#the justification for all the things is that its fun

[antixabound]

alright since I want everyone to know I’m working on a fantasy setting, I am working on one btw and I am very super proud of it and no I do not have anything art related to show for it yet.

ok so basically in my funny and epic setting™ there are like five species that make up the kind of the basis of people and that is a lie there is more than five but the other kinds of people are something something I dunno. there aren’t any humans because I didn’t want to. 

the big four of the five that I want to bring up are Orcs, Elves, Dwarves, and Goblins. and additionally I have arbitrarily assigned groups of languages to them. this is to say that I am a hack fraud and I take words from languages that happen to be in the same general kind of language grouping and i mix them together to make a new one. An example being Kreӧdd, which is a particular culture of Orcs and to make it I literally just looked at a fuckin english to whatever language dictionary site, and then I typed in “blood” and picked the word Krew from polish and then I typed “born” and got  född from swedish. anyway that is a nice little way to tell everyone I assigned germanic languages to the Orcs. I have also assigned Romance languages to the Elves because like that was obvious and you all know it, I put Celtic langauges with the Dwarves, and slavic languages with goblins because I needed to give them a language structure, and I couldn’t think of anything. the other species that exists on this funny continent, oh by the way the contient is called Hauldrak, are the Ogres, a collection of nomadic tribes who mostly keep to themselves in the frozen eternal winter of the north.

other funny types of people that exist are the Drakekin, a collective of people who just kinda appeared one day that all have strange and unusual bodies ranging from typically anthropomorphic to kinda all over the place. the Cog Folk, mechanical people who are often constructed originally to serve a purpose but eventually find their own individuality given time. Chimeras, some chimeras are made from the bodies of recently deceased people, and as such are capable of anything a person is, albeit asymmetrical, crudely stitched together and coursing with necrotic magic. And various kinds of demons and trolls that find some sort of appeal in living in a house and having a job and paying money for things.

most of the setting is just one one continent and its a weird and fucked up continent but it is also sometimes comfy as fuck like I don’t want it to be a grimdark setting but its not noblebright either, its cloudy, its a somber rainy day but you are comfy inside your home drinking tea sitting by the fire place, and for a moment you look outside the window and swear you saw a beast standing in the rain. the monsters in my setting are just kinda fantastical wild animals that abide to a strange concept of biology. there are cannibalistic gigantic necromancers that lead hordes of skeletons. Dragons are typically beasts so divorced from the natural order that their mere presence can cause permanent damage to the surrounding ecosystem, but there are also Dragons that fit a niche and removing them from an environment would cause catastrophe.

Also I really wanna talk about magic in my thing can I talk about magic in my setting I’ve been dying to talk about magic. there is no non-pretentious way to explain this in my eyes, Magic is like Art in my setting, every mage has to practice and do little things to hone their skills, everyone does magic a little differently, even those who try to copy someone else. A fire elemental wizard isn’t going to have the best grasp on illusion magic, and there are wizards who are jack of all trades, master of none. some do magic to make their lives easier, some to enhance performances, some to fight, and some to create nigh impossible structures. magic just kinda is, some animals and creatures can use magic alongside the people. everyone is able to do magic basically, any kind of person, they just have to at least try. the other thing is that elemental magic for classical elements like Fire, Water, Noise, Rot, etc. they are all slightly corruptive, there are ways to mitigate and or remove mutations and such but some sorcerers will often wear their strange gifts as some kind of badge of honor, or in the cases of mental changes where the caster is imbued with the hypothetical personality traits of these elements, they might not even notice.

I will elaborate further at some point and possibly make a whole ass ttrpg system or two.

[pagesofkenna]

i wanted to make a post about a thing but the more i think about it the more i want to say and it's just going to end up being a big ramble essay, so instead i'll just give the thesis statement, thusly:

as the #1 Ratgrinders Apologist (self-appointed), of course they're the final boss fight to the death. i expected nothing less and the people trying to make discourse about it are ignoring the entire context of this being a Dungeons and Dragons game

[nostalgia-tblr]

So I am ostensibly doing Fic Research by rewatching an episode of telly and re that post about Depressing Sylvie Headcanons I think it is probably correct and Sylvie no longer speaks Asgardian, for I def got the vibe that she has no idea what the words to that song are.

Meanwhile, look at the stance, look at the swagger:

This 'serenading the lady (or gentleman, or whoever) to win them over' technique has worked before and is expected to work again. That's confidence. Misplaced confidence, but it's still confidence.

However:

Oh no, the lad is smitten. Caught in your own spell, you idiot. You fool. You protagonist who will be heartbroken a few episodes from now.

