#safe sugar alternatives

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

This is what Vanilla and Tippy look like in Sugar Crash Void Bash!

(we are both gay masc adjacent people! we use he/him)

[faebriel]

today thinking about my favourite headcanon: wilbur Definitely smoked as a stress release during l'manberg and niki absolutely didn't know a bar of it until pogtopia

[samwiselastname]

the last time I was out of nut butter I went to the grocery store to get my usually top 9 allergen free suflower butter and they only had the zero sugar kind. fine, I'll try it. it's. not great.

this time I came back with the "crunchy" formulation and there are just. whole sunflower seeds in there. I don't know what I expected. it's really good

[direwolfblackrose]

Also! Blood banks are (and forever will be) in shortage of blood because blood only lasts a handful of weeks. After 6 weeks that blood HAS to be thrown out.

The presence or lack of vampire blood drinking will not significantly impact the blood bank.

Sure it would be preferable if they drank the blood that's closing in on the throw out date and possibly drink the least asked for bloods (if at all possible) but unless the entirety of the coven all hit the same blood bank at once they'll be fine.

Honestly, I love the idea of a vampire who only drinks blood taken from blood banks and hospitals, because it so beautifully encompasses someone who's more concerned with the vibes of something than the actual impact of it.

Drinking from someone on the street, barring some other condition they may have, isn't likely to kill them unless you gorge yourself. Taking blood packs? There's always a shortage of blood, and having even less of it runs the very real risk of getting someone killed in a way that is wholly out of your control once you've sipped on that blood. Someone you can't assure the innocence or guilt of, if you're the type of person who cares about that.

Despite that, in popular stuff, I often see discussions of drinking from a blood bank being somehow better or preferable, and yeah. No. The only thing it does is make you feel better while doing more harm, because of that degree of removal. You're effectively drinking blood from someone on the cusp of hypovolemic shock, but since it's not straight from the tap, some people seem to think it's better.

[genderqueerdykes]

i want to take the time to talk about a series of disabilities that no one takes seriously or even recognizes as a disability, which is food intolerances, and allergies. if a person can get sick if they eat the wrong foods, they are disabled, as this illness will make them unable to function all because they ate the wrong food. it's not okay to guilt someone for seeking foods that won't injure them.

in 2022, i began to lose my ability to digest land meats (pork, chicken, cow, etc.), animal milks, and eggs. it started slowly but quickly progressed to every type of land meat. i am only able to digest seafood, plants, nuts, seeds safely without becoming horribly sick. i tried to buy cow's milk because it is cheaper recently and became so ill it was genuinely traumatic. i have never been that sick in my life before. i cannot safely ingest cow's milk, the cheaper option, because it will injure me for several days or even weeks at a time. this happens to me with all land meats as well.

i cannot eat eggs. i cannot fried rice that has egg, i cannot eat most sauces like mayo or ranch dressing because of their high egg content. i cannot eat anything dressed in mayo as a sauce. anything that is baked or brushed or washed with egg is a risk. my digestive system really hates eggs in particular and they are inescapable.

people who can't digest or process lactose, gluten, meats, seafood, eggs, nuts, seeds, beans, fiber, certain fats, proteins or sugars don't have their needs considered very often, nor taken seriously, especially when that person is poor. people with digestive issues need to be able to eat foods that don't hurt us- it's not our faults that alternative milks, breads, pizzas, snacks, sauces, dips, spreads, meats and more are significantly more expensive. we still need to be able to eat foods that don't harm us regardless of how much money we make.

[reasonsforhope]

A new treatment combining ReCET and semaglutide could eliminate the need for insulin in type 2 diabetes, with 86% of participants in a study no longer requiring insulin therapy. The treatment was safe and well-tolerated, and further trials are planned to confirm these results.

Groundbreaking research presented at UEG Week 2024 introduces a promising new treatment approach for type 2 diabetes (T2D) that has the potential to greatly reduce or even eliminate the need for insulin therapy.

This innovative approach, which combines a novel procedure known as ReCET (Re-Cellularization via Electroporation Therapy) with semaglutide, resulted in the elimination of insulin therapy for 86% of patients.

Globally, T2D affects 422 million people... While insulin therapy is commonly used to manage blood sugar levels in T2D patients, it can result in side effects... and further complicate diabetes management. [Note: Also very importantly it's fucking bankrupting people who need it!!] A need therefore exists for alternative treatment strategies.

Study Design and Outcomes

The first-in-human study included 14 participants aged 28 to 75 years, with body mass indices ranging from 24 to 40 kg/m². Each participant underwent the ReCET procedure under deep sedation, a treatment intended to improve the body’s sensitivity to its own insulin. Following the procedure, participants adhered to a two-week isocaloric liquid diet, after which semaglutide was gradually titrated up to 1mg/week.

Remarkably, at the 6- and 12-month follow-up, 86% of participants (12 out of 14) no longer required insulin therapy, and this success continued through the 24-month follow-up. In these cases, all patients maintained glycaemic control, with HbA1c levels remaining below 7.5%.

Tolerability and Safety

The maximum dose of semaglutide was well-tolerated by 93% of participants, one individual could not increase to the maximum dose due to nausea. All patients successfully completed the ReCET procedure, and no serious adverse effects were reported.

Dr Celine Busch, lead author of the study, commented, “These findings are very encouraging, suggesting that ReCET is a safe and feasible procedure that, when combined with semaglutide, can effectively eliminate the need for insulin therapy.”

“Unlike drug therapy, which requires daily medication adherence, ReCET is compliance-free [meaning: you don't have to take it every day], addressing the critical issue of ongoing patient adherence in the management of T2D. In addition, the treatment is disease-modifying: it improves the patient’s sensitivity to their own (endogenous) insulin, tackling the root cause of the disease, as opposed to currently available drug therapies, that are at best disease-controlling.”

Looking ahead, the researchers plan to conduct larger randomized controlled trials to further validate these findings. Dr. Busch added, “We are currently conducting the EMINENT-2 trial with the same inclusion and exclusion criteria and administration of semaglutide, but with either a sham procedure or ReCET. This study will also include mechanistic assessments to evaluate the underlying mechanism of ReCET.”

-via SciTechDaily, October 17, 2024

--

Note: If it works even half as well as suggested, this could free so many people from the burden of the ongoing ridiculous cost of insulin. Pharma companies that make insulin can go choke (hopefully).

[deesblanketfort]

Edible cookie dough recipe for regressors ☆´ˎ˗︶︶︶

gif credits

Who doesn't love cookies? Or, alternatively, who doesn't love scraping the bowl for leftover cookie dough? Because I love it, a lot, it makes me feel very small! That's why I started looking for edible cookie dough recipes, and after some tests and adaptations I made my very own recipe!

Basic Ingredients ☆´ˎ˗

for every 1 cup of all purpose flour, you'll need...

🥣: 1/2 cup of brown sugar

🍪: 1/2 cup of softened salted butter

🥣: 1/4 cup of milk

You can use granulated sugar instead of brown sugar for a more sugar cookie-like flavor

You can use edible flours (such as: almond flour, coconut flour) instead of all purpose flour and skip the heat treating step altogether

Instructions ☆´ˎ˗

🍪: Heat treating the flour: to make sure the flour is safe to eat raw you'll need to heat treat it. This can be done in three ways

With an oven: Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Spread the flour on a tray, over baking paper, and bake it for 5-8 minutes

With a stove: spread the flour in a saucepan, turn the heat to low and stir it for ~2 minutes. Be careful to not burn the flour!

With a microwave: Microwave the flour for 30 seconds and stir the flour so the heat can be evenly distributed, and repeat the process 2-4 times. Remember to use a microwave-safe bowl!

🥣: Mix in the butter and sugar, and whisk them together until fluffy

🍪: Add the flour and the milk to the mixture and mix until homogeneous. The end result should have a soft and thick texture and hold itself together well.

Adding in flavor ☆´ˎ˗

Now, if the plain cookie dough isn't enough, here's some extra ingredients for specific flavors

🥣: 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract for a classic vanilla flavor

🍪: 2 tablespoons of peanut butter for a peanut butter flavor

🥣: 2 teaspoons of coffee powder for a coffee flavor

Adding the sprinkles ☆´ˎ˗

To finish off, a perfect cookie is usually adorned with sprinkles for added texture and colorfulness! This step is completely optional

🍪: Traditional chocolate chips

🥣: All kinds of confetti, hundreds & thousands, etc

🍪: M&Ms or skittles

🥣: Chopped chocolate

🍪: Chopped nuts

Enjoy! ☆´ˎ˗

🥣: This recipe serves around 6 portions and the measures can be cut or increased for less or more portions

🍪: This recipe can be stored in a fridge for around a week and can be added to ice creams and milkshakes

🥣: This recipe cannot be baked! It was made to be eaten raw

[janiehellion]

Falling Deep

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Daryl Dixon was a quiet but curious young man—shy, inexperienced, and way more innocent than you’d expect. It was just you, him, and... a vibrator.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: VIRGIN!DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / LANGUAGE / ORAL FIXATION / CUNNILINGUS / SEX TOYS / DRUGS & ALCOHOL / NON-CON ELEMENTS

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.925

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: PRE-APOCALYPSE—ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: @dixongrimesgirl

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Thank you for your patience! I know it’s been a long wait, and I can only hope it was worth it. This might not be exactly what you had in mind when you sent in the request, but I hope you enjoy it.

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

The Chattahoochee was a whole different level of disgusting, even for a bar so close to the deep woods of Georgia. Low ceilings, broken lights, and the smell of piss and beer were present in every corner. Regulars stumbled in every night and day, a lot of them already drunk or high, but most of them?

Both.

It was the kind of place that was sticky no matter how much bleach you poured on it and where you could smell the bad life decisions coming from a mile away.

You worked behind the bar, pouring shots of moonshine and avoiding the greedy touches of men like it was just another part of the job. Which, in a place like this, it practically was. Located in the heart of the most godforsaken area of Georgia, it was the perfect place for the kind of people you’d rather not run into at any time.

Safe to say, Merle Dixon had been hitting on you since day one, coming at you with even worse pickup lines while high on who knows what. He'd lean over the counter, smirking, smelling like alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. "Hey, sugar tits, gimme 'nother," he’d laugh, putting a half-torn dollar on the bar like it was supposed to impress you.

"Watch the damn language, Dixon, or that’ll be your last drink for tonight," you’d answer, not even looking up as you poured him another shot.

"Hey, c'mon now," he’d answer you, "don't be like that. Ya know ya wanna gimme a shot at somethin’ else, don't ya?" He'd grin further, which seemed more lustful than charming, his eyes staring at your tits like they belonged there at all times.

You'd roll your eyes and shove the glass across the bar with a little more force than necessary. "In your damn dreams, Dixon. And keep your damn eyes up here, or I’m gonna rip ‘em outta your damn skull," you’d warn, but not entirely without sarcasm. It wasn’t the first time he behaved like that, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

Then there was Daryl, his little brother, always standing or sitting nearby, almost like a shadow, or rather, like someone who didn't belong in a place like that. He wasn’t the type to come up and throw a pickup line at you; hell, he barely spoke at all. Just stood back while Merle tried to flirt with you, as if he was embarrassed to even be there.

