#just follow the instructions. it's not hard

[tinylilacbun]

babysitter!jj headcannons ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You would be very shy and hesitant at first when your parents told you that your new babysitter is there but are totally overjoyed the moment your mother opened the door to let JJ inst, trying to hide how flustered and happy you are though.

JJ does everything you ask him for, play dress up, tea parties, watching cartoons while cuddling, he's up for everything to make you smile or hear that adorable laugh of yours.

You've got him wrapped around your little finger and you know it.

He just can't resist your puppy eyes, trying his best to follow the instructions your parents gave him but the moment your bottom lip juts out and look up at him with those big eyes he groans, reluctantly giving you what you want.

"Ugh, fine, don't tell ya parents tho."

You love it when JJ takes you to places, like the beach, to the ice cream parlor, or out on your parents yacht (sneaking the pogues on board occasionally and telling them to not break anything)

"Hey, no, put that back John b. We ain't stealin' anything from here, got it?"

Babysitting you is one of the only things JJ takes seriously, not wanting to lose the trust your parents have in him and risk to disappoint you or worse, to never see you again should your parents fire him for any reason.

He's protective as hell, always staying by your side to make sure you're okay and not up to anything you shouldn't be doing.

He makes silly voices and gestures when reading you a bedtime story, even moving around in your room to imitate what the characters are doing in the book to make you giggle.

Sometimes a curse slips past his lips and he quickly clamps a hand over your mouth when you're about to repeat, making up a reason so you wouldn't use them.

"You never heard that, a'ight? Those are very bad words that- that can hurt your plushies if you say them."

Carrying you around is normal at this point, the blonde does not even hesitate to scoop you into his arms the moment you make grabby hands for him.

He has a hard time getting used to how nice your parents are to him, never making any comments because he's a pogue despite knowing the reputation he has, they still treat him like he never did something wrong.

"Oh, yeah I'm- I'm fine. Thanks?"

That unease fades when he finds out that your father was born as a pogue and did all kinds of stuff himself as a teenager, so he wouldn't even think about judging JJ's actions.

Overall, this babysitting job is the best thing that happened in his life so far and will try his damn best to not mess this chance up.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

[muzansfangs]

Bloodstain.

Starring: Aizen Sosuke x f!reader; Orihime Inoue, Ichigo Kurosaki, Isshin Kurosaki, Ichimaru Gin, Rukia Kuchiki, Byakuya Kuchiki, Uryuu Ishida, Yasutora Sado, Kisuke Urahara, Haschwalth Jugram, Shuhei Hisagi;

Format: multi-chapter story;

Warnings for this chapter: nsfw, vaginal sex, sub!reader, dom!Aizen, touch-starved Aizen, creampie, use of contraceptives, body worship, creampie, breeding kink, angst, conflicted feelings, mutual pining, conflictual relationship with family members, language, arguing, slight jealousy signs from Sosuke if you squint, violence and gore, attempted murder (Haschwalth almost killing the reader), bruises, denying feelings, kind of inferiority complex, loneliness;

Plot: Your cohabitation with Sosuke was getting complicated. You blamed yourself for your lack of backbone and thus you refused to listen to your heart. You had nothing in common with him, right? The only reason why you fell at his feet so frequently as of late was just because he was gaslighting you in a moment of weakness. Unfortunately, this was what you wanted to believe, what you needed to be true in your head. After a couple of days spent in teaching Sosuke the very few, selected things he was not familiar with in the World of the Livings, it was time to catch up with your father and reveal the reason why you had not paid him a visit upon coming back from the Soul Society. The whirlwind of emotions and some specific words he said during your confrontation triggered some bad memories from your past and you realized that, maybe, you were not just physically attracted to Sosuke. You liked him because he was the only soul in the three different universes to understand you.

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | TO THE NEXT CHAPTER

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𝐇𝐢, 𝐝𝐚𝐝.

His lips lingering on your spine, kissing every vertebra they met on their wake, left frissons over your skin. Stripped naked, knees planted onto the mattress, you were holding onto the headboard, following his instructions without flinching. A long time ago nothing like that would have ever happened. You would have wallowed into a realm of chastity and caustic desperation, even resembling Ulquiorra’s nihilism, not to be touched by him. Tables had turned, though. Either you had bocome otherworldly unhinged due to the traumatic events you had experienced, transforming you into an empty shell lacking the capacity to dominate your basic impulses, or you had irrevocably fallen in love with him.

The two options both sounded dreadful, but accpeting you had feeling for him was out of discussion. You did not love Sosuke. You refused to believe your heart was big enough to even feel something for a monster. You could not deny something had blossomed between you two a long time ago and the time you were forcibly spending together was nurturing whatever it was to bring it to life. You wished you could simply grab some shears and cut the poisonous buds of your relationship. Unfortunately, though, you could not turn your head in front of what was happening between you two. Despite your arguments, you were discovering things about him that made him more human to your glossy eyes. Who was Sosuke Aizen, stripped from his cruelty when facing an enemy, dethroned from his pristine throne in Las Noches and forced to live among humans, so far from the sky he wished to reign upon?

A man. Sosuke Aizen was a man.

He still had his ambitions, his personality immaculate and often reminding you of what he used to be like in Hueco Mundo and, sadly, in the Soul Society, when he had protected you, healed you, made you believe he was a kind man who took pity of a wounded girl. You wished you had never seen that part of him, the side he had claimed never existed to begin with. Yet, you caught glimpses of it again and again and, frankly, it was hard to think he was faking everything. When he had held you in his arms the previous night, Sosuke was not feigning kindness. The suggestion of sleeping together had slipped his mouth effortlessly. Maybe he had thought the situation would have benefited him, but he had not chastised you for your apparently unjustified fear of thunders. He had calmed you down. And how much you hated him for that.

Now, fully naked, you wondered what had got into your head. Why did you keep on letting him touch you, mark your body like a canvas, rob you of your dignity? All those questions did not find an answer. Not when, according to you, he began to gaslight you again. He had to be manipulating you, right?

His hands cupped your hipbones, thumbs tracing the outlines of the ilium with untainted wanton gleaming in his eyes “Your hips. They fit my hands so perfectly, they are made to be grasped by me. — he drawled, his hot breath wafting your jawline whilst he pressed his erection against your arse — They are made to give birth”.

You shuddered at his words, your hands gripping the headboard so tightly your knuckles whitened. He took notice of that, of the way he had the full command of your body, of how you reacted to his touch and his shameless dirty talk. Sosuke smiled, burying his face onto the crook of your neck.

“That’s right. Hold on tight, because I don’t plan to hold back tonight” he rambled, the clink of his belt being unbuckled following suit.

You heard the rustle of clothes landing somewhere on the floor, a few seconds of anguish for the lack of his warm hands over your body, before his right one slided to the upfront of your thigh, slithering down towards you heat. You tensed in anticipation, whilst his fingers spread your labia to seek your throbbing clitoris. Applying some pressure over it, you whimpered out a cry of despair. You were absolutely soaking wet and ready to welcome him inside, but he was perseverating in playing with your body, aiming to break you down completely.

Now that you were not in the Soul Society anymore, he was in no rush. Who would have ever stopped him from getting his hands all over you? No one. If you really did not want this to happen, you should have been the one to stop him. Regrettably, you were not. You liked it, you wanted it and you did not restrain yourself to respond to his stimulations.

“For someone who claims to hate me, you surely are quite aroused. Do you perhaps have a degradation kink?” he asked you, lips gliding over your shoulderblade and lingering over the crook of your neck, where his teeth bit into with a slow motion that made your legs shake.

“You are a man of science. You know this is a matter of biology and consent” you fretted, breathless, refusing to foster his hopes of getting you to admit the sensations and feelings seeping into your heart.

Sosuke hummed, index and forefinger circling your opening torturously slowly, relinquishing the sight of your writhing body pushing back against his hand to plead for more friction “Still lying to yourself, sweetheart? — Sosuke asked you lowly, collecting some of your slick from your dewy folds and retriving his hand, pressing the said fingers against your parted lips — What is this to you?”.

You inhaled sharply, unable to say anything else beside “Stress relief” before he pushed his digits into your mouth. Your eyes grew round for a split second, the taste of yourself in your mouth making you shudder as he pressed the pads down on your tongue and you unreasonably swirled it around his slender fingers to clean them up, to incite him to give you more.

Eyes fluttering, you wept around his fingers, arms stinging and numbing for the position he had forced you to strike.

“This is your wanton, Y/N. — he cooed, lips brushing against the shell of your ear — You have always wanted this. Or maybe it would be more appropriate to say you have always wanted me” he stated smoothly, but he was not flaunting. His voice sent some vibrations through your body, going straight to your core. He was not heedless about your current state. Just like back then, Sosuke had everything under his control, including you.

The withdrawal of his fingers from your mouth was followed by an obscene ‘pop’. Saliva ran down your chin, a weak whimper echoing in the bedroom as you felt him tangle his fingers through your hair, straining your neck to lock eyes with him. His ones glimmered in fascination, they pierced your soul through your dilated pupils. The wall you had worked so hard to build around you was falling apart. You were in shambles, head spinning as he kissed you roughly, foreteeth biting onto your lower lip to assert dominance.

Your moans were swallowed by his voracious mouth, his hands now cupping your mounds. You were supposed to bristle at him for the accurancy of his words, for his mindblowing way to figure you out so easily, as if you were a character born from the ink of his pen. He knew everything about you. Instead, you jolted at the feeling of his cock grinding against your pussy “Face down, Y/N. Don’t be ashamed. — he whispered, rolling your hardened nipples between his fingers — Your arms can rest” he crooned, watching the way your muscles, contracted, were finally relaxing as you slumped face down onto the pillow. The smell of clean blankets penetrated your nostrils as you nuzzled your cheek in the puffy cushion underneath your head.

