#slight scat mention?

[ohnomytummy]

I succ—*gurgle* —eeded….oh god….

I didn’t puke but my lower tummy is now a toxic sludge zone. The cramps are almost nonstop…gentle but constant. After every belly gush I can feel my insides start filling again almost immediately. It’s so awful but so so good 😫

[mikrokoskooks]

Just Dance, It'll be okay

Sickie: Taehyung

Caretaker: Ot7

Tw: Emeto, scat, medically inaccurate, slight blood.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

For Today's RUN BTS, the guys would be doing just dance. They'd been split into 2 teams: Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook in one and Jin Yoongi Joon and Jimin in the other.

All they had to do was score high points on the dances and then the winning team would be rewarded with a special gift from the staff. That be totally easy, right? 

Wrong. They almost weren't able to film because Taehyung kept complaining about how his stomach felt sore and heavy. Now usually, the members would've let him stay in the dorm but filming that episode was the only thing they had left to do that day sit the boys decide they should all just go and Taehyung could just rest between takes if he needed to.

So now, Taehyung's busting his guts trying to keep up with Jungkook and Hobi's dance moves. "How are you guys dancing so fast?" he says in deep amazement." It's just skill hyung." Jungkook giggles.

"4 stars not too bad" Hoseok chuckles to himself, all his years of dancing were to thank for such a high score. "Good job Hoba four stars are great, but my team's definitely gonna get 5," Jin says, playfully hitting Hoseok's shoulder. "Oh, you're so on hyung!" The twos banter is soon interrupted by Taehyung mumbling something about needing the bathroom and him swiftly walking off.

While eavesdropping on his hyungs conversation the vocalist's stomach started bubbling, causing everything inside of him to be stirred up and pushed down. When he arrived at the toilets he managed to catch a quick glimpse of himself in the mirror before running into a stall. He didn't look too bad.

The second Taehyung sits on the toilet his stomach cramps and warm mush begins to leave his body at a rapid pace. He can't remember the last time he had the runs but he's pretty sure it never sucked this much. Luckily for him though, it ends as quickly as it started.

As Tae washes his hands he looks at his face in the mirror again he looks bad now, his face was pale, his cheeks were flushed and to top it all off he was beginning to feel nauseous. God, how was he going to keep filming this episode?

After giving himself a small pep talk taehyung walks back into the filming room his hand placed discreetly on his stomach. "Hey Taehyung, how're you feeling?" Namjoon asks he'd been waiting for the boy to see how he was holding up since earlier.

"I don't feel that well hyung, Taehyung mumbled, can we.. go home, please. Namjoon looks at the second youngest, it's true he doesn't look well at all but they only have one dance left to film so they can't leave yet.

"Aw, Taehyungie, I'm so sorry but we can't leave yet, Namjoon starts guiltily, We have one dance left to film then we can go okay?" Taehyung doesn't say anything he only nods his head gently and walks off plastering on a fake smile ready for the cameras.

Namjoon truly does feel bad for not taking Taehyung home but the director is strict and won't let them without a valid reason and something tells him a stomach ache won't count as a good enough excuse. Hopefully, Tae could cope with one last dance.

>>>

If the was a hole in the ground right now taehyung would 100 per cent let it swallow him. This last dance was taking a real toll on his already aching belly. The dance had way too many spins and jumps in it and it was making him feel extremely unwell.

As the song starts to come to a close the boy can't withstand the pain anymore and doubles over cradling his abdomen, causing his teammates to look at him in complete shock and worry. "Woah there, are you okay tae?" "My s-stomach hurts"

Hoseok and Jungkook and everyone else except Namjoon had forgotten the main vocalist wasn't feeling the best. Jimin runs over to the boy and hugs him before cooing "My poor Taehyungie" Taehyung hugs his friend back and pulls away shortly after.

"Can we go home now, please?" No one hesitates to say yes as they grab their stuff and leave. The car ride back to the dorm is filled with lots of apologies to Taehyung, which are answered with a simple "It's okay" Or "it's fine".

Taehyung knows how tight the director is so he can't blame Namjoon or anyone else for the fact he couldn't go home early. But that was the least of his concerns at the moment, what he was really worried about was what was wrong with him.

He assumes it's just a stomach bug, he has all the symptoms after all; Nausea stomach cramps, diarrhoea and he was pretty sure he was running a fever. How he managed to catch this bug was unknown but it didn't feel good at all.

>>>

As the car pulls into the driveway the ailing boy lets out a sigh of relief. He was beginning to get carsick before but now that the car had stopped his nausea had calmed down too.

"So how are you feeling now Taehyung-ah," Seokjin asks. "My stomach really hurts hyung and I feel sick." The oldest takes in the information and tries to think of a reasonable diagnosis for his dongsaeng.

He opens his mouth to speak before being cut off by Yoongi, "Maybe you just need to take a fat shit? He says bluntly Everyone looks at the rapper in disbelief there is no way he's just said that.

"I already did earlier, I had the runs" Taehyung says his face turning read with embaressment. Hoseok walks over to the boy and feels his forehead, he clicks his tounge. "I think you've caught a tummy bug Tae"

Taehyung hums and lays down on the sofa before gagging and suddenly bolting up. "I- I'm gonna be sick" he mumbles Jungkook quickly runs and grabs a waste bin for his hyung.

The vocalist grabs it and begins to retch into it bringing up a large amount vomit followed by a thin stream of acid that burns his throat.

The members all mutter sweet muses and kind words to him but they're drowned out by the sound of sick hitting the bin.

Eventually, Tae places the bin on the ground and curls up on himself. The guys exchange nervous glances before Jimin speaks up, "I think you should eat something sweetie" Taehyung groans and shakes his head "I'm not hungry"

"Taehyung I really think you should eat something," Yoongi explains he was starting to get worried. Yoongi was never one to publicly show sensitivity but with the members he always would, especially the maknae line. "Alright hyung.."

>>>

All the members sit around the dining table eating the bulgogi that Jin had just made with the help of Jungkook. Well almost everyone, Taehyung did manage to eat a couple mouthfuls of food but then decided to stop. His stomach hurt way too much.

A small fruit fly flies past jimin causing him to look up in doing so he spots his fellow 95 liner staring blankly at the food in front of him "How come you're not eating?" "I think I've lost my appetite" Tae answers resting his head on the table.

"Aw you poor thing, Namjoon says sweetly, maybe you should go for a nap" The younger boy nods and starts to get up but then he's hit by a sudden wave of nausea just like earlier. He walks swiftly to the sink and begins to bring up the few bits of his dinner.

Nobody moves over to help him, not because they don't toof it's just that they're In too much shock and worry to move.

As he continues to puke Taehyung senses an odd taste in his mouth which makes him feel dizzy. He clamps his hand over his mouth and swallows repetitively before glancing down at small streaks of blood that were in the sink. He had just vomited blood.

Everyone notices the colour drain from Taehyungs face and exchange nervous glances. Jungkook speaks up "Taehyungie hyung, are you okay?" Taehyung just points to the sink he can't bring himself to speak. The youngest walks over and looks cautiously at what he's pointing at before saying "We're gonna need a hospital."

After looking at the vomit Jungkook starts to feel a little sick himself but ignores it and leads Taehyung out to get his shoes on. The others stand up to leave too and as they do take a glance at the messed-up sink. Now they see why they were going.

>>>

After a chaotic ride to the hospital, they made it. As soon as they walk in a nurse is already waiting for them turns out Jungkook had called them in advance while helping tae with his shoes.

Taehyung is immediately checked out and diagnosed with appendicitis which he needs surgery for straight away. The nurse also tells the group that they brought him in at the right time as his appendix was almost at the point of bursting.

Everyone gives the sicky boy a gentle hug before he's brought onto the surgery room. "He'll be alright,seokjin says with a smile, Taehyung's super strong" Namjoon and Hoseok hum in agreement.

>>>

Taehyung opens his eyes and looks around in confusion, why was he in a hospital bed and why did he feel so sore? He tries to sit up but is stopped by someone who gently pushes him back down. They smell like frosting it was Yoongi.

"Woah there buddy, you don't want to rip your stitches." Taehyung looks around at his hyungs and Jungkook were they going mad, he doesn't have stitches. "What?" "You got your appendix out Tae, as Yoongi hyung and Jimin" Hoseok explains.

"So Yoongi hyung and Jiminie are my appendicitis sunbaenims?" Taehyung asks still pretty high on anaesthetic. They all laugh at Tae's cuteness. "Yes Tae Tae, yes we are" Jimin giggles.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Just wanna say I think this is the longest fic I've ever written. Like girl, idek how many words there are but I hope you all enjoyed this 💜

Edit: wait now I'm looking at it and it don't look that long TwT the struggles real💀

[julianobungus]

Belos, as revenge for his actions, getting unpotty trained

It's a spell of some kind, and one that he doesn't know how to reverse. Something done to his head that just makes him forget how to use the lavatory. Try as he might, he just doesn't know how to work the bathroom, it's all become so confusing... and it's not to long before he helplessly messes himself.

And so, per the rules laid out by his new wards, he's made to wear diapers. It's degrading and humiliating, and he can't help but fume and insult the witches 'helping' him. Still, he secretly concedes how snug it feels to wear, and the former emperor's protests become fewer and fewer...

[ryans-planet]

This is a new blog, if you remember following me before please do so again here.

Tumblr hates trans people :/

Intro

Please read entire post BYF

(Last updated: 9/27/2024 (updated a few things)

Hey! I’m Ryan, new to this stuff and I mostly am here to explore my kinks in a fantasy way, reclaim some part of my sexuality and have somewhere to just dump things I want/like to do!

If ur from my main no you aren’t!!!

if you’re going to follow/follow back please follow this blog! Thank you <3

Slight venting may occur.

Join my NSFW T4T tumblr discord?

Abt me

22

transmasc agender

On T currently, been off and on since 2020. Due to resources.

uhhh let’s say I’m queer with no interest in cis women and folk who ID as lesbian.

Gray-romantic/Aroflux

Huge huge Switch

Audhd/chronic pain

Monogamous

My Love; @nashont-umblr His tag is #yeehaw bc I’m down bad

White

Fat (fatphobia/chasers/feederism r blocked immediately.)

DMs open to mutuals I will also give discord too if you have it!! but I am awkward and bad at replying sometimes 😭!

All posts on this blog are to be assumed mlm and most definitely about my boyfriend.

DO NOT tag my posts as wlw, or sapphic. I am a MAN. wlw are welcome to interact/follow/rb, but my stuff is by me; a man. It makes me uncomfortable for my posts to be tagged with those things.

Silly yap posts under #ryanplanetyaps Pictures under #pics of me

Posts abt the bf under #yeehaw

✨🔻Kinks+🔻✨

Enjoy in purple 💜

Favorites in pink💕

Interested in Orange 🧡(All go for receiving & giving)

Praise

Hairpulling

Biting

Choking

Edging

Overstimulation

Gun/Knife play

Breeding (only T4T/No pregnancy unless pet-play)

Wax play

Pet play

Corruption

Impact play

Force Masc

Somno

COCKWARMING 💕💕💕💕 (receiving especially)

Bondage

Intox

Anal is. Probably a no irl.

Absolute No’s

AgePlay (I’ll block you. I check almost everyone who follows/reblogs me.)

ForceFem

Nipple play (receiving)

Scat

Incest/fauxcest

Feederism

Piss

Heavy degradation

Race play (I’ll block you immediately.)

Misgendering

Heavy CNC and NonCon THIS INCLUDES RAPE PLAY. I’m fine with other cnc listed in my kinks but anything harder/extreme is a major Do FUCKING NOT.

OTHER:

Genitalia

terms to use are as follows; hole/cunt/boycunt dick/cock/tdick, Chest. Don’t use the terms tits/boobs for me (super awesome & cool if you don’t mention chest/nipples at all./srs)

Names/Titles/Compliments

that are absolutely okay are; Sir, Puppy, good boy, pretty boy, slut. Handsome. Apart from pretty boy please do not use more traditionally feminine worded compliments for me.

I have one main sexual trauma trigger, please do NOT use text emojis with /// as blush while talking to me. That’s all thank you!

DNI

Minors/ageless accounts

ED/SH blogs; have had my own issues and am in recovery.

DDLG/similar kinks

TERFS

Racists.

Fatphobes

Detrans kinks/blogs.

If you like Incest shit. I really hate it so bad, even in fantasy.

Zoophiles/p3dos

Zionists/Nazis

Chasers of any kind but especially fat and trans chasers.

Conservatives.