You’d catch Daryl looking at you with these sideways glances, his arms crossed over his chest like he was waiting for whatever bullshit his brother might do next. Or maybe he was scared, and he just had no clue what to do with a girl who would throw a bottle at someone's head and talk filthier than any man in the bar.

One night, Merle was high on meth that had his pupils blown wide, and he was drunk as always. "Y'know, darlin'," he slurred, leaning far over the bar, "I could make your night real fuckin' interestin’. Got a little somethin' else with me that’ll loosen ya up for some fun." He took out a tiny baggie—powder—white and unmistakable.

"Fuck off, Merle," you said with a smirk. "Go snort that shit somewhere else, where I don’t have to watch your annoying ass. Ain't your damn babysitter." You were used to it, but he was starting to piss you off more than usual. "And don’t even think about offering it to anyone else inside this hellhole. Last thing I need is you getting the whole damn bar high. Do that outside, with those who are probably shitting all over themselves right now."

Meanwhile, Daryl was sitting on a stool nearby, again, his eyes looking from you to his brother. You couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortable he looked, the way he watched Merle and every other person around. There was always something different about him—he was quieter, more... soft. The kind of guy who stood back and kept his head down.

"Leave 'er 'lone, Merle," Daryl mumbled, more to himself than to his brother. But he seemed to be sick of the whole scene. Not that Merle ever listened, or would ever listen to him.

No, Merle just rolled his eyes before shoving the baggie back into his pocket, not even looking in the direction of his brother, keeping his focus only on you... and your tits. "Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just tryin’ to show ya a good time for once." He grabbed his drink and stumbled off, probably to piss in a bush outside, and you were left with Daryl, who still just sat there.

Some time later, you grabbed a dirty rag and started wiping the bar down, side-eyeing him. "You gonna say somethin’, or just keep sittin' there?" You teased, soon throwing the rag under the counter and pouring him another drink.

He shrugged, looking away, clearly not sure what to do with himself. "Ain’t like I could stop him if he tried anythin’," he mumbled, looking down into his glass.

"If he tried, he'd go home without his dick. Not that it'd make much of a difference for him," you said back, smirking at him and trying to get him to loosen up a bit. "You come here just to watch me shut him down every night?"

It was a half-serious question, but you knew the answer. Daryl wasn’t like the other assholes—he didn’t hit on you, didn’t try to grab your ass or tits when you passed by, and never once called you some stupid nickname like sugar tits.

"I… jus' end up 'ere," he said awkwardly, his fingers tapping down on the counter. "Ain’t got much else to do."

"Well, at least you’re not tryin’ to snort coke off my tits or ass," you answered, making him go red in the face.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat, and you couldn’t help but find it kind of adorable.

"You know, since you come here enough, Dixon 2.0," you continued, "might as well help me close up sometime and throw the rest of these assholes outta here. Would get you a drink on the house."

It was just a passing suggestion, a simple idea, but his eyes looked up, like he was considering it, and for once, he actually looked into yours. Not in that drooling, perverted way his older brother did, but with curiosity. "Maybe," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Dunno."

"You know what? Just think about it."

And so, the routine went on. Merle would walk in, and Daryl would sit nearby, quietly sipping his own drink while keeping an eye on his brother. And secretly, on you.

Tonight, though? Tonight was different. Somehow, you’d gotten him here, in your home, alone, without Merle, who was probably stinking of booze and piss all over again somewhere. His brother must have gotten his hands on something strong, or whatever it was, it gave you the perfect excuse.

You’d leaned in close while Daryl was mumbling about his brother and told him he should come over; maybe help you with something, and you told him it was important. You hadn’t even needed to lie all that much—he’d just nodded, eyes wide and nervous, and here he was, following you home like a little boy.

When he got to your place, he just stood there, all tense, and moving from one foot to the other like he didn’t know where to put himself. And you—well, you liked watching him squirm and being nervous, knowing well you were the one making him feel like that.

Daryl wasn’t even in the door for five seconds before you threw your bag on the floor, walking inside without saying anything else. No pretenses, no "make yourself at home." You didn’t bother with shit like that. If he was here, he was here on your terms, and you weren’t about to treat him like a guest.

"C’mon in," you said, standing next to the door to finally close it.

You saw him gulp, eyes looking around like he was searching for a quick exit he could use just in case, but finding nothing but trouble. So he nodded, stepping in, his shoulders hunched as he stood there, awkward as hell. Every inch of him screamed that he was nervous, but he didn’t run, not yet. You liked that about him. Quiet, sure, but still stubborn.

Meanwhile, your place was kind of a mess, clothes lying around, bottles on the tables—some empty, some half-full. A few were left over from last week, but hell, you weren’t cleaning for anybody, especially not for him. Daryl didn’t seem to mind, though; if anything, he looked like he was trying hard not to stare around too much, eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder, his face all red once more, while you kicked off those awful heels that made your feet ache.

"Go on and sit down in my room," you said over your shoulder as you turned around, smirking as you heard his quiet huff. "I'm gonna get outta these damn clothes and put on something more comfortable."

"'Kay," he muttered and nodded again, sounding like he’d swallowed his own tongue.

Once in the bathroom, you pulled off the way too tight top and short skirt in the bathroom, letting yourself breathe for once. That outfit was a real curse; your bra always felt as if it was pushing your tits all the way up to your chin, but it kept the tips flowing, so you kept wearing those clothes.

But tonight? You’d rather die than let Daryl see you in it for too long. Poor boy was already chewing the inside of his mouth and choking on his own words like he might say the wrong thing and die on the spot.

But what you didn't know was that the second you went away to change your clothes, Daryl’s hands started twitching, like his body was on alert between curiosity and unease. A few of your clothes were tossed across the bed, smelling like that bar you worked at—smoke, sweat, and alcohol. It all felt like a place he shouldn’t be at, but here he was, sitting down on your bed and touching your clothes to shove them aside.

He told himself he wasn’t snooping, just trying to figure you out as he sat there nervously. Hell, you were already a mystery to him—a tough girl working in a bar where skirts and shorts barely covered what they ought to and heels high enough to bring any man to his knees.

So here he was, and his mind started running wild, wondering if every woman’s place was like this—half-dirty, with clothes tossed around, magazines piled up, and so much more.

Then his eyes landed on a big box sitting half-shoved under your bed, an open corner poking out like it had been forgotten as his foot bumped against it. He should’ve left it alone, but there was that itch, like he couldn’t look away. Daryl crouched down, sitting down on the floor, his fingers fumbling with the top until it opened up. His eyes went wide, lips parting as he looked inside.

It was filled with... things. Smooth, soft, strange-looking things in different shapes and colors, each one making him more confused than the last.

"What's this stuff?" He whispered, eyes squinting as he picked up a small pink thing with a rounded end. It fit in his hand, smooth but with some weight to it. "This for her... work?" He mumbled, rolling it over in his hand like it might magically turn into something he recognized. Maybe it was a tool, or even one of those weird bar gadgets he didn’t know about.

Another catch of something sparkly and soft shoved down in there made his heart beat faster, and before he knew it, he was pulling out more—the things looking weirder by the second. There was a wand-looking thing, and he held it like it might explode, wondering what the hell you were doing with all this.

"Drugs? Gotta be for drugs," he muttered, frowning as he inspected the box. Could be some kind of injector, maybe? He knew about that stuff—the guys that Merle met sometimes, passing around different things for the good times. But nothing here made sense, and there wasn't any instruction manual in sight.

He looked around like you’d come back any second and catch him, heat burning inside of him as he thought about what this meant. Were you hiding something? Was it… Was it for some kind of secret thing you did when no one was around?

"Damn it, what’re ya up to?" He said, biting his lip, his hand brushing over the surface of the smooth, strange thing, feeling his pulse race at the thought that you did know exactly what these were for.

And yet he didn’t. Not a damn clue.

"Hell’s this?"

He felt a cord between his fingers, pulling it slightly, as if tugging on it might magically make it make sense. Maybe it was for listening to music? But it had no sound, and no little earbuds or anything that he could see.

Setting that one down, he picked up another—an oblong thing with ridges along one side. It looked almost like a flashlight, but there was nowhere for the light to shine from. He pressed his thumb over it, turning it this way and that, but nothing happened.

"What the hell?" It had to be for something specific. You wouldn’t just have random stuff lying around like this for no reason, would you?

Then he found another, rounder one, with a strange little button on the side. He pressed it, flinching a bit when it buzzed all of a sudden. The damn thing nearly jumped out of his hand, and he held it tight to stop the vibrations.

"Damn thing’s possessed," he nearly yelled, feeling his cheeks burn. It felt... weird. Too weird.

And you? You had barely slipped into the bathroom, taking off your work clothes and enjoying the idea of how Daryl would squirm alone for a moment in your bedroom. The way he’d stumbled his way in earlier, not wanting to make eye contact like he didn’t know what to do with his own hands? It was almost way too easy to tease him.

And there he was, practically glowing red, sitting next to the box you kept under the bed. A simple big box—hell, he was behaving so cautiously, like he’d just discovered a bomb or a dead body. But what really caught you was the thing in his hand. A vibrator.

"Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me," you whispered, loud enough for him to hear. His head moved up, eyes wide as if he’d just been caught robbing a bank.

"Shit!" The vibrator fell out of his hand, hitting the floor, but that was only the start; the thing started buzzing further—vibrating across the floor and right toward your feet. Daryl didn’t move; he didn’t even reach for it. He just sat there, staring at the buzzing vibrator like it was going to bite him.

"Gonna tell me what you’re doin’ with my stuff?" You asked, half-amused, half-teasing, waiting to see what half-assed excuse he’d come up with, as you leaned against the door frame. His mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out at first.

"I… uh—" he stammered, swallowing loudly, his hands fidgeting like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. "I thought… I mean—thought it was, like, stuff for..." His voice trailed off, eyes looking to the ground, too ashamed to meet yours.

"Yeah? Stuff for what?" You pressed further, stepping forward, taking the vibrator and turning it off, stopping the noise but not the look of pure mortification on his face.

"I… thought it might be, y'know... Maybe it was, uh, y’know, things for... for bar stuff, or somethin’. Yer work." His voice was quiet, like he might get in trouble just for saying it out loud.

"For work?" You laughed and crouched down to sit next to him. "Yeah, Daryl, because every bartender needs a vibrator in her kit. So… You wanna tell me why you’re snooping, or am I just supposed to guess?"

You reached over, brushing a hand along the edge of your toy box, taking in the way his eyes tried to look at each item inside. Poor boy had no clue what half of it was for, but he looked at everything like it might burn him.

"Am sorry! I wasn’t… Jus'… waitin’ on ya an' got curious, I guess," he murmured. "Didn’t mean nothin’ by it."

You leaned in closer, enough that he could probably feel your breath on his face. "Curious, huh?" You asked, eyeing the way his shoulders tensed up. "You don't know what that stuff is?"

"Uh…" He blinked, looking between you and the vibrator like it might suddenly start buzzing again. "Not… really. No."