“You are a natural born yapper” you exhaled, furrowing your brows as he spread your legs further apart. You refused to glance at him from above your shoulder, deep down knowing he was most likely grinning down at the pornographic view he had of your nether regions. You were dripping, pussy on full display and ready for him to stretch it wider.

His hands grasped your ass, palms splayed over the globes and parting them to open you up better. You felt your breath hitch, spine arching as a reflex to what he was doing. In all your past experiences, you had never ever been treated like this. Goosebumps raised on your skin as you hid your face into the pillow.

Sosuke hummed, squeezing your right rear before lining his shaft to your opening with his free hand “Your brother agrees with that. — he absently commented, the bulbous head of his cock pushing past your folds slowly — However, I beg your pardon, but I am not invested into talking about him when I am splitting you open like that” he rasped out, pushing all the way down fluidly, his thighs smacking against your ass.

The lewd moan slipping from your lips made your face heat up in shame. This angle allowed him to reach the perfect spot turning you into a whimpering mass of sweat and incoherent words so perfectly. It was not fair. You were not supposed to enjoy these experiences with him. You wished there had been someone else in your life who had made you this thrilled and on the brink of ecstasy before him. But no one compared, he was beyond that.

Your velvety walls clamped down on him, thighs quivering as you bit down the pillow to restrain the overflows of breathy moans threatening to spill from your mouth. Sosuke took notice of this, rotating his hips gently against yours to permit your body to adjust to him. Sosuke Aizen was even considerate. How infuriating could it be?

“You need to relax. — he stated calmly, fingers tracing your spine down your lower back — I will do all the work, you just need to tell yourself there is nothing wrong in enjoying this”.

“That’s the point. I’m not supposed to”.

“Why? Because it’s me?”.

You swallowed thickly, glad he could not see your face right now “Sosuke—”.

“You don’t really feel revolted by me. You keep limiting yourself because you fear what your family and all those other fools would think about you, if they knew you let me in your bed. — he rebuked you, tone ever so soothing but you could detect the bitter undertone behind each word leaving his mouth — Break the chains. I refuse to watch you pretend to be someone that you are not. If they don’t like you for who you really are, I do”.

It hurt. You had even realized you were crying until you blinked and some tears dampened the pillow beneath your face. You clutched the blankets at your sides, forehead pressed against the pillow as you tried to push away the horrible memories from your past, the wounds you hid in your heart, careful not to let anyone see them. The older Kurosaki, the girl who could not fail to be a model her step-silblings had to look up to. But the same Kurosaki who had fragilities and no one ever paid any mind to.

“Stop it, Sosuke. — you eventually snapped, eyes closing in frustration — Just fuck me. That’s what you want me for, right? Fuck me”.

The man behind you stilled temporary, thumbs caressing your hipbones whilst he deciphered you, the meaning of your words, your body language, the way you had resorted to command him to complete the act instead of letting him in. How ironic was it? You were the one shutting the world outside, while he was allowing you to know more and more about him. Yet, he would have respected your decision. Things were far way more complex than how you had brutally depicted them. You were not a toy for him, you were the bloody half-human girl who inexplicably got under his skin. You were the only woman in the world he demanded to know the flings she had had, the people she went out with, the places she frequented.

Sosuke clenched his jaw, pulling himself half-way out slowly, before thrusting back into you. The view he had of your body was divine. Back arched, head pressed against the pillow, ass jiggling in sensual ripples with each smack of his thighs against the back of your thighs. For a few moments, the animalistic and masculine desire to merely breed you prevailed. He did not talk much, low groans filled the air as he rammed into you in unbridled salaciousness. You were soaked, the squelching sounds his length dragging in and out of your warm channel were hammering in his head, barbaric instinct he loathed to admit he possessed too taking the control of his body. Limbs and mind cooperated in a lacherous harmony that did not belong to him.

The bedpost slammed against the wall steadily, your whimpers and throaty moans persuading you two to go on. Something, though, felt off. Sosuke wanted you. He had come to terms with that fact. He had no qualms in demearing you, manhandling you roughly and fucking you dumb. Still, the tingling sensation in his chest and his inner thoughts were totally confusing him. It was like the Hogyoku was passing its will on him, reinforcing his desires to the point he had been digging his fingertips so harshly onto the softness of your hips that he only loosened it when you winced in pain.

“Sosuke! You’re hurting me!” your agitated and breathless plea snapped him out of his stream of conciousness.

What had he done? What had happened to him?

His gaze flitted down your hips, red marks tattooing your skin and he furrowed his eyebrows perplexedly. Had he been the one to do that to you? His expression made you uncomfortable. You had never seen him that worried in your whole life.

“Sosuke…” you called his name softly, panting heavily as he pulled out of you and sat back on the bed, hand running down his face to wipe away some sweat beading his visage.

You could not move much, so you merely rolled over to lay on your back and looked at him questioningly “You were not yourself. What was that?” you dared to ask him, only for him to crawl towards you wordlessly and hovering over you. His nose brushed against yours, his hands taking a hold of your legs and wrapping them around his waist.

“I got carried away”.

“Don’t lie to me” you insisted, looping your arms around his shoulders, breath hitching when he sheathed himself back into you. He was not going to stop, apparently. But everytime he had you pinned down, you felt complete. The feelings was outrageous to you. How could this be possible?

“I never lied to you and I have no reason to start now. Get it in your head. Or do I need to fuck that concept in you?” Sosuke drawled, hips rocking back and forth as he set off a gentler pace.

You moaned softly, hot breaths mingling together as your mouths opened to express the mindblowing feeling enveloping your abdomen. The stimulation was liberating. You had missed that feeling, you had missed his body over yours, his cock between your gummy walls.

You sighed, hazardously letting your lips meet his ones “That’s not true. You lied to me once. — you whispered, tongue lapping at his parted lips to keep his attention on you — You told me you were not touch-starved. What I am seeing are the symptoms of your scalding lechery for physical touch. I want to you to tell me how you feel. It is not fair only you get to grow familiar with my feelings” you boldly replied, as your nails scratched down the length of his back when he hit that sweet spot into you once again.

Sosuke grunted, hand grasping your jaw roughly as he kissed you ferociously to hush you. No, he was not going to admit anything. Not until he had figured out what was happening to him, why he did not want to just have sex with you. Sosuke wanted this and more. The revolting truth was driving him nuts. He needed you. How pathetic was it? He who had made himself a living, walking God, wanted a mere human to be his forever. He wished to procreate with you, to see the swell of you belly growing until you gave birth to a new life sharing yours traits and his dna.

“And I am the yapper here? You never seem to understand when you should clamp that fucking mouth of yours shut, darling!” he grumbled, before capturing your lips in another searing kiss and halting his movements to spurt his cum deep into you.

You whimpered out against his lips, overstimulated, tired, the powerful orgasm you had reached leaving you breathless. He was far from letting you know him intimately, that much was true. However, you had got the inkling something was changing and, surprisingly, for the better. After a few seconds of panting and his body crashing yours, he rolled off of you and you clumsily reached for a small box on the nightstand. Once you grabbed it, you sat up, shuddering, as you felt his seed leak out from your abused entrance. The feeling made you flinch, but you had to take your birthcontrol. You never skipped a day and, considering your period had become irregular due to the amount of stress from the war weighing on your shoulders you needed to fix the problem.

Popping the small pill in your mouth, you took a sip of the water and swallowed it down, not thinking too hard about it. Sosuke though had followed your movements and had propped himself up on his elbow, half-lidded eyes soaking in your naked form thoughtfully.

“What was it?” he eventually asked you.

“It’s a contraceptive pill, but my gynecologist has prescribed it to stabilize my hormones. My period doesn’t seem to keep up with my rhythms” you explained, not really paying much attention to his question. Not when all you were thinking about was the mess on your fresh blankets. You huffed, gesturing for him to stand up. You had no intention to sleep like that.

The former Captain did not protest, leisurely standing up and watching you saunter to the wardrobe to draw the lilac set of covers Uryuu had gifted you when you had moved in your new flat. While you were way too focused on fixing your bedroom and cleaning up, Sosuke’s mind was restless. You probably did not skip a day of that pill. He wondered though if the Hogyoku could somehow nullify the effects of the contraceptive. You had no evidence this could happen, just like you had no clue if it was impossible. If he was still in Las Noches, he would have tested out his theory. He had so many instruments in his laboratory. Now, though, what could he do to search for answers if not communicating with that small device now totally absorbed by his sternum and listening to its impulses?

Even if he finally became totally aware of what the Hogyoku wanted, the question troubling him would have still remained unanswered. Could he impregnate you? He almost snorted, conflicted in his own little world. Why did he care so much? He knew himself and his ambitions, sadly. If he was obsessing over something like that, it only meant he wished to find a solution to the enigma. On top of that, he hoped in a confirmation of his suspects. And that feeling startled him.

“Gosh… We have made a mess” you suddenly noted, still a little breathless. You were naked under his attentive gaze. Shame for your nudity in his presence was not something you were affected by anymore. He was totally naked too, seemingly unbothered by the lack of clothes shileding his body.

Sosuke slicked back his hair, as he approached the other side of the bed to help you changing the blankets. You froze solid, stunned by the kind gesture and the mere fact he even knew how to perfectly smooth down the creases.

“Who taught you…” you started, trailing off as you put the pillow back in its original place.

“I’m a civilized man, Y/N. What’s so strange about me knowing how to make a bed?”.

You felt a tad stupid for your question now, but it always happened when talking to him. Even if he had never tried to make you feel that way purposely “Well, you had maids in Las Noches and in the Soul Society as well. I thought you never bothered learning how to make your bed…” you reasoned, avoiding his eyes at any cost. You should have clamped your mouth shut. Pesting him with frivolous trivia was only going to mortify you, once he snapped.

