#not that they aren't still but it's different

[junkissed]

monster

member — incubus!cheol x f reader genre — smut, supernatural (demon), pwp word count — 2.2k synopsis — who said you aren't allowed to fuck your sleep paralysis demon? warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, monster cock!cheol, mean dom!cheol, masturbation (reader), messy blowjob, rough throat fucking, throat bulge kink, choking/breathplay, dacryphilia, some degredation and praise, a little humiliation, throat training (kinda), cum in mouth, sooooo much cum, cheol is a demon both metaphorically and literally, cheol has a tail and uses it for kinky purposes, objectification (of reader), nicknames (darling, sweetheart, slut, good girl, toy, etc.), implied established relationship ? (this is not their first time together) notes — thanks to @multi-kpop-fanfics @kwanisms for help brainstorming the demon part and @cheolism @onlymingyus @beomcoups for proofreading !! i really wanted to put out one more spooky fic before december hehe. if you enjoyed this fic, please remember to reblog!! it's super important for sharing my work and it lets me know this is something people wanna see more of :)

“darling, now what did i tell you about touching yourself without me?”

you startle at the sudden low voice whispering in your ear, and your cheeks grow hot as you sit up straighter on the bed. your skin prickles with the sudden feeling of being watched, tingling almost in excitement. 

you already know who it is even before his figure fades into visibility. his face still obscured in shadow and your room is dark, illuminated by nothing but the faint gleam of the moon shining in through your window. even so, you know his piercing eyes can see through the dark when yours can't. 

he looks different each time he arrives. sometimes it’s the long blond hair, slicked back with gel and a single strand falling across his forehead. sometimes it’s the black hair, shaved close on the sides with half of it tied back in a bun. but the red that he wears tonight has always been your favorite: a bright, unnaturally glowing shade that seems to match his fiery personality.

that’s how he appears to you now, dressed in his usual purple suit, the deep neckline showing off the muscles in his broad chest and his tail curled in a relaxed coil around his leg. a thick silver chain hangs around his neck and instinctively you shiver at the sight of it, the memory of it seared into your skin from all the times he's held you down rough and fast and let it drag across your back, just the way you like it.

“you were expecting me, weren’t you?” he murmurs. his voice is warm and deep like a pool of water, and each time you hear it, it only makes you want to jump deeper and deeper into him.

“m-maybe,” you manage breathlessly, though both of you know it’s so obviously a lie.

he laughs, but his tone isn’t humorous. you can practically see the smirk in his voice even without being able to see his face. “of course you were. or else you wouldn’t be sitting there, soaking through your panties and thinking about me like the depraved little slut you are. isn’t that right, sweetheart?” 

the bedroom suddenly brightens with a warm orange glow, as if lit by a candle, except there's nothing there. cheol finally steps out of the shadows, allowing you to see all of him. the look on his face radiates condescension, yet it only makes the heat between your legs burn hotter. 

you don't give him an answer to his question, and he doesn't pry for one. that's how this usually goes; you both know exactly what the other is here for anyway. once you're sure he's watching, you slowly pull your fingers from your cunt and keep your legs spread to reveal your glistening, sticky arousal that he loves so much, and that's enough of an answer to keep him satisfied for now. he doesn't react, but you can tell he's enjoying the sight from the way his eyes begin to glow a deep, hungry red.

you get up off the bed and start to move towards him, but he vanishes. a laugh sounds from behind you, and you whip around to see him sitting where you had been on the bed.

cheol spreads his thighs apart, leaning back against the headboard of your bed, and you take it as an invitation to move back towards him. you're already starting to feel the neediness returning, the empty feeling only heightened by his presence.

you try to sit down but his hand catches your arm, wrapped around your wrist to keep you at a distance.

“ah ah ah,” he scolds, holding back a laugh at your pout of confusion. “you already had your turn. if you behave for me, then i might consider giving you something in return.”

you nod quickly, and he smirks, directing you to kneel between his thighs instead. “mm… my good girl, always so eager.” 

he leans closer to you and fists his hand through your hair, his fingers tangling in your hair to pull you up and force your head to be level with his. he whispers against your cheek and it raises goosebumps on your skin, his eyes dark and narrowed as he bares his teeth with a grin. “i think you might just be one of my favorites, you know? such a cute little thing you are.”

he lets go of your hair and you reposition yourself to lay as comfortably as you can, now face to face with his cock as he pushes away his pants. you may be one of his favorites, but he's also one of yours. the first time he appeared was the last time you slept with a human man, and as long as you have him you'll never want to again. there's no desire for the mediocre hookups of the past when you have the devil's right hand man using his hands on you. seungcheol fits in all the right places, in all the right ways, and each time with him is even more satisfying than the last.

you tentatively wrap your hand around the base of his cock, trying to guide him into your mouth. this part never gets easier on you, but it's well worth it for the pleasure he gives you in return. 

“relax, sweetheart,” he coos as you slide your lips further down. “you're so tense. you want to take it all, don't you? breathe through your nose, you know the drill.”

to anyone else his words might sound kind, but you know the way he's teasing you is anything but kind. you whimper and try to follow his direction, forcing your jaw to go slack as you try to fit more down your throat. slowly but surely you manage to take him into your mouth, but your lips still only reach halfway down his length.

he pushes his hips up into your mouth once he's given you a moment to adjust, an experimental thrust to see if you're ready. you choke a little and let out a gagging sound, your eyes instantly starting to water as he hits the back of your throat. but you don't tell him to stop, and he doesn't stop.

you keep trying to relax your jaw, letting the length of his cock slide against your tongue with wet, messy noises.

cheol's tail wraps itself around your neck and you stifle a strangled gasp in surprise. his cock is so far down your throat it’s already almost hard to breathe, but the added pressure as he chokes you makes it even harder. you're lightheaded from the feeling but not enough to hurt, teetering on the line between pleasure and pain. 

“you look absolutely pathetic, darling,” he says, a low groan rumbling deep in his chest. “so gorgeous.”

your arms are shaking from holding yourself up on your elbows, but his praise is what keeps you going, choking back a whimper as you take his cock further down your throat. your vision blurs around the edges, but you can feel the spit dribbling from your mouth as it runs down his length. he makes it impossible to focus on anything besides the bruising pace of his cock.

cheol coos in fake sympathy, his tail coiling just a little tighter around your neck. “aw, poor thing. is it too difficult for you, sweetheart? you're trying so hard to be good for me. just relax.”

at this angle he can't see it, but he can feel the way your throat bulges around his length. he can feel the ridges of your throat tightening around his cock with each labored breath you take, barely enough room to allow air into your lungs. if you were in a different position he'd be able to see the faint outline of his cock stretching your throat, expanding and contracting as you struggle to meet his thrusts.

“you're loving this, aren't you? i can tell. i can smell it.” he inhales deeply through his nostrils, as if to prove his point. “ahh. like cinnamon, and… peaches. i can practically taste you from here, my darling. so sweet…”

if your mouth weren't so full and you could speak properly right now, you'd probably be whining seungcheol's name and begging for more. no matter how many times he tells you to forget him, he always ends up back in your bed like this. maybe he really does have a favorite.

he groans and rolls his neck back, his skin flushed red as he looks down at you. fuck, what a sight: your pretty little ass up in the air and your lips stretched around him, looking up at him with pleading eyes filled with tears.

cheol lets out another laugh, his voice just a little strained as he teases you. “if you hadn't already soaked through your cute little panties before i got here, then i'd bet they definitely are by now.”

you choke a little around him, caught off guard by his words, but he's not wrong. you wiggle your hips involuntarily, trying your best to hold still but it's hard to stay focused. your head is fuzzy and your senses are overwhelmed, your throat burning with friction both inside and out.

your grip starts to loosen around the base of his cock but seungcheol just tsks and repeats your name, his tail squeezing once to get your attention. “use your hands, darling, you have them for a reason. now just stay still, relax for me.” he flashes you a grin. “don't want to hurt my favorite toy, of course.”

his thrusts into your mouth grow more hurried, shoving his cock down your throat faster and sloppier with each snap of his hips. the force of his movements is unnaturally strong, and although you know by now that he's right on the edge, he barely looks like he's breaking a sweat. 

he finally releases with a deep groan, spilling down your throat and flooding your mouth. his thrusts don't stop, only slowing down a fraction as he tilts his head back, letting out another satisfied moan.

you know better than to stop without cheol's permission, so you hold your head in place and try to keep up with him. your eyes are brimming with tears as you struggle not to choke, and finally the hot, wet drops spill over and roll down your cheeks from the intense amount of energy it's taking to stay still.

all you can do is focus again on breathing through your nose and swallowing all of his cum that you can. unlike other men you've been with, you're not repulsed by the taste of him, and swallowing would be easy if there weren't so much of it. even when he should be finished he still keeps going, his tip pulsating against your tongue with each spurt.

just when you think you can't hold it any longer, the pressure on your neck suddenly releases and seungcheol uncurls his tail from around your neck. you pull your head away from his cock, gasping and stuttering, and you vaguely register cheol's fingers beneath your chin to support your head, your jaw aching from being held stretched open for so long. 

“mm, there you go. deep breaths, now.”

seungcheol chuckles as if he’s pleased at the sight of you. his tail lifts to wipe the tears from your cheeks, then some of the drool and spit and cum from the corner of your mouth, and you exhale a shallow, shaky breath.

“are you done for tonight? or…” he hums once he's given you a moment to recover, but although his words are kind again, there's no sympathy in his tone. he caresses your cheek gently with his thumb, his crimson red eyes sparkling as he looks down at you.

“… you think you can take more?”

your eyes are heavy and lidded, feeling like all your energy has been zapped from you, but somehow you're still insatiable. there's an itch that you can never quite scratch, feelings that only seungcheol can make you feel, and the promise of that satisfaction is enough to keep you sated and happy for decades.

“more,” you stammer, still catching your breath, but your eyes are fixed on his. “p-please, i can take it.”

cheol's smile widens, revealing his gleaming white teeth, although he'd already known what your answer would be. “oh, i know you can. such an obedient thing you are, always so ready to please and be pleased. you want more, hm?”

you nods quickly as you can manage, your neck still aching a little. that's how he always leaves you: a ruined mess, exhausted and sore, yet you'd still jump on the chance for another round if he offered. and he always does.

before you can blink he flips you onto your back, disappearing almost like magic and reappearing at the end of the bed to kneel between your legs. his thick cock rests against your stomach, still just as hard as before, and the weight of him on top of you already has you shivering with excitement.

“you’ve been such a good girl for me, darling. i think you deserve a little reward for taking my cock so well.” he grins as he traces his fingers down your body, his hands finding your hips as his grip tightens. “you get to take it again.”

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[kettlefire]

Maybe a Bit High (DpxDC)

Really, Danny shouldn't have been there. He had so many other things he should be doing. He wasn't even supposed to in Gotham!

Danny wished he could be safely tucked in bed right now. Or having another fight with his mom. Or dealing with another one of Sam and Tucker's squabbles.

Truly, anything was better than this. Then, being on the run, in a completely different state. Not recognizing anything anywhere and having to somehow find his dad somewhere in this city.

So yes, with Danny's luck, he had assumed the commotion by the docks had something to do with his search.

And of course, with Danny's luck, it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

Maybe things got a little out of hand. Really, Danny wasn't equipped to deal with a drug bust. His experience with crime tends to be of the ghostly nature.

Really, how do people even do these without getting a little bit high?

Was he even high? Could halfas get high? Was the powder he accidentally ingested the drugs? The one he got a giant mouthful of? Or was it the strange purplish liquid that coated like half his body?

Really, Danny wasn't in the frame of mind to try and figure all that out. It sounded more like a Jazz and Sam question.

God, Sam was going to be so bummed out for missing out on Danny's first trip. Not that Danny could even tell her what drugs these were...

Maybe he should go to a hospital?

Or maybe he should mess with this crane. Like, it looks fun! Wait, but people aren't supposed to use heavy machinery when high...

It's fine... probably. It's not like Danny was that high. Right?