"Oh, you really don’t?" You pretended to be surprised. "It’s a toy, Dixon. A fun toy. For women. And men sometimes as well."

"That for real?" He asked, voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

"As real as it gets, sweetheart. And judging by that look on your face, I’d bet you don’t have much experience with this sorta things." You raised an eyebrow, daring him to admit it.

He swallowed hard, his eyes dropping back to the floor. "Ain’t never… really..." He trailed off, his whole face full of embarrassment.

"Never what?" You asked, leaning in so close you could smell the cigarettes and sweat on him, and somehow, it drove you wild. "Fucked a woman? Or even fucked yourself, huh?"

"I—" His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, a sound that told you everything you needed to know. "I don’t… don’t really know… how… t'do any of that."

"Oh, honey." You leaned back a little. "You look like you’re about ready to pass out."

Daryl trembled, trying to look anywhere but at you, his whole face burning. "I—I jus'… I dunno what to do with... all that," he continued, motioning awkwardly toward the box.

You smirked, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. "Guess no one’s shown you how a woman uses one of these before, huh?" You watched his reaction, loving every little deep breath he took and every embarrassed flinch.

"N-no… But what if... maybe they could've been... for, uh, drugs?" His face somehow went even more red, and he looked ready to sink into the floor.

"Drugs? What, you think I’m hiding some kind of dealer setup in my own bedroom? And especially right under my damn bed?" You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "Trust me, they’ll get you high, alright—but not the way you’re thinkin’."

The embarrassment on his face was almost painful to watch as he shifted on the ground. "Like I said, I—I don't... Ain’t never done stuff like that before, okay? I—I mean, I done that with myself... sometimes. But not really... okay?"

You smiled, letting your fingers move over his, watching as his breath stopped, his eyes looking up to meet yours for a desperate second. "Well," you murmured, "maybe I could show you a thing or two. If you’re up for it, that is."

Daryl swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he glanced between you and the box again. He indeed looked like he was about to pass out, but he seemed curious—curious in a way that he couldn’t quite hide.

"Oh, c'mon, I know you want to," you whispered, clicking your tongue, standing up, and taking off your shirt slowly. His eyes looked up fast, staring at you, and he shifted on the spot, pressing his thighs together. That’s when you noticed the growing bulge in his pants—it was more than obvious he was already hard as a rock.

"Damn, Dixon," you chuckled, "you’ve got a real problem, don’t you?" You let your shirt fall down to the floor. "Hey, don’t just sit there looking lost—c’mon, no way you're that scared of undressing a woman!"

He stammered something, some half-strangled "n-no," his hands gripping his own thighs like he had to hold himself back from reaching for you. That only spurred you on, raising your brows as you grabbed him to stand up and guiding his trembling hands to the hem of your pants.

"Well, here’s your chance," you smirked, waiting for him to open the button. You watched his fingers fumble with it, shaking as he pulled down the zipper, and then, when he managed to pull your pants down over your hips along with your panties, his eyes widened like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

"Keep goin’, don't be shy," you whispered, guiding his fingers down your thighs until your clothes hit the floor.

He just stood there, staring, mouth opening like he wanted to say something but didn’t have the slightest clue what to do next. You leaned in close, eyes locked on his, before you knelt down again and took the vibrator out of the box once more, pressing the button and letting it hum.

His eyes shot to the toy, watching with pure terror and fascination, and when you pressed it into his hand again, he held it like some foreign, sacred object he was too scared to break.

"Here," you mumbled, laying down onto the bed, legs spread just enough to give him a view he couldn’t tear himself away from even if he tried, before you pulled him next to you and guided his hand between your legs, pressing the vibrator to your thigh and dragging it higher. "Just like that, Daryl. Feels interesting, doesn’t it?"

Daryl could barely breathe, staring down as if hypnotized, the muscles in his whole body tensing up. When you moved his hand to press the vibrator against your pussy, you felt him stiffen, his other hand gripping his thigh to stop himself from trembling. The toy was vibrating against you, and you let out a quiet, satisfied sigh, glancing up just in time to see the way his eyes stayed on you, watching every little twitch and shiver of your body.

"I bet you’re a quick learner," you teased, reaching down to guide his hand again, moving it with the toy so it hit just right, and damn, if it didn’t feel good. His mouth fell open a little, and he sucked in a breath when you suddenly moaned, pressing yourself harder against the vibrator. His hand moved a bit awkwardly, like he didn’t quite know if he was supposed to be touching you this way, but the look in his eyes said he wanted to keep going more than anything.

You let out another moan, a little louder this time, just to see the way he reacted. His grip on the toy tightened, and you didn’t miss the way he was fighting with himself, clearly struggling to keep himself in check as his cock pressed harder against his pants, his breath coming out faster and shorter.

"Poor thing," you whispered, pulling his hand away for a moment, just to watch him struggle. "Bet you’ve never been this hard, huh?" Daryl's eyes looked at you, wide and mortified, like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. But the look he gave you—so desperate, so needy—only made you want to push him further.

"You wanna see what this thing can do to me?" You asked, not giving him time to answer as you pressed the vibrator into his hand again and guided it back between your legs. "Just keep it steady, like that. Right there." You rocked your hips against it, letting out a shaky breath as the lust built itself up inside of you, still watching as he clung to every little sound that left your lips.

Daryl's eyes were glued to you, his mouth open, and you noticed the way he kept moving his hips, trying to get rid of his hard-on. But no matter how much he squirmed, it wasn’t enough. He was near leaking through his pants by now, his cock being so hard he couldn’t think straight, and the sight of you practically coming undone in front of him had him on the edge himself.

"Feels good, doesn’t it, Dixon? But... don't you want to feel that too?" You taunted, moving your fingers along his wrist, pushing him to press harder and the toy just a tiny bit into you, wanting to let him feel every little tremor that wracked your body. He just nodded, lost for words, breathing hard, his eyes moving between your face and the way your hips bucked against his hand.

"Keep going, just like that," you urged, and he obeyed, pressing the vibrator a little harder, his other hand softly brushing against your thigh as if he needed something to hold onto to keep himself from falling apart. His face was so close now, so flushed, eyes wide with need, lips parted as he struggled to keep his breathing steady.

"Y’know, Daryl," you moaned, "you’re doing a hell of a job for someone who’s never touched a woman before, not even with toys." His face burned, but he kept going, kept pressing that toy against your pussy, completely mesmerized by the way you reacted.

"You like watching me, don’t you?" You murmured, letting out another moan that left him swallowing hard. "Don’t think I haven’t noticed... that you can’t keep your eyes off me and how damn hard you are."

He tried to come up with a response, something about "I... I didn’t mean to..." but his words trailed off, and he was just there, helpless, utterly at your mercy, his hand tightening on the toy as you let out one last moan that left him breathless and staring, before you snatched the vibrator from him and clicked it off.

The little tremor it left in his hand was nothing compared to the way he stared at you now, still holding onto that last bit of control.

"Think you can do it without help?" You asked, grabbing his wrist and bringing his hand to your pussy and to make him feel how wet you were, his fingers twitching as they moved along your folds. Daryl nodded but was holding on for dear life and trying not to slip.

"I... I dunno," he mumbled, eyes glued to your pussy.

"Oh, for the love of... here," you growled, placing your hand over his, guiding his touch lower, rougher, until you dragged his fingers exactly where you wanted them. But Daryl was a mess, barely holding himself together, his other hand still clamped over that hard bulge in his pants as he lay there beside you.

"Now, watch closely," you instructed, pressing his fingers just the way you liked it. "Doesn’t take much, does it?" You smiled, letting your free hand move down his chest, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. "Bet you’d come just feeling me touch you."

He whimpered, the outline of his cock pulsing through his pants, a wet spot already forming itself. It didn’t take much to notice the hesitation in his every move, making him so easy to toy with.

You leaned back a little, pushing your tits forward. "Go on and position yourself over me," you dared, and as soon as he did, you lifted his other hand from his bulge to your tits, watching as he sucked in a breath, his hand shaking as if he were holding something he had no right to touch. "Ever felt these before?"

Daryl shook his head, still wide-eyed, his eyes looking into yours for a second before dropping back down, like he was afraid to look too long.

"Then make the most of it." You reached down, pressing his other hand harder against you. "I want you to use that mouth of yours now," you smirked, pushing him down to press his lips against your nipples. His breath was warm and shaky, and he hesitated, his mouth just an inch away from you. You raised an eyebrow, daring him, and after a long, deep breath, he finally leaned in.

"That's a good boy," you praised, your fingers running through his hair, feeling him shiver under your touch. He was so damn easy to play with, each little whimper and moan only turning you on more, urging him to suck and lick, his tongue slow but eager, desperate for more.

"Gently," you ordered, glancing down to see him lose himself, his hands now touching you like he didn’t want to let go. The poor guy was panting, his eyes squeezed shut as he sucked and kissed your nipple, as if the sight alone would push him over the edge.

You soon moved your hand down, feeling the outline of his cock through his pants, feeling him flinch, his breath stopping as you gave him just a bit of what he wanted. "This what you want, Daryl?" You whispered, teasing him and squeezing his shaft just enough to make him groan, his hips bucking, desperate for more. "You do, don't you? But now, I want you to eat me out."

Daryl couldn’t even get out a response, his mouth still on your nipple, but the look in his eyes told you everything.

"Pathetic, but also really cute," you laughed, unzipping his pants just enough to reach inside, your fingers wrapping around his cock and making him gasp, his whole body tensing as you squeezed him. He was thick, hard, already wet from the pre-cum that leaked from his tip, and the way he moaned, quite high, only made you want to drag it out and tease him until he was begging to come.

As you quickly positioned yourself over his face, you could see how he was a nervous wreck the moment your ass hovered above him. "Oh, please, don’t just lay there. Get to work," you teased, lowering yourself down, your pussy brushing against his lips.

When he finally opened his mouth, it was like you flipped a switch. The moment your folds hit his tongue, he moaned, the sound muffled against you. It sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but grind against his face, pushing him harder against you.

"God, you’re a natural," you gasped, encouraging him with your hips. "Just like that, baby. Don’t be shy; use your tongue."

Daryl’s mouth worked hesitantly at first, but the more you ground down, the more confident he became. His face was buried in your pussy, the taste of you driving him wild as he licked and sucked, trying to figure out what made you feel good, and the way he looked up at you, eyes full of wonder and lust, only made you want to ride his face harder.

"Yeah, keep going," you panted, feeling your legs tremble as he finally got into a rhythm. "Good boy, just like that," you moaned, feeling the tension building inside you. He was so focused, so eager to please, and the way he hungrily licked and sucked made you see stars.

"Don’t stop, Daryl. I’m so close," you urged. "Yeah, that’s it," you moaned, pushing your hips down even harder. "Don’t you dare stop. Just like that—yes!"

The way he held your thighs, trying to hold you against him, and the way he whimpered against you—those sweet little sounds pushed you right over. "I’m cumming! Fuck!"

Your body tensed, and you ground down harder again, shaking and feeling him groan against your dripping pussy as you let go and came, completely lost in the moment.