Instead, he furrowed his brows, his voice smoother and gentler somehow “This is certainly true. Did you forget where most of the souls enrolling at the Academy come from, though? Not everyone is privileged enough to be born in a luxurious Estate like Kuchiki Byakuya” he reminded you, causing an itch you always wanted to scratch to resurface in the back of your mind. You knew little to nothing about Sosuke’s past and his family. He never talked about it. While you did not have the courage to ask him about his private life in the past, now that you were beginning to understand him, you could ask him more about himself. All you knew, as he had just stated, was that Sosuke was not a noble and, most likely, he was not born behind the safe walls encircling the Seireitei. He came from the Rukongai.

Well, how much it jarred with the way he carried himself.

“Are you telling me you were one of those children from the Rukongai?” you hazardously tried, finally meeting his gaze when you both accidentally reached for the same pillow. Your fingers touched, his chestnut brown eyes softened for a couple of seconds.

“Without other children to call friends or equals. No child in the Rukongai could stand near me without being blown by my reiatsu” he confessed, allowing silence to blanket the room and your shaken frame as well. Suddenly, all those talks about solitude being his shadow you had heard from Kisuke and Ichigo and the way his sword sent a melancholic feeling of lonliness through your bones made sense.

His veheement search for an equal to fight, for someone who could challenge him fell into place like the last piece of a puzzle you could not fit anywhere for years.

He did not feel ashamed, yet he had stiffened quite visibly. You gave him some seconds to gain his thoughts, before you did something that caught your own rationality off guard “Stay here tonight”.

Stay here tonight. Weren’t you the one who did not wish for you two to bond? Sleeping with him again would have complicated things further. But your heart was throbbing in your chest. What were you doing? Offering him a shoulder to cry on? No. Were you concerned about him? No. Were you attempting to be his psychologist? No. You just wanted to be near him and let him know vulnerabilities are part of every being existing. He knew a lot about yours and now you were ready to know more about his ones.

But naturally Sosuke Aizen made things hard for you just like he had done in the past.

“There’s no need for this. I’m heading back to my room”.

“But—”.

“Goodnight”.

The bitter taste on your tongue you felt when he left was familiar to you. He had not chosen you. But nobody ever did, right? However, being used to this had not prepared you enough for that stupid feeling of abandonment you were now being swallowed by. He always seemed to be eager to pest you, to have you under his watch. But his pride and ego had prevailed again. After all, was he not respecting your decisions?

“You dumbass, why would he care when no one does…” you uttered under your breath, before facepalming and bending down to pick up your clothes.

As you headed to the bathroom, you ignored your phone buzzing, prelude to a meeting you could not avoid anymore and that would have most likely left you in shambles on the ground.

You took your sweet time in making up your mind. For a couple of days, you did not even open the chat, pretending there was not an unread message in your inbox. The red circle on your father’s icon made your stomach churn. You oughted to pay him a visit. Ichigo had probably already come back too by now. For some reason, though, going back to your old house and dining with your father evoked memories you wished to wash away from your mind. He had loved you dearly, fed you, made sure you lacked nothing. However, he had not even noticed what you needed the most: someone to understand you, to guide you, to pat your shoulder and tell you that flaws are part of the human nature. It was okay to fail, sometimes. Too bad he had never taught you that. Too bad Isshin and everyone around him always had their full attention on Ichigo. Too bad you had to play the rule of Masaki, your siblings’ mom, but no one ever tried to be a mother for you. You had no one to wipe your tears, when you fell at the park. You had to grit your teeth and be an example for Ichigo and the two little girls, who would have learned not to cry over silly, little incidents.

Therefore, now, ready to leave your flat, you finally opened the message.

ISSHIN: When are you coming over?

YOU: I’ll be there in ten minutes.

Shoving your phone into the back pocket of your jeans, you headed to the living room. Sosuke was comfortably sitting on the sofa, eyes transfixed on the tv, seemingly uninterested. To distract yourself from the embarrassment of having asked him to sleep in your bedroom that night, only to receive a categorical refusal from him, you had made it your goal to keep your relationship based on minimal interactions. To make life easier for you, you had even showed him how the tv worked. He enjoyed films on Netflix, thanks to God, mostly because the human nature and habits never ceased to shock him. For the worse, obviously. You had installed apps on his phone, given him your number for him to reach out to you, if you had to leave the flat without him. He was perceptive, paying attention to your instructions, learning quickly whatever you showed him.

Upon sensing your presence in the room, Sosuke stopped the film. Head turning in your direction, he let his eyes wander down your form “You didn’t mention we were leaving. Give me a minute”.

“I’m leaving, you’re not. — you stopped him just as he grabbed the remote to turn the tv off — I’ll be back in an hour, at best”.

He seemed stupefied by the news, a knot forming between his eyebrows “I thought you could not leave me unsupervised. Where are you going?”.

“I need to meet up with someone. It won’t take long”.

“Is it your beloved Lieutenant Hisagi? That’s why I can’t trail behind you?” Sosuke inquired, a bitter undertone permeating his words, probably without his own consent.

You shook your head “No, it’s not Shuhei. It’s my father. I don’t think anyone even informed him about this arrangement. This is my duty, after all. — you declared, hand on the doorknob, while you shot him a demanding glare — Don’t open the door to anyone. I got the keys”.

Sosuke watched you disappear behind the door. His eyes hooded, head lolling on the backrest to stare at the ceiling. He had a feeling you were fronting. Most likely, it was his fault. He had played with your mind, possessed your body carnally like he really wanted you. And it was not far from reality: Sosuke craved you. The issue with him was that he could not stay close to you, if he had no idea of what was truly going on with him. All he knew was that he stared at the phone, awaiting for you to call him up and ask him to come to pick you up. Because he would have not hesitated to run a thousand miles to get to you.

Down the streets of Karakura, you had spent the time to reach your father’s home in picking the right words to tell him who was currently residing in your house. You knew he would have obviously freaked out. You could have not blamed him for that. Still, there were so many untold things between you two that you refused to let him reprimand you for being reckless. He had forced you to be that way, he had raised you like a warrior, a thing he had not done with the rest of his offspring. Now, entering your old house, memories of good and bad times filled your mind. The living room, the kitchen, the view from the window besides the sofa. You had no guts to go upstairs, though. Your old bedroom would have probably evoked the worst scenarios you had lived in your teenage years.

When was the last time you had visited this house? Probably, when Ichigo had sent you a message to talk about that former Arrancar turned into a Quincy he had fought against right before the war started. That small reunion had haunted you for days, depriving you of a well-deserved rest. Another war, another trip to Hueco Mundo and the Soul Society. Another chance to possibly see Sosuke again. You had refused to go to Hueco Mundo, asking Urahara to go straight to the Seireitei. Terrible choice, considering the numbers of victims that had fallen before your eyes.

“You really came to visit, then”.

Isshin Kurosaki, your father, had joined you. Turning towards him, you merely nodded your head in his direction as a greeting. He smiled imperceptibly, gesturing for you to take a seat at the table to have the hardest conversation of your whole life.

“I should have called you earlier” you started, complying to his request and dragging a chair along the floor to keep yourself busy while you talked to him.

Isshin hummed, sitting on the opposite side of the table. He seemed tired “It’s alright. All I care about is that you’re fine” he said, folding his arms against his chest.

You knew he meant good. He was your father. What he was saying was true. Still, it still sounded ironic to you. You were a small kid, when your mother died and he took you in with his family. You were a damn kid, when you cried yourself to sleep for two years straight every night after your loss. You remembered waiting for him to enter your bedroom and console you, but he never came. You wished you could have found solace in his warm eyes instead of seeking comfort in the placid satellite up in the sky. But he never bothered crossing the threshold.

“Ichigo told me you got badly injured, when the war started”.

“I’m good. — you shortly said, maybe too quickly for your own liking — Did he tell you why I got cut open?” you asked him bitterly.

Isshin let his gaze flit from your face to the floor “He just said you were fighting by his side”.

You tsked, bittered by his lack of insterest “I got butchered by his opponent. I did what you have always taught me to do: shielding Ichigo from the dangers”.

He stiffened, silence falling over you two for a few seconds, asphyxiating you like a pair of hands squeezing the air out of your lungs. You really were hoping this was going to end soon. You wanted to go back home, even if it meant seeing Sosuke again. Therefore you decided to give him little time to think about what you had just told him.

“There is a reason behind my visit. I do not think you are going to accept the situation I have been put on, but I think you should be informed regardless” you began, your voice not wavering like it used to do in the past. You had really matured, grown up with a strong will despite all of the times people almost forgot about your presence, or simply associated you to your brother. You had a voice and you wanted people to listen to it.

Isshin furrowed his brows, awaiting for you to go ahead. You had his attention, for once.

“I haven’t come back to Karakura alone. The Central 46 took a questionable decision and you perfectly know how things works, when it comes down to them. — you started, watching his eyes clouding over in a ominous feeling he was not going to cope with what you were about to tell him — For an indefinite amount of time, Sosuke Aizen is living in my flat”.

The sound of his fist colliding with the table made you flinch, but you did not dart away your eyes from his. He was reacting exactly how you had anticipated and he was right. You were biologically linked. His role of a parent demanded him to protect you. But he had never really done it before now, right?

“What the Hell does it mean? This cannot be possible!” he countered back, standing abruptly and running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“It’s true and no one can do anything about it. Stay out of this. I can deal with him” you replied, looking at him dead in the eyes.

Your father snorted, jabbing his finger at you “You don’t understand, do you? He’s surely going to kill you! Do you think you can stop him?”.

You bristled, jumping on your feet “That’s not even your business! I know the risks and I know him better than anyone else!”.