WLW/Sapphic only/Men DNI blogs

[aizawas-dryeye]

🍉!!please read if ur curious about more ways to help those in gaza!!🍉

im taking inspiration from mutuals and those i follow to participate in @ficsforgaza please go follow them and read more about their organization and PLEASE spread it

ill be doing the wip sponsorship AND taking requests, all u have to do is send me a screenshot proving u donated to any fundraiser supporting the palestinian people (not directly to me) and make sure to let me know which wip to add to, or whatever request u may have

for every US dollar, ill write 100(ish) words, and cap it off at 1000-2000 words

theres WAY more information on ficsforgaza’s blog so please please follow them to stay up to date on gaza

WIPS

(** = NSFW ^^ = DARK CONTENT)

honey don’t feed me i will come back (astarion)**

tags: smut, reader has a vagina but no pronouns, dom!astarion, blood drinking, biting, penetrative sex, dirty talk, name calling (dear, darling, love, pet, sweet)

summary: astarion invites (begs) you to come to his tent for a little fun

untitled (astarion)**

tags: ascended!astarion, mean!astarion, yandere!astarion, gn!reader, vampire!reader, biting, blood drinking, ANGST BITCH LIKE WOW, unrequited love, smut, name calling (love, whelp, darling, bitch), degradation

summary: your fate is simple: to be utterly possessed, controlled, and used by your reborn lover

eden (halsin)**

tags: gn!reader, mating season, abo adjacent, ruts, knotting, vague description of genitals, loss of virginity, penetrative sex, so much cum, size difference, halsin big, possessiveness, breeding

summary: losing your virginity to halsin

break me, bite me (toji fushiguro)^^

tags: DEAD DOVE, reader has a vagina but no pronouns mentioned, noncon/rape, knotting, lowkey hunting, blood, bunny!reader, wolf!toji, he hits u like once, size kink, dirty talk

summary: being lost in the woods is dangerous business, especially for such a tiny bunny. let the hunt begin

nursing on a poison (leon kennedy)**

tags: reader has a vagina but no pronouns mentioned, vendetta!leon, erectile dysfunction, lowkey mediocre sex, riding, masturbation (p and v), pls he is so annoying and awful, toxic!leon, he thinks about smacking you, hair pulling, sadism, alcoholism

summary: whiskey dick is a real thing and leon is proof, annoyingly so

mirror mirror (shouta aizawa)**

tags: reader has a vagina but no pronouns mentioned, fingering, dirty talk, mirrors, pet names (baby, honey) teasing, no sex

summary: you made the mistake of insulting yourself in front of your boyfriend

lipstick lullaby (gojo satoru)**

tags: f!reader, sub!gojo, sleepy sex, slight somnophilia but not really, desperate bby gojo, "just the tip", unprotected sex, pet names (baby, babe, good girl), m mommy kink

summary: gojo is spoiled beyond words, but you’re to blame. you just can’t say no to your baby

glint (leon kennedy)^^

tags: DEAD DOVE, noncon/rape, mentions of child abuse, good ol catholic guilt (i was raised baptist so please be patient lmao), he covers ur head with a pillow, crying

summary: pt 2 of shiny

stuck on a little hot mess (nanami kento)**

tags: reader has a vagina but no pronouns, drinking, cheating, nanami is married with kids lmao, could be considered dubcon bc hes ur boss and also alcohol, age gap, blowjob, he calls u kid, GUILT, reader is a bitch, he fucks u in the guest bedroom

summary: nanami swears you were sent by the devil himself

REQUESTS

i dont have many rules for requesting fics but my hard no’s are:

• scat

• feeding

• pregnancy (does not include breeding)

• minor aged characters

• graphic gore/death

i also write for several fandoms such as:

• resident evil (pretty much only leon oof)

• jujutsu kaisen

• baldurs gate 3

• haikyuu

• my hero academia

• attack on titan

• marvel

• supernatural

• the umbrella academy

again please go to @ficsforgaza to learn more and consider donating if u can and ill write pretty much whatever u want! it doesnt just have to be x reader either, i also do ships! (excluding leon)

thank u so much for reading all this

🍉!!FREE PALESTINE!!🍉

[sicknessbysalem]

ong i adore saylor! i’d love to see a sickfic of her soon but i don’t have any specific request ideas haha i loved the new story!

ask and you shall receive!

i adore these two! they have such a fun relationship dynamic to play with.

if you have any questions, comments, or requests, send them my way!

tw emeto, nausea, scat (as a symptom), affectionate bullying, fever, implications/mentions of a recurring health issue

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the courtyard where Saylor was hard at work on her latest mural for the school.

Her hands moved easily, the spray paint can hissing as vibrant colors came to life on the wall. The mural, a swirling mix of abstract shapes and bold lines, was already drawing admiring glances from passersby.

Saylor had been asked by the school to complete this mural. To fix the boring, empty wall in the courtyard before someone else got their hands on it and did who knew what with it.

Julian stood nearby, watching Saylor with a mix of awe and admiration.

“That looks incredible, Saylor," he said, flipping through his own sketchbook, "You've outdone yourself this time."

Saylor grinned, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "Thanks, Jules. I'm really feeling this one."

As she continued to work, a sudden wave of nausea hit her, causing her to pause mid-spray.

She frowned, pressing a hand to her stomach. Beneath her hand, she felt something. Gurgling, bubbling, something uncomfortable.

“That's weird," she muttered under her breath.

Julian noticed her discomfort immediately. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, stepping closer. "You look a little pale."

Saylor shrugged it off, trying to focus on the mural. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's probably just the paint fumes getting to me. Plus it’s hot…”

Julian's concern deepened. "Maybe we should take a break. Get some fresh air and grab something to eat. You haven't eaten since breakfast, right?"

Saylor hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right. A break sounds good."

They put the paint cans up against the wall and headed towards the campus café. The walk was short, but Saylor couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in her stomach.

At the café, they found a quiet corner and ordered their meals. Saylor chose a simple sandwich and a side of fruit, while Julian opted for a salad and a smoothie.

They chatted casually as they waited for their food, Julian doing his best to keep the conversation light and distracting.

"So, I heard Ethan's been avoiding the art building since his little 'incident,'" Julian said with a smirk. "Seems like he's embarrassed to show his face."

Saylor chuckled, though it was a bit forced. "Serves him right. Maybe he'll finally stop acting like he's better than everyone else."

Their food arrived, and Saylor took a tentative bite of her sandwich. She felt fine. In fact, swallowing the bite made her stomach growl, and she was almost sure it was just that she was hungry. Her stomach felt… better? She couldn’t tell.

They finished their meal, Julian doing most of the talking while Saylor listened, grateful for the distraction. Despite her attempts to ignore it, Saylor's stomach felt unusually heavy, an uncomfortable weight that settled low in her abdomen.

“I’m going to use the bathroom real quick,” Saylor said, pushing her chair back and standing up. Julian nodded, his eyes still filled with concern, but he didn't press her.

Saylor walked to the bathroom, each step making her more aware of the uneasy sensation in her stomach. She pushed the door open and locked it behind her, leaning against it for a moment. The cool surface of the door provided a slight relief against the growing heat of her discomfort.

Taking a deep breath, she moved to stand over the toilet, unsure if she was going to throw up or not. Her stomach churned ominously, sending sporadic waves of nausea up her throat.

She bent over slightly, placing her hands on her knees for support, and tried to gauge whether she was actually going to be sick or if it was just a false alarm.

Her stomach gurgled, and she felt a pressure building in her chest. She burped, the taste of acid lingering unpleasantly in her mouth. She waited, hoping it would pass, but another, stronger burp followed, making her gag slightly.

She dry heaved, but nothing came up, leaving her feeling even more unsettled.

She stood there for a few moments, her breath coming in shallow, uneasy gasps. Her mind raced, trying to convince herself that it was just a passing discomfort, that she would be fine if she just took a few deep breaths.

But the sensation in her stomach didn't ease. If anything, it seemed to grow worse, a persistent, gnawing feeling that made her question her earlier nonchalance.

She couldn’t be sick. Not now… right?

-

Saylor stood in front of the mural once again, the afternoon sun now casting longer shadows across the courtyard. She took a deep breath and picked up a can of spray paint, the familiar hiss of the aerosol bringing a slight sense of normalcy.

But as she began to work, her stomach continued to churn uncomfortably, each stroke and spray reminding her of the unsettling nausea that had been plaguing her since lunch.

Julian sat nearby, watching her. He had his fashion book, a bag of fabric swatches next to him.

"Hey, Saylor, how about I take your jacket and give it a little makeover? I've got some fabrics and materials that would look awesome on it."

Saylor glanced at him, one eyebrow raised, as she took off the dark purple and blue faux leather jacket. “Knock yourself out. Just don't turn it into one of those pastel nightmares you love so much."

Julian laughed and took her jacket, laying it out on the grass. He pulled out some of his supplies—a mix of fabrics, patches, and small embellishments. "Don't worry, it'll still be you. Just with a little extra flair."

As he worked, Saylor tried to focus on her mural, but her stomach continued to rebel. It felt like a cauldron of acid, bubbling up her throat.

She suppressed a small burp, tasting the bitter tang of stomach acid. She winced and pressed a hand to her abdomen, hoping the sensation would pass.

"Everything okay?" Julian asked, glancing up from his project.

"Just a little indigestion," Saylor replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "You know how I get when I eat. I'll be fine."

Julian nodded, “You do know that’s not objectively normal, right?”

Saylor waved him off, determined to push through. "I'm good. Besides, what can you do? I’ll be alright. Just need to lose myself in the art for a bit and stay standing, that usually helps me digest better.”

But as she continued, the discomfort grew worse. Her stomach felt like it was tied in knots, and each passing minute made it harder to ignore the urgent signals her body was sending. The acid reflux was relentless, each burp bringing a fresh wave of bitterness to her mouth. This was more than just her stomach having a hard time digesting food, it was never this bad.

She tried to keep painting, but a sudden, intense cramp doubled her over. She gritted her teeth, determined not to show weakness.

But the feeling was undeniable. Her lower stomach seized, gurgled. Saylor felt a pressing urgency to find a bathroom. She impulsively wrapped an arm around her stomach.

"Saylor, are you sure you're alright?" Julian's voice was tinged with concern.

"Yeah, just... just need a minute," she muttered, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'll be back in a sec."

Saylor set down the spray paint can, feeling a sharp twist in her stomach as she bent over. The sensation was unsettling, a queasy mix of nausea and cramping that made her pause.

Standing up slowly, she felt a wave of dizziness, the weight in her stomach growing heavier with each passing second.

"I'll be back in a minute," she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she began to walk towards the nearest building.

With every step, the urgency increased, her stomach gurgling ominously, each noise a warning of what was to come.

Her pace quickened as the pressure in her abdomen became more insistent, each step sending fresh waves of discomfort through her body. It felt as though her stomach was a ticking time bomb, the gurgling and churning growing louder and more frantic.

By the time she reached the bathroom, Saylor was nearly running. She slipped into a stall, the cold metal of the door pressing against her back as she fumbled to unzip her leather jeans.

As she collapsed onto the toilet, her stomach let go, releasing a rush of diarrhea that left her bracing her arms against the walls of the stall for support.

The sensation was both a release and a torment, her stomach twisting painfully with each wave. She took deep, shaky breaths, trying to steady herself as her body continued its relentless revolt.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, her face flushed with exertion. She could feel the muscles in her abdomen contracting uncontrollably, each spasm sending another wave of liquid out of her.

Saylor leaned forward, resting her elbows against her knees and her against her hands on the side of the stall, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

She felt drained, her body trembling from the effort. The nausea that had been a constant undercurrent now surged to the forefront, making her gag, forcing her to cover her mouth though nothing came up. Another wave of liquid poured out of her.

She stayed there for several minutes, caught in a vicious cycle of cramps and nausea, each seize of her stomach punctuated by more liquid splattering into the toilet. This was way more than her stomach not wanting to digest lunch right.

Saylor’s mind was racing with a mix of frustration and desperation. Finally, the immediate urgency began to subside, though her stomach still felt unsettled and raw.

Taking a few more deep breaths, she wiped her face with a piece of toilet paper, trying to regain some semblance of composure. She cleaned up as quick as she could.

Her legs felt weak and unsteady as she stood up, her reflection in the small mirror above the sink confirming what she already knew—she looked as bad as she felt.

She splashed some cold water on her face, hoping it would help settle her nerves and ease the lingering nausea.

Finally, she pulled herself together and headed back out to the courtyard.

When she returned, Julian was still working on her jacket, his concentration evident. He looked up as she approached, his expression shifting to one of concern.

"You okay?" he asked gently.

"Yeah, just needed a quick bathroom break," Saylor said, forcing a smile. "What's the verdict on the jacket?"

Julian held it up, the added fabrics and patches giving it a unique, personalized flair. "What do you think? It’s not done yet but…”

Saylor examined it, her eyes lighting up despite her discomfort. "It's awesome, Jules."

She picked up her spray paint can and turned back to the mural, determined to finish despite everything. Julian stayed close, while Saylor fought to keep her discomfort at bay.

Saylor's stomach churned violently as she continued to work on the mural, each stroke of the spray paint feeling like a monumental effort.

The colors blurred before her eyes, and she found it increasingly difficult to focus. Her stomach roiled with an uneasy mixture of nausea and cramping, making her movements jerky and uncoordinated. Minutes turned into an hour, and it was taking every ounce of strength for her to not start shaking from how nauseous she felt.

Julian, still working on her jacket nearby, glanced over with concern. "Saylor, you sure you don't need to sit down for a bit?"

She forced a smile, trying to keep up her usual bravado. "Nah, I'm good. Just gotta power through, you know?"

But as she tried to engage Julian in conversation, her voice wavered. "So, Jules, any new campus drama I should know about?"

Julian looked at her, his brow furrowing. "Not much. Just the usual gossip. Are you okay? You don't look so great."

Saylor's stomach twisted painfully, and she pressed a hand to her abdomen, another small burp sending acid licking the back of her throat that she muffled behind her hand, trying to ignore the growing urgency in her lower stomach again.

“Yeah, just... the paint fumes, and the heat, I guess," she lied, knowing full well it was more than that. "I'll be right back.”

She dropped the spray paint can again and hurried towards the bathroom, her pace more urgent this time. Her stomach felt like it was filled with molten lava, each step sending waves of nausea through her body. By the time she reached the bathroom, she was almost running.

She barely made it into the stall before another bout of diarrhea hit, leaving her clutching the sides of the stall for support once more. She felt her shirt sticking to her back.

The nausea grew worse, her stomach churning violently. She took deep breaths, hoping it would pass, but the sensation only intensified.

Saylor stood up shakily, making her way to the sink. She gripped the edge, her knuckles white, trying to steady herself. Her reflection in the mirror showed a pale, sweat-drenched face, her eyes wide with distress. She swallowed hard, feeling the bile rise in her throat.

A few moments later, Julian entered the bathroom, his worry evident. "Saylor? Are you okay?"

She turned to him, shaking her head slowly, "I... I don't feel so good, Jules."

“Is your stomach giving you trouble?” Julian asked, “Usually, sandwiches are easy to digest for you.”

“I… don’t… feel… good…” Saylor’s words were choppy, small gags interrupting her sentence.

Just as she said it, another wave of nausea hit, and she stumbled back into the stall. She barely had time to brace herself over the toilet before she started to vomit, her body heaving violently. Julian rushed to her side, holding her hair back and steadying her as she retched.

"It's okay, Saylor," he murmured, his voice soothing. "I'm here. Just let it out."

Saylor's body convulsed as she threw up, the contents of her stomach coming up in powerful, relentless waves.

Each heave sent a fresh surge of vomit into the toilet, and she could feel it burning her throat and nostrils.

Julian's steadying hand on her back provided some comfort, but the sickness was overwhelming.

Julian rubbed her back in slow, comforting circles, his touch gentle yet firm. "Just breathe, Saylor. I've got you."

Her stomach contracted again, forcing more vomit up her throat. The taste of bile was sharp and acrid in her mouth, making her gag even harder. She could feel the chunks of sandwich pour out of her.