Yea, he's fine. Besides, he's a halfa! He's like ninety percent sure he couldn't even get high. And Tucker would be so on board with his idea.

Hold on, the storage units look more fun. Danny couldn't help wanting to find out what was hiding behind all those walls.

Oh, but the sky looks so pretty from here! Even with the city lights and the light smog, Danny could make out the twinkling stars.

Maybe he should go for a fly. Even if he was high, technically, that would be fine, right? Flying is like walking for him. And it's not illegal to walk high! Just to be high...

Okay, okay, a flight it is. It'll atleast keep him away from civilians, and then he'll find his dad. Yes, Danny still needed to do that.

He couldn't lose his objective. He just needed to take a breather, and then track down his dad. Track him down somewhere in this large, bustling city.

It'll be fine, totally fine. Danny was totally not panicking. His current trip was truly not going downhill.

Was he forgetting to breathe? Wait, no, Danny was still Phantom. He didn't need to breathe, he's fine. It's fine...

Unless it wasn't. What if it was all in Danny's head? What if all this halfa stuff was all just a part of his really weird trip? What if he tries to fly and just ends up drowning in the river?

Okay, okay. Focus Danny, focus. He just needed to find his dad. That's it. His dad would know what to do. His dad could fix this.

Oh, and there he is! It was a little hard for Danny to focus his vision, but he knew the silhouette anywhere! It had to be his dad! Jack has such a distinct shadow!

Danny wasn't sure if he called out Dad or not. He also wasn't sure when he had decided to move. Did he fly or did he run?

It didn't matter. His dad knew, anyways. All Danny was focused on was the feeling of hugging his dad again...

And the strange armor his dad was wearing? It must have been something Jack rigged up to protect himself during these dire times...

But god, Danny couldn't tear his focus away from the texture of it under his fingers. Zeroing in on that alone.

It's fine. Even if he was high, Danny could just explain it to Jack. His dad would understand! Danny was just trying to be a good hero. It's not like he was doing drugs for fun!

Besides, being curled up on his dad's shoulders feels too good right now. Whatever that pointy thing on Jack's head was wasn't a big deal. It was something a little intangiblity could fix!

[softieyuume]

Gentle Touch

✿ Sylus x fem!reader

✿ He got hurt protecting you. You return the favor by tending to his wounds.

✿ slight!angst/comfort. fluff. pre-established relationship.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────

The soft touch of your hands on his skin sent a shiver down Sylus's spine, a stark contrast to the searing pain that had been consuming him just moments ago. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, admiring the way your hair fell across your face as you concentrated on your task of tending to his injuries.

*She's always been beautiful.* He mused silently, *But seeing her like this... it's different.*

Gone was the cold hostility that had once defined their interactions, replaced by a gentleness that made Sylus's heart ache in a way he never thought possible. He reached out with his uninjured hand, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"You know," He murmured, his voice low and rough, "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be touching me with such care."

You glanced up at him, your tired yet gentle eyes meeting his amused ones. A faint blush colored your cheeks, but you didn't look away.

"Don't read too much into it," You retorted, but there was no bite to your words. "I'm just doing what needs to be done."

Sylus chuckled, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his wounds. "Is that so? And here I thought you'd finally realized how much you need me."

He knew he was pushing his luck, but he couldn't help himself. There was something about the way you looked at him now, something that made him want to test the boundaries of this newfound closeness.

You rolled your eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Don't push it, Sylus. You're in no position to be cocky."

"And yet," He drawled, leaning in closer with his hands resting on your sides on the bathroom sink where you sat, "You're still here, aren't you? Tending to my wounds like a dutiful nurse."

You huffed, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you continued your ministrations, your touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary.

Sylus let his eyes drift shut, savoring the moment. He knew it wouldn't last forever, that sooner or later they'd return to their roles as adversaries. But for now, he was content to bask in the warmth of your care, to let himself believe, even if just for a little while, that maybe, just maybe, there could be something more between both of you.

"You're too reckless, Sylus," You frowned in frustration, unable to stop yourself from putting a bit of pressure on his wounded arm. "If you hadn't been so determined to protect me, you wouldn't be in this mess."

Sylus winced as your fingers probed a particularly deep gash, the sting of the disinfectant making his breath hitch. He knew he deserved your scolding, knew that he'd been reckless in the heat of the moment. But hearing your voice laced with frustrated concern, with a hint of something deeper, made his chest tighten in a way he wasn't used to.

"I didn't get hurt because of you," He muttered, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. "I got hurt because I was trying to protect you, kitten."

Your eyes narrowed, your brow furrowing in annoyance. "Protect me? By charging headfirst into an ambush without a plan? That's not protecting me, that's being a damn fool."

Sylus opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his tongue as your hands stilled on his chest, right near his heart. You were looking at him with an intensity that made his heart race, your eyes searching his red ones as if trying to find the answers to questions you haven't yet asked.

"You can't keep doing this," You whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the fluorescent lights. "You can't keep putting yourself in harm's way for me. I'm not worth it."

Sylus felt a surge of anger at your words, at the self-loathing that seemed to radiate off of you in waves. He reached up, cupping your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Don't say that," He growled, his voice low and fierce. "You're worth everything to me, sweetie. Everything. And if that means taking a few bullets to keep you safe, then so be it."

Your eyes widened, your lips parting in surprise. For a moment, Sylus thought you might push him away, might tell him to go to hell. But instead, you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you let out a shaky breath.

"You're an idiot," You mumbled, but there was no heat behind your words.

Sylus smiled, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of your cheek and it took a tremendous amount of willpower to stop himself from taking you right then and there.

He didn't want to risk ruining what chance he could have with you, just having you near him brought him solace he desperately needed.

"Yeah," He agreed, his voice softening, resting his forehead against yours as he left out a shaky exhale. "But I'm your idiot."

And for now, that was enough.

[thesacrificialdove]

okay a good amount of people followed me because of this but im still majorly busy from uni but here's a snippet from what i alr wrote. i'm gonna post the official fic apart from this post

witches aren't always deceitful. actually, maybe most witches would want to help you get out of this haunted forest. their choice to live there is only because it has the most ingredients to potions that they could profit off of.

but this witch? he stays in the forest because he is the danger. he knows he's obsessessive. the pile of rotting corpses and frayed bones in his storage room is proof of it. he finds someone lost, takes them in like a good witch, use magic on them, and play with them until they eventually rot in their mortal body.

and he sees you. you're different. you're a different breed. you're innocent, but not quite clueless. you're trusting, but not naive. you can stand up to him but you say it so fucking meekly he doesn't know what to do to you!

sure, i'll drink the pink swirly potion that released a little heart shaped cloud when you uncorked it. what's the worst that could happen

[elbiotipo]

Something worth noting is that the constitutions of many Latin American countries were based in the US constitution, which was at the time seen as an example of a liberal republic. So yes, indeed, Argentina once had an electoral college for example.

And indeed that electoral college and restrictive voting laws (the República Conservadora of 1853-1916~) was used to suppress popular will (something like 1% of the population could vote). After the reforms by the UCR, universal male suffrage was achieved, the electoral college always voted proportionally to the popular vote (unlike the US where it's a winner takes all system), though afterwards there was decades of coups so there weren't many elections. Woman suffrage came with Perón and Evita, as well as the 1949 constitution that enshrined worker's and social rights (later repealed by the military dictatorship, though worker's rights are still guaranteed explicitly by the current constitution)

It was with the 1994 constitution when we finally stopped that stupid system and went directly with the popular vote. In any case, as I said, the electoral college voted proportionally to the popular vote so it was more redudant than anything. (I understand, though my knowledge there is limited, that Brazil and other countries had a similar history)

This all happened because like most constitutions, the Argentine constitution has been reformed multiple times. It started mostly as a copy of the US constitution which was a model at the time, but situations changed. Worker's rights, women's right, indigenous rights, environmental rights, changes to the procedure of state, the defense against our history of coups. Many things changed (and indeed the constitution and I argue the whole political system is overdue for a change) and they did by long popular struggle.

The United States remains the only country in the world with an electoral college. Many archaic and unequal things like the all powerful supreme court or the strange voting system in the United States simply aren't found in other such democracies because they changed. It's strange to pretend the United States is a paramount of democracy because their own model of democracy is actually very obsolete, and in fact doesn't even approach the ongoing developments in popular sovereignity in countries like China (which I don't have time to write about but they're very interesting) or indeed, other "average" democracies in Latin America, Africa, Europe, and the rest of the world. And yet democracies in general are having a hard time in responding to the needs of the people (which is natural given the state of class conflict) and there are some that are particularily ossified and not a model for anyone, such as the US and the UK. If you attempt to study or measure "democracy" by their standards, you're doomed to failure.

In the coming decades new ways of concieving the state and the "res publica" will emerge. From an outsider's perspective, the liberal capitalist model of the United States is hopelessly outdated and those who cling to it (like our own Milei) are walking fossils. There is a future for democracy but it will be very different from what we know.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

diversity december masterlist

logan howlett x reader

the idea of diversity december is to write fanfics for people like me who don't often see themselves represented. these don't necessarily need to be holiday related fics, or even winter related. requests are still open until december 1. i may update this masterlist and add more fics.

if any other writers want to participate i would absolutely adore that. even just one fanfic means a lot when you never see things written with you in mind.

latina reader (coming december 1): after the events of logan (2017), in a world where logan survives, he and laura move to a small town to start a new life. laura quickly becomes very attached to the librarian, and seeing you with his daughter makes logan fall hard.

autistic reader (coming december 4): a drabble about logan dealing with reader who gets overstimulated. also slightly a logan character study.

curvy reader (coming december 8): logan is obsessed with your thighs. he spends hours worshiping them. this is literally pure smut where he fucks reader's thighs.

black reader (coming december 11): you're a single mom and you're fine with that. but when your daughter makes a new friend, laura, and you're forced to spend more and more time with her father, you start to fall for his gruff demeanor and kind heart.

bisexual reader (coming december 16): the worst wolverine comes from a universe very different from this one. a universe where things aren't as great for queer people. so naturally, he panics when you ask him if he has a crush on his roommate. ends in poolverine x reader.

disabled reader (coming december 20): dealing with chronic pain is hard, especially as an x-men. but logan is always there to take care of you when you have a bad pain day.

desi reader (coming december 22): trying to teach logan how to cook ends with you on the table, his head between your legs.

latina reader (coming december 24): annoyed at the way laura always makes comments in spanish when she doesn't want him to understand, logan comes to you, asking you to teach him his daughter's native language.

jewish reader (coming december 26): with all the christmas celebrations and decor in the x-mansion, you decide to take it upon yourself to plan hanukkah festivities for the jewish children at the mansion.

jewish reader (coming december 30): as magneto's daughter, you often find yourself fighting the x-men. but it's one x-man in particular that keeps you coming back. you love the adrenaline of fighting and so does logan. but there are other ways to let off steam.

taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog

comment on this post to be added to the taglist or if you only want to be tagged in a specific fic, that's fine too.

[app-oh-sigh-oh-pieces]

"How is this compatible with harm reduction practices like taking someone's keys if they're unfit to drive or stopping a kid from running into the street" Preservation of agency and bodily autonomy babey!! If someone is not in a fit state to choose (and you don't have prior knowledge of their desires, such as a DNR order) and may inadvertently cause themselves or others to come to harm, then the action which best preserves their agency and bodily autonomy is to make sure they and others survive long enough to make more choices.

By "not in a fit state" I mean not having typical faculties of reason, very much not "well they made a different decision than I think is right, so they must be fucking crazy." You can't make informed decisions while you're asleep, intoxicated, actively having an acute medical emergency such as a seizure or anaphylaxis, etc.

This is a spectrum, of course. Some people, whether through age, disability, or other lack of information or communicative ability, are going to need assistance with certain choices, but should still be allowed to make others. Some kids, for instance, aren't developmentally ready to make the informed decision to cross the road without assistance but are developmentally ready to choose which clothes they wear or where to play on the playground. And those kids may still have regrets about the things in their lives they can control!