“Sure thing! He knows you as well, Y/N! You’re not Ichigo! He knows he can kill you because you don’t even have a Bankai!” he roared back, chest heaving as you felt like someone had just slapped you across the face. In a instant, you were back in the Soul Society, to the moment you realized no one ever believed in you.

“Kurosaki-kun has achieved his Bankai!” Orihime piped out, exuberant, doe eyes glittering in a visceral adoration masked as what she simply referred to as ‘plain admiration for a friend’. Everybody knew what she was hiding behind her selfless nature, her newly renovated combative spirit and audacious decision of following you all in the Soul Society. She was doing it for your brother, for Ichigo. Obviously, for Rukia too. Yet, you knew better than your younger friends. This was love. Her sacrifices were made for him, her heart beated for him. Orihime Inoue naively thought to be subtle about the feelings she harboured for your step-brother. Unfortunately for her, you saw right through her eyes.

Uryuu, arms folded over his chest, stared at the vastity of a forest visible from the hill you were finding solace at after the insane battle you fought.

“Still, it was not enough to stop that Captain”.

You flinched, eyes downcast in a futile attempt to stop certain thoughts from invading your mind. Wherever you went, you felt watched. You still felt his touch over your shoulder to heal the severe wound Captain Ichimaru had inflicted to you. You still tasted the delicious tea he had made for you in his office. How incredibly stupid of you to trust a man who should have tossed you in a cell for having broken into his world. Nobody should be kind to an enemy. If this happens, the helping hand is most likely the same one that will hold a blade to stab you in the end.

“Are you alright?”.

The question caught you off guard, head raising to meet the confused glances of your comrades. You had zoned out, apparently. Orihime had scooted closer to you, hand curled around your forearm amiably.

You sighed “Don’t worry about me. I’m just tired, that’s all. I have fully recovered and… I have started training again” you explained casually, gifting the worried girl a soft, reassuring smile she mirrored. While she did not press further and Sado nodded, Uryuu interjected in your conversation.

“It’s understandable. — he reasoned, index and forefinger fixing his glasses over the bridge of his nose — We all should hone our abilities. I have a feeling this war is going to require a whole other level of power from us, if we wish to contribute and partake to it” he stated calmly, albeit there was a worried undertone you had not failed to taste on your tastebuds upon letting his words sink in.

“Which is why I need a Bankai too” you noted, stretching your arms above your head in a catlike motion.

“You know, I thought you would have been the one to achieve the Bankai before him. — Uryuu cooed, scrutinizing your face, lost into his thoughts — You are older than him, after all”.

You had no time to retaliate, because Orihime stunned you in silence with her mellow and overly excited tone of voice “But he is special! If there’s someone to bet on, Ichigo’s the right candidate for it!”.

Yes, he was. Ichigo was always the better Kurosaki.

You shook your head, tears prickling your eyes as you clenched your fists down your sides “You know nothing about me, not only about him. If you really cared, you would have known I actually have a Bankai” you snapped, watching his eyes widen even so slightly and his mouth opening to talk to you. He reached a hand out, but you shoved past him and ran out of the house as if it was on fire.

The moment your eyes turned back to their original color, the purple tear-like lines marking your cheeks fading, you fell onto your knees. Your fingers reached up to your mouth, the pads of your twitching fingers pierced by the pointy canines gradually retracting in your gums, as you witnessed to the stages your body went through to go back to its original shape. The Bankai. You had made it. You had finally unleashed your Bankai.

Sniffing in joy, you wiped the tears off of your face, standing back up absent-mindedly.

“You have a beautiful Bankai” the baritone voice of your captor cut through the still air of the training room. When had he entered? For how long had he been standing there to watch you? His praise, coming from his sinful mouth, touched your heart in ways you refused to acknowledge.

“Thanks”.

He did not bother waltzing in the room, but he indulged into his perpetual habit of striking up small conversations with you since you were locked in Las Noches “I knew something was holding you back. But I never stopped believing in you”.

You wanted to shout at him, you should have for everything he had done. But for once, you felt the sweet taste of a positive appraisal on your tongue and you realized too late how addictive it could be. Tragically, you let him see through your weakness.

“You are not less valuable than him, Y/N. — he admonished you, before leaving — You just happen to be surrounded by people who depend on him, who need him to be strong to survive. You don’t”.

You were sobbing by the time you made it back to your flat, but you could not go inside in such a state, especially since you now had come to tye conclusion that the only person knowing you better than anyone else was the same person who had tried to kill everyone around you besides you. You slumped onto the ground, curling yourself up in ball, until you spotted a small post-it on the floor next to the front door of your house.

You unfolded it, teary eyes obfuscating your vision, as you read yet another problematic information:

‘We need to talk. I’m staying at Urahara’s shop for the weekend.

Shuhei Hisagi’.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi there! Finally, I have updated this story! Time for a confession: I never liked Isshin. I am not going to paint him as a monster or a villain, naturally, but I never liked his way of behaving around Ichigo's younger sisters and how he was mostly an absent father to Ichigo. It does not feel right at all leaving your son in the dark about what really happened to your wife, his mother. Even worse is the fact he never bothered to tell him a damn thing about the Soul Society. This is not protecting your family, Isshin. This is downright escaping responsibilities. Anyway, getting down to business, this jackass is going to appear a lot in the story. Future grandfather in action, you could say. Obviously, Isshin and Ssosuke will hardly get alone.

– Luce

TAGS: @pseudowho @seireiteihellbutterfly @onyxino @areyouflying @bakugosgirl01 @noirfan12 @velaenaa

@skexxll @suigetsusunny @aizenscumslut @bucciaratizippers @jesurum-says-hi

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

The Race Is On.

word count - 800.

Surely you were seeing things.

There was absolutely no way that your husband was standing in front of you.

“Surprise?”

You didn’t even have time to register what was going on before you remembered that you had to pick someone.

And of course, there was only one person you were going to be picking.

“Oh goodness,” you gasped. “— im very sorry everyone, but there’s only one person I can really pick.”

You grabbed ahold of Harry’s hand and the two of you began to run to the other challenge area.

When the two of you were out of sight, GK turned to look at Melvin.

“Can’t believe we’ve got Harry styles as a camp mate.”

“Let’s go!” You cheered as you jumped over a log.

When you got to the next area, you saw Tulisa and Alan speeding off in a black jeep.

“Whose driving?” You asked your husband as you raced over to the vehicle.

He ran over to the drivers side and smirked at you. “— me, definitely me, I’ve seen your driving sunshine.”

You let out a soft gasp.

You weren’t that bad of a driver.

Right?

You ran round to the other side of the car, jumping in to the passenger seat as Harry turned on the ignition.

He turned to you. “Seatbelt?”

“Already done.” You hummed as he then got the jeep moving, following down the same dirt path that the others had gone down.

When you were in a steady rhythm, you turned to look at your husband, and playfully swatted at him tattooed arm.

“I can’t believe your here aswell, thought I was seeing things.” You tightened your ponytail.

He shifted his eyes to you briefly. “— well, what can I say? They thought it would be a good idea, you can blame Ant and Dec for that one.”

“I’m not complaining, im glad your hear,”you grabbed his hand, “— we’re the dream team baby.”

He grinned at that and rubbed the back of your hand.

“Here put this on,” you handed him the pink headband whilst you put your own one on.

“Is it my colour?”he winked at you.

You smirked at him. “— oh most definitely.”

When they arrived at the next area, the first two teams were already there.

“Quick!” You jumped out of the car before it had even fully stopped and raced over to read the little bit of paper that instructed you on what to do.

Release a boat to continue the race.

Each burrow on the riverbank contains one correct key which will unlock any boat.

Choose your boat wisely.

You both grabbed ahold of the life jackets and put them on, before you could even decide who was going be putting there hands in the hell hole, Harry had already raced over to grab a key.

You went over to stand next to Danny and Tulisa as you cheered on Harry to grab a successful key.

“Sunshine boy!”you clapped your hands together. “You’ve got this, keep going.”

You watched as his face scrunched up as he felt around.

“It’s cockroaches!” Colleen exclaimed, having arrived shortly after you and Harry had.

Alan and Tulisa had unlocked the keys to the boat first, and Danny and Barry were quick to follow.

“Go h!” You screamed, watching as he recoiled his hand out of the hole.

He raced over to you. “— I’ve got one!”

The two of you raced over to one of the boats and placed the key into the padlock.

It turned.

And turned.

And turned again.

And it finally unlocked.

“Yes!��

You both ran over to one of the boats, you climbed in the front whilst Harry sat in the back and controlled the Oar.

The first two teams were ahead of you, so the chances of you catching up to them was going to be hard.

“Were sinking!” You looked behind you to see the boat filling up.

Your eyes widened. “— oh goodness!”

You tried to scoop the water out but it just kept filling up more and more.

“We’re screwed.” You met your husbands eyes.

And when you heard the sound of a flare entering the air, was when you both groaned.

“Want to go for a swim?” You smirked at him as you got up from your seat and pulled the two of you under the water.

Harry gasped for air when you both came back to the surface.

“You little minx!”

“Is the race over?” You looked behind you and saw Dean and Colleen also sinking in there boat making you laugh at the two of them.

taglist: @luvr4miya @thurhomish @shanice @lomlolivia @harryshouseo1 @gem1712 @ashleighsss

[darsynia]

Fate and Fairy Tales (Stephen Strange/Reader)

MCU Masterlist | Steve | Bucky | Tony

Summary: The Sorcerer Supreme spoke your soulmate Words while the magic of Kamar Taj healed your life-threatening wounds. Overwhelmed, you seek to hide your bond and save him from a lifetime of protecting someone as ordinary as you. The time comes to spend a week at the Sanctum, usually a reward for someone at your training level-- but will you make it through with your secrets intact?