Saylor heaved again. She could feel the vomit coming out of her nose, the sensation burning and painful. She couldn’t breathe, just coughed. Which made her vomit again.

Julian shifted from rubbing her back, to placing his hand on her abdomen and rubbing hard circles over her stomach. The same thing she did to him.

The motion, meant to comfort, only intensified her nausea, causing her to vomit even harder. She could feel her body shaking with the effort, the retching so intense it left her gasping for breath. She was thankful for it.

Julian held her steady, hand pressed to her abdomen, his other hand keeping her hair out of her face. "God, Say, why is your stomach always set to exorcism when you throw up?”

Saylor's stomach heaved again, sending another torrent of vomit into the toilet. She smacked his hand with her own to his comment, and he only held her tighter.

She could feel her body weakening, the relentless sickness taking its toll. The vomit came in frequent, abundant waves, leaving her feeling drained and miserable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the vomiting began to subside. Saylor collapsed against Julian, her body trembling with exhaustion. He held her gently, his arms providing a steady support as she wrapped them around her, holding her just above her chest.

"It's okay," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face and wiping her cheek with his finger, brushing away a tear. “You're okay now, blackberry."

Saylor nodded weakly, too tired to speak. She closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of Julian's comforting presence.

“Deep breaths…” Julian said, “That’s it…”

Saylor nodded, taking deep breaths. In through her nose, out of her mouth. She reached blindly but somehow managed to grab toilet paper and wipe off her face.

She leaned back against Julian, who placed the back of his hand on her cheek and her forehead.

“Oh, Say, you’re really warm,” Julian said softly.

-

Saylor lay on her bed, curled up on her left side. Her stomach still churned ominously, the discomfort making it impossible to find a truly comfortable position.

Julian sat beside her, his hand gently rubbing her shoulder in slow, soothing circles. He had pulled up a true crime article on his phone, his voice soft and steady as he read aloud.

The familiar rhythm of his voice was comforting, a steady presence that helped distract Saylor from the turmoil in her stomach.

Saylor felt her stomach seize, tasted bile. But she didn’t want to throw up again. It hurt, and she hated it.

"And the detectives soon realized," Julian read, "that the seemingly random clues were part of a much larger, more sinister pattern..."

Saylor closed her eyes, trying to focus on the story and let herself drift off to sleep. But each time she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness, a fresh wave of nausea would surge through her, pulling her back to painful alertness. Her stomach felt like it was tied in knots.

Julian glanced at her, his brow furrowed with concern. "You okay, Saylor? You look really pale."

"I'm fine," she murmured, though her voice was strained. "Just... trying to sleep."

Julian continued to rub her shoulder, his touch gentle and comforting. He was better at comforting her than she ever was with him. Or, this was how he comforted her. This worked for her, and what she did worked for him.

“Do you want me to stop reading? I can put on some music or something if you think that would help."

"No, keep reading," Saylor said, her eyes still closed. "You have the kind of voice that would make teenage girls lose their minds"

Julian chuckled softly before he nodded and resumed reading, his voice a steady, calming presence.

But Saylor's stomach had other plans. She could feel the nausea building, a slow, creeping sensation that made her mouth water and her skin break out in a cold sweat.

She swallowed hard, hoping to quell the rising tide, but it was no use.

She shifted slightly, trying to find a position that would ease the pressure in her abdomen.

Her stomach gurgled loudly, a sharp, painful cramp making her wince.

“Was that your stomach, blackberry?” Julian asked.

Saylor nodded slowly with a small whine.

"Jules," she said, "I think... I think I'm going to be sick."

Julian immediately set his phone aside and helped her sit up, his hand still on her shoulder. "Do you need the trash can? Or can you make it to the bathroom?"

Saylor shook her head, feeling the nausea intensify. "Trash can... please."

Julian grabbed the small trash can from beside the desk and brought it over, holding it out to her just in time. Saylor leaned over it, her body tensing as she felt the first violent heave rip through her.

Her stomach contracted painfully, forcing up a rush of vomit that splashed into the trash can with a sickening sound.

“You know, Say, you should audition for if they ever make another exorcist movie,” Julian said, pulling back Saylor’s hair again, “You’re a natural.”

She retched again, the force of it making her whole body shake. Julian kept a steady hand on her back, rubbing gently to offer what comfort he could.

Saylor's stomach heaved again, bringing up another torrent of vomit. The taste was bitter and acrid, burning her throat and nostrils. She could feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes from the effort, her body straining with each violent retch. Somehow, having less coming out of her made her retches sound even worse.

Julian's hand moved to her hair, holding it back from her face as she continued to vomit.

He whispered soothing words, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of her sickness. "You're doing great, Saylor. Just a little more."

Each heave seemed to come harder and faster, leaving her gasping for breath in between. She could feel the vomit forcing its way up her throat, her body betraying her with its relentless need to expel whatever was causing her so much discomfort.

The force of her vomiting was so intense that it left her dizzy and lightheaded, each wave taking a toll on her already exhausted body.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the vomiting began to subside. Saylor leaned back, panting heavily, her body trembling with the effort.

Julian was there, holding her steady, his touch a reassuring presence in the midst of her misery.

"You're okay blackberry,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her sweaty forehead. "It's over now. Just breathe."

Saylor nodded weakly, her eyes closing as she tried to catch her breath. Her stomach still felt uneasy, but the immediate urgency had passed. She leaned against Julian, grateful for his unwavering support.

"Thank you, Jules," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Julian smiled, his hand still gently rubbing her back. "You'd do the same for me, Saylor. Now, let's get you comfortable and see if we can get you to rest a bit."

With Julian's help, Saylor lay back down.

Julian set the trash can aside, before gently wiping the tears off Saylor’s face again.

“You did good, Say,” Julian said, “Just breathe, okay?”

[pumpkingas]

Omgg someone mentioned somebody wearing a gas mask and farting??? And I remembered this imagine I started writing and hhnnngnghh uhh female reader, male fart-er, he's a plumber oc but no scat 👍

Imagine you've got a problem with your sink, you call the landlord and they give you the number for their recommended plumber. It seems suspiciously cheap but hey what's the worst that could happen, you expect the plumber to come in a few days however you get a notification that he'll be there in a few hours. You quickly tidy up and get dressed and as soon as you're done he knocks on the door, you say hi and try some small talk but he just shows you a paper about what you called for, and when you nod he pushes past you towards the kitchen. 

When you turn around you notice the tube in his gas mask wraps around his body, and stops at a hole sewn in his pants on the right side of his ass. His quite large ass that stretches his coveralls tight. He stands at the sink, turning it on and off as well as leaning forward like he's listening for something. He turns the water off and squats down, at this he farts, a couple of noisy little bubbly ones, you blush a little expecting an apology or some sort of unease but he just takes a deep breath and sighs audibly. He clenches his cheeks and reaches under your sink, moving some cleaning products and paper towels out of the way.

"Sorry I thought you'd take longer…" you mumble, he grunts in response and carefully sits some of your larger containers on the floor beside him. In this position his coveralls look even tighter against his plump ass, as he leans back and forth his cheeks jiggle from the slight freedom before they're confined once more. He's fooling around with some pipe, seeming to be removing it. And his chubby but firm abdomen stretches as he twists his torso, his coveralls wrinkling in a new way. A slow low hiss is heard and at first you assume it's your sink, but it quickly grows in volume and bass, sliding silently through his cheeks before emerging loudly with a pop, it sounds greasy and makes you wonder if he wears undergarments beneath his uniform. He sits still for a moment, stopping his work to take a long deep breath, his large body shakes in pleasure and you begin to feel embarrassed. He seems completely confident in his behavior, even though you know how odd it is you can't bring yourself to stop him. 

"You don't have to watch." He states flatly, his voice is monotone though it doesn't sound rough in the slightest, you think for a moment he could be embarrassed but that quickly fades when he passes gas once more. It seems like just a simple statement, not a request or a question, and you really don't want to walk away. Not because you fear he'd rob you or try to hurt you, but simply because you cannot look away. His demeanor is strange, his actions stranger and his clothing strangest! Nothing's going to make you move from this spot until your sink is fixed. He seems perfectly content with your silence, working quietly, patiently like a complete professional. You can't really see what he's doing with his hands, but you can see how his butt clenches and his hips twist when he feels himself about to emit more hot gas, his stomach squeezing together making his farts even louder than they need to be. 

It seems that he likes the sensation of his burning hot gas against his crotch, and his low whimpers confirm that. He'll arch his back, hiss out a long sbd and tense his thighs, moaning and making small sounds throughout the whole thing. You can't help but squirm, it's gross! Completely and utterly gross yet there's something so erotic about all this. He's a stranger, humping your sick as he huffs his own farts. A full blown pervert, though by the way you lean against your counter; getting comfortable as you watch, maybe you're no different.

“It's really wet….” He states, voice muffled by his mask. You jump and uncross your legs. 

“What is?” You ask hurriedly. He arches his back like a cat and lets out a deep rumbler. His sigh afterwards is orgasmic.

“These boards right here,” He waves you closer and you slowly unglue yourself from the counter, sliding towards him and taking short breaths. Once you're beside him there's a putrid though faint scent, it seems that tube contraption connected to his mask is quite foolproof. He points to the bottom of your cabinet and you nod. 

“Might need to replace that…” He sighs, splaying his hand across the torso of his coveralls and pushing out a bubbly fart. “Or else, it might…” He takes a deep breath, more focused on huffing his gas than talking to you. “Start to mold.” He stands up and you note the way he towers over you. You back up and return to your space against the counter. 

“Was just a small blockage, try to make use of your garbage disposal more often.” He explains, handing you a bill for his services. You show him to the door and check how much damage your wallet is gonna take, but it seems like an hour of his time only costs as much as a bag of grapes. So maybe you'll excuse his behavior, and definitely not because you liked it.

[daisynik7]

After Last Night

Part 2 of Dirty Thirty

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: Kishibe’s POV, 2nd person POV, switching POVs, public bathroom sex, slight spit play, masturbation in the car, cum-eating, vaginal sex (cowgirl, doggy), cunnilingus, pet names (baby, princess, beautiful, one use of the word ‘slut’), mention of scat fetish (as a joke, I swear)

Summary: After one night, the world’s best Devil Hunter can’t get a certain princess out of his mind. 

Notes: This man has me in an iron grip. Almost tempted to write a part 3 because I cannot get over him. Chapter title inspired by “After Last Night” by Silk Sonic because these lyrics match perfectly. Please read Part 1 if you haven’t already! Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated. I hope you like this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Part 1 - Dirty Thirty | ao3 | Part 3 - Primetime

--------------------

Kishibe has been in the devil hunting business for more than half his life, no sign of stopping anytime soon. He shamelessly admits that he has a few loose screws rolling in his brain. It’s necessary to be a little crazy in this profession. Considering he’s made it alive this long, he’s certifiably insane. 

This is further solidified by the fact that he is currently at the same shitty bar from last night, sitting at the exact booth while sipping on a whiskey, glancing at the front door every few minutes. Examining each patron who enters, consistently disappointed that none of them is who he’s looking for. He tells himself that he’s desperate for a drink, not for her, but who is he trying to fool? She left his apartment not even 24 hours ago and he’s already missing her, eager to reunite, despite his warnings of not getting attached. He must be out of his goddamn mind to be doing this. 

The thing is: he can’t get her out of his head. The instant she walks out of his apartment, he regrets not asking for her number. Desperate for any fragment of her, he keeps the dress shirt she wore in a separate pile from his other clothes, making sure to get a couple good whiffs before setting it down. Her scent is familiar to him, reminds him of passion, warmth, and desire. 

The idea of never seeing her again doesn’t sit well with him, which is why he’s here after work, hoping to run into her as if it were by chance they reunite. In reality, he’s doing everything he can to manifest it, including revisiting an establishment he typically would never set foot in. It’s a running joke he’s playing on himself. Being bat-shit crazy makes him do silly things as a form of entertainment. It’s hilarious how he’s here at this bar tonight. And then the next night. And then the following nights after. It’s fucking comical, until it isn’t. 

A week and a half into this, he realizes he’s in too deep. He lies in bed, spent from masturbating to the few memories he has of her, dress shirt with her faded scent pressed against his nose. He’s been to that goddamn bar every night, no luck. He’s losing hope, almost tempted to work his magic on the college girls shaking their asses on the dancefloor. For someone like Kishibe, it’s relatively easy to find a woman to fuck. A random someone to satisfy his surprisingly high libido. No strings attached, as it should be.

But he doesn’t want a stranger. He wants her.

He’s totally lost his mind, he’s sure of it. 

A few days later, two weeks since he last saw her, the universe finally works in his favor. 

He’s particularly exhausted tonight, having spent most of the day driving through the city, training the new recruits, and fighting off some devils. He’s convinced that tonight will be another disappointment. However, there’s an imaginary angel on his shoulder urging him to stay. That there’s a chance that tonight will be different.

To his delight, it is. 

She stands at the bar, waiting for her vodka cranberry. Kishibe, who spots her from his booth, smiles to himself. He walks to her, guided by this gravitational pull they have on each other, everyone else fading in the background. 

“Hey there, princess.”

At the sound of his voice, she turns to him, eyes twinkling bright. “Kishibe,” she greets, flashing a luminous smile. There’s an unusual swell in his chest, a flutter in his abdomen. What power does this woman have on the world’s best Devil Hunter? He’s almost convinced she’s a devil herself. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” he offers, moving closer to her so she can hear him over the loud chatter and music. 

She shrugs, still grinning. “I don’t really let strangers buy me drinks.”

He raises a brow at her. “Is that what I am to you? A stranger?”

“I’m not sure what to call you. I’m trying not to get attached. Those are the rules, right?” There’s no malice in her tone. In fact, it feels flirtatious. 

He shifts closer to her, his coat brushing the hem of her skirt, head bowed beside her ear. “It’s okay to break some rules every once in a while, don’t you agree?”

She tips her chin up, gaze meeting his. “Only if we have a really good reason to. Otherwise, I’m a good girl who follows everything she’s told.” She wraps her lips around the straw, sucking the cocktail into her mouth, throat bobbing with each swallow.

Fuck. He stiffens beneath his pants, erection growing more evident just being in her presence. There’s no point in lying to her about his intentions. He’s too grown and too horny to play these games. “I’ve been here every night the past two weeks, hoping to run into you again. What does that say about me?”