When I was a small child I tore the last page of one of my picture books into tiny pieces to "make money" and then cried when I realized that the book was permanently damaged. Long term, I don't regret doing that because I understand it was an important developmental experience: I learned that actions have consequences, sometimes permanent ones, and I treated my books better in future as a result. Can you imagine if my parents had never let me hold my own books, or interact with them unsupervised, because I might make a mistake I'd regret around them?

preaching to the choir obviously but to rob people of a personal choice out of the ostensible fear they might come to regret said choice is a thousand times crueler than allowing them the freedom to do things they might ultimately regret

[dingodad]

a lot of issue being taken on twitter with the fact that a character says "oomf"in this update which i think is demonstrating that my problem is only with using memes in dialogue when they aren't funny. and a character referring to another character as "oomf" is funny. LOL. especially when it's a new character whose personality is still being revealed to us like this is obviously different to if aradia suddenly started saying oomf. and this also doesn't really count as "using language that will be dated by the next update" because people have been saying oomf for like half a decade now. you have to remember that a significant portion of homestuck's cast are called "trolls" because a "troll" used to be someone on the internet who was mean to you, which is kind of not something we say anymore! i see no reason why you can't build a solid character out of "the kind of person who says oomf" the same way andrew hussie built solid characters out of the concept of "the internet troll". i guess it remains to be seen whether this character is actually like a twitter stan or something or if they really did just say oomf that one time to be funny but i have my hopes high...

[citrusandrottefruit]

Modern!Steddie (This is based on something I read a while back on Tumblr about Eddie becoming famous, Steve getting doxxed, and years later singing Hozier's Francesca to Eddie. I'll look for the fic, and if I find it, I'll put the link here.) EDIT: This is the fic here, guys. I recommend reading it. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/48091627/chapters/121266283)

Steve has always been one of the popular kids, but not the kind of childish villains you see in movies. No, he was popular because he was handsome, had rich parents, was charismatic, and was good at sports. He didn't bully other kids, but he wasn't interested in them either.

He never felt the need to seek out new connections at school, because he'd had Tommy and Carol for years, and anyone new who wanted to talk to him would come to him. He didn't have to work hard to make new friends.

His time was spent on sports and the friends he already had. The occasional girlfriend, too, because he'd always been a romantic at heart and a lonely kid. Being best friends with a couple would also make him feel like a third wheel a lot, so having a girlfriend and double dates seemed cool.

Then he got into a fight with Tommy and Carol after that graffiti episode in the movies and they drifted apart. Tommy wasn't mean about it, but he was resentful and hostile, because they were best friends and it always sucks to lose a friend to a boyfriend/girlfriend who you think cheated on them.

After a year, when he and Nancy broke up, he, Tommy and Carol didn't get back together, but they weren't hostile, you could tell they felt bad for him. Steve wanted to be friends with them again, he just didn't feel right crawling back with his tail between his legs and he also felt guilty that they never reconnected before. He didn't want it to seem like he only got back together because he was single.

He's still popular, but now his best friends aren't around anymore and he got cheated on by his girlfriend, but he feels like he deserved it (let's just say the story they made up about Barbara dying was real and the trauma grew into a monster and consumed their entire relationship). So he feels alone.

He has the kids. But Dustin thinks he's awesome and he doesn't want to be anything less, Lucas also sees him as a hero, willing to take a beating for him, Max looks up to him as a big brother. Will is Jonathan's brother and has traumas, so Steve would never dump his problems on the kid. Mike is Nancy's brother.

All of his real friends are kids.

So, Eddie. Steve isn't lonely around school, he still interacts with other students, he's friendly with the popular crowd, a lot of people like him. He just has these moments where he seems sad and then suddenly he seems super chill again.

Anyone who looks closely can tell he's got a problem and pretends not to, but it's not obvious. Eddie doesn't think much of it at first. He actually finds it amusing, because he has a lot of shallow and superficial ideas about popular kids who conform to the norm and who are well-off.

Eddie comes over when he sees Steve reading a DnD rulebook. He mocks it a bit, but explains a few things and Steve, who has always been a social butterfly and never cared much about sitting at the same table as some group in the cafeteria, sits down with Hellfire.

Not with the intention of being their friend, just because he wanted to ask them questions, take notes and move on with his life. A brief connection, a friendly interaction. No different from his relationship with most people who are part of his social circle.

But Eddie keeps pulling him closer, invites him to join the Hellfire Club. Steve declines, because he likes the stories and wanted to learn about DnD because of the kids, but he feels insecure about being a player, about roleplaying, he's afraid of making the wrong decisions and ruining something that seems to be so important to their friends (both the kids and Eddie).

Eventually, they fall in love.

Steve graduates without much distinction and Eddie barely makes it, but they are free from high school. While Eddie continues to play concerts at the Hideout with the CC boys, Steve works at Scoops Ahoy and makes friends with Robin.

So, when Eddie decides to leave, Steve asks them to wait a little, to save up more money, to get better organized. If they stayed for a whole year, Robin could even leave with them. When Eddie doesn't agree, he says they can continue their relationship long-distance. After all, it's 2010 and there's technology for that.

Eddie leaves anyway, believing that Steve will regret it and look for him, understand that leaving is the right choice and blah blah blah. Steve can't leave yet, because if he moves out, if he doesn't follow the path his parents have laid out, he'll give up any illusion of family he might have had. His car is in his father's name, he doesn't have much savings, he's still not open about being bisexual and he's terrified of leaving his entire life behind. It's hard in Hawkins, but facing the whole world, the uncertainty, not having a home to go back to… It scares him. Eddie doesn't understand, because if nothing else worked out for him, he could go back to Wayne and be welcomed with open arms.

One of Eddie's first hit songs is about a preppy, popular, charismatic kid who's the captain of the swim team and lives in Loch Nora who starts dating him in his senior year and gets stuck in a shitty job at the mall. It's easy to figure out who Steve is. People at school find out quickly.

I like to think Carol is the one who alerts him, goes to his job to tell him the rumors. Tommy goes with her. Although Carol is kinder and more open and Tommy keeps his distance, as if he might be infected, he also tells Steve to be careful, for old times' sake.

Either way, he becomes a target. The students tell their parents that they believe the hit song is about Steve. This story even gets around the church that his parents donate to and "attend" when they're around. His parents' friends find out. His business partners find out. His parents, too.

His parents suddenly move back home. It was a huge fight, with his mother accusing him of being possessed, suggesting a treatment to "cure" him. Mr. Harrington said it was due to a lack of beatings. Either way, it ended with him bleeding alone in the street.

A few days later, he and Robin managed to return to "steal" some of his belongings back, including documents. Other than that, he lost everything.

Mr. Wheeler didn't even want him to get close to Mike anymore.

For a while, he spends his days between the Hendersons' couch and Robin's bedroom floor, feeling like shit and listening to the music Eddie wrote over and over again.

After that, he sells his cell phone, his laptop, whatever he managed to keep. Robin also sells some of her things and the kids help with this small fundraising, selling cakes and sweets. Even Tommy and Carol seek them out, providing almost 50% of the money. That way, Steve is able to leave with a few months' rent saved.

Wayne also helped, because he knew that Eddie's music was responsible for this. Steve told him never to talk about everything that happened with Eddie, so Wayne kept it a secret.

I think Tommy, Carol and Steve could get back to being friends. Not the same as before, but they have lunch together every few months and they were the ones who helped Steve get a job in a new city.

A few months later, Corroded Coffin is well established, about to release its first album. Robin goes to college and Steve and she move in together.

That's when other people start to find out who Steve is too. It starts with a post on Reddit, people speculating about him, which is the central theme of several songs, although none are as explicit about his identity as the first. His parents receive some hate mail, they make a point of sending it to the Buckleys and Steve finds out. What hurts the most is knowing that his parents never gave him any of his belongings, but they found a way to let him know that people he didn't even know hated him.

He gets some hate messages too, because, although he deleted his old accounts, the new ones are easy to find through the profiles of people who knew him before all this. So, they're probably students from school, people know what Robin's social networks are, finding him.

There isn't much hate coming his way because he's careful to keep to the shadows, and thankfully the speculation about Steve Harrington being responsible for breaking Eddie Munson's heart doesn't go that far, after all, there's nothing to keep fueling those theories.

One of the things that connected Eddie to Steve was music. I like to think of Steve as a musician, like Joe Keery is. If Eddie can pour out his anger through music, he can also pour his heart into it. He writes Unknown/Nth and posts it to an anonymous YouTube account. He sings with an acoustic guitar, without showing his face.

For a while, this feels like closure.

Steve still gets hate mail sometimes, even though he deletes the old accounts and creates new ones. Everyone in Hawkins seems to know about him and Eddie. The kids, who hated Eddie for a while, have reluctantly started to admire him again. Steve reassured them about this, but they all remained bitter about everything that happened.

Steve, for his part, has vacillated between hating Eddie and hating himself. Most of the time, he still feels like he maybe loves Eddie a little bit, as if he’s stuck on that last day they saw each other. Sometimes he blames himself for making the wrong decision. Other times he thinks that if he hadn't stayed in Hawkins, Eddie might never have made it big.

His feelings for Eddie are complicated.

So, about 5 years after the breakup, there's a documentary about the beginning of Corroded Coffin. Something not produced by them. Maybe by a fan? Who goes to Hawkins, talks to people, tells them about Steve, exposes Steve and it goes viral on social media.

His life goes to shit very quickly. Eddie doesn't even notice at first, because CC is on a world tour and they never have free time. Meanwhile, Steve becomes well-known on social media and gets some hate mail.

Things change a bit when someone, seeing old photos of Steve, posts on Reddit that they have a crazy theory: there's a song they've been listening to for years, that's a lost gem in the depths of YouTube and they swear that's Steve Harrington, because the moles match and you can see a Hawkins High jacket in the background. It's a pretty crazy theory, so it doesn't get much attention, but the song gains momentum.

Eddie finds out because, once he learned everything that happened, he started researching everything about Steve, trying to measure how much he ruined his life.

Assuming people find out that the song is really about Eddie, I think he could become the target of hate, almost as much as Steve did, because Unknown/Nth is a powerful song.

That's what I've thought, for now. They get back together in the end because Eddie's actions had terrible consequences, but he never meant to hurt Steve like that and the biggest culprits for everything that happened are his parents. The hate from the fans wasn't that intense until the documentary, so it was hard to notice.

Anyway, they have a long way to go. A talk to clear up their last fight, a lengthy apology from Eddie, reconnecting with the kids, getting back to being friends.

It would be terribly sad and difficult. It definitely wouldn't be a fairy tale, but they could learn to trust each other. Eddie could earn Steve's trust, affection, and friendship, and one day they could be a couple again.

[porkcutletbowl44]

A tease.

Keegan P. Russ/reader

NSFW MDNI

tags: mention of Exhibitionism, masturbation, blowjob/handjob, nudity, cum eating, horrendously down bad content

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

You're taking forever.

It's like you're doing it on purpose; he had only just gotten back from a long, harsh deployment last night. And now that he has the energy, you've only given him one quick round. It's not how it goes; he's gone months without you and it ended too fast, too early, and you just didn't listen.

His hunger has only grown.

He lets out a deep breath, his mind warring between his growing need and the practicality of the situation.

He needs to get up, to get some air, to do something that isn't just sitting here and being horny, but he's so damn tired and comfortable that he doesn't want to move.

His mind is too full of lewd thoughts about what he wants to do to you.

Damn it, baby... why do you do this to me...?

He lets out a soft laugh, a little huff of amused disbelief, his eyes still focused on the ceiling.

He's starting to suspect that you're really doing it on purpose, that you know what you're doing to him. His mind is racing with thoughts of you, his body responding instantly.

Would you want to just play with it instead? Hold it? Maybe give it come clothes kisses? He gently rubs the head, keeping up some stimulation at the thought.

He lets out a soft moan at the thought of you nuzzling against his clothed cock, his hand squeezing himself just a little.