Words/Warnings: 4,500 // none

This is a gift for the lovely @sobeautifullyobsessed, I do hope you enjoy! Here's an excerpt to tempt anyone else who might be interested! gif by @doctorstrangegifsparadise

“What do you hope to gain by your silence?” he asks, a tone of warning hovering just out of reach.

You’d already decided that pure silence has been like a scarlet Cloak to Strange’s bullish nature, so you hold up the microfiber cloth you’d been using on the window and address it, rather than him.

“What do you think, scrubcloth, was I looking to gain something by my silence, or simply enjoying my time in a sacred, meaningful space?”

His derisive scoff tickles the back of your neck, and you shiver. Suddenly he’s not an adversary but a man , one that’s technically yours for the taking. This is exactly what you were trying to avoid. His next words heighten your sense of danger.

“You are scheming, and I will find out why.”

Fate and Fairy Tales

Routine is important in Kamar Taj. You’re not much of a routine girl, but you’ve done your best to make up for that, something that’s gotten you recognized as a hard worker. There’s only one thing you’ve managed to dodge so far: a week-long assignment at the New York Sanctum. It’s practically a vacation, with easy work as a caretaker for the Artifacts, scheduled magic use to keep the defensive shielding active, and the opportunity to study some of the books that don’t leave the premises. The real draw for most of your colleagues is personalized instruction from the Sorcerer Supreme. 

That's the part you’re worried about.

With your head down, you head for the library, crossing the courtyard by a less-traveled path. Despite this, the silver-threaded soulmate Words on your ankle itch under the leather band you’ve covered them with. Usually that means that Strange is in the vicinity. Though you don’t remember the catastrophic attack that brought you to the sanctuary for rescue, you do remember the flurry of magic and healing that followed.

The only face you recall is that of the tall, attractive man in mystical robes bending close to your crumpled form. He’d rested a steady hand on your cheek and spoken with authority. Look at me--you’re safe now.

They say soulmate Words burn at the magical moment they’re first spoken. You wouldn’t know; the agony you’d felt on that day has been mercifully removed from your mind; you and your magical healers had agreed to wipe your memories of the events leading up to your arrival. That indelible moment is all that’s left. Everything before your life in Kamar Taj has faded into a distant haze, a rare but warned-for side-effect.

A different kind of magic vibrates in your ankle, so much so that you stop and press your back against one of the columns at the edge of the courtyard, closing your eyes. Strange has to be very close by, but you’re off the usual path, and you’ve never spoken to him, so you know his Words won’t buzz from your presence. It isn’t that you’re afraid or repelled by him, far from it. He’s a charismatic leader, powerful to the extreme, and very handsome. You? You don’t even remember the person you were before learning to attune the Mystic Arts. 

There’s no way to know what the Fates had in mind when they branded the two of you, but you suspect you’ve fallen far short of their plans. As a wealthy, talented surgeon, Dr. Stephen Strange was always out of your league, but now he’s the Sorcerer Supreme for a powerful cadre of magic users. It’s practically your duty to see that your ships pass quietly in the night, and you’ve done your best to see him as nothing more than the aloof leader of your mystic order. Besides, he deserves a partner as powerful, notable, and charismatic as he is.

To cover the resonant sound of his voice as Strange’s group walks by, you cast a sound-muffling incantation. Soon, the agitation in your ankle fades, replaced by the dull, hollow feeling of a missed connection. 

Each time this happens, the ache lasts longer, meaning you’ll be in agony by the end of a week spent in Strange’s company. It’s going to be a nightmare to deal with that pain and the constant vigilance of avoiding directly speaking to your soulmate. The exhaustion alone might put you in danger of a slip up. Now that you can’t avoid your Sanctum assignment, the only thing left to do is persuade the Powers That Be to let you spend your time there under a Silence spell, preferably without explaining why.

Unfortunately, that Power is likely to be Wong, and he’s not known to Be all that lenient.

“--and that’s why I intend to spend the next two weeks under a Silence Vow,” you say, hoping your constructed excuses sound plausible.

Wong hasn’t said more than ten words since you walked in, but his expression speaks volumes. “You’re scheduled for the Sanctum in two days. You can do it when you get back.” 

You start for the door with a decisiveness you absolutely don’t feel, hoping to get away with your plan via sheer audacity. “What would you say if I couldn’t speak in the first place, hmm? It’ll be a challenge! Thrive in adversity, and all of that.”

“Sonnet?”

A warm sense of belonging strikes you on hearing the name you’re known by here at Kamar Taj, and you pause to look back at Wong.

“If the Sorcerer Supreme gives his permission, I suppose a week isn’t the end of the world.”

You spend all of your energy preventing your shoulders from slumping as you nod and rush through the door.

It takes you 12 hours to come up with what to do.

Your plan is audacious and absurd, but what convinces you to do it is the knowledge that it’s an act of protection for both Strange and Kamar Taj itself. Someone clearly meddled with the proper order of things to mark you as soulmates, and you’re just… setting things right.

Besides, you’ve been putting your library books back on the returns shelf with portals since three months after you came here, so your plan is only four times more ill-advised than that.

You don’t have to go just outside the Sorcerer Supreme’s study to place your request for an official Period of Silence in his ‘to be fulfilled’ inbox (the existence of which you confirmed with one of your friends, who works as a part-time admin for Kamar Taj leadership), but your Words’ penchant for vibrating in his vicinity is uniquely useful tonight.

Right before you complete the mission, you cast the intricate, personalized incantation you devised to steal away your voice for the following seven days, just in case. No one will know it’s a spell unless they detect as much, but it’ll stop you from speaking out of turn and literally ruining everything.

That turns out not to have been necessary, though. There’s no alarm, no floodlight, no magical imprisoning sentry spell to trap you in place for the room’s owner to come discover what you’d been up to. You simply sneak back out the way you came, silently congratulating yourself on a job well done.

You implement the crucial second part of your plan the second you arrive at the Sanctum: detached competence. You place the groceries you purchased in their places, check the cleanliness of the kitchen and the efficacy of the appliances and tools, and move on to begin laundering all of the towels, sheets, and other cloth items throughout the building. That started, you embark on a deep clean of each floor. The goal is to both seem extremely busy and foolish to have taken on such a labor-intensive plan. It would be crazy to question your actions, given how overdue most of the work is.

The problem? Dr. Stephen Strange is crazy.

Your first encounter at the Sanctum happens one hour into your self-appointed task of thoroughly cleaning every Artifact display case. He’d arrived in the building fifteen minutes ago, according to your erstwhile ankle monitor, the buzzing of which feels almost audible by the time Strange walks into the room. You are on the floor underneath one of the largest display cases, halfway through a painstaking rag and q-tip removal of all residual dust.

With a surprised cough, the Sorcerer Supreme casts a spell to clear the air, rushing over shortly afterwards to crouch down and frown in your direction.

“What on Earth are you--” he starts to say, but you interrupt by lifting up the discard tray full of lemon-scented dusty q-tips, wordlessly tapping it against your industrial-sized spray-can of Pledge. “Must have been one hell of a lost bet,” Strange observes. You shake your head and move to clean out another line of dusty crevices, shaken by how attractive you find his frustrated amusement.

You wrestle with that for a three-dirty-q-tip-long pause before he speaks again.

“You could just use magic for that, you know.”

You swing your head out sideways to offer a skeptical look, which he answers by casting what is probably intended to be a cleaning spell on your next dust target. With as neutral an expression as you can manage, you swipe at the same area with your Pledge’d rag and hold up the (vaguely less dusty, but still obviously disappointing) evidence. 

Your soulmate’s deflated sigh accompanies his departure.

Dinner doesn’t go much better; you’d chosen to make your favorite dish despite the 90 minute prep/cook time. You’d taken reassurance from reports that Strange tends to dislike vapid small talk at the table, but something about your silence makes him attempt it anyway. 

At first he fires off a sequence of yes or no questions that end with something that requires a complicated answer, an obvious trap which you can’t help but admire even as you dodge it. Next, he turns on the charm, which would have worked if it weren’t for the secret you’re planning to keep from him for all eternity. Despite this, you can’t help but feel a bit of a thrill when he smiles at you. Strange compliments your recovery, your accelerated course of study, and your particular talents in concealment magic. The latter twinges your conscience; your specialty is in preparation for the worst case scenario, the one where you flee somewhere he can’t find you after speaking his Words. 

As dinner winds to a close, Strange turns academic, and you almost break when he muses on the meaning of one of your favorite sonnets. 

The man fights dirty.

You do your best to fend it all off with nods, smiles, and the occasional thumbs-up, but you’re definitely shaken. You’d never allowed yourself to see him as a man before, certainly not as a potential love interest. He’s attentive, intellectual, and clever, a trifecta that threatens your entire world-view. Eventually your implacable silence sends him into the kitchen with his newly-cleared plate. Seconds later, he appears in the doorway to glower at you.

“You made cheesecake?”

Your cheerful thumbs-up doesn’t prevent him from eating any, but it looks like a near thing. It seems that Stephen Strange hates mysteries almost as much as he hates not being in control.

The next morning at breakfast, Strange casts two spells on you in rapid succession. One is a diagnostic spell that leaves a harsh ringing in your ears-- and the second strips away your silence evocation. You’re left feeling anxious and exposed, but you lean into it and shrug defensively, hoping he’ll get so annoyed by your obstinance that he leaves you alone. Stephen Strange is very handsome when he’s upset, which is a twisted silver lining, to be sure.

You’d almost purged your mind of Strange thoughts (an exercise much more difficult than you would have expected, may the fates be damned) when he steps up behind you while you’re scrubbing windows. Almost the entire day has passed; it’s now the magic twilight time where you can see your reflection in the window but still look through it to see the cityscape beyond. The light outside is beautiful, hovering between golden and navy blue in a way that accentuates the ancient garb Strange is wearing.