You felt him drink it all in, and you knew he was just as lost as you were. The second you pushed yourself off his face and watched him, face red and lips parted, you could tell Daryl had no idea what to do with himself. Wide-eyed and panting, he lay there as if you’d just dragged him straight into some fever dream he wasn’t even ready for. He seemed so helpless as he tried to piece together the storm of feelings that’d just hit him.

"Still with me, Daryl?" You asked, letting your weight push him further into the bed. His eyes looked down between your legs, then looked away, like he didn’t have the courage to watch.

"Y-yeah…"

He shuddered, that helpless little whine slipping out as you leaned down, your mouth right over his. He was as stiff as a board beneath you, looking both horrified and desperately curious at the same time.

"Think you can handle more of this?" You whispered, one hand moving down and wrapping around his cock as you took it fully out of his pants.

"W-wait," he stammered, trying to close his legs in a last attempt to get some space, but you only held him tighter, giving his cock a slow, teasing stroke. It twitched in your hand, leaking all over your fingers like he couldn’t stop himself.

"Sweetie, look at you," you smiled, swirling a finger over the tip, just to watch him jerk, hips lifting up like he was begging. "So needy aren't we?"

Daryl let out another whimper, his face going beet-red, those shy eyes looking away once more as though if he didn’t look at you, he’d somehow be less mortified.

"Feels so good, huh?"

His whole body was practically trembling with need, and he was leaking—a lot. His cock throbbed in your hand, pre-cum dripping so much it smeared along your fingers.

"Damn, Daryl," you whispered, smirking as your fingers now teased along the underside of his cock. "Didn’t know you’d be this easy, really."

You soon leaned down, your mouth just over his cock; the slightest lick of your tongue along his tip pushed another bit of pre-cum out, and you couldn’t help but laugh, loving every bit of his need.

"Baby, look at you, leaking everywhere," you teased again, wiping the tip with your thumb before bringing it to your lips, licking off the taste. Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, you pulled back slightly before leaning up to kiss him, letting him taste himself on your lips.

It made him moan again, his hands reaching out to grip your body as if needing to ground himself. "P-please…" He whispered, but you didn’t give in just yet.

Instead, you reached down, grabbing your vibrator again. You saw the way his eyes narrowed, with pure nervousness all over his face, as you suddenly pressed the toy to his cock, starting at the lowest setting. The buzzing made him gasp, his hips jerking involuntarily against you as you dragged the vibrator along his shaft, right along that sensitive spot just under the head. Every time it brushed up and down, he leaked more against your hand, only making it messier.

"Oh s-shit…" He whimpered, sounding utterly wrecked.

With a smirk, you leaned back and held up the vibrator for him to see, his eyes following it, dazed, and lips parted. "I think that’s enough; otherwise you might explode on the spot," you said, watching his expression drop just slightly as he looked at you switching it off and tossing it back into your toy box all of a sudden.

Leaning up, you gave his lips a slow, lazy kiss, feeling him melt against you, even more needy when you pulled away and slipped back down. And damn if he didn’t start leaking more, a fresh drop of slick pre-cum glistening right there, just begging to be tasted.

"How sweet you are, Daryl," you murmured, slowly moving your tongue along the underside of his cock, not missing the way his hips jerked up instinctively, even though he didn't seem to understand why. One gentle lick. That’s all it took for him to be close again, and he was helpless against it.

"Just relax and enjoy it," you continued, letting your tongue move along the tip of his cock and the desperate little gasp of his driving you wild as he grabbed the sheets, practically sobbing as he tried to hold back.

You wrapped your lips around just the head, barely enough to count as anything. But to him? It was like fireworks going off.

"N-no, I—oh fuck, I can’t—" He breathed out as his head fell back, his body shivering under you.

And when you took him just that tiny bit deeper, that was it—he lost it. Hard. He tried to hold it, tried to push you back even, one hand weakly pressing against your head, but he was already too far gone. The orgasm tore through Daryl, overpowering him completely.

His whole body stiffened, a helpless cry coming from his throat as he finally lost it, filling your mouth with his cum as he came. Before he even had time to process it, you’d swallowed every last drop from his throbbing cock, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you looked back up at him.

He was still shaking, his mind clearly blown, and when he finally managed to look at you, it was with that same wide-eyed shock.

Daryl just lay there, still in shock, his body trembling as reality sank in. "D-did ya really jus'—" His voice cracked with disbelief all over his face as he tried to wrap his head around what just happened.

You smirked at him, leaning in close, your lips moving softly against his in a teasing kiss. "What’s the matter, sweet boy? Never had someone swallow your cum before?"

He quickly shook his head. "I—I thought ya might get pregnan' or somethin'!" He stammered in embarrassment, his mind racing with the wildest thoughts.

"Oh, cutie. You really think it’s that easy? I'm sorry, but that's not how it works," you laughed, nudging his arm, enjoying the way his shoulders tensed up like he was trying to hide from you. "What? Can’t even look me in the eye after that?"

He opened his mouth, but whatever words he thought he might stammer out just died right there, and his hand went up to scratch the back of his neck.

"I... I didn’ mean to..." he finally managed to say, his voice cracking in the middle, his face still as red as a tomato.

You raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t mean to what? Coming in record time?" You let out a sarcastic scoff, and he near cried, ducking his head as though it would save him.

"I-I dunno, I thought... I jus', I mean—" he stumbled over each word. "Jus' ain’t never been with... y’know, anyone... like that."

"No kidding," you replied dryly, watching him shrink even smaller, if that was possible. "Anyone coulda guessed that, by the way, you freaked the hell out." He winced at your words, but hell, it just made him look all the more adorable, laying there.

When you placed a hand on his thigh, he went stiff as a board all over. "Easy, Daryl," you murmured. "No one’s laughing at you... much."

"I-I’m... sorry," he mumbled again.

"Sorry?" You scoffed, tilting his chin up to force his eyes to look at you. "For what? That you came too soon, or that you actually loved it?"

He tried to look away, but your fingers held him in place. "Both, I reckon," he answered, his voice shaking. It was like he thought he’d done something wrong, like he needed to apologize for being human.

"Nothing wrong with it, Dixon. Means I sure as hell did it right." You laughed, running a thumb over his jawline as he stared back at you.

"Bet that head of yours is just spinning right now, ain’t it?" You said, half-mocking. "Poor, sweet Daryl, don’t know what to do with himself now."

It was easy to see what he still needed—what he wanted, even if he couldn’t bring himself to say it. You didn’t have to guess, though. He was desperate for something more, desperate for you to just tell him what to do. It was obvious that he had no experience with women or anything like this, but it didn’t matter to you. If anything, it just made it better. You wanted him nervous.

"Hey," you said softly. "It’s okay. You don’t need to be embarrassed. Not at all." You could see that he wanted to apologize again, wanting to make up for how pathetic he felt.

"Tell you what," you said, kissing his cheek. "You’ve got a lot to learn, Daryl Dixon. But I think you’re gonna like it. You just need to stop worrying." His hands moved to your waist, but they were hesitant, unsure. "And me? Well, I’m not here to judge you."

You took his hands and placed them back on your body, guiding him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate much, but it seemed as if he was trying to copy the way you had guided him earlier, trying to find some way to make up for what had happened. But that, for now, was enough.

"Don’t worry," you said, grinning at him, "I’m going to teach you."

Because you would. And he had no choice. Maybe that was what you liked most. The way Daryl needed you now, the way he didn’t even know what he wanted, but he was willing to follow you with your help along the way.

And he was only going to fall deeper.

TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema — (also tagging @darylsdelts as requested)

[tnypawzz]

self care tips for tinies who struggle with taking care of themselves

this account is a safe space for those who have "gross" habits if you're going to be rude kindly block me

plan out showers / baths, if that's too much of a struggle that's okay you can always use baby wipes

use sweet smelling soaps so you smell nice & clean

dry shampoo is a good alternative to washing your hair

use body sprays to smell nice

put flavor packets in water so it tastes good

have granola bars / shakes near your bed if you get hungry

keep self care items (baby wipes, body spray, etc) near your bed as motivation to use them

drink water, chew sugar free gum, floss your teeth, or use a disposable toothbrush if brushing your teeth is too hard

take it day by day, sometimes it's easier one day but difficult the next and that's perfectly normal listen to your body & don't force yourself to take care of yourself if it's too much

if you can't fully wash, wash under your armpits

eat an apple for dental hygiene

[authorhjk1]

Where aespa members enjoy cum the most?

Karina

Karina never saw her own chest size as special or even amazing. Until people online started to praise and admire her for that. Now, she can't get enough praise, always trying to find new ways to show her tits off, without looking too slutty.

And if even that is not enough, she turns to you. At the beginning of your relationship, her tits did play an important role in your sex life, but because of you and not because of Karina. Now, it seems like the tables have turned. Most of your cum lands on Karina's tits. You're pretty sure you cum on them daily. No matter what happened before. She could've sucked you off, given you a titjob, you could've fucked her, or whatever. Most of the time, Karina makes you cum all over her chest.

Giselle

Giselle doesn't care where you cum. Instead, she care about how much you cum. The more the better. That's why often teases you, sometimes even edging you, until you can't keep it inside anymore. You had to promise her to not get yourself off, or at least do it in her presence. To ensure that when you cum, you cum a lot.

Giselle just likes the feeling of so much cum. Either directly inside her pussy or ass, or straight on her face, or her tits or her stomach. All is fine, as long as you give it your all.

Winter

There is only one place your allowed to cum, if you're with Winter. Which is inside. Every time you cream pie her, she has an orgasm of her own. She just loves the feeling. How your warm seed invades her body. How it fills up her toned tummy. How you basically breed her pussy.

That's why she's especially mad during the time she isn't safe. No cream pies means anger, a huge craving for sugar and sleepiness. You try to make it up to her by cumming all over her tight midriff, but you know it doesn't quite compare.

Ningning

Ningning actually has two favorite places. Her face and her chest. The sight of your cum staining her face and dripping off her chin doesn't make only you go crazy. Ningning often tries to do it in front of a mirror, or record herself, whenever you cum on her face. You know she watches those videos while you're away and she has to take care of herself.

She wasn't always into having her tits painted though. It only started after she noticed how many people praised and loved Karina's chest. She got envious over time. So now you alternate between her face and her chest, proving to her that she is gorgeous and has amazing tits.

[ushifiles]

╰  4,114 words · ˚ ༘ ꒱ When the doorbell rings after a few months, Sylus does not hesitate to put down his glass of whiskey and smile to himself in the darkness. Good girls never disappoint, and she just happens to be his best and only girl.

alternate universe — no powers. female reader. third person. age gap ( sylus is in his late thirties, and reader is in her early twenties ). friends to lovers. freak for freak dynamics. mentions of alcohol and violence, an unnamed shitty ex for reader. caretaker ! sylus. sugar daddy dynamics, heavy power imbalance. masturbation. somnophilia. drugging. babytrapping + breeding. fingering. cunnilingus. dubious consent, includes groping and manhandling.

For as long as anyone can remember, she had always been with Sylus.