He's so worked up, his mind still racing with thoughts of you, even though you aren't even in the room. It's like he's addicted, his body yearning for your touch, your scent, your everything.

His mind is swimming with all the different things it would like you to do, to do to him. The things you could do to each other.

He's still too hard, his chest heaving ever so slightly, his breaths coming a little more ragged. He can picture you now, you on your knees in front of him, your hot mouth open for him to slap the underside of his cock head on your tongue.

He's starting to get a little carried away, his thoughts straying from anything practical, but he doesn't really care.

His cock twitches in his hand, getting some attention and a gentle caress, rubbing the head between his thumb and forefinger.

He can't help but give himself a few more slow, deliberate pumps, his hand wrapped loosely around the shaft as he tries to keep himself hard.

He's got an image of you walking in and catching him like this, touching himself while thinking of you…

And he's liking it.

He sneaks his hand under the waist band, gripping with a loose hand.

He lets out a long, quiet groan.

His hand is working a steady rhythm, his mind lost in thoughts of you. The thought of your reaction, if you were to catch him like this; how you'd look, what you'd say, what you'd do.

He gives his cock a little squeeze, trying to keep himself riding the edge of pleasure, trying not to go over.

The door isn't quite closed all the way, so if you were to get close to the room, you'd hear the gentle noises.

"God, you're in trouble when you get back..." he mutters to himself, his hand pumping lightly along his cock.

His breath hitches for a moment as the image of your lips around him flashes through his mind, the way you take him deep and good. His hand starts to pick up the pace a little, getting a little impatient. God, the feel of your hot, wet, tight throat and how it hugs him so nicely, how your hands would rub on his thighs and planes of his firm stomach.

He's still so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't hear you until you speak.

"I was only gone for a few minutes,"

He lets out a hiss of surprise, freezing instantly, his body going tense as soon as he hears your voice. He's immediately embarrassed, his mind going from filthy thoughts to mortified in the span of a second.

He's suddenly acutely aware of the position he's in, his hand in his boxers, his breathing rough and uneven. His eyes widen at being caught, and he turns his head, sheepishly meeting your gaze. his He's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't hear anything, his hand instinctively flying away from his cock at the surprise audience.

He lets out a dry scoff, his face feeling a little warm at being caught. "Jesus, I didn't even hear you come back…" he says, a little sheepish.

He eyes you for a moment, his eyes quickly scanning your form, your hair, only wearing your panties. Dainty little things, barely covers up anything.

You toss him a bottle, his hand catching it easily with a quiet thanks. He's still a little on edge from being caught, but he manages to catch the bottle on reflex, He's got a small frown on his face, his mind still a little dazed.

He's still trying to process being caught like this, a little embarrassed and a little flustered. He lifts the bottle, twisting off the top and taking a large sip.

He wets his lips a little bit, his throat feeling dry despite having a fresh beverage as he looks at you. He can't find the words to say, his mind still spinning from being caught.

"Couldn't wait?" You tease.

He lets out a huff of embarrassed laughter, his eyes widening at your words. He's caught, and there's no denying it, so he doesn't even try. He can feel the flush of heat spreading over his face, probably turning his cheeks red.

He gives a sheepish shrug, his eyes still fixated on you, drinking in the sight of you perched next to him, wearing only those little panties.

His hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, his eyes darting away from you, trying to regain his composure.

He lets out a quick, nervous laugh, trying to come up with something.

"Just lonely,"

He's trying to act casual, but his voice comes out a lot breathier than he intended. He looks back up at you again, eyes taking mental pictures of the sight, the love of his life.

He means it, it's the damn truth; he is lonely. It's a feeling that he's used to, it's something he's known since childhood, but it's one that he's getting tired of.

He's tired of being alone, of being by himself, of having no one to hold him or share his life with. He's tired of being the one who's always alone, of never having someone who can make him feel less lonely.

He's lonely, and he doesn't like it.

(And yes, 3 minutes is too long without you.)

"Want help?" You offer, rubbing his thigh tenderly.

"Depends on what kinda help you're offering," he replies huskily.

He lets his hand rest on top of yours, feeling the warmth of your skin, the gentle movement of your hand. He lets out a soft hum of pleasure, his eyes flickering shut for a moment, his head rolling back against the pillow as you cup him.

"Quit playing dumb," you grin.

His eyes are closed as he responds, "Me playing dumb? Never."

He bites back a moan, his hips twitching involuntarily, pushing into your touch. His face feels a little warm from being caught, and the fact that you're playing with him isn't helping.

"What do you want?" You coo, sitting on your legs beside him.

His tongue swipes lazily across his lips, his hand coming to rest on your hip, his fingers drumming against the roundness.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a small smirk on his lips. "What do you think I want, angel?" he rasps.

His other hand comes up to brush gently against your leg, tracing the length of your soft flesh.

He lets out a sigh, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your hip. "I want you," he says, a low, gravelly drawl. "Just you. Always you."

His fingers give a soft, gentle squeeze to your hip, his hand slipping beneath the thin material of your panties, tempted to snap the material on your ass cheek.

You reach the elastic waistband of his boxers, pulling just the tip out to play with your finger tips. He can't help but let out a needy little moan as you pull the elastic, his eyes growing darker, his throat working as he swallows hard. His body is taut with need, his muscles tensed, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

His hand tightens on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin as he watches your fingers rub over his weeping slit.

"That's cruel," he mumbles.

A fat drop of pre bubbles out, your thumb swiping it up and brought to your lips. His eyes track the movement intently, his breathing growing heavy and uneven. His chest heaves and his fingers flex against your skin, his eyes flicking up to meet yours briefly, his pupils blown black with need.

He gives a guttural moan, his voice coming out a little more shaky and breathless than usual.

"You can't… you can't just do that…" he almost whines.

His hips jerk involuntarily at the sight, his fingers digging into your skin as he watches you lick up his fluids. He can't take his eyes off you, his eyes glued to your mouth as he watches the bead of precum disappear past your lips.

He's desperatly trying to anchor himself against the onslaught of sensation.

He can't think straight, his mind is a jumbled mess of raw desire and primal need. His breathing is becoming labored, his chest heaving as he watches you, his eye dark and intense.

"Holy fuck..." He lets out a ragged breath.

You really were the best girl he could ask for, so shy and polite in public, sweet and soft to him when he comes home... but in private you were his. Warm meals and his balls empty. Perfection.

He loved you all the more for it.

You stroke him a few times, letting him out tall and aching.

"I thought you could go for another round?" You ask in a way that seems innocent, it is anything but.

"Oh, angel... You have no idea how badly I'm going to wreck you this time."

Yet, he makes no move to do so.

He lets out a low, throaty chuckle, his fingers giving your hip another promising squeeze.

His hand starts to slide up along your body, the rough callouses of his fingers scratching over your skin as they move higher. He palms the side of your breast, feeling the give in the squish and the pebbled nipples poking his wrist.

He's already half-gone and you've barely even touched him, but the way you're looking at him, the way you touch him, the way you talk to him, it's almost more than he can take.

He gently pulls you close, slowly manoeuvring you onto his lap. He never takes his eyes off you, his hands gently guiding your hips, taking in the sight of you perched on top of him, straddling his hips, bare and beautiful.

"Gonna make me come like this?" he husks gruffly.

"I can," you offer with a soft purr, squeezing with a stroke upwards.

His eyes flutter shut and a quiet, needy sound escapes his lips. He's so sensitive, so ready and desperate, his hips flexing up in your hand.

All he can do is nod quickly, his head bobbing jerkily as he desperately tries to speak, to let you know what he needs.

Your lips pucker slowly, a fat drop of spit landing with a smack on his cock. The sound that escapes his throat is guttural, a mix of a moan and a breathless gasp. It's loud and rough and needy, a sound he would've been embarrassed to make in any other situation.

But right now, he can't find it in himself to care. Not with you straddling him.

He's torn between wanting to watch and wanting to close his eyes to savor the sensation of your hand moving up and down with your slippery spit, his breath coming in rough, uneven gasps.

He can't help but let out a long, shuddering moan, his body quivering beneath your touch.

"Fuck, you keep doing that and I'm gonna be finished before we even start…" He gasps out, his hand reaching down to lightly grasp your wrist, trying to stop your hand from moving.

"So you can't go another round?" You tease.

"Of course I can, angel."

He (attempts to) rolls his eyes at your question, his expression somewhere between amused and desperately horny. Your squeeze makes him twitch, a sharp breath sucked through his teeth. You're really testing him.

"Oh, I'll go another round," he grits out, his eyes opening to lock onto yours, his eyes dark and intense. "But I need you to slow down before I blow my load right before it even gets good."

He can last more than a few minutes, it's just the softness of your hand that has his resistance washing away with every movement. He'd love nothing more than for you to get him off, but he also doesn’t want to end up looking like some kind of chump who can't even last more than a few minutes when he certainly can.

His hand gently encircles your wrist, stopping your hand as it shallowly pumps over his cock and letting it slap down on his stomach. He lets out a ragged breath, his eyes locking onto yours.

He's in a state of intense, desperate need, his body on the razor-edge of surrender, but he's still fighting against it, fighting to stay in control.

"You always make me lose my damn mind, angel," he mutters hoarsely.

"You're giving me mixed signals here," you rolled your eyes, instead moving your hand down to cup his balls through his boxers.

He's not entirely sure how you managed to pull something like this off so quickly, but right now he's not really surprised. With you, it's usually a 50/50 chance of what you're gonna do next. And he loves it.

"Not mixed signals," he grits out, his jaw clenched tightly. "You gotta give a guy a break here. You're gonna have me coming before we even start."

"Then, what-do-you-want." You pat his knee with every word, raising your brows expectantly.

How is he even supposed to think about that? With you, your tits out in the open, wearing not a stitch of clothing except for those slutty panties, and having his dick wet with your spit?

He lets out a sharp, breathless laugh, his head rolling back against the pillow.

"You have any idea how many thoughts are going through my head right now? How the hell am I supposed to pick just one?" he asks in a low, strained voice.

His head rolls bonelessly against the pillow. It's a damn good question. What does he want right now?

"Then I'll pick for you!" You grin, scooting next to him with your hand on his shaft.

"Oh hell," he groans, his eyes rolling back in his head.

He shivers under your touch, his body so sensitive and on edge. He's barely clinging to any shred of control he has left, his hips rocking against your hand, trying to increase the friction.

"You gonna go easy on me, baby? Or are you just gonna tease me until I lose it…" He complains.

He doesn't need to think about what he wants anymore, it's the same thing he's wanted from the moment he walked in the door.

"You," he says quickly to answer your question, to save himself, "I want you. All of you. On top of me."

"Too late, I wanna watch," you shrug, kissing the hinge of his jaw.

He's already at the end of his rope, his body thrumming with need, his patience at an all-time low. And now you're telling him you want to watch. The idea of you watching him, of him being the center of your attention, it's his extra lucky evening.

You're going to drive him insane this way, and you know it.

He lets out a ragged breath, his head rolling back in resignation, his eyes fixated on the ceiling above him.

"You're playing dirty," he grumbles, his muscles already starting to tense.

"Relax," you murmur, your finger tips are feather light on the underside of his shaft, wrapping around the tip in a slow downstroke.

His breath hisses through his teeth, his body trembling at your touch.

Your fingers are barely touching him, but it's still driving him wild. He's so sensitive, almost too sensitive, every little movement making him shudder with sensation.

"Hard to relax when you're doing that, angel," he mutters, his eyes half-lidded and his jaw clenched.

You shut him up, pressing kisses to his lips. He responds eagerly to each one, his hand coming up to bury itself in your hair, his other finding your breast to knead and push in his hand.

He kisses you hungrily, fiercely, his tongue sliding past your lips and tangling with yours. He lets out a low moan, cock flaring in your hand as you work him.

It's the perfect distraction, kissing you and touching you, his mind occupied with you instead of the intense sensation of your hand around his dick. He breaks the kiss with a ragged breath, his head rolling back to expose his throat, his eyes half-lidded as he stares at you.