Smirking, she answers, “It means that you broke your own rules. You’re in big trouble.” 

His cock twitches, imagining the lewd discipline she’s capable of dealing him. Swallowing hard, he murmurs, “I’ve been bad. Very, very bad.”

Reaching for his tie, she pulls him gently towards her. “I guess it’s my responsibility now to give you your punishment.” 

He grins, remembering the familiar words he said to her during their first conversation together. “You’re a clever one. I might just keep you.” 

“Who says I’m yours to keep?” she teases, tugging at his tie harder this time. His body drifts forward, their faces centimeters apart. He’d take her right here if it weren’t for the whole public indecency law.   

“You’re my pretty plaything, remember?” he says, lips grazing her ear. His hand slides to her waist, thumb slipping under the elastic band of her skirt. He wonders if she wore this especially for him. If she came here thinking about him the same way he did for her.

She shakes her head, breath warm on his cheek, tingling his scar. “Nope. You’re my plaything tonight, Kishibe.” 

Suddenly, she’s leading him to the bathroom, pinkies hooked together, maneuvering past the crowd. Even with this slightest bit of contact, excitement courses through his veins, electrifying every inch of his body. 

They cram into the farthest and biggest stall in the woman’s bathroom, her back against the door as he kisses her. He grips her firmly, grinding his bulge against her, desperate for any type of friction. He breaks away to focus on her neck, sucking at the sensitive spot right below her chin. She lets out a small whimper, reaching down to unbuckle his belt. 

“Use me as your fuck toy, princess. My cock is all yours. All yours,” he whispers, as she continues to work his pants off. Once the belt is loose, she unbuttons and unzips, causing his slacks to pool around his ankles, exposing the boner poking through his briefs. 

“This cock is all mine, huh? You wanted to see me tonight,” she huffs, slipping beneath his underwear, stroking him gently. There’s precum leaking from the tip, aroused since the moment he saw her. 

“I wanted to see you every night since I met you,” he confesses, rocking his hips slightly into her fist. 

“You’re addicted to this pussy, aren’t you?” She uses her free hand to shove his boxers down his legs. He lifts his feet to kick his clothes to the side, now completely naked below the waist. He feels like a fucking pervert, a man half nude in a stall of a public restroom. But he doesn’t care. All he can think about is fucking her. Hearing his name echo off the tile walls as he pounds her wet cunt with his hard cock. Flooding that gorgeous pussy full of his hot load. 

“I’m fucking obsessed with you. Haven’t been able to make it one night without thinking about you and this perfect pussy.” 

“What are you waiting for then? Take my skirt off,” she demands, rubbing her thumb on the slit of his dick, covering the head with his precum. “Fuck me. Make me come on this fat cock.” 

A guttural moan escapes him as he follows her command, stripping her bare from the waist down. She guides him to her arousal, grinding against him. He rubs small circles onto her clit until she whines, her own slick leaking from her entrance. She strokes his cock faster, using the other hand to caress his balls. He curses under his breath, knees buckling from the glorious sensation. “Fuck. You’ll make me come if you keep doing that.”  

“We can’t have that, can we?” A string of saliva drips out of her mouth and lands on his cock, spreading it with her fingers. She repeats this, lubricating his dick with her spit. 

“Fuck,” he reiterates, watching her in awe, about ready to burst. 

Facing the stall door, her palms pressed to the surface, she sticks her ass towards him. “Fuck me, Kishibe. Fuck me hard. Rail me.”

He almost nuts from the pure filth coming out her slutty mouth. Gripping her chin with his fingertips, he turns her to him to give her a sloppy kiss, gliding his cock into the groove of her ass. “Come all over my cock, princess. Want it dripping off when we’re done.” He spreads her cheeks, sliding the tip in slowly, sucking in a breath when she squeezes him tight.

Once his entire length is inside her, he begins to thrust, listening to the wet squelches of skin-to-skin contact. It’s not a normal desire anymore; he fucking needs this. It too fucking good to live without it. 

“Kishibe, oh my god,” she moans, throwing her ass back to him. His nails dig into the flesh of her hips, holding her securely in place to fuck her deeper and deeper until she’s whining with pleasure. The reverb of the music blaring from the dancefloor drowns the erotic harmony of their love making. It doesn’t matter if people can hear them fucking from outside, or if anyone walks in on them. Right now, it’s just the two of them, molded together seamlessly in a moment of passion. 

“Use this cock, baby. Fuck yourself with this cock until you cream all over it,” he growls, reaching around to massage her slippery clit. He salivates, craving for a taste later in the night when he takes her home with him. There’s no fucking way he’s letting her go again. 

“Ah, Kishibe. Baby. I’m…” she trails off, lost on her way to her climax.

“Do it. Come for me. Come for me, baby.”

Her pussy clenches him, gushing all over his cock. Seconds later, he orgasms inside her, eyes shut tight and body trembling from exhilaration. His chest quivers from the erratic thumping of his heart. 

“Ah, feels so fucking good when you fill me up,” she says, standing straight, face towards him to meet his lips. 

“You’re a bad influence on me,” he mutters, tongue swirling around hers, his fingers still caressing her clit gently. He can’t get enough of her. Every opportunity he gets, he needs to feel her.

She chuckles softly. “You started this.”

He pulls out, cum dripping down her inner thighs. He wipes the mess from her legs using toilet paper. When he reaches her pussy, she stops him. “Don’t. I want it inside me the rest of the night.”

Fucking hell. She’s going to be the death of him.

“I’m taking you home right now and I’m going to fuck more of my cum inside you,” he whispers, scattering kisses along her neck, thumb massaging her swollen bud. He seriously can’t get enough. 

She giggles, planting a smooch on his cheek. “Let’s go, then.” 

~~~

As if sex in a public restroom wasn’t enough of a wild card, you find yourself in another predicament inside Kishibe’s car, as he drives carefully through the streets of the city. 

Initially, you thought that fucking at the bar was a good way to get it out of your system. Enough to make it the rest of the ride to his house, where the two of you would ravage each other in the privacy of his apartment.

Being in the car with him, hot and heavy, surrounded by sexual tension, is bound to lead to salacious activity. You can’t help it; when you’re with him, all your inhibitions are let loose. He makes you wild with lust, shamelessly slutty for any part of him. From his languid gaze to his tender touch, every aspect of him sets you ablaze. 

The ride starts off tame, the usual witty banter exchanged between the two of you. He steers with one hand on the wheel. The other rests on the gear shift, grasping it with his fingers. Even the way he drives is sexy. 

“Have you missed me?” he asks, glancing at you quickly before setting his attention back to the road.

“I have. Maybe a little too much.” You let out a small laugh, thumbs twiddling on your lap, embarrassed to admit it.

“Tell me. Tell me how much you missed me.”

It’s an invitation to confess the dirty thoughts you’ve been having of him these past two weeks. For him to know that you feel the same for him as he does for you. After all, he exposed himself earlier, admitting his obsession for you. You owe it to him to be honest, too.

“I’ve thought about you every day since. I haven’t been able to get you off my mind no matter what I did.”

“And what did you do?”

“I kept myself distracted. Went out with friends, worked long hours.” You pause, uncertain if you should share this extra detail, but you decide to anyways. “Touched myself.” 

You avoid looking at him, staring at your lap. From the corner of your eye, you see him smirk. “Show me.” 

“What?”

“Show me how you touch yourself.” He keeps his eyes in front of him, wrist flexing, grip tightening on the wheel. His pinky finger stretches out from the shift to graze the exposed skin right below the hem of your skirt.

You swallow hard, nervous to be put on the spot like this. It’s not as if this is any more risqué than what you’ve done before. The two of you just fucked in public, but for some reason, this request catches you off guard. 

He senses your hesitation, prompting him to say, “I’m sorry. Forget what I said. We’re almost home, let’s just – ”

“I’ll do it,” you interrupt him. Still avoiding him, you lift your hips and reach between your legs, sliding your panties off. A minute later, your thighs are spread wide, skirt hiked above your waist, toying with your clit, sticky with his creampie from earlier. You don’t hold back your moans, windows fogging up from your hot breath, whimpering his name. 

“Fuck,” he swears. “Fuck.” Both hands are clenched on the wheel now, knuckles pale from his tight grip, resisting every urge to pull over and fuck you once more. “Get it real fucking wet for me,” he groans. “Going to bury my face in it as soon as we’re home, dive in and fucking drown in it. ”

You reach your shiny fingers out to him, eyes hazy with lust. “Taste it, Kishibe.”

He grins, grabbing you by the wrist and sticking it in his mouth, sucking hard to swallow your cum clean off. You yank your hand out with loud pop, sliding your fingers in your arousal again. 

“More,” he demands, eyes darting towards your sopping cunt hungrily. “Give me more.”

You feed him your sticky mess, him delighting in your essence like a person savoring a treat. It’s depraved. Wicked. Straight up nasty. But the two of you indulge in it shamelessly, pushing boundaries further and further to see how far you can go. Unknown territory, exploring each other’s deepest desires without judgement. 

It's a match made in heaven. Or in this case, probably hell.

He pulls into his designated spot outside the familiar apartment complex, car in park, seatbelt removed hastily, finally able to face you. His lips collide onto yours in a sloppy kiss, full of tongue, spit, and staggered breaths. You hear the click of your seatbelt being disengaged, then feel him between your thighs, massaging your swollen bud with his thumb. 

“Kishibe, please,” you beg, tears forming in your eyes from the stimulation. You’ve never felt this aroused before, this needy. “Please, baby. I want you.”

“You have me, beautiful. I’m not going anywhere.”

Moments later, you’re both naked on the bed, you at the edge, your legs splayed, him holding your knees, keeping you exposed. Kneeling on the carpet, he takes his time running his tongue all over your pussy, not wasting a single drop of your glossy cum.

“You want my cock?” he muffles through his slobber. He slips his middle and ring finger into your entrance, curling into your sweet spot. “Or you want to come on my fingers first like a slut?”

Moaning, you nod your head, incapable of verbalizing an answer. He chuckles against your skin, thrusting faster into your cunt, squeezing your bud between his lips. Keen on making you squirm and writhe in pleasure. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve orgasmed tonight, mind blissfully fuzzy, body pleasantly spent. Still, your sex drive is at full speed, not slowing down for a second to be intimate with him. Despite all that’s been said and done tonight, his warning from two weeks ago replays in your mind. A young woman like yourself shouldn’t get attached to me. My life is expendable.

Is he going to let you walk away again tomorrow morning? 

Once you orgasm, he scoots up the bed, you beckoning him to lay next to you. You cuddle, swapping chaste kisses, enjoying each other’s warmth. Soon after, he rolls you on top of him, delivering a playful squeeze on your ass cheek. “Can you fuck me now, princess? Let me be your plaything this time.”

His willingness to submit to you is surprising and fucking sexy. You give him a wet smooch, tracing his scar with your smile. “Think you deserve it?”

“I’ve been tormented enough tonight, so yes.”

“Then beg for it.”

His chest vibrates from a disapproving hum. “You’re mean when you’re on top.”

“You know you like it,” you respond, a devilish smirk on your face. “Beg for it, Kishibe.”

He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat in anticipation. “Please,” he murmurs, barely audible.

“Is that all you got? You’ve got to do better than that.” You tease him, rubbing your sleek folds along his shaft. 

Through gritted teeth, he draws a breath, sensitive from the contact. “Please, baby. I’m so fucking hard for you. My cock is aching. I want to fucking nut inside your pussy. Please.”  

Giggling, you suck on his bottom lip, positioning his tip at your entrance, sinking slowly. He grunts when he’s all the way in, head thrown back on the pillow in relief. “You’re a goddamn dream, you know that?”

There he goes again, his precious words releasing butterflies in your stomach, the fluttering fueling your desires. Nuzzling your nose to his, you whisper, “You shouldn’t say things like that so casually.” You rock your hips onto his lap, the tip of his dick stimulating your G-spot deliciously with each leisure thrust. 

One hand slides up your body, cupping your face. “Why not? You don’t like it?”

“I do. That’s the problem.” You lean into his hold, rubbing your cheeks on his calloused palm. Despite the roughness of his skin, his touch is tender, the brush of his thumb delicate along the outline of your lips. He studies you with intense focus, as if he’s using this moment to memorize the image of you. Like it’ll be snatched in a flash. It makes you anxious. Will he echo the same warning as last time? Is this a ruse to get you into bed once more before truly ending it for good? There’s still that lingering doubt in your head.

He readjusts his position, planting his feet on the bed, legs bent at the knee. His arms wrap you in a secure embrace, voice low in your ear. “I’m a man of my word, remember? I mean everything I say.” He keeps you steady, halting your movements to take over himself, fucking you slow and deep. It’s careful. Intimate. 

���I won’t hurt you,” he continues, cradling you snug against his chest. “You’re safe with me.”

With his commitment uttered in your ear, his strong body enveloping you in reassurance and stability, your doubts fade. In this moment, no matter how fleeting it may be, you trust Kishibe. You’re safe with him. You don’t want this to end.

~~~

There’s no urgency tonight. The two of them move together gracefully, pausing every so often to share a passionate kiss, lace their fingers, or gaze into each other’s eyes. Kishibe chants her name melodically, guiding her hips in rhythm with his measured ruts. He never loses sight of her, watching every reaction, from the smooth moans rolling off her tongue to the subtle tears glistening in her eyes, immersed in the pleasure. He makes love to her cautiously, no longer hasty for a quick release, instead yearning to remain like this until the universe dictates their parting, which he wishes is never.

After the mistake of getting attached in his past, he vowed to be alone for the remainder of his life. He had no issues with this fate. Drifting from bar to bar, woman to woman, devil to devil, he was absolutely fine with it. In fact, he enjoyed it. There were no commitments, no pressure, and most importantly, no heartbreak. As cuckoo and fucked up in the head this business has made him, he unfortunately still has a heart. And a vulnerable one at that. 

That’s the true bane of a Devil Hunter: Love. It’s a distraction, it ruins lives. It takes a crazy Devil Hunter and turns them into a crazy, vengeful Devil Hunter, which is almost always worst. He’s learned to avoid it at all costs. Any inkling of personal joy he felt, he suppressed by drinking booze and reminding himself of his colleagues’ dead bodies he privately mourned month after month, year after year. Love is not worth the collateral damage it’s burdened with. It’s too much to bear on top of everything else. 