They are not together, not even in the slightest, but they are friends — one would even say that they are the best of friends. The difference in their ages never bothered either of them. Sylus may have been in his late-thirties, and she, in her early-twenties, but that never had been a problem.

‘She makes me feel young,’ he mused one too many times, always after a few too many glasses of straight vodka emptied on the table. ‘You’re not even that old, oh god,’ she would groan to his shoulder, the fabric damp with a mess of her sweat and tears and more than one of the numerous alcohol in her glass that barely cradles the full volume of her monstrous concoction. Everyone in their circle would always end up laughing, and he would spend the night trying to bribe her to get down from the table before bringing her to his home, and to his bed where she would spend the night.

Nobody even knows how they began, not that they can answer it either. One day, they were both alone, until one day, they were not. It just felt — and it still feels — like the most natural thing in the world, being with Sylus and having him by her side. 

After all, where one goes, the other follows. 

He picks her up after class, and she visits him at work. He brings her to the restaurants that she wants to try, each one she talked about before having seen it on her social media; she brings him food, a sandwich or a few pastries that he mentioned once before that he wishes to try.

If one sees Sylus, then it is of no surprise if they end up seeing her too.

Some people even say that if they cannot find her, then just look for Sylus; chances are, she will be hanging off his arm with the brightest smile that makes even the sun pale in comparison. On the other hand, if they cannot seem to find Sylus, then just look for her; more often than not, he is definitely trailing after her with a besotted curl of his lips.

Eventually, his things end up mixing with hers, a sweatshirt hanging on the back of her couch, his imported sauces that find a home in her kitchen cabinets, and even bottles of his toiletries in her bathroom. In the same vein, her things find their way to his home too, a few of her stuffed animals on his bed, more than a few days’ worth of clothes in his closet, and her own fluffy robe that hangs right beside his.

Just like it has always meant to be.

She ignores how much the mere sight of their things mingling with their respective spaces makes her preen, just like how she has been ignoring how his mere presence is enough to cloud her senses in a rose-coloured haze.

It is easier this way, to pretend that nothing is out of the ordinary.

Her feelings do not matter when compared to their friendship. She is a big girl who can swallow the affection that threatens to spill from her lips every time he looks at her. She can take having to bite down the words that wish to interrupt whenever someone approaches Sylus, but she cannot resist the smugness that drips out of her whenever they all always end up rejected and his attention is returned to her like nothing ever happened.

Sylus is what home should feel like, warm and safe.

His plans shatter the moment a yapping pup enters the picture.

The man-who-should-never-be-named enters with all the bluster that comes with youth and more bark than bite, arrogant little shit. Sylus is not afraid of his proximity to his darling girl, not when she is far more clever than anyone — save for himself — gives her credit for. His presence in her life means that her standards should have risen to bars that only he can surpass. 

Unfortunately, for all his foresight, such a thing did not happen.

Sylus can do no more than watch from the sidelines as she falls way too quickly, way too deep, that he can no longer bring her to the surface. It makes something in his chest ache, his teeth to dig into his cheeks until the taste of iron is all-encompassing. From the tightness  of his clenched fists, pomegranates bloom from burst blood vessels until half-moon indents turn red from the blood.

Everything is fine, all of it is fine. He can be patient, especially when it comes to her.

But he is no saint, not when this stupid mutt keeps on testing him.

When she comes to him, eyes heavy with weariness and resignation, giving voice to words that do not belong to her heart — we should probably keep distance, it wouldn’t look nice to anyone if they see me hanging around you while I have a boyfriend — Sylus has to resist the urge to rip that bastard’s head off of his neck. All he does is smile, eyes curled into crescents to mask the rage that simmers deep inside of him, and agree.

He can never deny her anything after all.

So, he bides his time.

Foolish boys like that piece of shit can never take care of girls properly, can never spoil them the way they should be, can never fuck them the way a real man could. Little mutts like him tend to bark the loudest, knowing that it is all they have when their fangs will never be sharp enough. 

He keeps his distance, watches through the sidelines, and waits.

When the doorbell rings after a few months, Sylus does not hesitate to put down his glass of whiskey and smile to himself in the darkness.

Good girls never disappoint, and she just happens to be his best and only girl.

When the worst happens, there is only one place that she knows to turn to.

The breakup had been a long time coming, everyone who knew her and the ex-who-must-never-be-named have always said that she was too good for someone like him. It is only now that she finally let those words sink into her brain and packed her bags, but not without leaving him with a parting slap — right above the kiss mark on his jaw that was not done in any of her lipstick shades.

She breaks up with him in the morning, and finds herself on Sylus’ front porch before evening falls completely and drowns the rest of the city in darkness.

There is no way that she will stay in that shitty apartment of his, not when she was paying more than half of the rent on top of the electricity and water bills. Let him be kicked out, he should not have cheated on her in the first place anyway.

She is here because she knows Sylus, knows that she can stay for a few weeks just to get her bearings back, and knows that he would be delighted.

He is kind to her like that.

It has barely been a minute since she rang the bell, but he is already there, windswept and breathless as if he ran just to open his door so she would not have to wait. Her heart aches with the fondness, but it is overtaken by the weight of her sorrow.

“We broke up.”

Three simple words that fall from her lips unbidden, her first words to him in months, but Sylus does not even falter when taking her into his arms and letting her cry on his chest over the time wasted on a man who did not see her worth and the time they had to spend apart because of his fragile masculinity. She weeps and clings to Sylus like a lifeline, like he is an anchor to her life that is splintering at the seams, then she lets herself rest.

He will take care of her, he always does.

They are friends, nothing more and nothing less.

Now though, everyone knows that it is only about time before it turns into something more, with the upstart pup finally out of the picture and she is finally in his home. The arrangement was only meant for a few days, then it extends to a few weeks, and when it turns to a month, she tries to offer him payment for the rent he never asked for that he snaps his teeth at playfully.

His eyes remain cold, however.

“Do you think I can’t take care of you?” He asks, teeth bared in a playful snarl but the threat of his bite is true. “Do you think I’d need your money to take care of you, hm?”

It is offensive, how she thinks that she owes him money after everything. As if he demands monetary compensation when her presence in his life is more than enough. She brings light to his days, a stability to the chaos that runs around his mind. She is all that matters, much more now that she is finally in his grasp.

She shrinks at his words, and he feels something inside of him turn cold. He was too much, too fast, too harsh. His arms reach for her almost immediately, tucking her underneath his chin for an embrace. Sylus is careful to not hold her too tight, to not hold her too loosely either. “Baby, really. I’m sorry for snapping at you like that. You understand, don’t you? I can take care of you, of this house, and everything else. All you have to do is to be pretty, safe, and happy. Can you do that for me, darling?”

When she nods hesitantly, he relaxes and presses a kiss to her crown.

“Good girl.”

For a few weeks, that is that.

Sylus thinks that peace has finally returned to their home, because this entire space that belongs to his name is shared by another — the only one that he wants to stay here forever, and she is finally letting him take care of her.

Until he stumbles upon her one night, scrawling on her notebook with her money separated into bills and coins. Something like irritation builds in his stomach at the mere sight.

“What are you doing?” He keeps the tone of his voice even, red tracking the way she jumps in surprise and tries to hide the notebook before giving up with a sigh. She gives him a small smile, shaky at the corners, but he is not fooled in the slightest.

The silence stretches, becoming filled with tension.

She gives in, breaks her gaze to look elsewhere. “Budgeting,” she whispers, but to his ears it sounds like a scream.

His eyebrows furrow, meeting in the middle. A frown finds its way to appear on his features. “Budgeting,” he repeats, not even as a question but as if a statement on its own. For a moment, he sees red. This stubborn little girl, really. Sylus does not know if her youth is equal to this behaviour or if it is simply in her nature, he does not know, and that lack of control and knowledge over one thing so dear to his heart is enough to rattle him.

Instead of letting it turn into another argument when she does not answer, he only pulls out his wallet and plucks a black card to lay it flat on the table.

“Use that,” he smiles, despite the way his teeth ache from the tightness in his jaw. “Don’t tell me no, darling. I don’t care for your protests and cute little refusals. You live under my roof, you better spend my money. That’s the rule. There is no such thing as having to budget for things here, alright?”

The only consolation he gets is the delightful flush on her cheeks, the widening of her eyes, and the clenching of her thighs to one another.

“I said, alright?” It was a demand for a response, one that makes her breath hitch before she gives him a frantic nod. A pretty little thing so desperate to please. Sylus watches as she reaches for the black card, holding it close to her chest with something like awe and finds something in him finally settling.

Her thighs pressing against one another under the table does not go ignored, not when all of his senses are intimately attuned to every movement that she does.

Sylus can feel his mouth go dry at the sight, daring himself to move, and when he does? It is all pure instinct. He takes a seat beside her, places one palm over her knee — dangerously close to the lace of her shorts adorned with a little bow at the waist. It is something that can be considered a friendly touch, nothing more and nothing less.

But his brain is whirring with images from his deepest fantasies, each one more depraved than the last when her legs automatically part the slightest bit in response.

[ … ] sharp spots of a kaleidoscopic lights bursting before his eyes, heaven in the shape of her perfect fucking cunt squeezing him tight with each inch that he presses deep inside her. Their lips are pressed together, her face scrunching rather adorably as sobs come spilling straight from her mouth to his—

[ … ] hair bunched between his fingers, his hand nearly engulfing the back of her head from the force of his hold. Each pull makes his bed squeak, the expensive springs making noises in protest from the ferocity of how he loves his sweetheart. His hips snap, delighting in the obscene squelching of her wetness and the copious amounts of cum he pumped into her—

[ … ] a comfortable weight above his lap, her legs spread wide open with the help of his knees so that they can both see the reflection they make in the mirror. His fingers are knuckle-deep inside her folds, skin pruned from how drenched she is. Lips to her ear, filth comes pouring out of his mouth, and he delights in the blush that overtakes her features—

[ … ] weighed down by sleep, she barely stirs when he falls to his knees between her slightly parted legs. His hands spread her open, thumb rubbing soothing circles on her knee. There’s no hesitation in the way his tongue hangs out, a starving dog and nothing more, and presses flat against the honeyed tang of her arousal—

There is no point in speaking, not when that touch is all he does. Sylus does not bring his hand higher, to the heat he can feel emanating from between her legs even this far down.

Anticipation makes everything much sweeter down the line.

Something is definitely wrong with her.

That is the only thing running through her head as she watches Sylus move around his state of the art kitchen with ease to prepare her a meal.

She has been living in his home for nearly a year now, all of her food is prepared by him or bought by his money, everything that touches her skin is paid for by the swipe of his black card that sits heavy in a bag that he bought for her. Everything that she has now all came from Sylus, and something about that makes her head spin with pleasure.

It feels nice to be taken care of like this, to have nothing to worry about.

Her footsteps bring her to the sink, knowing that it is only right that she cleans the dishes considering that he is the one cooking.

Barely even managing to touch the ceramic bowl before a hand immediately wraps around her wrist, halting all of her movements. She has always known that Sylus is big in the very literal sense of the word, he is tall and heavy and bulky, but this is the very first time that she has actually felt so little when compared to him, with his hand dwarfing the circumference of her wrist.