The way you're driving him to the edge and holding him there, it's overwhelming. He's fighting against it, fighting to hold on, to make it last just a little bit longer.

"If you don't stop, it's gonna be all over you…" he warns.

You hum, squeezing and twisting your wrist. His hips jerk at the movement, a guttural moan escaping his lips.

Your touch is exquisite, it's almost torturous. He's on the edge, teetering on the brink, and he's never needed something so desperately, you're going to wring him dry and enjoy it.

He can't take it anymore, he has to do something, anything to distract himself.

With a guttural grunt, he shifts his hand, wedging it between your legs to sloppily try and stimulate your clit.

"C'mon, Keegan. Just a little more and I'll put it in my mouth?"

His eye goes wide at your words, his body shuddering, eyes closing again when your thumb brushes the underside of his sensitive head. His hips jerk forward helplessly, his mind going blank for a moment to paint that picture; bent over his lap, your mouth wrapped around his pulsing cock as his spunk spits out in your throat—

"Shhhit," he hisses, heels sliding on the sheets to gain leverage up in your hand. He hums, long and deep like he's in concentration (to not come), "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

"Can I?" You coo, peppering the sweetest kisses on his cheek bone.

"You don't— You don't even have to ask," he strains, his hand burying itself in your hair and fisting it tight.

You're playing with fire, and you know it.

He's on the edge, and all it's going to take is one little push, one little stroke, one little thought, and that fire is going to burn straight through him, leaving him boneless and satisfied.

And while it seems like you might be willing to wait, he isn't. He needs that release, badly. You've been toying for too long for him to protest that he refuses to get off without you, but you don't seem to care about that right now. His legs flex hard, hips canting shallowly, breathing getting choppy, oh, he's right there—

You shift away; letting him see how you take him in your mouth in just the nick of time. He can feel it the moment your mouth envelops him, hands coming up instinctively to your hair and neck. His head falls back, his eyes closing as he lets out a raw, guttural moan of relief. His hips shallowly thrust, milking every last drop out to your eager mouth. He's boneless, his muscles trembling with fatigue.

He's never felt so satisfied, so completely spent in his life. He can't even find the words to speak, he just slowly opens his eyes to look down at you, his gaze half-lidded and heavy with pleasure.

His hand weakly comes to wrap around your waist, pulling you back up and away from driving him into over sensitivity. He holds you there for a moment, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, his heart slowly starting to settle down.

After a few minutes, he lets out a tired laugh, rolling onto his side to face you. He's almost smothering you, a weighty arm strapping you to the mattress, to him.

"Fuck me, woman."

"Maybe in a few hours, when you can actually do another round,"

He lets out a mock offended huff at your comment, his hand coming to swat your thigh.

He's still riding in the floaty, boneless state of afterglow, his arms and legs feeling like air. He's exhausted, and you know it. Not that he minds, he'd take this tiredness over being restless any day, and you're certainly to blame. He's completely spent, and there's no way he's going to be able to muster up any kind of resistance anytime soon. He may be a fighter, but you're his Kryptonite.

"You've killed me," he complains, burying his face into your neck making the deep timbre of his voice shake your insides. "I don't think I'm capable of thinking about anything like that right now, woman. The most I can do for now is just lay here,” he mumbles into your skin.

"Okay, how about a nap, some food, and then press resume later on?" You offer, fingers between his shoulder blades in a nice soothing brush.

"Food sounds good. A nap sounds even better," he mutters, his words becoming more and more slurred as the exhaustion really starts to kick in.

He sighs deeply, his breath hot against your skin. That deep, satisfied sigh is of a man who has just had the life sucked out of him.

God, the way you scratch his back how you do, he's convinced you know exactly what you're doing to him. He loves the back scratches, and the head scratches during cuddle sessions, but your tits are in his face and he's still thinking about having your legs folded up to your chest. He's trying to protest, but it just comes out a low, drawn out groan.

"If you keep doing that I'm going to be asking for round two a lot sooner," he grumbles with exhaustion.

[kitsungari]

I also think, since we're sort of talking about jurors, that people need to recognize that there is still a meaningful difference between not succeeding and losing everything.

I know I keep talking about my criminal law professor but he's one of the best people I've met so I'm gonna keep doing it. Anyway, we were talking about capital cases and the death penalty in class (he was a public defender working capital cases for 20+ years) and he said that while he had relatively few acquittals, none of his clients ever ended up on death row. Sometimes his cases would hang, occassionally multiple times, which is only good for the defense, even if they aren't total victories. A hung case might get dropped by the prosecution, or even if it doesn't, it makes trying cases expensive which forces the state to budget how many and what cases to prosecute.

To do that, this Professor /had/ to convince a jury that, if nothing else, none of his clients should be executed by the state. And these were death certified juries (which I don't even have time to get into here)!

[buggythedyke]

The Babysitter | ShokoHime x Reader

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pairing: shoko ieri x fem!reader x utahime iori

genre: smut (minors dni)

wc: 4.1k

cw: babysitter!reader, non-curse au, shokohime are married, threesome, strap-on sex, scissoring, handcuffs, vibrators, double penetration, hair pulling

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You had picked up a part-time gig babysitting for your neighbours to support your income from your regular day job. He is a sweet boy, he is a nice boy, but he is most certainly not a good boy. Due to all the trouble caused by Yuji, his mothers pay much more than anyone else in the area.

You've been their sole babysitter for months, getting to know the whole family. Both women are intimidating figures, but they're so gentle with their son that it's easy to tell that they're real softies, especially Utahime. You get a familiar throbbing between your legs when they make eye contact with you, and you feel so guilty about your rising feelings for the women who have so kindly welcomed you into their home.

You've been called out to babysit Yuji again, and you happily accepted. While walking over, you cross your fingers that the pair will still be home when you get there.

When you knock on the huge doors, you're expecting Yuji to open the door, but instead, you're met with Utahime 's smiling face. Utahime is the less intimidating of the two parents. She greets you kindly, letting you into the house. She walks you into the abnormally tidy living room. Shoko is there, sitting on the couch.

“Hi, Doctor” you greet.

“Hi, Doll,” she responds, flashing a smile that makes you uneasy. The pet name has heat rising beneath your skin. Utahime walks over to the bar in the living room that's usually locked up while you're here. “Would you like a drink, Darling?”

“No, thank you. I don't think drinking on the job is a good idea,” You say, taking a seat next to Shoko, who has shifted over to make room for you.

“Aren't you responsible?” laughs Utahime. “But, I have to apologise. We called you here on false pretences,” she says, passing her wife a drink and taking a seat on your other side. You fidget in your seat, worried that they may have figured out your growing affection for the pair of them.

“False pretences?” you ask.

“Yes. Yuji is currently at his friend's house, and during our time alone, Shoko and I were discussing some recently developing fantasies we've had,” she says, leaning in close to you. You cross and uncross your legs, hoping to get some relief for your panties that grow wetter by the second. You're not oblivious to the connotations of Utahime's words. Shoko's fingers slip under your chin and tilt your face so you can look into her eyes. Her usual stony expression sits on her face, but you can see a different kind of fire burning in her iris’.

“If you decline our advances, we will pay you double our usual fee, drop you home and never speak of this again. If you accept and allow us to, we'd love to make you feel good,” She says, refusing to break eye contact. Your brain takes a second to buffer. You can't quite believe that they feel the same about you. You nod and Shoko instructs you to use your words.

“Yes, please”, you whine, voice clear and loud. Within seconds, Utahime is on you, pressing kisses to your neck and wrapping her arms around you. She feels you up and squeezes your tits. Shoko watches, eyes glued to her wife's hands playing with your chest.

“Strip down for us,” says Utahime, letting go and leaning back against the sofa. You see her exchange a giddy smile with Shoko as you stand. You take everything off, down to your underwear. They're verbal in their appreciation for what you were hiding under each article of clothing you take off.

“You're so fucking hot”, growls Shoko, lips moving around the cigarette wedged between her teeth so she could speak. Utahime extends her hand towards you and pulls you onto her lap, helping you into a straddling position. She kisses around the cup of your bra as the edges of Shoko’s nails slide against your shoulder blades and underneath the back of your bra. In one harsh movement, she unclips the garment, making it easy for Utahime to pull it from your body. Utahime attaches her lips to your nipple, biting down to make you yelp. Shoko remains in her seat. The soft scrape of her nails causes goosebumps to rise over your skin.

“Are you going to join us, Doctor?” you ask, wanting to get any part of her body on you.

“I'm right here. Is Utahime not enough for you? Greedy girl,” she responds, pressing the point of her nails into your thigh. Utahime pulls away from your chest.

“Don't worry about Shoko. She likes to watch. Just focus on me,” she says, lifting her head to your neck, licking up the side before pressing a messy kiss to your jaw. Utahime presses her fingers to your clothed pussy, smiling against your neck when you whimper.

Both women are staring you down like you're their last meal. The way Shoko watches you through a cloud of smoke, like a beast stalking its prey, sends shivers up your spine. You should be intimidated by the power both women exude, but they just excite you. Utahime’s mouth is rough, but she handles you gently.

“I think it's time we take you to bed, huh?” Utahime asks you. Then she turns towards Shoko. “Darling, put that out so you can give her a kiss,” she says to Shoko, who rolls her eyes but does as she's told anyway. She puts out her cigarette in the ashtray on the table. She reaches her hand into your hair, pulling you into an aggressive kiss, all teeth and dripping with saliva. Her tongue isn't shy, pushing into your mouth with ease, filling it with the taste of smoke.

When Shoko lets you go, Utahime lifts you up and over her shoulder. The ease with which Utahime lifts you is surprising. You're carried through a familiar hallway but then into a room you've never entered before. You're dropped down onto silk bed sheets, and both women take a second to watch you.

“Give us something pretty to look at while we strip”, says Shoko, reaching her hand up to unbutton her blouse. “Don't be shy, Dollface. Show us how you touch yourself when you think of us.”

Before getting started on her clothes, Utahime takes a moment to pull your underwear down your legs. She throws them behind her, not caring where they land. You look back at Shoko, who's still waiting for her show. You nervously reach a hand down to your pussy, gently running two fingers between your lips and collecting your wetness. You start with slower circles at the clit as Shoko removes her shirt. You hear more vocal encouragement from Utahime and speed your fingers up.

“Bet that pussy tastes divine”, growls Utahime, eager to get her mouth on you. You slip your fingers down to your hole and press two fingers into you. The women groan as they watch you. Once they've removed all their clothes, Utahime swats your hand away from your aching pussy and kneels on the floor, dragging you to the edge of the bed. Shoko is quick to join this time, grabbing your wrist and guiding your soaked fingers to her mouth. Her tongue swirls around your fingers, and she groans at your taste.

Utahime’s hands grip the back of your thighs, pushing your knees closer to your chest and holding you spread open for her. She leans in, licking from your back hole to your clit. She suctions her mouth around your clit, flicking her tongue in a way that has your hands flying between your legs to grab at her hair.

“She's good at that, huh?” asks Shoko, laughing when you nod. “What about you? You eat pussy like that?” She asks, running a finger over your lips. You're unsure if you've got the experience or skill to match Utahime, but you've definitely got the enthusiasm, so you tell her ‘yes’. Shoko flashes you a predatory grin before pushing you to lie flat against the sheets. She swings her leg over your face, straddling you. Your hands move from Utahime's hair to Shoko's thighs. You pull her down onto your face pressing your tongue to her clit. She moans as you flatten your tongue, letting her rock her hips over you.

You're close; Utahimes tongue has worked you up so quickly. You try to focus on licking at Shoko's clit, but your impending orgasm has you distracted. You tap Shoko’s thigh to let her know you're going to cum, as if your moaning and shaking didn't tip her off already, and she moves off of you. She opts to whisper in your ear instead, encouraging you to let go for them.