“What do you hope to gain by your silence?” he asks, a tone of warning hovering just out of reach.

You’d already decided that pure silence has been like a scarlet Cloak to Strange’s bullish nature, so you hold up the microfiber cloth you’d been using on the window and address it, rather than him.

“What do you think, scrubcloth, was I looking to gain something by my silence, or simply enjoying my time in a sacred, meaningful space?”

His derisive scoff tickles the back of your neck, and you shiver. Suddenly he’s not an adversary but a man , one that’s technically yours for the taking. This is exactly what you were trying to avoid. His next words heighten your sense of danger.

“You are scheming, and I will find out why.”

You indulge your instinctive, annoy-thy-neighbor movement to spin around and pat at his chest reassuringly. You’d have said something snarky and encouraging to his Cloak Artifact, but instead the warmth of his chest under your hand and the determined look on his face steal your words away. Briskly, you play off your physical reaction by pretending you’d missed a spot on the window closer to the door.

Once in the hallway, you lean up against the wall and just breathe for a while.

The third day at the Sanctum always comes with one-on-one instruction with the Sorcerer Supreme. You wake with the weight of the world strung up above you, held at bay by the slender threads of your resolve.

Skipping breakfast, you opt for nuclear-grade coffee from a highly-recommended shop nearby. Strange had been absent from dinner the night before, which means the last time you saw him was during your heated confrontation at the window.

For the upcoming metaphorical and instructional battle with Stephen Strange, you choose Kamar Taj battle-dress. The rich, full robes allow for easy movement, which you complement with leather padding for your knees, elbows, and forearms. It’s your heart that’s the least armored today, an oversight you hadn’t considered. As you walk toward the practice room, all you can do is remind yourself how important Stephen Strange is to your order, to humanity in particular, even to the universe as a whole after his confrontation with Dormammu. If he were destined to be with someone ‘ordinary,’ it would be a skilled, compassionate doctor like Christine Palmer, not a woman with no past and an uncertain future.

To your surprise, Strange proceeds to spend the session treating you with kindness, showing no cynicism, sarcasm, or frustration whatsoever. He even weaves poetry into his instruction, the words shocking and romantic coming from that rich, practically sensual voice of his.

“In the absence of a more pleasing sound, close your eyes and listen to my voice, then watch my hands, then you can try it yourself.”

At that, you almost trip on your own feet. Thankfully, Strange was turned away and maybe didn’t see-- but did he somehow know you’d thought of his voice in the same way Shakespeare had written in one of your favorite sonnets? ‘I love to hear her speak, yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing sound…’

“I know your brain is beguiled by book learning, but you must trust me that practice is the best way to achieve this particular attunement.”

On hearing that one, you drop the mystical pattern you’d been conjuring and frown at him. His own concentration dips, sending his spinning geometric leaves colliding into a shower of sparks that fade into fairy dust. 

“What’s wrong?”

You put your hands on your hips, conveying as much ‘give me a break’ as possible.

His voice is gentle. “I thought you liked poetry.”

You almost retort. For a heart-stopping second you wonder if he’s trying to bait out some snarky, poem-related comment for fate to slice into his skin, but no. There’s no way he wouldn’t have magically commanded you to speak if that were the case, not when you’re known throughout Kamar Taj as Sonnet. This cements your resolve, and you convert your anxiety to kinetic magic and conjure a large version of the advanced shield he’d been teaching you to create. You make eye contact with him through the pulsing lines of the pattern, and he dips his head as if to concede the point.

It’s a turning point, a moment when the rightness of fate feels like it’s rubbing through your paper-thin defenses-- but when you focus on the backs of your hands instead of his piercing eyes, you see the defensive scars from your attack. Every reason you’re staying silent crashes back through, and you twist your fingers, spinning the shield into a spiral that guards you on the way to the door.

There you curtsey and leave, pressing the shield against the door on the other side to prevent yourself from being followed.

Seconds later you run smack into your soulmate. He’d opened a portal directly in your way with such precision that his Words on your ankle didn’t even have time to warn you. He catches you against him with one hand splayed across your back and the other clasping your exposed upper arm. Both of you gasp.

Your nerves are singing. It’s glorious and terrifying, stealing your breath such that you must close your eyes against its strength, held in fate’s embrace despite all your efforts to avoid it. The hallway is silent except for heavy, stunned breathing.

Strange swipes a warm caress with his thumb across the skin of your arm and steps back, steadying you for those first bereft seconds-- and then he lets out a deep chuckle.

“This is the reason. Your silence, your avoidance. This!”

It’s somehow both the perfect response and a completely unexpected one. You don’t know whether to be offended or tempted, so you lift your chin and cross your arms tightly, stubbornly leaving your eyes closed.

His chuckle has graduated to a beautiful full laugh. “All these years I thought you were a patient. Someone broken, someone I couldn’t fix. When I came here I accepted that I lost my chance-- and yet here you are! Talented in the Mystic Arts, unafraid of hard work, and as obstinate as I am. Do you even understand how relieved--”

You stagger back, eyes flying open in complete disbelief.

His beautiful eyes search yours, hands held up in the classic ‘not a threat’ pose, though you know differently. You shake your head, seeing his body relax and loosen in response, even as you clench up even more.

He cannot be serious.

Insidious joy seeps across the short distance between you, reminding you of the physical delight true soulmates find in each other. Isn’t Strange the one who knows most about the challenges he faces as the Sorcerer Supreme? If he isn’t concerned, why should--

No. That’s magic speaking, not reason.

You wheel around, turning your back on him. Your heart is a gash inside your chest, and the only way to heal it is to board the whole thing back up. Opening up a portal will give him a chance to follow you, but you’ve been practicing concealment for many months.

“Dear Diary,” you say in a clear, ringing voice, aiming at the dim ceiling rather than the man behind you. “Today I saved a great man from a terrible decision.”

“Oh, Sonnet, don’t,” your soulmate whispers behind you.

You are salt tear crystals compressed into stone as you continue walking away. In your mind’s eye, his confusion and dismay will soon turn into resolute understanding. There’s no other logical option.

“With galactic responsibilities like his,” you continue, “such a man cannot harbor weakness in the form of an inconsequential, imperfect partner--”

His voice is commanding as he interrupts. “You’re wrong.”

You are wrong, but about Strange’s wisdom, as it seems your soulmate is bewitched by the allure of magical bonding. It’s not his fault. He had given up, hadn’t considered the consequences, not like you have. Inside your chest is a hurricane of please yes and please no, swirling around your impenetrable heart. 

Never since your arrival in Kamar Taj --never since you’d heard this man’s voice speak your Words-- had you imagined you’d ever be tempted to change your mind, but oh, oh, you hadn’t been prepared for him to disagree with your choice to reject the bond.

Ahead of you, the pair of ornate doors that protect this wing of the Sanctum swing closed, the metal bolt slamming home with a loud clang.

You start gathering magic for your escape. “So, Diary, for the good of all, I must reject the generous offer fate has made to me--”

Strange interrupts to correct you, his tone achingly gentle. “To US. ‘ I fear no fate-- for you are my fate, my sweet. I want no world-- for beautiful, you are my world--’”

The storm in your chest bursts forth into a torrent of tears. That poem by e. e. cummings has always been your favorite, and to have it used against you -! You throw your hands out at your sides, bursting open the doors to the rooms beside you and further still, breaking the windows you’d so recently cleaned. 

You need access to as much magic as you can pull from the world at large, and it gathers in your outstretched fists, furious and barely constrained. Embers of magic dart out to sink into your ankle, while others dance around you to fly off out of sight behind you, probably into Strange. Many seconds have passed, and you recognize your mistake in facing away and thus being unprepared for whatever his next move is, but you’re a breath away from casting your spell. 

You’d practiced up to this moment a dozen times, triangulating your inner being on a single point, a necessary point in time and space. When you release your grasped magic, you’ll burst into countless points of light and coalesce at that one place. It’s the last step, the one you haven’t been able to complete yet, as it’s limited to one try. Wong’s precious library had taught it to you as the Sorcerer’s Elusion, a combination of illusion and eluding capture.

“Go on,” Strange says behind you, an odd sort of acceptance in his voice. The exultation from his capitulation is the last burst of energy you needed, and you complete the spell, slamming your hands together in an explosion of pain and panacea.

You arrive in a heap at Stephen Strange’s feet.

“No! What?” you groan.

Stephen throws himself down and pulls you to his chest, one hand brushing the tear-wet hair from your eyes. “I’m sorry, dearest.”

You’re completely spent, but the magically-crafted, fate-tuned pleasure in his touch is sour in the back of your throat as you struggle to pull back. You forget yourself in that moment, aiming your misery and disappointment directly at him. “Just give up! I’m too broken, it’s not right!”

“That has never been true, and it never will be,” your soulmate says. “Trust me, I’ve been there.”

He strokes his fingers across the fists you’re shoving him away with, and even through your tear-blurred eyes you can see the scars he also bears. “You deserve better,” you whisper.

“How far into the tome did you read, about the Elusion?”

“You’re just trying to distract me.” The quaver in your voice nullifies your attempt at outrage.

“No, I’m trying to figure out whether you’re impulsive or arrogant,” Stephen says, clearly amused. You lift your head and glare at him, but the damned man cups your face with his hand just as he’d done when speaking your Words. “It’s only been cast successfully three times, Sonnet. If that’s not proof you’re worthy to stand beside me, I don’t know what is.”

You blink up at him in disbelief, your instinctive retort falling flat. “There’s no chance that’s true.”

His smile is heart-stoppingly gorgeous. “You’re right, in a way-- it’s four times now. All of the others were life or death situations.” He lifts you up to a stand with impossible grace, adding, “We’ll never live it down, I hope you know that.”