This is the first time in years that Kishibe strays from the beliefs that he indoctrinated in himself so ardently. All because of this woman who popped into his life out of nowhere, a princess set on winning his heart. He almost thinks it’s a prank, or an elaborate plot to kill him. But no. Being in this industry for so long has sharpened his radar. She isn’t an enemy or a fiend; she’s human, down to the core. And whatever it is that’s brewing between them is authentic, sincere. It’s real.

He’s become so unfamiliar with the sensation that with this tiny spark, he feels the scorching burn of it kindling the cold barrier he’s surrounded by. The heat is tantalizing enough to let his guard down, too alluring to ignore. It’s a deviation from the mundane routine he’s followed through the years, but maybe he owes it to himself to explore it, for curiosity’s sake. 

The orgasm that has been building since his release earlier is imminent as he picks up the pace. She’s climaxes twice in this position, her slick smeared on his pelvis, moans reduced to quiet whines, body pliant in his arms. “Are you okay? I can stop if you want me to.”

She lets out a weak laugh. “I’m more than okay. And you better not stop.” With the strength she can muster, she takes control again, thrusting her ass back onto his cock. “You said you’d fuck more of your cum inside me. You’re a man of your word, remember?”

He is constantly in awe of her. Dazzled, captivated, completely smitten. “Fuck, you’re amazing. Keep fucking me, baby. Just like that, don’t stop. Make a fucking mess.”

She kisses him, licking and nipping at his lips while she continues to milk his cock for all he’s worth, eager to fulfill that promise. Seconds later, he orgasms, the high so intense, he loses himself for a moment. A bright light blinds him, convincing him for a split second that he has ascended into heaven. Death by sex, not a bad way to go. He much prefers this than being killed by a devil. Back to reality, he’s relieved to be in her arms, still in his own personal paradise. 

There’s a flow of cum sticky between them as they lay with each other, steadying their breaths. When she attempts to get up to grab the wipes in the bedside drawer, he stops her, binding her close into a hug. “Not yet. Let’s stay like this for a bit.” He presses his lips to her temple, eyes shut, body sinking into the mattress while hers sinks into his. 

Giggling, she responds, “I didn’t expect you to be the lovey-dovey type. I like it.”

“Oh, so now you like me?” he teases, twirling a loose strand of her hair around his finger. “Didn’t you tell me last time that you didn’t?”

“That was then. This is now,” she replies, chin resting on her knuckles, palms laid flat on his chest. Peering at him with innocent eyes that put a flutter below his abdomen. “You’re a hypocrite too, y’know.”

Smirking, he plays along. “Am I?”

“Yeah, you told me we can’t do this again, yet here we are.”

“You’re right, I did say that.”

“So, you’re full of shit.”

Chuckling, he responds, “I am. I’m a man of his word who’s also full of shit. Ironic, isn’t it?”

She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she turns to avoid his gaze, staring at the vanity on one side of the bedroom. After a minute of silence, she finally speaks. “How do I know that what you’re saying is true, then?” This time, she’s not pretending. She’s setting up her defenses, protecting herself. Guarding her heart. 

He strokes the nape of her neck delicately, surprised by the goosebumps prickling her bare skin. “You don’t have to believe me right away; I don’t expect you to. But I meant everything I said tonight. I have no intentions of hurting you.”

“You’re not going to make me do the walk of shame again in the morning?” 

“No. And I’m sorry I made you do that in the first place.”

Again, she doesn’t respond immediately, still looking at the vanity. Suddenly, she stretches her arm out, pointing at a distinct corner of the frame. Her voice is softer, less cautious. “You kept that?”

He looks to what she’s referring to: the infamous Dirty 30! sash and sparkly tiara hanging on the corner of the vanity, adding a splash of décor to his otherwise bleak bedroom. Clearing his throat nervously, he answers, “Yeah, I did.”  

Excited she lifts her head to face him, beaming. “Kishibe.”

“What…?” It’s his turn to avoid her, moving his head to the other side, blushing.

“Kishibe.” She cups his cheeks, hot with embarrassment, forcing his gaze towards her. “Baby.” She scoots up so that her lips are centimeters from his, smirking as she nuzzles his face. “The last time I was here, there was nothing in your room besides work stuff. But you kept my little sash and crown.” With a smooch, she continues to smile at him. “It’s really sweet. You’re really sweet, Kishibe.”

“It’s not often that I’m called that.”

“Well, you are.” With another quick peck on the lips, she warns, “You better not break my heart.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He slides his hand over hers, still curved around his cheek, nestling into her touch, absolutely certain in this commitment to her. 

“I mean it.”

“I know you do, princess,” he says, hugging her tight. “I do, too.”

“If you do, I’m going to tell everyone you have a micro-penis. And a scat fetish.”

He chuckles, his lips grazing her forehead. “That’s fair. Although, I give you permission to do something even worse if that ever happens.”

“I hope it never has to come to that.”

“Me too.”

He won’t pretend that he’s not scared shitless. There’s that lingering fear that what he’s doing is a big mistake, that it will ruin everything he’s built for himself. As an extremely calculated, methodical Devil Hunter, he has to have this mentality to stay alive. But Kishibe, the man outside of the Devil Hunter, has always been spontaneous. Itching for adrenaline every chance he can get, the one that gets his heart pounding, his blood pumping, his cock twitching. He finds that in her. 

Every day, he’s surrounded by death and suffering. Being with her reminds him of a world outside of that, full of life and pleasure. It’s refreshing how effortlessly they exchange quips, their conversations flowing smoothly. He likes that she hasn’t made any jokes about their age gap or about how much older he is than her. It makes him feel like they’re on the same wavelength, which he appreciates more than he can explain. There’s an aura about her that draws him in, inescapable and spellbinding, impossible to ignore. 

All this time, he thought he’d only live long enough to die in the face of a devil. Now, it’s as if sunlight shines through the clouds, casting a new, hopeful outlook. Maybe he won’t be killed. Maybe he can live a normal life after all. And maybe she’s the one who can help him achieve it. 

--------------------

End Notes: What do we think? Part 3? 😜

[ghostdrool1]

Heyy, I'm ghostdrool

Finally decided to post after what, a year or so.? Honestly didn't think I was going to post on this platform when I joined Tumblr but here we are🙌

Anyway a little bit about me:

I'm the very ripe age of 19, but I'll be 20 in July 🎊

Mainly on here for Tummy content, SFW preferred on this blog.

I can do art but it'll be rare because I'm not too sure about my skills, and I have like, no time to draw because of work and classes. That also adds onto how often I post because I have no time to do anything I swear, but I'll try to at least post once a month lmao.

It's mentioned in my bio that I am indeed taken by a lovely autistic so please stop DMing me and proceeding to ask for my snap, I'm so tired of it. On the other hand I'm very open to having new friends here, so please don't be shy if you wanna be buddies 🫶

What you'll see here:

Stuff I do/allow:

• Stuffing

• Starvation

• Stomach Noises

• Soft Vore

• Hard Vore (not preferred)

• G/T Vore

• Same Size Vore (not preferred)

• Burps

• Tummy Rubs

• Sick/Queasy Tummies

• Slight Weight Gain

• Mpreg (not preferred)

• Mouth Play

• Food Play

• BDSM

• LGBTQ+

• Monsters

• Masks

• Soft Torture

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Stuff I do NOT do/allow:

• Zoophilia

• Pedophilia

• Anal/Cock Vore

• Extreme Weight Gain

• Giant Inflation

• Farts

• Vomit

• Scat

• Eating Disorders

• Birthing

• Gore

• Feet

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A few more things..

I'm very fond of faceless or masked characters, so most of my content will consist of many masked/faceless characters and Oc's. So be prepared for that lol.

Also, I'm a straight female, meaning a lot of my content will be mostly male's. Although if asked I will do some things with females or other genders if asked. 💜 Speaking of that, I do really enjoy Male on Male things, so I'm open to that stuff as well🫶

I am not much of a fan of Furry content, not that I have anything against them at all, they're really cool people and their art is adorable, but I don't really enjoy furry art/posts when it comes to belly kinks. It's just not my thing, but no harm toward that amazing community ♡♡

I'm a SFW content creator, I tend to enjoy bellies and Vore in a non-sexual way, so there won't be too much sexual related posts on my blog, but just be aware it might be possibility.

►◄►◄►◄►◄►◄►◄►◄►◄►◄►◄►◄►◄►◄►◄►◄

That's about it! Please don't be shy to DM me or send an Ask, I'm nice, I promise! No ask is too weird or gross🫶 (unless it's in my list of not allowed)

Thank you. ❤

[kenztheweirdmf]

WELCOME TO MY BLOG 💙

Yello Im Ken or call me Nok both works • He/Him/His • Bisexual • 🇵🇭/🇯🇵 ───────────────────────────────────────────────────

[ About me :D ]

I yap WAYYY to much on how i love shipping MCU-Peter with beefy muscular possibly hairy hunks or beautiful milfs AND MAKE PETER TOP THEM IM A BELIEVER OF TWINK TOP PETER RAHHHH 🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅 i know i sound annoying and thats true Xd

I have a habit on chatting random people on random times who liked my post and if youre one of those sorry if i come too keen just a bad habit ;w; i also love emoticons/emojis and if you send me some ill be very happy ^w^

───────────────────────────────

Ships I Like :3Peter with Tony, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Thor, Clint, Bruce OR ANY HUNK OR HOT MILFS JUST MAKE SURE THEY'RE OLD ENOUGH TO BE PETERS DAD/MOM 😂 I also ship him with DC hunks like Batman, Nightwing, Redhood, Superman again if its a hunk taller and old enough to be Peters dad then Y E S

Next up are my Turn ons and Turn off and my extreme Turn on ima put a "keep reading" on the extreme cus i don't wanna flash bang you if its your 1st time on my blog ;w; ─────────────────────────────── Turn On's / Kink's I Like (this kinks are pretty tamed ;w;)

Small Top x Big Bottom • Scent/Smell • Size Diff • Male Lactation • slight blood kink • Chubby belly/Dad Bod • Uncut Cocks • Praise Kink • Degrading Kink • Spanking • Beards • Big man tiddies 🐮 • Pierced Nipples • Tattoos • Cream pie • Breeding • Cum inflation • Facial • Piss Kink • Pec job/fucking • Mpreg • Public Sex/Nudity • Man Cunt/Boy Pussy • Feminization • Size Queen • Dacryphilia • Hairy Pits theres probably more but I forgot butttt if you mention a kink thats not in my Turn off/Kinks I Dislike ill probably love it :3 ─────────────────────────────── Turn Off's / Kinks I Dislike

Body Odor • Scat/poop • Necrophilia • Vore • Gore • Vomit

───────────────────────────────

Just big warning the next kinks are very VERY VERY fucked up and immoral just a warning you don't have to read it really take care of your self first and if you decided to keep going good luck 🙏

Extreme Turn On's / Immoral/Fucked up Kink I Fucking love 😍 (if you hate/dislike this kinks then i understand and is justified)

many types of Incest • Extreme Underage like baby age • Grandpas like 70 and above • shota/loli-con • z0()philia like dogs, horses • Bugs or Insects • Oviposition • impregnation • pissing inside hole/pussy • rape/gangrape • non con -> con • sick twisted fucked up love • Abuser x Victim • Race kink • Unconventionally/Ugly people appearance wise • Objectifying • Extreme/Unrealistic fucking

[apprenticestanheight]

All is Well That Ends Well: Lawrence Gordon x gn! afab! reader: Part II

oooooooookay!! Here we are with part two in this series. If you missed it, here's part one.

This one is coming out eight days later than originally planned--work has absolutely kicked my ass since I started a week and a half ago and most of my days off have been spent sleeping and relaxing in recent, so I haven't really had too much of a chance to edit this like I'd been hoping to do, but here it is eight days late and I promise, as long as I remember to use the next two and a half days wisely, part three will come out on time.

Fic type - It gets very spicy very fast, so this one is both fluff and smut. Minors, do NOT INTERACT WITH THIS SERIES.

Warnings - slight petplay (the nickname puppy has once again taken the stage bc I will never ever stop blanking on petnames), mentions of praise, degradation, somno, free use, masochism, there are mentions of watersports + scat (they're both barely talked about and, not to yuck anyones yum, both stated as hard nos), the reader has a slight oral fixation (they enjoy sucking dick), begging is mentioned and depicted in a kinky way, the word cunt is used, plus Lawrence is vanilla, eating drywall is mentioned once (I love me an unhinged metaphor), car crashes and driving after having drank is mentioned (lawrence does so, but he's not drunk out of his mind and is sober by the time he does the driving)

A week and a half later, you find yourself at that dive bar again. That time, you’re with Aurelie Summers, fellow struggling PhD student and best friend of twelve years, having walked to the bar together as it was within walking distance of your apartment.

You take the bar in a bit better that time around—it’s nice despite how small it is. There's a bar counter at the back and several different booths littered across the space. Aurelie tells you she’s covering food and drinks and you let her do so because there’s no point in refusing as it were, and the two of you sit down at the bar counter. She buys you a double brandy and orders whiskey for herself, watches the way that you look around the bar keenly.

“Did you and one of your hook ups meet here?” She asks, tucking a strand of bright blue hair behind her ear. She slides her dark blue, thinly-framed glasses up on her nose, wrings out her hands as she waits for your response.

“I wish,” you laugh. “I did meet someone, I just didn’t have the sense to fuck him. He was older than we are by at least a decade, but fuck was he handsome. Tall, blonde, doctor, sexy as hell voice.”

She laughs, brown eyes squinting. “If you see him again, I’ll find a girl to take home so that you’re not fucking him in our apartment.”

She was a year older than you and had been your best friend since you were eighteen, and she was nineteen, and the both of you were getting your bachelors in the arts. You’d met in your first class of the semester, struck up a conversation at random, and had been stuck together like glue ever since. You’d been living together at your crappy apartment since you were nineteen and twenty, and your bond had been one that you knew would out last both of your degrees and the full-time jobs in your careers of choice that you’d take up in the aftermath.

Her skin was a warm brown and her hair was bright blue all around, typically done in protective braids that framed her face well and sat just a few inches below her shoulders. That day she'd worn a black button up with white pants and the heeled combat boots she cherished since buying them the previous decade, and per usual, she looked gorgeous.

