother. To make out with when our parents are gone. And slowly getting more bold and going further everytime we get together. Until were always together, just waiting to be alone so he can hold me against him and grope my ass while we kiss and grind against one another.

Locking ourselves in my room so we can strip just our shirts off in case our parents come home early. And he touches my chest, groping me with wide spread hands, telling me he almost forgot how i looked without my binder or my big hoodies on, that he misses seeing my chest when i lounged around in my sleeveless shirts and just how hard it is to resist touching me when im dressed down like that. Saying how bad he wants to take advantage and fuck my fat tits before i get rid of them.

gently pushing me down to my knees and telling me we'll start slow, that hell have to teach me how to suck his cock since he knows ive never done it before. Unbuttoning his jeans and letting his cock out in front of my face, laughing at how obvious it is that 1) its my first time seeing one and 2) that ive been so desperate for him. Telling me to open my mouth and placing his head on my tongue. Thrusting gently into my mouth, telling me to let him do the work at first, just until i get used to having him in my mouth. Reminding me to breathe as his cock moves further into my mouth, laughing warmly as his cock hits my throat and i choke for a second, pulling out enough to let me breath and check if im okay before going back in.

Slowly fucking my mouth, getting me used to it before thrusting just a bit faster again and again until i can barely breath, swallowing desperately around him and hes panting above me, his gentle hold on my head tightening as he moves me on his cock. Gasping and moaning about how good i am to him. How im such a good little brother, and im a natural cock sucker and if i ever get a boyfriend, he's going to be so lucky that my big brother taught me everything i need to know to please him but all i can think of is how bad i want to stay with him forever. How can any stranger compare to my big brother who already loves me? Already takes care of me? Already wants to fuck me?

He warns me when hes gonna cum, asking if he should pull out, he doesnt want to make me do anything i don't want to. But i want it so bad. I such his cock harder, holding onto his hips so he can't pull away, looking up at him, begging as best as i can for his cum. And he smiles, looking in my eyes and letting himself let go, moaning and bucking into my mouth until he comes with my name on his lips, the sound alone making me whimper and shake.

He pulls out of my mouth with an embaressing pop. Were both shaking and sweaty, and my mouth is full of my brothers cum and im so turned on i feel like i could jump him right them and there. I look up at him as i swallow, watching his eyes darken. He leans down to kiss me again, swapping the taste of him between our mouths before pulling away and helping me stand. He's gripping my hips tighter than usual, burying his nose in my hair and telling me how good i did, that im such a good boy for my big brother and that he loves me so much. I love him too.

And the air between us is hot and charged and im still so wet and my mind feels like its melting but before i can do anything to fix it, we hear the garage door opening. Our parents are back. We rush to get dresed and clean ourselves up. He laughs about how messed up my hair is from his pulling and i tell him he'll see how he likes it next time. Because we both know there's going to be a next time.

We're as dressed and cleaned up as we can get and before i unlock the door, we kiss just one more time, quick and gentle and i feel my heart flutter. And then the door is open and mom is calling us to help put away groceries and we go back to waiting for next time to come.

[nerdygaymormon]

hello! o/ im a queer teenager from canada! i lead my highschool's gsa and am very active in the queer community around us. we raised $800 for the Trevor Project last year, raised $500 towards a chest binder breakroom at our school and are officially putting on the school's first all-age queer prom this may!

however, im very confused at the moment. i grew up in an atheist household and have never really found myself believing in God or anything religious. while i still dont think i believe ALL of it, lately ive been doing a lot of thinking after finding an old pocket bible that belonged to my great grandmother (she practically raised me but i never knew she was religious, she never mentioned it at all) and flipping through it and reading her flagged scriptures (i believe thats what theyre called, forgive me if im wrong), etc.

i then resorted to the internet and have been doing a bit of research and am now very conflicted about my feelings and beliefs. i now have moments where i genuinely believe there is something/someone divine out there. i find myself... almost talking to it, sometimes? i dont really know how to describe it. i even tried praying the other day for the first time in my life. (i probably didnt do it right if theres a proper way, but the point is i did it and i surprised myself.)

even though i have these moments, i still have times where i doubt it all. aside from the occasional joke, ive always done my best to be respectful of people's faith, but never saw myself believing until now. and when i say believe, like i said before, it isnt all of it. (like the creation of the world, etc)

i feel sort of fake in a way i dont know how to describe because of my conflicted feelings and how i dont believe everything. there are a lot of things i want to say about it but i really cant pull words from the emotions and i keep trying to. i also dont really have anyone in my life who i can talk to about this stuff. my family will not take me seriously and none of my friends and teachers are religious.

i dont know if you take asks like this, and its totally fine if you dont, but if you have any kind of advice it would be greatly appreciated.

sorry for the long ask, but thanks so much! hope youre having a wonderful day my friend 🤍

Congratulations for all you accomplish for queer students at your school! That's amazing!!!

That you find some aspects with religion resonates with you shouldn't be surprising or upsetting. Humans have been creating and practicing religions since before there was recorded history. There seems to be a need that is satisfied by religion.

In a broad sense, religion does 3 thing:

1. It provides an explanation for natural phenomena. Why is the ground shaking? Why did the sun go dark temporarily? Why is there a drought? Why is dad sick? Why did a hurricane pummel New Orleans?

2. Religions provide meaning to life. Religion provides answers for what is the purpose of life and what happens when we die. Religions are a vehicle for passing along the wisdom from past generations from hundreds and thousands of years ago.

3. Religion helps humans build community and encourages cooperation among those who believe. Religious belief also helps people develop self-discipline. Unfortunately, religions also have been used to define who is in a community and who is not, and this has led to a lot of harm and even wars

Beyond all these macro reasons, religion is experienced at the individual level. An individual prays and receive comfort and answers and feels a larger entity cares about them. Their faith gives them a purpose. They have a community that is meaningful in their lives. This is part of the truth of their lived experience and can't be easily quantified. It's what makes religion still relevant in the lives of many people today

[femboysoap]

excuse me what size tits do you have. I'm trans too with huge boobs about the same size. I didn't like wearing bras growing up and my mom never got me the right size 🤔. Now that I'm older, I have multiple binders that fit in different ways, and, I don't know how to measure my tits! Haha.

And I stand in solidarity with you. I want top surgery but god damn I want to be milked ONCE before they get chopped off.. They're so big and in the way might as well get some use out of them.

god Ive never felt more seen. happy someone else wants to be milked before getting them OFF!! the best way to measure your boobs is unfortunately just trying on bras until you find a cup size that fits. im a size E-F. I still dont really know as i also don't wear bras that are cupped. Leaning more towards the F though lol.

but otherwise literally so true. may aswell put them to fucking use if they want to ruin my life so bad!! cant even lay down without choking X.X