“Hang on, now!” you burst out, frowning against the rush of rightness his words engender. “There’s no we! You and I barely know each other! I’ve spent our entire acquaintance avoiding you, and I just broke a bunch of the windows in the Sanctum attempting to--”

“--ruin my life, yes, I know. There are some trouble spots.”

“Trouble spots?!" Your lifelong instinct during outrageous moments such as these has always been to pace around, sometimes while gesticulating, but when you start, your soulmate catches your hand in his, arresting your spin. He tugs, and though you hold onto your reluctance as a matter of habit, you end up standing in front of him.

Only then do the words ‘ruin my life’ register, and it’s enough to cement your feet in place and really look at him. He seems utterly sincere, gentle even, and he uses that opportunity to take your other hand, clasping both lightly, a low-dipping bridge between the two of you.

“I’m going to ask you some yes or no questions. Is that all right?”

“I suppose,” you say, instead of ‘yes.’

There’s heat in the little chastising glare he offers, but Stephen just says, “Did you research soulmates?”

“Yes.”

“Did you research me?”

You bite your lip. “Yes.”

“You researched escape mechanisms, both physical and mystic?”

“Yes.”

“Did you research fairy tales?”

Your brows crinkle up. “What?”

Stephen squeezes your joined hands and smiles. “In fairy tales about lovers, the couple often must use magic in some transformative way to defeat the obstacle to ‘ever after.’ You just defeated yourself. Was it enough, or should I start looking out for feathers or bark while I get to know you? I don’t think I'd make a very good tree.”

There’s an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of your stomach. It flutters there, and every time it makes contact with your innards, you feel more comfortable with this possible future.

It seems like… there’s a chance… it just might be joy.

“Oh, come on, you’d make a majestic tree, what are you even talking about?”

Stephen looks at you like you matter, and it’s heady and glorious until the expression starts to fracture into amusement, and his eyes widen. “No, trust me, trust me,” he gasps out, holding back a laugh. He pulls your joined hands up to his chest and drags you close, looking more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen him, not that you’ve let yourself be near enough to really say that.

“Tell me,” you whisper, scared he’s just thought of something that means you were right all along, now that you’re almost on board with the crazy insanity that is being his soulmate.

“It’s a poetry joke. I thought of a perfect, terrible poetry joke. You were right to-- well no, you weren’t, but--”

Stephen shakes his head and swoops down, capturing your lips in a brief, intense kiss before he says, “Could you consider the Road Not Taken with me?”

Your lips buzz with possibilities, but something makes you shake off your happy intoxication just long enough to examine why Stephen is so very apologetic. In your head, you pull out the memory of the Robert Frost poem he’s referenced. Two roads diverge in a yellow--  WOOD.

“There it is,” Stephen murmurs.

“Maybe I do deserve you,” you grumble. His triumphant bark of laughter warms you from the inside out. 

“I certainly hope so,” he rumbles, sliding a possessive hand into your hair and tipping your head up for a kiss. When your lips meet, all of the best lines of poetry in your memory coalesce into the perfect sonnet about how love (and obstinacy) conquers all.

[phattiepheeder]

To have an overpacked cauldron of a belly that is completely controlled by your feeder.

Master hasn’t allowed for an emptying In 3 days but has still fed his prized hog to the brim. Rancid constipated farts are a small relief when your bowels are stretched to the max to compensate. He uses your cunt, needing to push a bit harder than usual to get in, feeling how everything clogging your pipes has piled into and swollen your rectum.

He finishes inside you and then goes to get your next meal. He proceeds to stuff you with a mountain of food until you can no longer breath.

He presses your fat bloated gut and you groan in discomfort, your hole inadvertently puckering.

“No, no,” he says. “No shitting yet. Just gas.”

“But if I try to fart again, it’ll be impossible to hold the rest in. “

“That’s your fault for being such a greedy piggy. Your stomach is this way because of YOUR gluttony. And You have another day to go piggy.”

The next day comes and your guts are done processing the food. Your feeder instructs you that it’s emptying day. He instructs you to take a stance on all fours , and goes to feel how hard and bloated your abdomen is.

“Ah, looks like you’ve done a great job of getting filled and having your bowels stretched to capacity,” he says grabbing a box and what looks like tin foil. He puts on a rubber glove.

“Alright you know the drill. Face down and spread em,” he instructs. You follow his instructions and place your head on the floor, ass still up and use both hands behind you to spread your deep cheeks. You sigh , knowing that finally you’ll get some relief from the unbearably fullness in your guts.

Suddenly, you feel a cold glycerine suppository press against your hole. It’s forced in along with the finger behind it. He retracts his finger to have it covered In your chocolate. He repeats this with three more slippery inserts.

“Now you have to hold it until the glycerine melts. I’m doing you a favour so your hole doesn’t rip this time. Let me know when you’re busting to empty and I’ll bring the bucket”

Last time the constipated plug of shit practically tore your ass in two while being birthed.

You hold it, clenching against everything In your body telling you to push. You’re still on your hands and knees half an hour later as you feel the pressure behind your hole is mountain and you feel the weight of days worth of sweet creamy shit pressing against your hole. Despite your best efforts, a fart sputters out along with a bit of shit and melted glycerine.

“I’m ready to empty,” you groan loudly in defeat. Your feeder walks in on a pathetic scene. Fat pig on their hands and knees, swollen gut gurgling and hanging on the floor, drenched in sweat, hole quivering with the anticipation of finally getting some reprieve. He lays an industrial bucket behind your cellulite-ridden ass.

“All right pig, let’s see the aftermath of that gluttony,” the words are barely out his mouth before the gates part and shit starts pummelling onto the bottom of the bucket. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, as log after log of constipated shit leaves its incubator. Rumbling farts and stomach gurgles are all that can be heard as the shit gets sloppier and bursts out of your poor tender hole. You moan half in pain half in pleasure.

Your feeder smirks, knowing you’ll be laying cable trying to empty all that waste for at least the next couple of hours.

#constipated #slob

[muniimyg]

i’m afraid i’m going to need a scene about jungkook teasing oc about the dolphin book because that moment in the last chapter was just too cute

ok :p //

“you know... you could try reading the instructions for once," you grumble, snatching the recipe book from where jungkook had haphazardly tossed it aside.

he has messed up for nth time tonight and your hangry attitude is not having it.

you're done.

your boyfriend is annoying and your food is about to be wasted because jungkook thinks going by instict and kissing you every 5 minutes is how dinner will prepare itself.

“it’s not that hard, jungkook.” you add, tone more stern.

“instructions are for people without instincts,” he replies, leaning lazily against the counter while watching you dice onions.

you pause, glaring at him.

“you don’t have ‘instincts.’ last time you winged it, we ended up eating instant ramen for dinner.”

“and it was delicious,” he shoots back, grin widening when you roll your eyes. “besides, you choose really confusing recipes. why can't we ever just bake a pizza and have sex for dessert?”

“sex for dessert?”

"i could lick whipped cream off your—"

"shut up."

“wow. harsh,” he says, clutching his chest in mock offense. “i'm simply suggesting dessert... shit, ___. i’m starting to feel unappreciated in this relationship.”

“maybe you should start actually helping, then,” you mutter, turning back to your chopping. but the corners of your mouth twitch as he snickers behind you.

“you know,” he starts casually, his voice taking on a mischievous lilt, “for someone who lectures me about not following instructions, you sure don’t apply that same energy to your dolphin book.”

you freeze mid-chop, your brain stuttering. “my what?”

“everything you need to know about dolphins from a to z,” he says, his tone so smug you can practically hear the smirk on his face. “real page-turner, huh?”

you whirl around, cheeks blazing.

“how do you know about that?!”

“doesn't matter, mrs. save the dolphins.” he crosses his arms, leaning against the counter with the smuggest expression you’ve ever seen. "do you think we should go to mexico or something and swim with them?”

your jaw drops.

“no, that's terrifying... and you're the worst.”

“no,” he corrects, pointing at himself. “i’m the best. which is why I’ll forgive you for hiding your secret dolphin knowledge.”

“oh my god,” you groan, shoving past him to grab the frying pan. “i can’t believe this. you’re literally insufferable.”

“and yet,” he hums, trailing after you as you stomp across the kitchen, “you keep me around. i must have some redeeming qualities, huh?”

“none,” you reply sharply, though your voice cracks under your rising embarrassment. you slap the pan on the stove a little harder than necessary, your ears burning.

he doesn’t miss a beat, following a step behind as you start cooking.

“so this is how it feels to be led by a dolphin expert,” he muses. then, as you turn to grab some seasoning, he lets out a low, playful woof right behind you.

you whip around, eyes wide. “did you just—?”

“just a loyal boyfriend following his master,” he teases, grinning like he’s won the lottery. “woof.”

“i am so tired of you,” you say, jabbing a finger at his chest. “you’re such a—”

“what? nerd?” he interrupts, his eyes dancing with amusement. “takes one to date one.”

“ugh!” you spin back toward the stove, your shoulders stiff with frustration, but you can’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

behind you, jungkook laughs, his voice warm, and the sound settles something in your chest despite yourself.

you hate him.

[blue-willow-tree]

Dearest darling 🩵

My word, you’ve been such an exceedingly good girl today. You’re always so good for me, truthfully, but today I’m just so pleased with you, bunny. Letting mommy pose you like my little doll and going above and beyond all my requests. You’re absolutely perfect. 💙

I want to give you a reward, bunny. Ask for anything you like and mommy will give it to you. It can be an audio, a photo, for me to say a certain thing you’ve been wanting to hear… anything.

Tell mommy what you want, bunny. I want to give it to you. My one condition is that you make this ask and your reply public.