“Thank you,” you grin. “If I do see him again, I am to regale him with tales of art history and some about writing.”

“And I think I owe you some medicine talk?” The sound of his voice makes you jump, which in turn makes him laugh. Aurelie scans the handsome man just a few paces behind you, watches you watch him approach.

“You do,” you grin, recovering from the shock easily. “I want to hear all about oncology so that I can stop thinking about art and writing technique for a few seconds.”

Lawrence looks so good that it has to be criminal to some extent—he wears a black button up, a maroon tie and black pants. It’s clearly not something he’d wear in his day to day, but the black looks fucking marvelous, and it matches the glasses he wears in a way that makes you want to start eating drywall as a means of distracting yourself from noticing it.

“Tell him about surrealism. The residents I’ve met have always found interest in that sort of thing,” she whispers, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze. “If he’s an attending, go with surrealism still. Very interesting artistic genre. As for authors, all white men are prone to enjoying a Stephen King novel or two.”

You laugh, flustered and nervous. “This is my friend, Aurelie Summers. I believe I might’ve mentioned her to you when we met initially.” In a throw-away style that Lawrence probably couldn’t remember, even though you could.

Lawrence holds out a hand to her, and you watch them shake hands.

“It’s lovely to meet you, but on another note, take care of my Y/N,” she says. “They’ve got studying to do tomorrow, and I bet them the next five takeaway orders we do that they would procrastinate at least half of this month away. Quiz them if you want—I am going to flirt with the pretty brunette giving me sex eyes in the corner now.”

She glances at you, winks and mouths “have fun!” as she walks away.

You let Lawrence buy you another brandy when you’ve finished the one that Aurelie had bought, end up sitting with him in a booth near the back right corner of the bar.

The two of you spend the next six or seven hours talking. Lawrence eggs you on about art history first and so you blab about surrealism, street art, the art of the renaissance era, and the pop-art era of the 50s and 60s until you’ve run out of things to say.

When he bugs you about writing you blab for a bit about classic lit, and accidentally go on a rant about how The Great Gatsby is not as great as the title makes it seem, the sheer excellence of all of James Baldwins work and the fact that you’re not really privy to much of Austens work, however, given that Pride and Prejudice was your introduction to the classics genre as a whole, it’ll always hold a place in your heart unlike anything else is capable.

You talk about how you think Stephen King is prone to going into a bit too much detail—which is a point that Lawrence laughs at and agrees with, noting that he doesn’t hate Kings prose, but often finds that the excessiveness with which King can go on about something random is too much for his particular tastes—and after that, you blab for a bit about Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.

Then you listen to Lawrences discussion. He regales you with tales of medical school, basic medical stuff and a couple of different tactics and techniques. You listen almost gleefully because he’s clearly very smart and has a very interestingly unique way with his words. It’s an amazing adage to the fact that the talk of all things medical pretty much shuts your brain off—in that it lets you focus on something other than writing, art, or the troubles of your day to day—and eventually, you know a lot more about medicine and surgery than you did beforehand.

Then suddenly, it’s nearing midnight and Lawrence is leaning back, pressing his back against the leather cushioning of the booth.

“There is something more I find myself wanting to discuss with you,” he says. “But for that to take place, I would admittedly find it preferential that we went back to mine. The type of conversation I’m looking to engage in shouldn’t really occur in a dive bar.”

You’re agreeing before you can even think about it, checking your phone to find that Aurelie had texted you when she and the brunette left the bar.  

Thirty minutes later, it’s gone midnight and you’re sitting on the couch of what clearly used to be a family home, waiting for Lawrence to open up the discussion he has planned and wanting for a glass of red wine to ease your nerves, though you don’t go so far as to ask for one directly.

The living area is dimly lit—a few lamps, the kitchen light coming in from behind you, but not much else. A wooden coffee table with magazines and books sits in front of you and there are stairs to the upper level of the house in the left corner of the room. The walls are a dark beige that borders on light brown and Lawrence stands across from you, face showcasing that he’s deep in thought, trying to figure out how to phrase whatever it is he wants to say.

“This might seem a little forward,” Lawrence begins. “But—you have student loan debt and you’ll end up with more come the end of your PhD, and from what you told me in between your attractive ramblings about Stephen King and other sources of modern lit, you’re living in a crappy apartment with a roommate. I figure this way we can do something a bit more mutually beneficial. I have a condo I don’t use because Alison gave me this place in the divorce, and I cannot will myself to move out.”

“A bit of clarity as to what you’re trying to be forward about would be nice,” you murmur before you can stop yourself. “And if it is what I think it is, you’ve had a week and a half to think about it. I have, but that is not to mean I've thought about it consistently, let alone consistently enough to make a decision of any kind.”

The remark you’d made as a joke but had thought about in fits and starts since. You’d not a clue of Lawrences finances and thus wouldn’t’ve insinuated it otherwise, let alone mentioned the idea you’d come to think was stupid even if you’d meant for it to be a joke.

“You mentioned that you spoke of being a sugar baby in jest with the friend I was introduced to, I believe? Aurelie Summers was her name.” The stupid, idiotic joke you'd made haphazardly but hadn't been able to stop thinking about. The one that you'd thought Lawrence had forgotten about, though it seemed he hadn't.

You snort ungracefully, lean forward and stand. “No. This is not a discussion that’s happening without a glass of wine. The brandy that Aurelie bought me and the one you bought me have worn off and I will not do this without at least a sip of good quality red stuff down my guzzle.”

Lawrence laughs, and you follow him to the kitchen. He grabs a bottle from the small cellar next to his fridge, pours you a glass and watches you take a sip of it.

“Okay,” you nod, take a deep breath in. “The sugar discussion can happen now. First and foremost, you’re a handsome guy, yeah. You’re within the pool of men I’m willing to have sex with, and you make it sound like you have a lot of disposable income, but I’ve met you twice across the past two weeks and we’ve talked for a grand total of maybe seven and a half hours. What do you want out of this potential arrangement? How can I trust you won’t try to kill me or turn out to be completely insane?”

Lawrence laughs. You hate yourself for it, but your guard slips and you find it attractive.

“I promise you, your death is not among my interests,” he says. “I find myself quite vested in your remaining alive, though, so if someone does try to kill you once we get to know each other more, I’ll do what I can to ensure you’re protected.”

You nod. “And what—generally—from this arrangement, do you want?”

“Firstly, the aforementioned condo—you should move into it, otherwise it’s collecting dust.”

“Why the fuck would a married man have a condo as it were?” You ask. “What, were you cheating on her over the weekend and using that as some kind of fucking bachelor pad? If that’s the case, then I am not moving into what used to be a sex motel.”

Lawrences gaze turns cold. You take a sip of your wine.

“I did not use the condo as a sex motel,” he says. “But—for your information, they were mine and Alisons fail safes, so that, if the marriage didn’t work out, we’d both have a place to go in the fallout. She divorced me and moved into the condo she’d bought that’s an hour into the city. This house is in my name and selling it is too much of a hassle now, but I really do like the condo and selling it wouldn’t be worth it anyways. If you move in, it stops collecting dust, you don't have to live with a roommate in a shithole anymore, and I can sleep a bit easier come nightfall for the knowledge that the condo is no longer sitting unused.”  

“Secondly?” You ask, referring to his earlier words which implied that the condo was only the first point of the discussion he’d aimed to have “What’s next?”

“These types of arrangements typically involve sex,” Lawrence says. “Ours will, if you say yes. I can give you at least four thousand dollars a month and still be living well within my means after bills and other expenses.”

“If I say do yes?” You ask. “What does that mean from here on out?”

“Then ground rules will need to be discussed, of course. Rules will need to be set, too—things like days to meet up, other forms of compensation that are allowed, the specifics of the arrangement that we have yet to make clear.”

“I’ll move into your condo,” you shrug. “Aurelie loves me but I know she hates the fact that I never really leave the apartment except to study at the uni library, grab take out, or go to work, so she’ll be glad to be roommate-less and might just be overjoyed that she’ll finally be able to bring the rarer hookups back to our apartment instead of going to theirs. Now lets discuss the rest of it.”

“You’ll get four thousand a month for meet ups at least two or three times a week,” he says. “In two installments—the first at the beginning of the month, the second during the middle of the month. I won’t ask you what you use the money for but if you’re making the minimum payments on your loans and give a shit about your credit score, don’t use too much of the money to pay them off. Paying off your student loans will worsen your credit score, something I learned when I paid the last of them off circa ’99.”

“First rule: no staying over,” you say. “Second: no Mondays. I work 11:30 to close on Monday because my classes are in the morning and I will be pissy if you try to approach me when I’ve worked ten hours.”

“Third: no feelings,” Lawrence says. “Neither of us are allowed to fall in love. The minute feelings start coming through, the arrangement ends.”

You nod at that. “I promise not to fall in love with you, Doctor Gordon.”

“We both should pass an STI screening,” Lawrence says, ignoring your remark. “Unless you’ve done one in the past six months? I get them done after every sexual encounter just to be safe.”

“Aurelie makes me do them with her once every two or three months to steer clear. Last one says I’m clear as crystal and sexually transmitted infection-less.”

“That makes this easier, doesn’t it?”

“I’ve always liked things convenient,” you shrug, taking another sip of your wine. “Kinks. Go. All of them.”

Lawrence laughs at your directness, takes the wine from you and takes a sip.

“I like to be dominant,” he says. “Don’t mind ordering people around—it comes with my job—but that’s about it.”

You lick your lips. “Very vanilla, Doctor Gordon.”

Lawrence scoffs. “Well, in a loveless and sexless marriage, there is not a lot of room for kinky bedroom play. In terms of kinks I will never engage in as those are just as important: if you have any interest in watersports or scat play, this ends now.”

“It seems our hard nos are the same,” you laugh. “My kinks, which are by far a lot less tame than yours: free use, somno, praise, degradation, pet play to an extent—you call me puppy and I am at risk of being smitten—I can also occasionally be masochistic, have somewhat of an oral fixation from time to time, and have a thing for arms, hands, and voices. I also don’t hate being ordered around but I like directives to be specific as vagueness is just flat out fuckin’ annoying.”

You take the wine glass from him, take a sip. He steps forward. “Mind if I do a quick test?”

“Test of what kind?” You ask, head tilted. You want to know what he’s thinking, are so curious to find out what thoughts are running through his mind that you almost say yes right out the gate.

“Just to see how good you are at doing what you’re told,” he says it like it’s the most innocent thing to ever befall his lips. You don’t know whether to find that hot or extremely annoying. “Our meetings can begin tonight if this is to go well.”

“I have studying to do, and I already said no staying over.” You want to agree to do whatever he wants, though. You have to fight yourself in order not to.

“I can drive you back—a few sips of wine and a scotch on the rocks is pretty much nothing.”

“That’s not very doctor-y of you,” you say pointedly. “I would assume even oncologists are against driving after a few drinks.”

“I feel very sober,” he says. “I promise, if you let me drive you back, not to crash into a tree. Do you want to do this?”

You bite your lip, nod before you can stop yourself. You want to give in, and so you do. Lawrence grins at that, juts his tongue out to wet his lips.  

“Be a good puppy for me, yeah?” He pauses, watches the way that your pupils dilate when he calls you that and laughs a little. “Kneel, mm?”

You set the wine glass on the counter and do as he instructs, gaze moving to find his. His hand ghosts near your face and you lean into it, grinning when he slaps you lightly before pressing his thumb against your lips.

“Wait,” he says gently. “Don’t lean into my touches, mm? Good puppies wait until their owners touch them.”

You nod. “’M sorry, Lawrence.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “Go on.”

You take his thumb into your mouth, licking the tip and moaning. The oral fixation is something that pops up randomly, but Lawrence seems to be the type of guy that’ll enjoy it and use it to his fullest advantage.

He laughs contentedly. “Good puppy,” he whispers. “You’re loving this, yeah?”

You nod, wanting desperately to fuck him until you’re seeing stars.

“Good. Gonna stand up for me?”

You do as he tells you, whining slightly when his thumb slips from your mouth, fighting back a scowl as he laughs at you for it.

As one hand unbuttons your pants, two fingers from the other slip into your mouth. You lubricate them without thinking, core growing wetter by the second. You want to feel him somehow—his fingers, his cock, his gorgeous mouth would even be acceptable—but you’re also wanting to witness how he dominates someone as a guy who’s been divorced for five months and thus can’t have very much experience.

He slips his fingers from your mouth, moves them to your clothed clit. “Want me to fuck you, puppy?” He asks, his tone dripping with sweetness.

“Lawrence—yes. Please. Please. I’ll be so good for even just a taste of your fingers inside me, please. I’ll do whatever you want.”

He laughs. “Add begging to the kink list,” he whispers, rubbing slow circles around your clothed clit. “You sound so good when you beg for me.”

You whimper at that, letting your head fall onto his shoulder.

Lawrence grabs the glass of wine, uses his free hand to gently move your head from his shoulder. “Don’t want to waste this, do you?” He asks. “I mean—I’m not finish if off because I’ve gotta drive you back. I’d just hate for this to go to waste.”

You drink the last of the wine without him needing to ask you further, and when your head once again falls to his shoulder, Lawrence calls you a good puppy and moves the glass to a spot on the counter where the glass breaking isn’t a risk.

After a long, mind numbing few minutes of him rubbing circles over your clit through your underwear, his hand pulls away in order to pull your pants down. You let him, horny and dazed, moaning when his fingers find your bare clit and the other hand slips beneath the fabric of the white cable knit sweater you’d chosen to wear.

“Lawrence,” you moan. His hand moves up your torso until it finds your nipple, and when his cold hand meets your warm skin, you grind against him thoughtlessly.

He stops the ministrations on your clit, smacks your cunt in a way that both makes you wet and makes you jolt.

“Such a slut for me already, yeah?” He asks. “It’s been what, twenty minutes since the discussion about your being my sugar baby so much as began, and already you’re such a slut. Just a toy for me to use when I want, mm?”

You level your gaze with his, fighting the urge to be a bit bratty.

You grind against him again while you make direct eye contact. He laughs.

“You did mention masochism,” he tsks while shaking his head, slapping your cunt a little more aggressively. “Should’ve remembered that. Don’t know how it already slipped my mind. You like being slapped, yeah?”

You nod, a little flustered. “Feels good.”

“Take off your sweater,” he says. “I promise, you’ll benefit from it more so than not.”  