“Sit down,” he murmurs to her temple, pressing a quick kiss there before returning to the stovetop as if nothing happened while she remains frozen for a few more seconds. 

Her heart is pounding, like she just ran a ten-mile marathon, and her legs shake when they bring her to the dining table. There is a haze setting into her brain, like she is floating but not quite. Her eyes remain trained on Sylus as he cooks; back, ramrod straight. She does not even fidget or squirm, does not even try to protest, she just sits.

“Good girl,” he praises with a smile, giving her a bowl of pomegranate seeds drizzled with honey. “The food’s gonna be done in a few.”

A part of her likes this about him, the ease in the way he makes her do things. The fact that he does not need to actively order her to do them before she does. It makes a part of her brain go numb, just hazy in the delight that comes with obeying, and being good for him.

So that is exactly what she does, she eats, spoonful after spoonful. She licks the honey from her lips, and scrapes the bowl when she is nearly done. She makes sure not to leave a single seed behind. Unlike Persephone who only had six months per year, she will be spending all of her time in the Underworld by choice and with no regrets.

Winter can come for the rest of the world and never leave, she does not care. She will stay with him, inside this home that he rearranged just for her — safe and sound, happy and warm.

The meal arrives after the press of lips to her crown, and a part of her just takes great pleasure in being taken care of by him. She does not have to think, to fret, and to stress over even the smallest of things when Sylus is around. When he tugs on her wrist, she goes and sits above his lap. He does not ask, she does not refuse. No words are necessary, not when he takes such great care of her. A tap on her lips with the fork gets them parting, accepting the offering of meat in bite size pieces. A finger on her throat makes her head tilt, taking small gulps of water then wine then water again. 

Dessert is in the form of chocolate-covered strawberries, one that he taps against her bottom lip with hunger in his eyes. She looks up at him, meets his gaze, and bites. Pale red juices come dripping, down her chin to her neck, and even between the swell of her breasts.

Sylus looks at her, eating from his hand, like a man half-starved and half-feral. It is not a bad feeling; in fact, it feels delightful to be wanted in such a way.

Their gazes locked, she lets her tongue dart out to press against the pad of his fingers, tasting both him and the strawberry. It is such a heady combination that it makes her giggle, part-drunkenness from the wine and part-drunkenness from him.

“I really like you,” she murmurs the confession, blunt teeth nipping at his skin. “I really like being with you like this.”

She can see the way his pupils practically dilate upon hearing her words, a shaky exhale coming loose from his throat like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders at the admission. “I really like you too,” he whispers, leaning in close to let his forehead rest on hers.

He does not kiss her, and when night falls, she has to cum several times by humping her pillow — one that he bought for her — before she can admit that she was disappointed.

A part of him knows that he should not be doing this; unfortunately, it just so happens to be a very small one.

Blood rushes even further south, and Sylus can feel himself going dizzy. When he pulls his hips back, there is a very loud squelch that drowns out the sound of her even breathing. His fingers twitch from where they hold her by the waist, resisting the urge to hold her even tighter — he does not want to leave marks, not yet, but his control is a rapidly fraying rope. She is so fucking tight, he thinks, panting like a feral dog that turns to a drawn-out moan when she clenches around him subconsciously.

She was so naive, so willing to trust everything he says. All it took was a few pretty words, a gentle touch here and there, and she was so eager to down the offered glass. A few milligrams of the drug, crushed and mixed into the juice, is enough to knock an average adult for eight to twelve hours. But she has always been smaller than him, more delicate — not that it is even a significant point considering that everyone is smaller than him. It only took thirty minutes before she stumbled on the steps, a few more before she completely dropped faint in his arms. 

It was so easy to lay her on his mattress, where she should have been since the very moment she stepped foot in his home. Perhaps, even way before that. His bed is where she should have been the first time they met, he should have been Troy to this Helen of his, whisked her away to his kingdom at first sight without care for the repercussions.

What was not so easy was stripping her out of the clothes that she bought using his money. It felt like a waste, to not be able to fuck her in things that basically scream of him, but there will always be a next time.

‘And there will be a next time,’ Sylus vows to himself, mouthing the words to the skin of her nape like he wants to imprint the very intent of it into her. He can feel the tightness in his lower abdomen, the warning of an impending climax.

He does not want this to end just yet, not when she feels too good around him. But it is precisely because she feels too good that he feels himself beginning to unravel.

A hand reaches around to rub circles on the throbbing nub, breathing out a hoarse laugh when she squeezes even more around him. Even in her state of unconsciousness, she is too good— too perfect for him, and he loves her all the more for it. The sound of amusement turns into a groan, his hips stuttering in their pace. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away from where he has been slobbering all over the back of her neck to lean backwards and watch how puffy her folds have become.

Sylus is mesmerised, moving his thumb to trace the outline of her pussy wrapped snugly around his cock. There is already a frothy ring around the base of his girth, and he wants to make her into an even bigger mess. He needs her filled with him, leaking of him. ‘Maybe it will get her with a baby,’ he thinks with grim pleasure, eyes alight at the thought of seeing her womb swell with his seed taking root.

She is so sweet, so delicate. Someone like her will always try and refuse him, out of some misplaced sense of independence — damn, he needs to fuck that thought right of her head soon. This is where she belongs, in his house, in his bed, with her cunt wrapped around his cock. Having a baby with him will break her, but only just a bit, Sylus will never let her be completely broken by his hand. Just enough to make her malleable, to keep her with him forever.

She is so good like that, so perfect for him.

His pace quickens, almost frantically. It is of no surprise how quickly he finishes, he holds on to her tight and brings her close as he pumps her full, hissing under his breath at the intoxicating heat.

Unaware of the fluttering lashes that roll in the back of her skull and the grin she hides on the pillow, still pretending to be asleep on her stomach.

Like calls to like after all, and too much time spent in his company has made her all the more similar to Sylus to the point where even their schemes have begun to synchronise, striving for the same goal.

Not that he is aware of how much she knows.

How much she wants.

© ushifiles ( 2024 ): do not claim, modify, copy or repost my works without permission. minors do not interact.

[wcters]

𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗣 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗗𝗔𝗡𝗜𝗘𝗟

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

summary: a glimpse into your relationship with daniel

warnings: established relationships, pda, some swearing, sexual innuendos?? | missing daniel hours 😔😔

- perfect match ❤️

- your family and friends joke that it was meant to be because you two were practically the same people

- it’s like you know what the other is thinking

- there was one time where you were wanting take out but didn’t know what and daniel had come home from a race with a takeout bag

- best friends. even though you are dating, you still are best friends with each other

- calling him daniel avocado 🥑

- you match each others freak ‼️

- you’re saying? to be cringe is to be free 😌

- the rare time you pay for something for the both of you (probably because you beat him to the bill) you joke you’re his sugar mama

- one of the grids favourite couple

- fans love you ❤️

- you’ll always go out of your way to make sure they get things signed and you give out bracelets you’ve made to fans

- one of THE f1 wags along with nicole and corinna

- always welcoming the new wags and making sure they’re comfortable

- you two are really good at communicating and have never gone to bed angry

- you know when to give each other space and if you need to be away from each other you have your locations on to be safe

- you and daniel stay up while the other is out when they’re upset to make sure you get home safe

- late night drives when you’re not feeling well

- for daniel, he prefers to walk because his life revokes around driving

- sleepovers.

- you may be dating but you still have the best sleepovers 😌😌

- movie marathon, face masks, making dinner and dessert together, music blasting, gossiping, it’s just a good time

- if you snore and don’t know, he doesn’t tell you

- he secretly (you know but don’t tell him that) lives ti be little spoon

- he’s always hot so if it’s cold you’ll cuddle up to him

- though you get really hot at night because he always has to be touching you 😐😐

- will GRIP you if you try to get up while he’s asleep (even if it’s to pee)

- like sir . . .

- matching pajamas

- especially on christmas!!!!!

- christmas is a big thing for you guys

- alternate on who’s hosue you stay at on christmas 🎄

- baking, baking, and more baking

- you don’t even WANT to know how much you spend on baking supplies and presents

- you and daniel each make each other a homemade gifts along with other things

- you and daniel take this very seriously 😐

- you learned to sow to make him a quilt one year

- i think that’s when he knew he really really loved you (not that he didn’t before) 🥺🥺

- make playlists for each other

- you’ll debrief with each other each week on your favourite songs that week

- you’re one of the only people besides him allowed to touch his ipod ‼️‼️

- i feel like you’d guys constantly have music playing

- whether it’s upbeat, calm, rap, whatever

- your household is a music household ‼️

- sometimes you’ll listen to music together before a race

- daniel usually likes to be alone but when he wants you to be around, you’re there

- if you can’t make it to a race you’ll leave little notes and things in his luggage ❤️❤️

- saying things like “i love you” and “i’m so proud”

- he’ll fall asleep on you at races sometimes

- you’ll be scratching his head and before you know it he’s passed out

- this is caught by the reporters all the time

- you both laugh it off

- one time when daniel was asked about it he replied “she’s comfortable. i’m a high performance athlete, i need sleep”

- you’ve done shoeys with him before (you only did it for him)

- you’re always caught in the background of things 🧍‍♀️

- interviews, youtube videos, whatever

- in the video he did about 10 things he can’t live without . . . you were a thing he listed

- you didn’t even know if that was allowed but he did it anyway 🤷‍♀️

- most appearances in drive to survive

- you didn’t know how to feel about the cameras 🤨🤨

- #1 enchante sponsor ‼️‼️

- you’re like a walking billboard

- you support your man and he supports you

- he def released a collection of merch just for you ❤️❤️

- you cried

- whenever it’s you, daniel, and max you’re third wheeling

- it’s not even a competition 😔

- you’ve definitely had to scold them when they’re together (and when they’re not)

- the redbull pr team literally gave you a gift at the end of the season because you helped them so much 😀😀

- joining him driving around LA in that sponsee video

- road trips ‼️

- you guys have a playlist for everything, including road trips

- wagon wheel and take me home, country roads is obv on there 🤠

- people have looked weird at you while driving because you’re singing so loud

- you’ve definitely done a road trip to texas before for the austin grand prix

- you would argue that was one of the best road trips

- you’d also be caught by fans while these are happening too

- there’s an instagram page dedicated to you guys being spotted while on road trips 📷

- you’ve taken a polaroid at every place you travel to and you keep it in a photo album

- his nieces and nephews loving you and you both taking them on trips

- spending lots of time with each others family

- he totally takes you on and teaches you to drive his four wheeler ‼️‼️

- consist of you screaming and panicking as he’s laughing his ass of

- hanging out with his mom and having the best gossip for each other

- we totally leave daniel to go with his mom (sorry not sorry)

- even though he’s not much younger, lando is like your kid 🥺

- he tends to come to you about advice when he doesn’t feel comfortable going ti the boys and his mom isn’t there

- him and max have joined your date nights before 😐😐 (you don’t mind)

- lando FEEDS the internet with pictures of you and daniel

- paparazzi pictures of you and daniel holding hands with lando trailing in front like a kid not wanting to he seen with his parents

- you still show up to his races and cheer for him after daniel’s gone

- being around him so much you’ll pick up british slang

- “that’s mint” “. . . i think you’re spending too much time around lando”

- have matching hoodies that say “if lost return to mum” with daniel’s saying the same thing and yours says “i’m mum”

- #fashionicon

- you really are

- the secret? you thrift a lot do your clothes

- daniel knows your bra size . . .