I want everyone to know what a good girl you’ve been and see exactly what request you make of me. Don’t be shy, bunny. 🩵

- 🌙

I'm so happy <33 As I said, I'd have been good for you even without the gift of a reward, but I can't even explain how much this made me smile x My sailor, my Mistress, my big bad wolf, you treat your bunny so well 🩵

You know one of our favourite things in this world is to pose for one another, and of course I felt the effect hit me very hard tonight. I wanted to be your living doll, and I simply had to follow your instructions has best as I could to take the most perfect photos and videos for you. I hope you have fun with them after work x

I want an audio, please, mommy <3 I want you to use that vibrator of yours! Please x I want you to use it on yourself, and I want it to be strapped down somehow, maybe stick it under your tights or underwear or use ribbon or rope to keep it down. I want you to put your fluffy handcuffs on, and I want you to record an audio, close your eyes, and imagine I'm the one that has you like that. I wouldn't be in a dominant position, no no, I'd be humping your thigh and whimpering into your neck while you're like that. I just.. I know I want to hear you beg for me, I love hearing you beg for me. I want you to call me bunny and beg for me to take the vibrator out but I wouldn't be able to. No no no I wouldn't be able to, I'd still need to cum on your thigh from hearing you beg and I want to be your good girl and make you proud! I want to please you. Please, record this for me, yes? I want this to be so vivid in your head, and I want to hear every moan and plead so I can hump myself on my pillow once again to your voice 🩵

I'll respond to my other asks tomorrow, loves x

[remembertheplunge]

Transcription of my 3 blogs yesterday re: 1992 HIV test results

11/24/2024

I decided to type out the contents of the three blogs that I posted yesterday re: February 10-12, 1992 entries concerning HIV test results. The way that I posted them yesterday made it hard to follow the story line. I've include some editorial notes as points of reference.

_____________________________________________________________

Page 1:  2/10/1992 Monday

First day back. Has a good feeling  to it—fully alive—robust. Trials stretching out to mid April Two preliminary hearings tomorrow. It’s all wild, wooly, crazy stuff. (This is in regard to the Deputy Public Defender job that I had in 1992.)

Dinner with Anne and Steve tonight. A lot of talk about HIV (HIV-AIDs virus). Anne tests again tomorrow. I get my HIV test results at 10:30am Wednesday.

Arturo and I discussed the possibilities (of my HIV test reults). He told me that when he found out (he had tested positive with the HIV virus) he could not sleep all night..

My feeling is—if I got it, I got it. That bugged Steve. I just wanna snuggle and sleep. Nite.

2/11/1992 Tuesday

Just now our wind—is silent…a mournful train whistle speaks through the space that the wind has left behind.

Tomorrow, the HIV test results. I don’t really think about bit too much. Maybe, deep down, I do a lot.

2/12/1992. Wednesday

Test results were “non reactive”…thank god. “You can test again in 3 to 6 months if you want to. 

‘ Eg: from late last November , point of last possible transmission via Alan.

The negative results makes me feel more solid about life.

Steven gave me a hug saying “I’m glad you are OK.” Suprized me.

And, the beat and rhythm of life goes on. I’m really glad that I tested, for the experience, to say I diid it. I did my rhythm dance up to the time of it and found that there was no way to be prepared. All I asked was  “as much as possible, be open to the feelings, whatever they may be."

“The game is not to get it” AIDS… instruction to 9769. Today, we were all numbers…0033, 00 this, 97 that—waiting (for the HIV test results) in the (hospital) hallway with the cemetery (across the street) view. “Is my trip shortened?” Is my journey lighter by time and distance?”

For me, for now, the answer is No, in this odd world where negative is good and positive is bad.

I feel an underlying joy, but a surface level melancholy…Why? For those who have gone before? I don’t know.’

End of entries

[starfxkrinc]

https://www.tumblr.com/starfxkrinc/766887946707206144/remember-the-fic-of-jj-clicker-training-you-and

discord mod JJ and Kitty PLEASE 🙏🥲

ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩

first it was the collar, wrapped tight around your neck so jj could hear you prowling around the house. but he decided he liked it, there was something satisfying about everyones reactions when he showed the server. watching the videos of you bent over the couch with the little bell jingling, all congratulating him for finally 'leashing that pussy'.

still, jj wanted to push you further. to see how far he could make your mind sink into its more base instincts.

once jj got the clicker it was easy. a click, then a kiss. a click, then a 'good girl', a click, then you could cum. before long the sound of the clicker had your eyes fluttering shut with your heart thudding and your lips pouted for a kiss. so when he started punctuating with commands you were following his instructions without much if a second thought. it felt good to have this much power, you were always his favorite toy but this was different.

"down." the soft click made you whimper, pressing your face against the floor but apparently it wasn't enough, because jj was now stepping on you, being sure to push between your shoulder blades so your back would arch, "all the way, good girl."

another click. by now you were shaking and so wet it was dripping a puddle onto the floor.

"you're perfect y'know that?" jj abandons his foot on your back, unbeknownst to you a smile tugs at his lips at the sight of his dirty foot print on you, "everybody thinks you're a bitch, they don't know you like i do."

with a soft kick he hits you right on your sticky cunt, causing a sharp whine to exist your lips, "fuck that hurts."

he scoffs, "thought i told you good kittens don't talk." he kicks you again, harder this time so you fall forward, body prone as he steps on your pussy, smeared with dirt and arousal as you try to squirm away.

"stay still."

click. you stop, and he lets off, sinking to his knees and keeping them locked by your hips.

"you ain't so bad, not with me anyways." jj slips into you, nice and slow while he keeps you pinned with his body weight, "you know who you belong to."

he's so close, his body fitting perfectly with yours as he covers you completely. when he brings his two fingers to circle your lips you're drooling already, anticipating that soft sharp sound.

"open." click.

you do as he says, eyes fluttering shut as the familiar taste of his fingers spread across your tongue. it's nothing for you to close your lips around him, sucking softly as he starts to fuck into you, dropping his hips hard and fast like he's feeding you his dick. when he gets you like this it's like you're stuffed with how he notches against your cervix like he's trying to gut you.

jj's teeth graze the back of your neck and you tense, even as he tries to placate you with harsh sucks and kisses you know he can't stay too nice for long, because he clamps his teeth on the back of your neck, jaw locked like a pitbull as if he's trying to rip your spine out, "ffuckfuckfuck."

shaking, you try your best to fuck back against him, but he's too strong, too heavy. able to keep you pinned and open with the force of his hips driving his cock out of your squelching hole. forcing your neck back so he can kiss and lick the tears off your cheeks. you're so overstimulated you're dizzy--babbling and crying as you try not to cum.

you can't yet. he didn't press the button.

"almost, almost, just...fuck." he lets you go, pressing your head to the ground with one hand and keeping the other splayed against your lower back with the other, fucking into you so hard it hurts. your stomachs churning like you're going to be sick but you can't move.

"just fucking take it. fuckin bitch, just take it." you can barely hear him over your sobs, your whole body throbs like a bruise from how he's hurting you, but your clits pulsing from it all. when he cums you could scream, because you're so sure he's just gonna leave you there twitching and throbbing for his dick, his fingers, something.

but he doesn't. thank god he doesn't because he hauls your hips up to his mouth, delving deep to lick the cum and pusddy juice from your hole but you still hold back.

until you here it.

click

the tremble starts from your toes and crawls its way up your spine like a livewire. your mouth drops open but you can't let out more than a soft wheeze as you cum, soaking his mouth and chin to the point he's gasping. when your done he drops you, haphazardly sticking a pillow under your hips once he's flipped you over, resting his head on your trembling stomach.

"hey, you good?" jj waves his fingers in front of your face, doing his best to pull you from your haze but you're too deep, not even replying with words, just flicking your tongue out in an attempt to get them in your mouth. luckily he obliges, letting you suck on his thumb as you try to ground yourself.

if just a clicker got you like this, what could a shock collar do.

[bittersweetstargazer]

people will be like oh yeah making things together is a great way to bond!!! don't talk to me like that. last time I willingly baked with another person I was so irritated and barely held back on the passive aggressive behavior. don't take a single step in my direction when I'm baking. back away.

[parab0mb]

Really love the vibe of the first-person cutscenes/sections, feels like something straight out of an ENA animation.

What the fuck man?

[teruthecreator]

guess whose oliver plush got stolen because the delivery driver cant follow instructions or even bother looking at the address AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[catboyriker]

being a student teacher for a SPED co-teacher at an elementary school is really giving me some good experience in working with people who i desperately want to ask what the fuck their problem is but need to be professional with

[arolesbianism]

I’ve been thinking abt one of my older oni colonies and decided to doodle my first three dupes in that save

[rxttenfish]

actually i think its kinda weird because ive gotten the impression that other people tend to think. like. very linearly? their minds eye is very similar to their physical senses, or it occurs in one direction like the flow of time.

meanwhile to me it's like. i see things as three dimensional objects? even for concepts and things. and seeing all these different parts included within them at once and see how they interact with each other and touch each other and how they touch other related things in compounding ways. like its just. how my line of thought works, that everything is a massive object that i can see all aspects of at once.

which i guess is why i always got tripped up by that one "mentally visualize an apple and tell me which one you see" meme, because as ever im Some Other Third Thing. like its not. sight, really, not sensing like how any other sense works. its just. thinking in a way that conceives every part at once in a way where i can move it around and make it assume different shapes.

i guess in that way id liken it more to a dolphins echolocation? like, sensing the three dimensional structures within and how they connect all at once without needing to take it apart, having all of this layered over itself and altering it like those videos of four dimensional objects, which are not actually being altered at all. its seeing without seeing. its some other sense that i cant use any other senses to describe.

which i guess is also why i think its hard for me to talk about what merfolk cognition is like! just because theyre all like this and most people tend to think of things like theyre reading a book i guess.

[elvenbeard]

After unsuccessfully trying to create a recolor for a variety of clothing items for about 4 hours I have a wholly new appreciation for the modders in this fandom XD