You do as he tells you eagerly, moaning when he slaps your cunt for the third time.

It makes him laugh, and when he starts rubbing circles over your clit again, the pace speeds up just a bit.

“Fuck,” you moan when his lips kiss along your shoulders and down to your chest. He takes one of your nipples into his mouth and bites harshly, moaning when you grind against him.

“Good puppy,” he says, pulling his mouth away from your nipple as he slaps your cunt again. “Tell me what you want, yeah? Gonna make you come. We can worry about me in the meetings ahead.”

With the end of the sentence, his teeth are on your nipple again, the force of his bite increasing just enough, and you’re so turned on that you’re just about ready to go feral.

“Fingers—inside—fuck, Lawrence. Your mouth is so good.”

Lawrence obliges, slipping two fingers into your cunt while his lips move up to yours and he captures you in an open mouthed kiss that devolves into your moans and his praise within seconds.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet for me,” he says. “You like how this feels, yeah? Like how my fingers feel?”

You moan in response, grinding against his hand. He laughs.

“Gotta use your words, puppy,” he says. “Gonna be a good puppy for me and speak?”

“So good,” you moan. “F-fuck, Lawrence. Please keep going. Please don’t stop.”

Lawrence kisses your top lip in response, lets you come over his fingers.

As you’re coming down from the high, all Lawrence does for clean up is simply lick his fingers clean, helps clean you up with an unused, clean washcloth.

Then, he kisses you deeply, and all you can taste is yourself and his saliva and fuck, it’s so depraved but it’s so fucking hot.

Lawrence buttons up your pants, zips the zipper as you pull your sweatshirt back on.

“Move into the condo this weekend,” he says. “I have a spare key, and if your free use kink doesn’t hate me for it, I’d prefer to be able to meet you per my convenience as well as your own.”

“I can send you my schedule so that you know when you won’t find me there,” you say. “Meet me at the bar tomorrow. I’ll get you a paper copy.”

He nods, and you let him drive you back to your apartment.

You’re surprised to find it empty, but even despite that, you only pack a little bit before you end up going to sleep.

[hard-core-super-star]

request guidelines

first and foremost please keep in mind that while requests may be open, it could take me a while to get to your request or i may not be comfortable writing it! [if you'd rather not wait for me to write your idea, you could always commission me and get priority over my requests]

i mainly write character x reader fics BUT i'm open to character x character fics [mainly for wandanat and maybe bishova] and i'm certainly open to poly!ships [like wandanat x reader, for example]

cishet men do NOT interact or request fics from me, i will not write them! trans men + gay men, you guys are welcome here but keep in mind this party isn't exactly for you [i do not write character x male!reader OR male!character x reader, NO EXCEPTIONS]

while my fics are written with female!reader in mind, i might accept requests for AMAB/nonbinary reader

this blog isn't exclusively 18+ but minors who do not respect my boundaries and interact with my smut fics WILL get blocked

lastly, PLEASE read the warnings before reading my fics since some do deal with sensitive topics [like depression, panic attacks, character death, etc.] and keep your own boundaries in mind

happy reading and requesting!

what i write [and what i will NOT write]

long story short, i write a mix of everything!

fluff: pretty much everything goes for fluff except anything that borders on toxic OR miscommunication trope [i would say my specialty is idiots in love/friends to lovers but again, i'm open to pretty much anything here. including fluffy smut]

angst: i'm very open to angst [but mainly hurt/comfort] although, i do have some limits. i won't write anything with heavy mentions/descriptions of sexual assault or rape, self-harm, abuse, or kidnapping

smut: once again, no minors or men allowed at all [it's implied but i also won't write anything featuring underage characters]. i'm open to writing for most kinks but keep in mind i'm not well-versed in everything [especially age regression]. things i will NOT write include incest [stepcest gets a pass for now], intense noncon scenes [slight dubcon scenarios might be fine but i'm not sure], heavy knife and gun play, scat or pee play, and anything that might border on abusive

misc: i'm not open to writing family-based fics at this time. dark!fics are...slightly on the table and may be smut based...maybe

who i write for

kate bishop

wanda maximoff

natasha romanoff

wandanat

yelena belova

bishova

carol danvers

peggy carter

[sicknessbysalem]

god i love saylor and julian. i need MORE. since you just did a saylor fic, can we get another with sick julian?? i think he’s precious. maybe they get invited to a party and he gets sick there or something?? love your work!

i went overboard with this i am sure. but i love making either of them suffer.

if you have anymore questions, comments, concerns, etc., send me a request!

tw emeto, scat, fever, character accidentally getting sick on someone, mentions of homelessness

Julian sat cross-legged on Saylor’s bed, his eyes wide with excitement. "Come on, Saylor! It'll be fun. Just this once, please?"

Saylor sighed, leaning against her desk and crossing her arms. "Julian, you know I'm not a party person. Crowds, loud music, random people... it's just not my scene."

Julian pouted, his expression one of exaggerated disappointment. "But it'll be different with you there. Please? For me?"

She rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "You always know how to twist my arm. Fine, I'll go. But only because it's you."

Julian's face lit up, and he jumped off the bed to give her a quick hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! You won't regret it, I promise."

Saylor laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, yeah. Now, if we're going to this thing, we might as well do it right.”

“I can do your makeup, you’ll be so hot. Maybe I’ll snag you a girlfriend." Julian told her.

“I’ll do yours so you don’t look like you were expelled from clown college,” Saylor said, “Your taste in men shows it well enough.”

Julian's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Deal! Let's get started."

They gathered their supplies, and Julian sat back on the bed as Saylor began working on his makeup.

She concentrated, her hands steady as she applied eyeshadow and eyeliner, enhancing his already striking features. As she worked, she noticed he felt a bit warmer than usual, his skin slightly flushed. She paused, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hey, Jules, you feeling okay? You seem a bit warm," she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Julian shrugged, giving her a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Saylor. Probably just excited about the party. Keep going, you're doing great."

Saylor nodded, though a part of her couldn't shake the slight worry. She continued applying his makeup, adding the finishing touches with a deft hand. "Alright, you're all set. You look amazing, as always."

Julian grinned, admiring himself in the mirror. "Thanks, Saylor. Your turn now."

They switched places, and Julian took great care in applying her makeup, his touch gentle and precise. Saylor closed her eyes, letting herself relax as he worked. She trusted Julian completely, and the soft brush of the makeup tools against her skin was oddly soothing.

"There," Julian said, stepping back to admire his work. "You look stunning, Saylor."

She opened her eyes and glanced in the mirror, impressed by his skill. "Not bad, Julian. Not bad at all."

"Right… now, what are you wearing?" Julian said, looking over Saylor who was very clearly about to go to the studio or had just come back before Julian came. "Definitely not that… I’m going through your closet."

"No dresses," Saylor said firmly, "Or skirts."

Julian rolled his eyes playfully. "Fine, fine. I know the rules." He walked over to her closet and started picking through her clothes, humming thoughtfully as he examined each piece. "Let's see... we need something that screams 'Saylor' but is also party-appropriate."

Saylor watched him with mild amusement as he pulled out various items, holding them up for consideration. He finally settled on a pair of black ripped jeans and a short sleeve shirt with a collar that looked like a choker necklace with a little metal crescent moon.

"How about this? Edgy, casual, but still says you're here to have a good time… and I am so borrowing that shirt some time.” He told her.

She nodded appreciatively. "Not bad. I can work with that. And you can borrow my clothes at any time, I don’t give a fuck.”

Julian grinned, clearly pleased with his selection. "Glad you said that. I’m going to borrow your studded belt and that cool necklace you have? It'll go perfectly with my outfit."

Saylor raised an eyebrow. "You really think you can pull off my look?"

"Absolutely," Julian replied with a wink. "Besides, it'll be a nice change from my usual style."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Alright, go ahead. But if you lose my stuff, you're buying me new ones."

"Deal, I’ll make you new ones if you want,” Julian said, already fastening the belt around his waist and slipping on the necklace. He turned to Saylor, admiring their combined efforts. "Look at us, all dressed up and ready to party."

Saylor took a moment to appreciate the transformation. Julian had an uncanny knack for putting together outfits that not only looked good but also felt right. She felt more confident, more herself, even as the prospect of the party still loomed with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "Let's do this."

Julian linked his arm with hers, leading the way out of her dorm room. "Remember, we're going to have fun tonight. No stressing allowed."

Saylor nodded, trying to absorb some of his infectious energy. "Yeah, fun. Got it."

-

The party was in full swing by the time Saylor and Julian arrived. The house was packed with people, music pulsing through the walls and lights casting vibrant hues across the rooms.

Julian's eyes lit up with excitement as he took in the scene, his natural sociability drawing him into the crowd almost immediately.

"Alright, Saylor, let's mingle!" he said, giving her a quick hug before diving into the throng of partygoers.

Saylor smiled, though she felt a bit out of her element. She watched Julian disappear into the crowd, his laughter and animated gestures making him easy to spot even from a distance.

Saylor found a relatively quiet corner to observe the chaos, a way to just han gout and read on her phone, nursing a drink and occasionally chatting with a few familiar faces.

As the night wore on, Julian was in his element, flitting from group to group, making friends effortlessly. Saylor caught glimpses of him often and each time it relaxed her, seeing him more and more alive as the night went on.

But after a couple of hours, he started to feel a bit off. It was a subtle shift at first—a slight queasiness in his stomach that he attributed to the couple of drinks he'd had. Alcohol never really affected him, but he hadn’t had much of an appetite earlier so maybe that was it.

Brushing it off, Julian continued to socialize, but the discomfort in his stomach grew steadily worse. He found himself rubbing his abdomen absentmindedly, trying to ease the nausea that was beginning to take hold.

He took a sip of water, hoping to settle his stomach, but it did little to help.

Julian tried to push through, laughing and chatting with a group of new acquaintances, but his body had other plans. A sharp cramp twisted through his stomach, making him wince.

He excused himself from the conversation and made his way to the bathroom, his steps growing unsteady as the nausea intensified.

Inside the bathroom, Julian leaned over the sink, taking deep breaths and hoping the wave of sickness would pass. He splashed some cold water on his face, but the relief was fleeting. His stomach churned violently, and he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple.

He took a deep breath, clutching the edge of the sink. The nausea was relentless, making his head spin and his mouth water in that telltale way that signaled he was about to be sick.

He managed to leave the bathroom and find a quieter spot in the house, but the party felt like it was closing in on him. The music was too loud, the lights too bright, and every movement seemed to jostle his already delicate stomach.

Julian sank into a chair, wrapping his arms around his midsection as another cramp hit. He tried to take slow, deep breaths, but each one seemed to make the nausea worse. His skin felt clammy, and he could feel his pulse racing, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead.

He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself, but the room spun violently, and he knew he couldn't ignore it any longer. Julian stumbled to his feet, looking around desperately for a place to go. He didn't want to be sick in front of everyone, and he needed to find Saylor.

Pushing through the crowd, Julian's vision blurred with the effort. His legs felt weak, and he could barely focus on where he was going.

He managed to make it to the back of the house, where he found another bathroom. He stumbled inside, barely making it to the toilet before he started to retch.

The first wave of vomit hit him hard, his body convulsing with the force of it. He clung to the toilet, each heave making him feel like his insides were being wrung out.

The taste was bitter and acrid, burning his throat and making his eyes water. He retched again and again, each bout leaving him more drained and disoriented.

Finally, he was left panting, his body trembling with exhaustion. He leaned his head against the cool porcelain, trying to catch his breath.

The nausea still lingered, and he knew he wasn't done yet. Another cramp twisted through his stomach, and he braced himself for the next wave as a threatening burp worked its way up his throat.

Julian managed to pull out his phone, his fingers trembling as he typed a quick message to Saylor. His vision blurred, making it hard to focus, but he managed to hit send before another wave of nausea overtook him.

He barely had time to set his phone down before he was retching again, his body convulsing with the effort. The minutes felt like hours, and he clung to the toilet, praying for the nausea to subside.

Saylor was mingling in the living room when her phone buzzed. She pulled it out, her brow furrowing with concern as she read Julian's message.

Without hesitation, she made her way through the crowded house, pushing past the throngs of partygoers until she found the back bathroom.

She knocked lightly before pushing the door open, finding Julian slumped against the toilet, his face pale and sweaty.

“God, all that time I spent on your makeup and it’s ruined,” Saylor shook her head, “I suppose this is the life of an artist.”

Saylor knelt down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Jules, what the hell happened to you?" she asked, her voice a mix of concern and teasing.

Julian looked up at her, she could feel him shaking. His breaths were shaky.

“Suddenly… needed to…. Be sick,” Julian stammered, gagging, “Gonna be… sick… hang-“

Saylor rolled her eyes, rubbing his back and pushing his hair back, "You're a complete mess. I leave you alone for ten minutes and you fall apart… But don't worry, we'll fix you up. I’ll take any excuse to get the fuck out of here. You think that’s it?"

Julian nodded weakly when he was done being sick. “Yeah, I think so. Just... need a minute."

Saylor helped him to his feet, supporting him as they made their way out of the bathroom and through the house. Julian leaned heavily on her, each step a struggle, but Saylor kept a steady grip on him, guiding him outside to her car.

Once they were in the car, Julian slumped into the passenger seat, his eyes closed as he tried to breathe through the nausea. Saylor started the engine and glanced over at him. "You sure you're okay, Jules? You look like you've been through a war."

Julian chuckled weakly. "Just a little queasy. Thanks for rescuing me."

Saylor smirked, pulling out of the driveway. "That's what best friends are for. Just try not to puke in my car, okay? I don't think my seats can handle it."

Julian managed a laugh, though it quickly turned into a groan as another wave of nausea hit him. "I'll do my best."

The drive back to the dorms was quiet, save for the occasional gentle teasing from Saylor, trying to keep Julian's spirits up. When they finally arrived, Saylor parked the car and helped Julian inside, supporting him as they made their way to his room.

-

"Okay, you think you can manage without throwing up for a few minutes?" Saylor asked, eyeing him critically. "I might run to my dorm and grab something less uncomfortable."

"Yeah, sure, I’ll be alright," Julian said, nodding. "I should sleep, honestly. Or try to."

"I’ll be back in like ten minutes then," Saylor said, "Just text me if anything happens."