“Come on, sweet girl. Cum for us,” she says, voice uncharacteristically sweet as she plays with your tits. Your hands are back in Utahime's hair, holding her between your legs as your orgasm crashes into you. You can feel Shoko's lips on your chest as Utahime licks your through your high. There's a static buzzing beneath your skin that settles into a warm feeling. Utahime rises from between your legs and immediately leans in to kiss her wife. You watch intently; they're so beautiful. “Fuck, she tastes so good”, groans Shoko as she pulls away.

“Doesn't she? I'd quite happily take her for another spin,” says Utahime. You squirm beneath them, waiting for them to touch you again. Utahime guides Shoko to sit against the pillows. You can tell Shoko doesn't typically follow orders, but she does so anyway. This time, Utahime grabs a handful of your hair and guides you between Shokos spread legs. You go to press your tongue against her slit and taste her, but Utahime stops you.

“You can finish what you started in a minute. First, I need you to choose what I do to this pretty pussy. I could eat you out again or play with this pretty pussy” she says, slipping her fingers between your folds. “Or I could get a strap and stretch this pretty pussy out.” You nod, eager to try all of them.

“Strap. Please, I want you to fuck me,” you whine, wiggling your hips at Utahime. You receive a quick spank at your display, jolting you forward towards Shoko's pussy. It's quiet for a second, except for Utahime opening a box from a drawer. You can hear her adjusting the strap as Shoko, who's a lot rougher than Utahime, grips a handful of hair and pulls you to her cunt. You, never one to disappoint, flatten your tongue against her and lick up her folds before settling on suckling on her clit. She tastes divine. You could sit here and worship her perfect cunt for hours.

You're so wrapped up in Shoko's pussy that you don't realise Utahime has rejoined you until the tip of her strap is poking at your hole. The strap is bigger than you've taken previously. It was probably an intentional choice on their part.

“You ready for my cock, baby?” asks Utahime, voice sickly sweet as she pushes into you. She digs her fingers into your hips as she starts to thrust. The moan that leaves you is embarrassingly loud. “Yeah, I bet that feels good,” says Utahime, rewarding your noises by wrapping an arm around you to play with your clit.

“Don't forget you've still got a job to do”, says Shoko, pulling you back between her legs. You dive back in, eagerly sucking at Shoko's clit. “That's a good girl” she groans, leaning her head back. Shoko shamelessly rocks her hips over your face as you eat her out.

“Could do this for hours”, you whine as you pull back to take a breath. You reattach your lips and press two fingers into Shoko's hole. You try your best to time your fingers to Utahime's deep thrusts inside you. Shoko is close, and she starts to close her legs around your head. You speed up your fingers, taking care to angle them correctly so she's writhing against the pillows.

The ease with which you pull Shoko over the edge does wonders for your confidence. Her juices flood your face as her moans fill the room. She's much more vocal than you had thought she would be, and the sound is music to your ears. When Shoko comes down from her high, she shimmies out from under you and shuffles to her right so she's out of the way and catches her breath.

You only get a split second to eye up Shoko's post-orgasm expression before Utahime grabs your hair and pushes you face-first into the mattress. Her thrusts are harsher now that you're done pleasing her wife. She's rutting inside you, thick strap dragging against your walls as she smacks your ass. You weren't expecting to see this side of Utahime so soon, but you'd be lying if you said you hadn't fantasised about being their little pet.

“Arch your fucking back for me,” Utahime says, smoothing her hand down your spine and bringing it back up to your ass, punctuating her order with a sharp slap. Her demeanour gets rougher the better you respond to the spanking. If she hadn't spoken to you, you could've mistaken her for Shoko. You had a feeling the ‘fantasies’ they mentioned when you first got here were kinkier than they let on.

She's fucking you good and rubbing your clit with her fingers, occasionally giving it a smack causing both her and Shoko to laugh at the way you whine at the sudden sting. You're close, pliant and moaning beneath Utahime.

“Cum for me, pretty girl”, she says in your ear, cooing as your orgasm hits. Your body twitches as you cum, pussy clenching around the strap. “That's it,” she says, carefully pulling out. “You wanna clean it up?” you hear her ask. You snap your eyes open in time to see Shoko nod, crawling towards Utahime, who has shuffled back to let you breathe. Shoko wraps her lips around the strap, sucking your juices from the toy. You think you could cum again just from watching.

“So you like a little bit of rough treatment?” Utahime asks as Shoko pulls her mouth off of the toy.

“Yeah.” You sigh. “like it when you manhandle me,” you say, with a dreamy smile on your face. You hear both women laugh, endeared by your confession.

“Oh, sweetheart, we can do a lot more than manhandle you. We've got all sorts of toys down here if you wanna have more fun with us,” says Shoko. You instantly nod, not wanting to be done yet.

“Please, I want to be good for you,” you say, sitting up more.

“Of course, we can go all night, Dollface. Just sit pretty, catch your breath and watch me make my wife cum. If you're a good girl and watch without touching yourself, we'll give you a reward, ” says Shoko, pushing Utahime to lie on her back. You focus your eyes on the pair. Shoko pulls the strap harness from Utahime, setting it aside for later. She pushes one of Utahimes legs towards her chest and straddles between them. Shoko leans forward, letting Utahime's leg rest against her shoulder and rubbing her clit against Utahimes. You watch, entranced by the vision of Shoko rocking her hips against Utahime as high-pitched moans of satisfaction fill the room.

Shoko is focused on pleasing Utahime, but looks over to you to check you're obeying her. You're so wet and dying to touch yourself, but you keep your hands at your sides gripping the sheets. Shoko works her hips, growling deep in the back of her throat as she rubs her sensitive pussy against her wife's.

“You look so good, baby. You close?” Shoko asks Utahime. Utahime nods frantically, cursing as her orgasm starts to spread through her body.

“I'm cumming, Sho, please”, she whimpers as she arches off the bed. She looks so pretty when she cums. Shoko moves from between Utahime's legs and turns to you.

“You've been a good girl, c'mere,” says Shoko, beckoning you to her side. You're pulled into a heated kiss, Shoko's tongue pushing against yours. A second pair of hands grab your waist, and you feel Utahime's lips on your neck. Her lips travel up your neck and jaw until she and Shoko lift their heads to kiss each other. You lower your head to kiss down Shokos neck and chest, stopping at her tits and taking one of her nipples into your mouth. When they pull away from the kiss, Shoko pulls you off of her by the hair. She puts her thumb in your mouth, smiling like a cat when you suck.

“How many orgasms can you take before you need a proper break?” she asks, pulling her thumb from your mouth.

Your skin is tingling, you're sensitive from two orgasms, and you're so riled up you might cum as soon as one of them touches your pussy. You know you won't last much longer.

“I can give you two more,” you say.

“Attagirl” praises Utahime, pecking your lips

“Your reward for being such a good girl will be choosing how we give you your final orgasm,” says Shoko. “But first, we get to have even more fun with you.”

Shoko removes herself from the bed and reaches underneath, pulling out a box. You watch as she pulls out a vibrating wand, handcuffs and another strap-on. She lays them all on the bed save for the handcuffs, which she passes to Utahime, who gestures for you to lift your arms above your head so that she can cuff your hands around one of the headboard bars.

“If you need to stop at any point and your mouth is occupied, just kick one of us. Understood?”

“Yes”

Shoko climbs back on the bed, grabbing the vibrating wand as she makes her way back over to your side.

“Are you having fun with us tonight?” she asks, trailing her finger down the side of your face. You nod, and Shoko raises her eyebrow, looking for a verbal response. You open your mouth to confirm, but you're cut off by Shoko slipping her fingers into your mouth. “suck my fingers, baby”. You do as you're told, pressing your tongue against her fingers.

Utahime lifts one of your legs and trails kisses from your ankle to your thigh, where she sinks her teeth, prompting you to moan around Shoko's fingers. When Shoko's satisfied, she pulls her fingers from your mouth and urges Utahime to move over. She passes the vibrator she was holding to Utahime. Shoko presses a slicked-up finger to your hole before sliding it in. It's quickly joined by a second. Shoko keeps her hand still until you start squirming desperately for something more.

Shoko gently moves her fingers, thrusting them enough to give you some satisfaction but not enough to make you cum. You go to start begging but, before you can speak, Utahime turns on the vibrator and presses the head of the wand to your clit. The sudden stimulation steals the breath from your lungs as you let out a cracked whine.

Shoko speeds up her fingers as Utahime presses the toy harder to your clit. You yelp and kick your legs out, which makes them laugh at you.

“Does that feel good, Beautiful?” asks Utahime, pressing a kiss to your leg.

“Yes, fuck”, you growl as Shoko finger fucks you to the edge of an orgasm, only to pause at the last minute. You groan and try to reach down and continue yourself, only to be stopped by the cuffs. Utahime has stopped the vibrator by now too, leaving you hanging on the edge with no way to get off. “Please, please make me cum”, you beg, continuing to pull at the cuffs. Your wrists ache a little, so you stop, deciding the best course of action is to beg for what you want.

“Shoko, please keep going. It feels so good. I need to cum so bad. Please, please, please-”

Your begging descends into moans when Shoko grants you your wish and continues her fingers inside of you. Utahime turns the vibrator back on to full power, and it's almost embarrassing the way you're already teetering on the edge of an orgasm. You're whining, blabbering nonsense as you're pushed over the edge once again.

Your orgasm washes over you like a wave drenching you in pleasure. You can hear Shoko and Utahime talking to you, but it isn't until both women still and relieve you of pleasure that you can take in what they're saying.

“That was so fucking hot, you're such a pretty girl,” Says Shoko, licking her fingers clean. Utahime nods in agreement, kissing your stomach as you come back down from your orgasm.

“You said you've got one more in you. How do you want it?” asks Utahime, lying beside you. You don't take a second to ponder. You just blurt out the first thing you think of.

“Want you both to fuck me at the same time”, you whimper as Utahime leans in to kiss you properly. You hear Shoko say OK before reaching for the spare strap and harness she had grabbed earlier. Shoko helps Utahime put one of the strap harnesses on as she's too preoccupied with kissing you. You think Utahime's saliva must have some kind of venom in it because you couldn't pull away if you tried.

Once Shoko has fastened her own strap, she uncuffs you. You shake your wrists out before using your hands to cup Utahime's face. She pulls you so that you're straddling her lap, pussy rubbing against the shaft of the toy. You pull away from the kiss when you feel Shoko test pressing the tip of her finger to the rim of your asshole.

“Before you ride ‘Hime, I've got to open you up,” She says. You hear her spit then feel it as she pushes a finger into your hole. Utahime continues to make out with you as Shoko stretches you open, adding another finger as she thrusts gently inside you. She adds a third before pulling her fingers out. “OK, now lower yourself onto Hime's strap,” she instructs as she clicks open a bottle of lube.

Utahime spits on her hand and then uses it to slick up her toy. You lift your hips so she can line it up with your hole, and she grips your hips as you slowly lower yourself down. You moan out as you sink down onto it. Once she's bottomed out inside you, Shoko pushes you to lean forward again, keeping on palm steady on your back as she slowly pushes her slicked-up strap into your ass. You're completely filled up and it's nothing like you've ever felt before. You need a few seconds to adjust, which both women grant you.

“Please move now”, you whimper once you're ready to go, and they oblige. They work together in alternating rhythms so that you're not empty. You're immediately driven to a separate plain of existence. Neither woman is holding back, their bruising grip holding you in place as they rut into you. It's almost animalistic. You can barely warn them of how close you are, struggling to form a complete sentence without slurring from the pleasure. Your eyes roll back, and you let out a filthy moan.

“That feel good?” Shoko teases, chuckling in your ear when you nod frantically at her question.

“Gonna cum for us?” asks Utahime, who has planted her feet for extra leverage as she thrusts up into you. You're teetering on the edge of an orgasm, unable to warn them before it comes barrelling into you. You shake in the hold, moaning and whining as you cum all over their cocks. You can hear them praising you, but you're barely taking it in. Your orgasm is akin to an out-of-body experience, ethereal yet grounded. Your skin is still tingling when you regain your breath.