- if you go into a store and mention you like a bra, he’s already looking for your size and paying

- he holds it up to your chest to see if it fits and yoy find this sooooo embarrassing but he’ll just wink at you and you’re standing there like 🧍‍♀️

- he spoils you rotten

- you feel bad sometimes as you think you’re taking up his money and he’ll stare at you with a look like ‘you’re serious?’ 🤨🤨

- daniel has totally told dirty jokes in your ear at inappropriate times like important events and you have to try really hard to hold in your laugh

- his straight face makes it so much funnier

- you’re all over his jpg account

- even taken photos yourself on there 😌

- you’ve definitely hacked that account before and posted blogs

- sooo many goofy videos of you guys on there and on your phones

- #vlogger

- people actually beg you and daniel to start a vlog channel

- you start one in covid but after that it just gets too busy and you post like once every year

- people joke that you’re back from the dead

- piggybacks ALL THE TIME

- pictures of you at concerts where he’ll be piggybacking you because you got tired (you’ll be asleep on his shoulder) and you on his shoulders

- you’re with him when he breaks his wrist

- sneaking him in real food

- acting like a nurse when you’re at home and making sure everything’s good

- “are you sure you’re comfortable? how about ice? do you need ice? oh! do you need tea?” “babe, i can still walk and get things myself”

- his mom doesn’t even need to worry, you’re acting like a mother ‼️‼️

- even more cuddles then you usually do

- hey, you’re not complaining 🤷‍♀️

- to practice using his wrist again he’ll try to teach you guitar

- key word: try (you’re bad at it) 😕😕

- he’ll poke fun but it’s just teasing and not really how he feels

- overview: it’s always fun around you and daniel

[ghostsslutss]

welcome to my bar. whatcha ya feeling tonight? vodka? wine? or just apple juice. look at the menu and place ur order in the inbox.

credits to @bunnys-kisses x

𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

lando norris

max verstappen

fernando alonso

charles leclerc

carlos sainz

alex albon

franco colapinto

lewis hamilton

george rusell

ollie bearmen

arthur leclerc

joost klein

ski aggu

reece welsh

jordan riki

simon ghost riley

john mctavish

phillip graves

alejandro ganarcho

jude belligham

neymar jr

matt murdock

jason todd pop

nightwing

moon knight

vladimir makarov

toto wolf

homelander

billy butcher

the deep

a train

konig

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄

vodka soda - “your boyfriend wont fuck you like this”

rum and coke - “hm what was that again? speak up little one

gin and tonic - “such a good girl. aren’t you. my pretty little puppy.”

whiskey sour - “{dirty talk in their language}”

margarita - “remember, I am in complete control. your pleasure and pain are mine to give.”

mojito - “please ive been a good boy..”

long island iced tea - “fuck your going to get us caught one day aren’t you.”

tequila sunrise - “let me take care of you, let me lead, and you'll enjoy the ride.”

martini - “whos daddy’s little slut?”

cosmopolitan - “beautiful , beautiful thing aren’t you.”

daiquiri - “shut it- shut up.”

piña colada - “be quiet they will hear us.”

old fashioned - “wonder what your father think about this.”

negroni - “I'll do anything to please you, master. Just tell me what you want.”

aperol spritz - “you will address me as 'Sir' or 'Master'. is that clear?”

moscow mule - “you'll wear this collar as a symbol of your submission to me.”

paloma - “tell me your safe word, pet. I need to know your limits.”

mai tai - “thank you for the punishment. I needed it.”

amaretto sour - “please.. just let me cum.”

caipirinha - “oh fuck , your driving me crazy.”

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐁?

fabric (loss of virginity)

berghain (pregancy)

space (sugar daddy au)

hï ibiza (semi to public sex)

ministry of sound (enemies to lovers)

pacha (cheating)

privilege (dom x sub)

dc10 (intoxicated sex)

amnesia (university au)

printworks (alternative au)

output (age gap)

watergate (unprotected sex)

zouk (omegaverse)

exchange la (recording)

the warehouse project (phone sex)

studio 338 (pet play)

kitkatclub (cnc)

marquee (vanilla)

cavo paradiso (car sex)

liv (dirty talk)

avant gardner (gentle sex)

warung beach club (rough sex)

drai’s (mean!drink)

tunnel (aftercare)

rex club (size kink)

cielo (doggy style)

sub club (breeding kink)

egg london (cock warming)

sound nightclub (mafia au)

tresor (dumbfication)

𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒?

fries (character x character x you)

onion rings (creator picks kinks: may be dead dove)

mozzarella sticks (creator chooses drink and club)

chips and salsa (extra spicy smut)

guacamole (more comforting smut)

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

So uh, I realise I wrote too much again, so like, I don't expect the questions to be answered, I just think in questions and what ifs. I don't expect the questions to be answered at all just go for a general respond to the vibes if u want.

I think you should have Reader go back to her world and the duo try and go after her.

According to JTTW isn't the world in the palm of Buddha or something? Would Reader's world be in the future or an alternate world/palm?

I'm just imagining after they go through all their adventures and grow and mature as people[monkies?], they should get a power of friendship[romance] power boost to go to Reader's world and immediately cause chaos there, with all the drama that is involved.

What would they think about everyone knowing so much about them? Is there a heavenly realm/court thingy they can ransack, so we can have shenanigans of two heavenly courts fighting the duo and each other on what to do regarding the situation?

How would the duo react to meeting Reader's family? Would there be a Sun Wukong and Macaque in Reader's world? How would they react to the Cursed Warlords duo?

What if Reader goes home with them still cursed instead?

Imagine Reader being separated from them because as far as anyone knows, these are wild animals that should live in a zoo or something.

Nobody would believe that the monkeys came from another world, they would just wonder how Reader managed to steal 2 monkey cubs from their parents and habitat most likely across country lines

People probably think Reader is an abusive, cruel, ignorant asshole who probably got them from a poacher or something.

Can u imagine the amount of harassment, hate and vitriol Reader would get, and the monkeys would witness?

And they would only see a bunch of humans, targeting the one human who no matter what tried their best to keep them safe, saying that Reader is a horrible person that they will "save" them from, only to be shoved into tiny cages[carriers] only to be taken into a prison where they are stared at 24/7 with flashing lights from all sides with no privacy[zoo], forced to eat pellets while reader would probably starve before letting them go hungry[fruit has been bred to have too much sugar that it gives animals cavities so zoos don't use them], being manhandled by strangers poking random things into them[vets giving check-up and bloodwork]?

Imagine if they broke their curse after experiencing all of that, oh their reaction to everything:

monkey duo: "ok, there is no way we will leave Reader here, court-napping kidnapping 'rescue' reader plan is a go!"

reader, who only saw them as cubs and was imprisoned shortly after they were separated: "Who tf are you???? Why do these two monkey demons act like they know me??? How did they even get here??? WAIT WHY AM I BEING TAKEN BACK??? WHAT ABOUT THE CUBS?? are these the cubs parents??"

monkey duo, touched that reader still remembers to think about them after all this kerfuffle:"… ok we are definitely going to marry reader, gonna have to shift plans to move it up the schedule"

This had me absolutely busting a gut as I was reading it. The idea would be something that would be fun to play with for sure.

I don’t think that I’ll have them go to her world this early in the Au, but eventually they’ll probably go there because they don’t like her being anywhere that isn’t with them. Well other than Flower Fruit Mountain, as they believe that she is safest there. (Haven’t decided when they actually go to her world yet, or if they’ll go there quietly or if they’ll bust into the place or not)

Now for Reader’s World, I realize it’s something I haven’t really mentioned before. Reader’s world is a modern world, one that doesn’t have demons or monsters lurking around every corner. My thought is it’s just like Earth in this way. I like the idea of Reader’s world being one that isn’t on Buddha’s palm at all, in fact it’s a world that should be impossible for her to leave or travel to. However due to a specific magic that flows through her, she is able to get pulled to and from her world. What magic? Honestly haven’t decided on that yet. But the only way she can control it is with magical artifacts, her magic simply powering the artifact and guiding it to the right dimension. She and two other people are the only ones who can even do this properly, even if her own is a complete accident usage every time.

No there isn’t a Sun Wukong and Macaque in her world. That would be funny true, but with her world being a modern one I don’t feel like it fits.

My thoughts on Reader traveling between the worlds, hehe~ Let’s just say I’ve got a few fun plans for that. Especially when the Monkey Duo can’t do anything about it (At least not for a while). 👀 Heck due to the nature of Reader’s nullification to magic, Macaque can’t even just know when she arrives in their world. They will get rather desperate to get her back on more than one occasion. HA! I am going to make them work for this girl! They want her, they will have to work / fight for her. Though the fighting comes like second nature to them, heck more than second nature to them actually.

On the topic of marriage though, Wukong and Macaque think more along the lines of courting. They just want to court-nap her and mate with her and then she would be their wife by Demon standards. So they won’t really think to have an actual wedding… at least not until they learn about that human custom.

I loved your ideas btw, thank you so much for sharing them with me ❤️

As always if anyone else has any other ideas, then send them my way! I love to hear everyone’s thoughts. Such as this Anon’s who had me laughing so hard I swear my stomach hurt from it.

Just thinking about the monkey duo being put into a zoo was hilarious. The absolute rage Wukong would feel would be something to behold, including the fact that he’d probably tear down the zoo if the curse vanished while he was in it. Reader would be all worried about your monkeys trying to figure out how to free them when suddenly there’s some sort of fire happening at the zoo they were brought to. You would probably fear for the worst.

Until two monkey demons probably enter through your window, ready to take their darling back home.

“How…” Reader gasps as you stared into beautiful golden eyes that stared at you with a love stuck smile.

“Hello Reader~ Are you ready to go home?” Wukong mutters, his tail swaying back and forth like that of a cat.

“Who are you!?” you want to run. The demon in front of you is covered in blood and walking towards you at a rather quick pace, too quick.

“Now, now. We can’t have you running,” Another demon mutters as arms wrap around your waist, seemly out of no where.

Turning you are about to yell when you notice a set of three ears on each side of his head. Immediately your thoughts going to your little monkey cubs as she's picked up effortlessly.

"Ahh! Let me go! Who the heck are you!? Are you Plum and Peaches parents? Is that why you're here? I swear I don't have them, they- they're trapped at the zoo... I didn't do anything to them-" you would get cut off rather quickly.

"Shh, shh we know. We know that you didn't do anything other than care for them. Gotta say being called Plum for months was strange but can't say I hated it," Macaque would whisper in your ear.

As this is revealed to you, a sense of terror washes over you. Slowly you find yourself turning to look at the other monkey demon in the room. The similarities were so distinctive and they were right in your face. You couldn't deny it now.