Julian nodded, giving her a weak smile. As soon as Saylor left, he tried to relax, hoping the worst of his nausea had passed.

But as he lay there, a new, uncomfortable sensation began to build in his stomach. It wasn’t the familiar churn of nausea; it felt more like a pressure, an urgent need that he couldn't ignore.

He groaned softly, forcing himself to sit up. His stomach gurgled ominously, and he knew he needed to get to the bathroom. He staggered to his feet, clutching his stomach as he made his way to the bathroom down the hall.

Inside the bathroom, Julian barely made it to a stall before collapsing onto the toilet. His body seemed to give out all at once, releasing a torrent of diarrhea that left him gasping and shivering. He leaned forward, resting his head on his arm as he tried to ride out the waves of cramping.

Each wave seemed to intensify his nausea, and he clutched his stomach, feeling it twist and turn painfully. The room seemed to spin around him, and he closed his eyes, taking deep, shaky breaths.

He could feel his stomach grumble before something came out of him, splattering into the toilet and leaving him resisting a gag behind closed lips.

Saylor returned to the dorm with a fresh change of clothes. She found Julian's room empty and immediately felt a pang of worry.

If he wasn’t here, she knew where he probably was.

She walked down the hall, hearing faint sounds coming from the bathroom. She pushed the door open gently and called out, "Julian? You in here?"

"Yeah," came Julian's weak reply from one of the stalls. HIs stomach growled again and Saylor heard the splatter into the toilet.

Saylor stayed outside the stall, her voice laced with concern. "You okay in there?"

Julian groaned. "Not really. My stomach is really not doing well..."

Saylor was sure she could hear another unhappy growl coming from her friend’s stomach.

"Are you throwing up or..?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light to ease his discomfort.

"No, not throwing up," he admitted, his voice strained. Saylor knew what that meant, “But it's making me so nauseous."

Saylor leaned against the wall, trying to distract him. "Sounds like that time you got food poisoning from that sketchy taco truck? You were convinced you were dying."

Julian let out a weak laugh. "You stayed up all night with me, making sure I didn't actually die."

"Yeah, and you owe me for that," she teased. "I had to miss my art history class the next morning. And you vomited in my purse in the lunch room because you could have sworn you would be fine to eat lunch that afternoon.”

Silence. Or mostly silence. Saylor heard a sick sound coming from the other side of the door. She heard Julian burp, wet and threatening, before she heart another round of diarrhea splash into the toilet.

"I’m here, okay?" Saylor said.

After what felt like an eternity, Julian's stomach finally seemed to settle. He cleaned himself up as best he could and stepped out of the stall, looking pale and exhausted.

Saylor gave him a sympathetic smile. "Feel better?"

"I think I’m-," Julian went to say, Saylor assumed he was going to agree. But then, he stopped. He stumbled, Saylor did not like the look of him.

"Whoa, easy there," she said, her arms around him.

Julian tried to steady himself, but it was too late. He doubled over, vomiting violently. The force of it took both of them by surprise, and Saylor found herself splattered in the process.

Julian gasped, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh God, Saylor, I'm so sorry..."

Saylor looked down, sighing softly “Well, I guess I’ll just have to borrow your clothes?”

“I’m so sorry…” Julian said, “I didn’t expect to-“

"Hey, it's okay. Not the first time, remember?" Saylor said.

Julian's stomach heaved again, and he vomited once more, the nausea relentless. He didn’t want to know if he threw up on Saylor again, but if he did she didn’t say anything. He felt her whip him around and shove him back in the stall, more panicked than aggressive. The sudden motion took his stomach with it and he was having over the toilet before he could even process he was still feeling nauseous.

Saylor held him steady, her hand rubbing gentle circles on his back. "Just get it all out, Jules. You'll feel better once it's over."

He vomited so hard that it came out of his nose, the acid burning his sinuses and making his eyes water. He coughed violently, the choking sensation making him retch even harder. Each heave was more intense than the last, his body shaking with the effort.

Saylor stayed by his side, her hand rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles, occasionally patting it when he coughed particularly hard.

"You're okay, Jules," she murmured. "Just breathe. Get it all out."

Julian's stomach continued to contract painfully, forcing up wave after wave of vomit. The sound was harsh and guttural, each retch echoing off the tiled walls.

He could feel his throat burning, and his nose was running from the vomit that had come up through it. He coughed again, the action making him vomit even harder.

His body felt like it was on fire, the fever adding to his misery. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with tears of exertion. He could barely catch his breath between heaves, his whole body wracked with the effort of expelling whatever was making him so sick.

Saylor’s hands disappeared for a second, before they came back. Julian didn’t know where they went. Though he wouldn’t admit it, he was thankful to feel her hand. It was grounding, something keeping him from panicking while his stomach decided to pitch a fit.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the vomiting began to subside. Julian leaned heavily against the toilet, his body trembling with exhaustion. He took deep, ragged breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.

Saylor stayed close, her hand still on his back. "You're doing great, Julian," she said softly. "Just a little more. You've got this."

Julian nodded weakly, too drained to respond. He could feel the last remnants of nausea lingering but hoped the worst was over. He leaned back against Saylor, grateful for her steady presence. He felt more than usual. She must have taken off her shirt, probably anticipating he was going to do this, leaving her in a sports bra and shorts.

"It's okay," Saylor whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his sweaty forehead. She stroked his cheek gently, then clicked her tongue is a disappointed way, “Jules, you’re burning up…”

Julian felt her hands on his face as she tried to confirm it. He was so exhausted he couldn’t seem to care. Not right bow. He just wanted to lay back against her.

He felt a finger run under his eye, "God, your poor thing…” Saylor said.

Julian knew he was probably super sick. Or startled Saylor enough with the sudden severity of his stomach giving him hell. Saylor was never this gentle, not with anyone. She wasn’t built to be gentle, not after how she grew up. And yet, here she was. Being gentle and worried, her strong and sarcastic demeanor shifting to something more caring and subdued.

Saylor grabbed a poece of toilet paper, wiping off Julian’s face. He wished he could say he was embarrassed but he was so exhausted.

“You look like shit,” Saylor said. That was the Saylor he knew and loved.

“Feel like it too,” Julian said, “My stomach is not happy… I won’t be sick but damn…”

Saylor sighed, “You're okay now. Let's get you back to bed. I’ll stay with you until they threaten to expel me.”

Julian nodded again, his eyes half-closed with exhaustion. "Thanks, Saylor," he managed to whisper. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd do the same for me," Saylor replied, her voice filled with affection. "Now let's get you comfortable."

Saylor helped him stand, leading him back to his room. She helped him to bed, grabbed one of his t-shirts from the drawer and slipped it on, though the way it fit she was sure it was hers, before grabbing him some water.

She set that down, and Julian watched her as she grabbed the small trash can by his desk. There was nothing in it, he knew that. But he watched her put paper towels in the bottom and then a few bags from one of their grocery runs.

“It lessens the mess and keeps it quiet if you have to throw up but don’t want anyone knowing…” Saylor said, acknowledging the way he watched her.

“How do you know that?” Julian asked, his voice weak but curious. “Why do you know that?”

“Hostels and shelters might kick you out if they find out you’re sick,” Saylor said plainly. “And as someone who’s homeless with stomach issues, you do what you can for a safe place. Or… safer than sleeping on the streets.”

Julian's eyes widened, "You were homeless?"

Saylor sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I mean… I have been since I was eighteen. Of course I work on campus on breaks as much as I can, but if I can’t be here then my current option is my car.”

“Did your parents just kick you out when you were eighteen?” Julian asked curiously.

“Technically, I spent most of my teen years on the streets to get away from my parents’ bad habits. Stealing to survive, doing whatever it took to get by." Saylor said, “But, I had a place the cops dropped me off at when they caught me until I was eighteen. Then I left the state, came here, and now do what I can to survive.”

Julian, trying to get comfortable despite his lingering nausea, looked at her with a mixture of surprise and concern. "I had no idea, Saylor. I mean, I knew things were tough for you, but I didn't realize..."

Saylor shrugged, giving him a small smile. "It’s not something I talk about much. I don’t give a fuck about it and usually when I tell people they get all pitying and overbearing. But yeah, it was rough. You do what you can to survive. Do you want me to read some fashion articles? I have a few saved.”

Julian reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "Tell me more, if you're okay with it. I want to understand."

Saylor looked down at their joined hands, her expression softening. She shifted on the bed, sitting beside Julian, “How’s your stomach?”

“Hurts, queasy,” Julian sighed. “Just… talk to me?”

“God, I hate that feeling,” Saylor said, reaching over, rubbing his stomach gently to help ease his discomfort. "Alright. What do you want to know?"

Julian closed his eyes, focusing on the comforting sensation of her hand on his stomach. "Everything, I guess. What was it like? How did you manage?"

Saylor took a deep breath, "It was... scary, mostly. You never knew where your next meal was coming from or if you'd have a safe place to sleep. I don’t want to talk about my parents, but in short home wasn't safe. I started staying out more, crashing with friends or in shelters when I could. But sometimes, I just had to find a corner to hide in and hope no one bothered me."

Julian listened intently, his heart aching for her. "How did you get by? I mean, day to day?"

"Stealing, mostly," Saylor admitted, her voice quiet. "I got pretty good at it, too. Not proud of it, but when you're starving, you do what you have to. I tried to avoid trouble, but it found me more often than not. I started working in fast food when I was sixteen. Every shift I could possibly come up with. Do an overnight shift and go to school and then come back to work as soon as the day was done. I tried putting money away but then my mom stole it, so when I was eighteen I had nothing.”

Julian looked at her, very clearly intrigued and curious, and not at all pitying. "I can't even imagine. I grew up in a bubble, I guess. Everything was always taken care of. Hearing what you went through... it makes me realize how lucky I've been."

Saylor smiled, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "You are lucky, Jules. But don't feel guilty about it. Just means you can appreciate what you have and maybe help others who aren't as fortunate."

Julian nodded, feeling a bit more settled despite his lingering queasiness. "You’re right. I’m glad you’re here, Saylor. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Saylor chuckled softly. "Probably be a lot more miserable right now."

Julian laughed weakly. "True. Thanks for being here. And for telling me. It means a lot."

Saylor continued to rub his stomach gently, her touch soothing. "Anytime, Jules. Now try to rest. I'll stay right here until you fall asleep."

Julian nodded, “and hey, for what it’s worth. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

“Well, you have the strength composition of a worm, that doesn’t take much. I can bench press you any day.” Saylor teased.

Julian smiled, squeezing her hand lightly.

[floridamansswamp]

Hello my names Lee, I’m a wannabe artist who is just starting to branch into nsfw and I might post other fetish stuff here.

Kinks:

Bondage

Light impact play

Edging

Collars and leashes

Slight mommy kink

I’m a switch, but still a virgin

Nursing kink

Cock milking

Panty kink

Hard No:

Piss/scat/vomit

Sissy/chastity

Cbt

Race play

Ageplay

DNI:

if your rude racists ableist transphobic, a Zionist, or a pedo

I should also mention I’m mainly attracted towards women

[wandasfox]

— MY RULES ᗢ

✧˚ · . this is strictly a wlw blog, everything i post and reblog is about women and for women (non-binaries are welcomed here too), if you don't like it than just know that this is NOT the place for you!

✧˚ · . the contents shared in this blog are going to be mostly SFW and there will be some dark content, so minors and ageless/blank blogs please don't interact because you are going to be blocked. make sure to put your age in bio!

✧˚ · . you are welcomed and encouraged to submit any ideas, thoughts or thirsts you have about mommy wanda, and for natasha too! just be patient with me for some asks. i work full time and am also a student at university- time is not something i can magic out of thin air, and neither is motivation.

✧˚ · . feel free to ask to be mutuals or an anon too!

✧˚ · . what i will mainly write about: mommy kink, slight age play (no pedophilia), stepcest, cnc, dubcon, breeding, alongside the more tame and soft kinks there are.

✧˚ · . my big no nos: scat, feces, gore and extreme violence, pedophilia, straight sex, straight relationships, incest. im up to anything that have not been mentioned here.

✧˚ · . and lastly i only write sub!afab!reader but that ofc doesn't mean it is always as a bottom as it can be service top :)

[c0llisiion]

This blog was created for fun. Any form of hate will not be tolerated. Have respect.

GENERAL RULES .ᐟ

Basic dni

Mdni.

Uncomfortable? Block.

Do not spread hate on my blog.

Dni if you can’t separate fiction from reality.

I write what i feel like, fic rqs cannot always be promised! :(

I only write what has been mentioned in my blog. Anything other than that will be deleted.

Im very slow in posting so please be patient with me.

If i do something wrong, please inform and educate me!

WHAT I WRITE .ᐟ

𝜗𝜚 im a more nsfw leaning blog but i do write other genres! Im almost comfortable w/ anything so feel free to ask what your heart desires! (For my smut fics there are some limitations.) Angst, fluff and crack fic rqs are welcomed! The list below are what i write/allowed to be requested and things that i do not write/not allowed to be requested!

ALLOWED .ᐟ

𝜗𝜚 - fem!reader , dubcon/cnc , stepcest , toxic relationships, cheating , age gap , cuckold , voyeur, somno , dacryphilia , exhibitionism , fwb , ewb , threesome/foursome/ group sex , bondage , filth , degradation, breeding , pregnancy kink , vanilla , slight bdsm , role play , dom!sub!switch!ocs … nd more.

(KINKS) NOT ALLOWED .ᐟ

𝜗𝜚 - male!readers (nothing against them 😭), incest , rape , urophilia , scat , pedophilia , zoophilia , acrotomophilia , vore , infantilism , foot fetish , hypoxia , maschalagnia , mummification, heavy bdsm , sounding , furry , tentacles.

WHO I WRITE .ᐟ

𝜗𝜚 - I generally write for male kpop idols and jujustu kaisen characters ! :3

ᯓ★ KPOP :

BTS

STRAYKIDS

ATEEZ

NCT (all subunits except nct wish)

SEVENTEEN

TXT

rqs of Idols other than the above mentioned will be deleted.

ᯓ★ JJK :

Gojo Satoru

Geto Suguru

Nanami Kento

Choso kamo

Toji fushiguro

Ryomen sukuna

Yuta okkotsu

Megumi fushiguro (fluff/angst/crack)

Yuji itadori (fluff/angst/crack)

Rqs of characters other than the above mentioned will be deleted.