Shoko and Utahime help you off of them, lying you on the sheets next to them. Shoko takes off her strap and lays next to you, massaging any potentially sore parts of your body and telling you how good you were, while Utahime does a rough cleanup job of the toys and starts the shower.

“You did so good for us, Doll. Do you want to get in the shower and then go to sleep? Or do you wanna get in the shower and go for round two?” Shoko asks, running her hand up your side. You think for a second. As much as you'd love to go again, you're tired. You can only hope that the invitation to stay the night can lead to more in the future.

“I'm sleepy,” you say in response. Shoko nods, wiggling out of bed.

“C'mon then. Hime's waiting for us”

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Been wanting to post this for so long, hope you enjoy!!

[vulpixisananimal]

<Null> {Mal Du Pays} (Siffrin) [Loop] [(???)]

[(Darkest of night. No moon in sight and stars that hide. The curtains were closed. They were closed, they really were closed. Actors milling about back stage, yet here you are, in the dusty forgotten corridors.)]

[(You woke up and couldn't sleep. Didn't want to. Finally, no annoying voices, just, you. Siffrin. Only Siffrin. Nothing more, nothing less. You stood there in the night for a minute, feeling the winds and the biting chill of the seasons turn to winter.)]

[(You walk to The Kids cooking supplies. You crouch down, and start rummaging.)]

[(You take a piece of carrot, and bite. Crunchy, different, tastes okay. You bite into an onion. Tasty, burns, good. Bread, boring, bleh. Garlic, oh that's a fun taste, strong, VERY strong.)]

[(Spices, too. You taste the cinnamon, thyme, ginger, good and textured, flavored, you cough a few time. Next is some drops of vanilla, peppermint-)]

"What're you doing?" [(You turn around. The Kid is there, it looks like having just woken up.)]

". . . Testing for poison!" [(You lie. What, would you say the truth? The truth that you hadn't gotten to taste something like this, REALLY taste something like this, for a long, long time? No. So you lie.)]

[(The Kid squints at you.)] ". . . Who're you?"

"I'm, Siffrin?" [(You reply.)]

"Nuh uh." [(They cross their arms.)] "'Frins weird but not THAT weird."

"But that's my name!" [(Keep your voice down.)] "Regular old helpful Siffrin, just, helping out?"

"Don't lie to me!" [(The Kid's trying to be quiet.)] "I know you're 'Frin 'cause you're ALL 'Frin but you're not the 'Frin I know!"

"Then just. Call. Me. Siffrin!" [(You're smiling.)] "Why don't you back to bed? Big day tomorrow, kiddo."

"Nuh." [(Big pout.)] "You gotta sleep too, not'frin. AND I still dunno who you are!"

"I said I'm-"

"I KNOW!!" [(The Kid barely contained their shout, then paused, then continued.)] ". . . Lulu's 'Frin, Null's 'Frin, 'Ays is 'Frin, you're 'Frin. Sif'frin got that name 'cause they're around a lot. You're 'Frin but you're also, uhm. . ."

[(You stare at them, still smiling. Then to the pack. You grab a bottle.)] "What's this?"

"Huh? Oh, saffron. 's Spice." [(The Kid shrugs, distracted.)]

[(You pause, then take some out and eat it. . . Tasty, floral, earthy, good.)]

". . . You're a weirdfrin." [(The Kid walked closer.)] "Weirdy weirdo weirdfrin."

"Yup! That's me! Weirdy weirdfrin Siffrin!" [(You turn and smile, holding the bottle up.)] "Saffron?"

"Uh huh."

"Do I really need a nickname if I'm Siffrin?"

"Uh HUH!" [(The Kid said insistently.)] "Same body or not you'd need a nickname!"

". . ." [(You hate it. So confident, mean, cooking good, kind now? The Kid was talking to you, talking to you. . . Normally? Fine. You put the cooking things back.)] "Saffron then. I liked it."

"Ok Saffron!" [(Well and just like that, you two were best buddies again. They helped put the mess away, but handed you the onion.)]

". . . . Onion?"

"You took a bite, dummy, eat it."

". . . Oh, right."

[(You take a few more bites of the onion, eye watering, it's, too much. You put it down.)]

"Heh, stupidfrin." [(The Kid looked so smug right now.)] "Punishment onion."

"Punishment onion." [(You agree solemnly, still smiling. You stand up.)] "I'm sleeping. Good night."

"Uh. . . Night." [(You turned away from The Kid. It all felt so alien, even still. . .)]

[(. . . You may never get used to this.)]

>>>

|You bolt upright. It's the middle of the night, you're, you're in a room, an inn room? Are you traveling? You are traveling, aren't you. You remember a lot of, walking. And before, fighting, no, and, before-|

|Red|

|The blanket feels heavy and inviting, and a second body lying in the bed was warm and soft, but, you had to get up. You stand, wobbly, your body feels wrong, very wrong, and small. Your vision is wonky, just, step by step. You walk to a little side of the room, mirror, mirror, mirror, you need, a mirror- there!|

|You can barely see yourself in this light. You, candle, or, crafted lamp, or- you find a small crafted light. With a spark you turn it on, a soft glow in the corner of a room and, and you look, in the mirror. . .|

|. . . . .|

|. . . . . That's not your face.|

|Your're, young. You look soft. You have messy darkless hair with dyed ends. You have one eye, and had scars down the neck. Your arms were short, you were short. You were breathing faster, you, you, this, you, you KNEW this body.|

|You're crying, no, nononono why, what's going on, why are, you, you remember, do you remember? No you do! Because, because it's, this body, it belongs to-|

"Siffrin?" |A soft, concerning voice came from accros the room. You whip around to see that other person, no, Isabeau. Isabeau was looking at you. You couldn't hide your emotions.|

". . . ." |You, couldn't speak. What, what do you do?!? Why are you here?!? You're and in their body, THEIR body, that body, person, someone, you, ruined the life of. Destroyed. Crushed. A-and, and-|

"H-heyyy it's okay, it's okay." |He was talking so softly. Like, like he cared about you?| "Are you new?"

". . . N-new?" |You finally say, your voice feels wrong.|

". . Haaaave you walked around? Like, this? Before?"

|'Like this' does he mean in a different persons body? Or outside of the house? Of frozen time? Just, answer.| "I. . . I don't think so?"

"Okay!" |He smiles at you.| "Don't, uh, freak out? So uh, youuuu're kind of sharing a body with a few people- oh crab are you okay?"

|Huh? Are you- oh. You touch your cheek, you're crying.| "I. . . I'm sorry, I don't know why. . ."

"It's okay, this stuff's confusing, haha. . ." |He looks away, he's worried.| ". . . O-oh! Sif keeps a journal, I think there's some stuff in there about, all this?"

"O-okay. . ." |You walk back over to your side of the bed with the lamp. There's a pack, yours? You think? After a bit of looking, you find a book you think is right, and open it.|

|. The inside cover has a couple pictures pressed into it. The first is a childs drawing of five figures, the one in the middle has an arrow with the word "You!" pointing to it. The second one is a smaller one with another figure on it. The first page had a big, bold, "DON'T PANIC!!!" at the top. Too late, but you read on, and, Universe willing, you would feel better after.|

|"If you're reading this, you're probably confused on what's going on." The handwriting was neat and deliberate, if this was to be a message to you, well, it was well crafted. "I'll try and explain things nice and quick, but you'll get the idea soon enough."|

|"You're sharing a body with me (Siffrin) and four other people at time of writing. Don't ask why, the brain just, kinda does this sometimes? I dunno." Ah yes, this was making you very confident. "This book we've been using to try and remember things, and note down who else we're sharing a body with."|

|"You see those pictures? That's our family! We're traveling with them all now, and they all know about our whole "body thing", so feel free to talk to them." Ah, that makes sense. The big, tough looking one must be Isabeau?|

|As if on cue, you turn to see him offer you a glass of water. You take it, smiling. He smiles back.|

|Back to the book. "There's some papers on this stuff in our bag if you want specifics, and at the back of the book we've been writing down who's in our little "system." So feel free to add yourself! It'll save everyone a headache." Can't you just, dissapear for a bit instead? "Lastly, we've also been writing down events daily starting on the next page. Leave a note on the latest entry when you read this. K?"|

|"We're all in this together, okay? Welcome to the club. - Siffrin."|

|. . . . You wanted to throw up.|

|You wanted to scream and cry and run away and dive into the ocean. You wanted to punch something. You wanted to see something break. You wanted to see the stars, you, you, you didn't want this. Right? N-no you, you don't deserve to be here. You SHOULDN'T be here. You felt, strange, like, you're not, who you think you are. . .|

|You remember yourself. You remember fighting yourself. You remember, pain, suffering, tears- Oh stars you can't think about that. You got a headache, and were crying more. You drink some of the water, calm, down. You just need water, and to breathe. Breathe in, hold for 1..2..3.........9..10.. And out. . . .|

"You okay?" |You hadn't noticed, but Isabeau had moved next to you.|

|You nod.| "I am. . . Okay. Just, okay."

"Well, uh, I'm here to help, okay?"

|You nod again, then back to the journal. You flip to the back of the book. At the top of the back page was one big title with stylised stars around it.|

|"CONSTELLATION"|

|. . . Oh, a collection of stars. It is what you all were. So, that's the name of your group? Cute. You look at the entries.|

|"Siffrin. He/they. I'll be in charge of the body the most."|

|"Loop, They/them~ Your wonderful, helpful Loop~"|

|"Mal Du Pays. It/its. Protector. Dont hurt the body and we're fine."|

|"Null. He/him. That's all you're getting."|

|"Saffron. He/they."|

|You were a little curious, or worried, why the last entry didn't have more detail. No matter, there were more in detailed descriptions on the next couple pages, too. . . You, you should add one.|

|. . . . . . . . . . . .|

|"Asterion. He/him."|

|The name just, came to you. You don't know why, but, you knew that was your name. Asterion. Oh. . . Or was it Asterius? You felt both were right, but, the first you. . . Liked more. Either a father of a tyrant king, or monster said king was cursed with. . . You didn't put more details in the journal. You didn't want to. And, if you did, you had a terrible feeling they'd. . .|

|. . . . You look at the latest journal entries.|

|Earlier Today: "Got into town! We'll take a day to relax, Wolworth is just a little bit further. Still glad that talk about Saffron went well - Sif"|

|Yesterday: "Fought sadness. Getting repopulated. Very weak. All is good. - MAL"|

|Two days ago: "Well it looks like lovely our new addition made the decision for us! He woke up in the middle of the night and scared Bonnie oh so badly. Eating an onion? Spices?!? Ugh, at least we have a name, now. Saffron. - Loop<3"|

|. . . How. . . Eventful? You have strange, phantom memories of these events. Remember remembering, like you should know it but don't. . . You leave a note under the latest entry.|

|"Woke up at night, not sure why I am here. Isabeau was able to help." You think for a moment. . . "I will not cause trouble, I am just very anxious about all of this. I may hide, but, thank you for the introduction. - Asterion"|

|You stared at the letters you wrote on the page. Reading and re-reading them a thousand times at least. . . They wont find out. They, can't find out. Please, don't find out. . .|

|You take a breath, and hold it, then release. You close the book and put it to the side.|

"Better?" |Isa asks. You drink the rest of the water he got you.|

"I. . . Yes." |You turn off the lamp and lay back down, staring at the ceeling.| "Yes I, I think I'll be okay."

|. . . Eventually, you close your eyes. Isabeau gets closer to you. As if on instinct, you fit yourself into his arms. He's warm, strong, and protective. . . Oh. . If he knew. . .|

|You had no plan. What WAS there to plan. You, lost. You lost one hundred times, in fact. Your title will live down and be remembered by all as one of doom. Oh. .The man who nearly saved a country. Well. . . Oh would it have truly been saved? Would it not just be forgotten in time as your home was?|

|That made it hurt all the more.|

|You, were not, him.|

|You felt with every bone in your body that you were that tyrant frozen in time. But you know in your soul you were not. The memories you have of those bloodiest of battles. . Oh. . They showed a villain who was cruel. So, so cruel. . Oh you could never do such a thing. It hurt to think about. It hurt to remember. And it hurt, it hurt in your stomach when you, you. . .|

|. . . You need, to sleep. . .|

|. . .|

|Your name is Asterion. And you are The King.|

[jokeroutsubs]

[📝ENG TRANSLATION] Bojan Cvjetićanin: We miss our family members the most (Suzy)

Original article written by Tomaž Mihelič for Slovenske novice on 08.11.2024, PHOTO: Vita Orehek, Mediaspeed. English translation by a member of JokerOutSubs, review by @kurooscoffee, proofread by IG Gboleyn123

Already living the dream of every rocker in your early twenties is unimaginable to most. But not for Joker Out.