"Now, let's get you back home. We aren't going to leave you for this stupid world to take care of you. No, they can't take care of you like we can," Wukong mutters, nuzzling his face against your cheek.

You can try to get out of their hold all you like, but you won't succeed with these two. They love you too much to let you go now. You sealed your fate the moment you gave them food, if I'm being honest. Especially with what the zoo tried to feed them.

[inamindfarfaraway]

I love how Paul's character in The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals is defined entirely by a lack of desire, or desire defined only as 'not what I don't want'. "What Do You Want, Paul?" is a big joke about what a terrible narrative protagonist he is. But it's deeper than that. Throughout the show, even in the smallest, most insignificant phrasing, this man only ever expresses wants in these negative forms, as if he's incapable of feeling attraction in itself rather than simply avoiding what he dislikes. And only avoiding! He never says that he hates anything, either! That would give him passion, drive, perhaps the goal of actively removing that thing. No, he exclusively uses the verb hate in past tense.

He doesn't like musicals, singing, dancing or public performances. He makes this very clear, to the point that it's one of his most significant character traits. At no point does he ever talk about liking any media.

He doesn't want to do social activities.

He doesn't want to give away his money. About both this and the above, he can provide no logical explanation or moral justification. He just doesn't feel like them.

He always gets black coffee because it has "no cream, no sugar, nothing in it"; that is to say, he might not necessarily love it, merely prefer it over its sweeter or more complex alternatives.

He doesn't believe that Emma should have to sing and dance at work - he doesn't want her life to be so unfair and annoying to the both of them.

He doesn't want to obstruct the workings of his office (saying "that's the last thing I want" triggers "What Do You Want, Paul?").

He says, "I wanna go home!" when Mr Davidson is singing at him, but means that he wants to be somewhere safe and not stuck in this incredibly uncomfortable situation.

He doesn't want to die.

He specifically doesn't want to die in Clivesdale, because fuck Clivesdale.

He doesn't want to join the Hive.

He doesn't want to leave Hatchetfield, even when it's the site of an alien invasion that is his personal worst nightmare. He actually says that "All things considered, I like Hatchetfield", arguably an exception to the standard. However, he's also well aware of the town's flaws and problems. He grew up one of its poorer residents, attending the inferior, underfunded Sycamore High School where he casually admits the students "hated [themselves]" and having to watch its more respectable rival Hatchetfield High's school play. He has no strong investment in his tedious middle-class office job. He doesn't get along with some of his fellow townsfolk, like his coworker Ted and all the employees of Beanies except Emma. He awkwardly evades giving to charity and the homeless every morning on his way to work. His life is decidedly not one of utter bliss, and yet it's good enough for him in that he doesn't have the energy, ambition or imagination to want anything more. Since he's "been here [his] whole life", his affection for his hometown could be more an aversion to everywhere else or the hassle of travelling. Sticking with the devil he intimately knows.

He doesn't think badly of Emma, and says so because he doesn't want her to or believe that he does after learning that she helped make a "hated" experience of his happen.

He doesn't want to let Bill die, which is why he goes with Bill to rescue Alice. His heroism and proactiveness at the turning point of the end of Act One start to notably erode his apathy, but his phrasing reaffirms his negative motivations: "Hey, it's not like you're asking me to go see Mama Mia!", "Emma, there comes a time in every man's life when he has to draw a line in the sand. And I will never be in a fucking musical."

He doesn’t want Bill to blame himself for Alice's endangerment, stay in the area once Alice is revealed to be a vessel of the Hive or kill himself.

He doesn't want to do some light reading on the universal truth of love and the strength of the human heart.

He has no positive motivation. He breaks one of the most basic rules of being a fictional character, let alone the main character the audience is supposed to root for. He isn't just an antihero, he's an anti-protagonist. Although this could easily make him boring or unsympathetic, he manages to seem relatable. Real. Human. He captures so genuinely an ordinary person living an ordinary life suddenly trapped in a horror story. How many of us can honestly articulate "one concrete goal that motivates all [our] actions"? Even if you can, you wouldn't undergo a narratively fulfilling and thematically cohesive arc related to that desire the way a fictional character would. We're all essentially just trying to survive each day. To make or keep our lives however we define 'good enough'. We may not have a crystal clear picture of our ideal life, but I bet we all have a long list of things we don't want in it. We're all Paul. He even says, “I want what anyone wants”.

What more appropriate antagonist for this man to face, then, than a force that exists to strip people of their autonomy, their individuality, their personhood, and force them to play archetypical characters in a conventional narrative? The Hive observes that Paul is an anti-protagonist and takes offence to this. It seeks to convert him into his antithesis, the "bold" "leading man" of its musical who the audience can "sympathize with". The Infected highlight this in the opening song, in which they eagerly anticipate and prepare the audience for his entrance... and he misses his cue. He isn't following their script. Perhaps that's why the audience is able to believe in this average, unassuming antihero's potential to succeed, to defeat the Hive or at the very least escape it, despite how fraught and grim the situation becomes. The story certainly proves itself to be cruel to its characters; but Paul doesn't operate like a normal character. The Hive promises to fulfil people's desires and make them happy throughout the play. Charlotte, Bill, Hidgens and Ted's deaths are connected to, by either direct causality or thematic relevance, their respective desires for Sam's love, Alice's safety, world peace (and the glory of a musical career) and Ted's own survival. Paul is uniquely immune to this pattern of death related to a core motivation.

Until:

"I can't leave without Emma”, “a friend of mine."

"Is there a chance of something more?"

"I think so. I'd like there to be. I want there to be."

He wants Emma, her life and her happiness and maybe, just maybe, her love. He wants to love her. To spend time with her. For the first time ever, he wants more out of life, not less. He's a little bit more of a character. After the Infected reprise the "Did you hear the word?" section of the opening song, building up to his appearance, this time he does enter the theatre, coming down the aisle just as he was meant to. Right on cue. Paul is now vulnerable to the narrative - the Hive's narrative. And the Hive's control.

Still he resists, even while doubting if he was ever really happy before. Not only does he use his final words, fittingly, to declare that he doesn't like musicals, but before that he firmly refutes the Hive, and the philosophy behind it and all the pressures and temptatations it might represent: "It doesn't matter what I want." What matters is the good of the world. Emma. Love. Hope. Freedom. Integrity. Humanity, which must be wonderful if we can make sacrifices like this for all the right reasons.

Rest in peace, Paul Matthews. You were the opposite of a conventional protagonist, but a true hero.

[oksurethisismyname]

A continuation on my transmasc postpartum Sanji thoughts, this version had top surgery at some point in his life.

When Sanji got pregnant, one of the unfortunate prenatal questions his amazing Dr. Chopper asked was “do you plan on chest feeding?” For someone else with less trauma around being fed and their body, this question wouldn’t be awful. But for Sanji? This question hits him like the sea train hit Franky. It rips him up. His thoughts spiral.

Can I even do that? Do I still have those… organs or whatever the fuck? What if my baby can’t eat because of me fuck shit I didn’t think it through enough I wanted to look a certain way holy shit I can’t believe I was so selfish I can’t -

It’s not hard for Zoro or Chopper to see Sanji spiraling. Honestly, Chopper expected some dysphoria but he didn’t think this would be the moment. Zoro has to gently pull Sanjis hands from his hair. After some uncomfortable moments of calming down, Sanji shares his concerns. Chopper doesn’t lie, doesn’t sugar coat it. It’s possible he can still chest feed which is why he asked if that was something he wanted or planned to do. It’s possible there won’t be enough milk, they can’t really be certain ahead of time, so it would be smart to think through alternatives.

So they make a plan. Sanji tirelessly researches safe breast milk alternatives, with Robin and Choppers help. Goats milk? Cows milk? There was one book that suggested donkey milk but where would they even find that? One island in the new world feeds infants a mixture of wine and honey but Chopper is adamant that, while he respects and learns from different cultural medical care, this is not one that should be practiced.

And when the baby comes, they miraculously latch and Sanji thinks maybe it’ll be ok maybe he’ll make enough maybe he’s capable. And then it’s every 2-3 hour feeding, regaining birth weight, nursing and then having some goatsmilk while held in a chest feeding position. This goes on for weeks? Maybe? Sanji can’t tell, he’s waking up every 2 hours. Zoro offers every night to feed the baby so Sanji can get 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep but Sanji can’t accept that help. What is he good for if not this? His job is to feed his crew and his child. If he can’t do that what’s the fucking point?

When the baby finally gets back their birthweight and starts sleeping for longer stretches, Sanji allows himself to rest. Chopper is constantly bringing him electrolyte drinks and protein packed foods; Nami has started forcing him to sit with her when she’s on deck sunbathing to get some sun on his skin and fresh air; Zoro is changing every diaper claiming that if “sanji deals with what goes in the baby all by himself, I can deal with what comes out.” Sanji kicks him softly in the shin for that.

Months pass and Sanji is depressed. He barely has the effort to shower let alone care for this baby. He thinks he hates this baby. He’s suffocating on intrusive thoughts. His thoughts scare him. He thinks about throwing the baby overboard. Dropping the baby down the stairs. Pouring coffee on the baby. Why can’t he stop thinking these things?

What kind of monster hates his own child? I swore I’d never be like them is this the beginning am I losing myself will zoro have to keep his promise he’ll be devestated I can’t believe I put this burden on him fuck I’m so useless I can’t even -

Zoro, Chopper, and Nami hold what some might call an intervention. They know he’s struggling with post partum depression and they think maybe if he stops chest feeding that will help. They tip toe around it until Zoro finally says it aloud. He’s never yelled at a woman before but he screams at all of them, Nami included. He yells. He cries. How dare they tell him what to do with his body! They don’t fucking get it! The only time he feels connected to that baby is when he’s nursing. It’s the only time he looks down and feels actually connected, actually useful, actually wanted by this child.

He doesn’t stop chest feeding. He gets worse. Around month 7, the baby starts gnawing on his nipples. It fucking hurts but he’ll get through it. He’s dreading when he’ll need to start weening. What if they don’t ween until the baby’s 2 yrs old? Will he even live that long? He doesn’t share those thoughts, he knows they would scare his crew.

He’s getting treatment for his post partum, he’s doing his best to get better when he has the energy to but it’s so hard.

And then one day, the baby won’t nurse. They’re distracted, they’re full, they’ve started eating soft solid foods and purées recently. Sanji breaks down crying, sobbing because if he can’t do this one thing what’s he good for?

Surprisingly, or maybe not, it’s Luffy who is able to calm him down. He’s so straight forward, everything is an adventure or a battle to win.

“Sanjis the best cook in the world! You did such a good job feeding all of us, especially the baby! You did it! That baby is strong and big and chunky with the fattest cheeks like when I’m eating a lot of food and shi shi shi they’ve got those thigh rolls and Robin says that means the baby is healthy and I think I saw them eyeing my turkey leg oh my gosh that was so good can you maybe more? Please please please please”

Sanji sits there repeating the words in his head, over and over he thinks I did it. Yeah. I did do it. I did it. I did it. I did good.