Full article under the cut 👇

Bojan is very attached to his mum. (ph: Mediaspeed)

08.11.2024 at 06:00

Upon release of their newest album, we spoke with the singer and songwriter, who told us how radically their lives have changed in the past year, revealed the pitfalls of fame and told us why there aren't many reasons to be optimistic. We also found out who the boys miss the most when they are away from home for months at a time.

“In the last year and a half, we have already completed five tours in Slovenia and Europe. We are slowly heading towards the next one. I have to admit, it’s an incredible feeling when you make your childhood dreams come true,” a good humoured Bojan starts the conversation. “It seems like science fiction to us and we still haven’t quite managed to get used to these previously unknown dimensions. It takes our breath away, when we arrive somewhere new, in a different country, and the crowds collectively sing in Slovene for an hour and a half,” he tries to describe his impressions.

The most precious moments are those with family. Apart from sister Tijana and mother, paediatrician Dr. Snežana Cvjetićanin, the only one missing in the photo is the father, senior doctor Branko Cvjetićanin. (ph: Mediaspeed)

“We are marching quickly towards an inevitable doom. Why false optimism, when we see innocent children being slaughtered while those responsible turn a blind eye?"

As brothers

He says it's hard to get used to them not being home. It is a special strange feeling, not only for them, but also for the fans who are preparing for their performance in good faith and are dutifully learning this foreign language they’ve never heard before. “Maintaining close contact with our fans requires an enormous amount of energy, but they give it back to us in abundance, so there is pure love flowing between us. We've had our share of challenges, especially among ourselves, because we spend a lot of time together with the boys. It is no longer a friendly or business relationship, but a kind of partnership. Maybe it's more appropriate if I say that we are like brothers," outlines the close ties between the five musicians.

“The moods flow from very beautiful to friction, frustrations, creative holes and successes. There are ups and downs and you have to be able to navigate between them. In principle, we have not allowed our ego to take the lead. If you process and filter your concerns on the fly, they are easier to control. At the same time, we have producer Žare Pak with us as a kind of psychotherapist. An immense help to us are also genuine relationships with colleagues from the industry, as we learn and resolve many things through conversations with them. Sometimes you even inadvertently get some useful advice,” he smiles.

“It's really bizarre that we sell out halls like that and the best 'tourbus' you can afford is waiting for us in the car park. We hired it with our own money and our own achievements.”

When you don’t feel at home at home

It's a great achievement to be able to make a living from music these days. Let alone that you manage to do it while you're still studying. Joker Out are the exception, not the rule. But every triumph carries consequences, especially in enormous emotional ranges. From the euphoria, when thousands of people are screaming in front of you, to the emptiness that occurs backstage or in a hotel room. “What confused me the most was the feeling that at home, I no longer felt homely anymore because we had been abroad for so long. I was really lost, that's when my parents and sister came to my aid. We are a very close family, we talk openly about everything and these relationships save lives. Mother's food and advice, father's wisdom, Tijana's sincere hugs have healing power,” he says gratefully.

The author of all of the lyrics and the first voice of the band is happy to have a genuine brotherly relationship with the boys. (ph: Vita Orehek)

Having never travelled much before, he wasn't used to spending weeks away from the safety of home. “The circumstances of literally living out of a suitcase for a year and a half turned everything upside down. When I returned to Slovenia, it seemed strange to me that I had to get used to the fact that we wouldn't be going on the road for a while. I had to give it time. A few laps around Ljubljana and the proximity of best friends was enough for everything to fall back into place.”

Following the paths of world legends

He can be relieved that he is not subject to the various temptations that characterise extreme emotional fluctuations. On the one hand, fame and public expectations, on the other, inner struggles and the desire for privacy. “It seems to me that it is all a result of upbringing. My parents instilled in me the right amount of self-confidence, a healthy self-image and trust in myself and those closest to me. This is the foundation for solving any problem. Once I got rid of the panic attacks on stage, I found contact with my old self. Switching between private and crazy stage dynamics has fortunately never been a problem for me,” he says honestly. For the lay public, it is good to point out that Joker Out performs at iconic venues in European capitals.

They drive around in the grand buses we see in the movies, but for them it's all reality. “And none of this has changed us to the point of rising above the others. We still keep our essence: authenticity is the most valuable. A few times we've had to literally pinch ourselves when we've arrived at some legendary club where bands like the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin and the like once played, and now we're standing on that stage. Before the concert, we got our hands on a book with the signatures of the performers and could hardly believe that our name would now be among them. It's really bizarre that we sell out a venue like this and the best 'tourbus' you can afford is waiting for us in the car park. We rented it with our own money and our own achievements,” marvels Cvjetićanin. As a result of the aforementioned panic attacks, he has not been able to truly appreciate all that he has received, and during a retrospective of the last period, he points out: “Even as children, we did not dare to imagine that one day we would experience all this.”

Nothing fell from the sky

And how do they keep from being blinded by all the glamour? “In reality, there is no luxury at all. We don't have luxury cars and villas waiting for us at home. We are not treated to economic excess. We still go home to the same people. I am sure that none of us is predisposed to become a total jerk if he had a euro more in his bank account. We are by nature very diligent and hard-working. We do get lucky sometimes and things work out in our favour, but that would not be the case if we were bored and waiting for something to fall out of the sky. We have always strived for success and we are proud of the results we have achieved so far. Now we have to find a common sense limit as to when we are satisfied. When we can say to ourselves that we are happy with what we have and not endlessly strive for more. What makes me happy is creating, making music, hanging out with quality people, good food, getting a good night’s sleep, which I manage to catch despite my busy schedule,” he winks mischievously, before we focus on his love. Song writing. Some authors are constantly under pressure to produce a hit.

Joker Out uses music to draw attention to current issues in our society. (ph: Primož Lukežič)

Is he one of them? “No way! I don't make music to please other people, it has to vibrate for me first. There is no such thing as a good song. It's subjective to taste. You can talk about pressure when you have to finish an album. There are time constraints and a vision of how we want to present ourselves as a band. Here, we are faced with chasing compromises and healthy, middle ground to make sure everyone is happy with the product. Time is the biggest enemy of all creatives. Especially those who have a project in mind. There's always too little of it,” he says.

Why false optimism?!

Joker Out's songs carry important messages. They will not give up this principle. Although, for the first time ever, we will see a little pessimism on the new album. “Inspiration comes from all sides and the theme is self-confessional. It's not hard to find inspiration to write nowadays. We live in terribly 'messed up', hypocritical times, where something is happening on every front. I am a sentient being and the horrors in the world touch me quite a bit. We also deal with such topics. There are so many injustices happening globally every day that deserve a voice, but people generally only stand up for those that they feel are important enough. When human rights are clearly violated, we as a band feel compelled to express our opinion. But we don't always do so, because it is impossible, because for every war there are hundreds of others that we as a society simply overlook. We are silent,” he digs at the wound of modern civilisation.

“It takes our breath away when we arrive somewhere new, in another country, and the crowds collectively sing in Slovenian for an hour and a half.”

And what shocks, angers, saddens him the most? “That there are no rules and you can do whatever you want if you have enough power or capital. That everything is allowed and applauded, no matter how bloody it is. The legal world, the rule of law, organisations of any kind are plain bullshit, because the chosen elites do not have to abide by any laws”, he is blunt and horrified that new generations have to bear the consequences of greed. “We have come so far as a community that it affects creativity. With one song, for the first time, I went into complete pessimism, with no turn to positivity. It's a story in which I express fear and distrust that things could be better. We are marching fast towards the inevitable doom. Why the false optimism when we are witnessing live the slaughter of innocent children while those responsible turn a blind eye?” he criticises, before falling silent for a few moments.

Finally, however, he turns to the light, to the forthcoming showcase concert tour.

“We have a lot of rehearsals ahead of us to make sure the songs are familiar under our fingers. We won't have any special fitness training, although some amount of recreation can’t hurt. We don't have any altitude training though, as if we were going to the World Championships,” he laughs and promises to bring back some souvenirs from the trip. “Preferably our Souvenir Pop,” he hints at the title of their album, which will be available from the 15th of November.

“We're still going back home to the same people, and I'm sure none of us is predisposed to become a total jerk if he had a euro more in his bank account.”

[jeanjauthor]

They may not have had a choice.

King County (the county containing Seattle, Washington, here in the USA) has some VERY STRICT guidelines for building new churches. Most newer church congregations find it far cheaper and easier to just rent & renovate an existing store in a strip mall, and if they get big enough, a box store like the one above.

And of course, King County isn't the only region-governing body to decide to be strict when it comes to building new churches. City ordinances across the US can also be quite restrictive. But honestly, it makes sense in the short to medium term. These buildings are not being used as stores anymore. They're just empty structures cluttering up the landscape. A lot of the bigger stores have switched heavily toward an online retail model and need less physical space. The "mini mall" construction boom of the 1990s has slowed down.

New construction is far more expensive than simply renting. With renting, you can keep your congregation going while saving up the money for that new construction. And as for churches that already have, well, established churches (the buildings)...many of them actually share their facilities with other denominations.

My mother's church, which is a bit of a sprawl of different building wings that's been added onto over the decades, has 3 different religious groups on top of her own (Methodists, the founding group). This includes Seventh Day Adventists (church on Saturday), Anglicans (holding services on Sunday at a slightly different time in the old church sanctuary while the Methodists use the new/modern one), and a Muslim community (services held on Friday in the community hall beneath the old sanctuary, where there aren't any seats set up; plenty of room for prayer mats that way).

Each one of these groups is not super-large, but at one time the Methodists had a big enough congregation to need to expand, but they still needed to conduct services, so they just kept the old sanctuary hall while building the new one more or less right next to it...and since the old building was merely small, not in bad condition, they kept it in place and started renting it out to other groups once they moved their congregation into the new hall.

For the other groups, it was far easier to just rent space in a facility that was already set up for worship services. And since my mother's church aren't jerks (they're a little conservative about some things, but they aren't bigots or sanctimonious by any means), they are perfectly fine with Islam services taking place within their facilities. It's a holy space, and both are Abrahamic religions; Islam acknowledges Christ as one of its great prophets, and that's 85% of everything right there. Plus, this decision to rent to Muslims was made back during the 9/11 era, when Muslims were being persecuted just for existing. Putting their mosque services inside of a clearly Christian church helped protect them from being attacked, and that was--and still is--A Very Good Thing To Do.

Frankly, with just that box store appearance alone to go on (I don't know what LCBC stands for), I would NOT have pegged it for a church of any kind. That could be serving as a sort of protective camouflage. It could be simply renting a building that already exists--a building that used to be a Pizza Hut or an IHOP will always look like a Pizza Hut or an IHOP, as they say. And they could be planning for the possibility of their congregation dwindling enough to the point where they might have to downsize their congregation...and don't want to try to sell a "lame duck" building that obviously looks like a church to...well, a group that isn't a church.

It's like how many new houses these days are made bland and boring in their construction, coloring, & details "so as not to hurt its resale value," as opposed to building a house meant to last for several generations in one family.

maybe it's because i was raised catholic but churches shouldn't look like furniture stores

[silverskyy]

On the topic of commissions, here's a goddamn fabulous piece I got about a month ago from @mooreaux of my bg3 durge, Woe 😍