[lacking-hydration]

that postal movie is so inconsistently ok

[volfoss]

like... to get an idea of what all id need to do. for anyone curious ig and also to just... totally beat the allegations of yucky little beast:

survey the damage... bc shes obviously in VERY bad shape. so id need to see if i could even get her eyes out or if id maybe. need to dremel into them to get them free so i could start on faceup removal

get the eyes out. this is very scary bc of the hot glue and also the mysterious gray substance. if it IS apoxie sculpt like i think it is then good god. thats going to be the worst 7 bucks ive ever spent or smth

clean the head. im really hoping that its dirt and not.. the alternative on the forehead and other parts of the face. if it IS some mold or fungus, ive got pony experience here (as in. i have dealt with that a few times on MLP) so I'm not... too worried? My guess is its surface level grime that should go away w the faceup being removed.

attempt to remove the faceup. the paint rly looks like it goes ALL the way around her head (poor thang) so ill probably test with acetone at the back of her head. for whatever reason i feel very much like her head has to be fragile so id rather test the more strong/easy to use chemical in a lesser seen spot. i really do not want to be scrubbing with rubbing alcohol for 5 years. bc the faceup looks like at LEAST a few layers of paint with a bad sealant so (as someone whos removed two full body resin paint jobs) i know acetone would be quickest (but alcohol is safest. but we will see)

assess the damage AGAIN. i predict that she is severely yellowed (due to the cracks on the cheek) but the question of if it is either just. in those spots where the faceup cracked or if its all over is really unsure. i mainly want to get her to try retrobrighting (which ive done on older MLP with great success and it seems to be something that works for this kind of vinyl as well) on her and just. fix up a doll that is beyond repair for most people lol. from what ive experienced with resin, i think the yellowing could either be all over (and the head was painted to try and hide this. although this clearly did not go well lol, altho i think its a sealant issue and not a paint issue, as it kind of looks like when ive fucked up with MSC (a common sealant for bjds)) or it could be just... shes been in sunlight and where the paint cracked got unevenly yellowed (i experienced this most recently with my big blue boy, where all the blue paint kind of. protected his resin and the non covered parts got more yellow). so its kind of a toss up. or a mysterious third thing you never know.

once shes all clean (which i assume will take a while due to well... how bad of shape that she is in), ill probably sit with it for a few days and then get milliput and sculpt a new nose. this will not be fun for me i think because I just... am not a sculpting fan (funny thing when this project WILL have a lot of sculpting) and much prefer sanding. I'm not too mad about the chin being sanded down (as the original had an INSANELY pointed chin which I really didn't like. I hate sanding vinyl so this works for me) or the eyes being opened (other than.. having to figure out the size on my own and pray for the best). Most of the mods are not... bad to me and are partially why I'm drawn to miss yucky bc like... the diseases but also the fact that the mods do mostly make the head cuter for me

Redo the faceup. I would love to keep the elements of the original with the big eyelashes as I find them cute, but the BIGGEST order of business is eyebrows good god. I'll have to paint over the mod that I did but I'm not super worried about it (maybe falsely I've never painted a vinyl head in full bc I have exactly one vinyl doll) and then hope i can get the head right on the first try. depending on how bad the yellowing is (and if im able to retrobright her to a lighter skin tone, as the body i have is pretty light (altho it doesnt match any skins from this company so. its a whole thing its ok)) i might just paint the whole head (or even come up with a story or reason why its mismatched. I have a lot of heads and bodies like that so I don't mind fully lol). It's just kind of a scary tossup on how bad of shape everything is.

Done <3 i really dont think itll be TOO bad but i also like... think i wont know fully until i get my hands on her if i do. She would be pretty tiny too (as in 45 cm or so, or for the americans, 1.5 ft) but I do love that scale of doll so. it could work.

[ghost-proofbaby]

SIMPLE. (astarion ancunin x afab!reader)

based upon this request by @leahthesith: you've grown tired of astarion's games of jealousy, and it all comes crashing down one night when he chooses to spoil your fun with shadowheart.

warnings: mentions and allusions to astarion's past, as well as his sexual trauma. biting. lots, and lots, and lots of biting. oral sex ('f' receiving), smut. reader is not explicitly gendered/no pronouns are used. only a brief comparison of a 'schoolgirl crush'. reader has also had almost romantic interactions with several companions. 18+ - minors dni.

wc: 7.4k+

kinktober masterlist

There’s no reason for him to be looking at you like that. 

No explanation, no justification, no reason for those jewel eyes to be glowering at you from across the tavern. For his fist to wrap around the mug of whatever he’s sipping on for show, pale skin going translucent in the dancing candlelight. For his entire chest having gone still the last several minutes, and for you to be unable to decipher if he’s simply too distracted to bother with the last of what remains of his living instincts or if it’s another instinct all on its own – if he’s holding his breath as he watches your conversation with Shadowheart.

Then again, there’s no real reason for you to be watching him back. 

The matter of the fact is that you’re watching him just as closely, just as captivated by his presence from across the room, just to simply notice these things. The stillness in his shoulders and the glint that you swear must be his fangs poking past his lips should not be in your periphery. Your focus, all your attention, should be on the vibrant girl on the stool beside you. The dark beauty who’s speaking more with her hands than her lips, giggling over yet another glass of wine. 

“You know,” she sighs wistfully, and you have to tear your gaze away from where it had wandered towards the vampire currently sulking away from the group, “The wine here in the city is much better than on the road.” 

You hum as you distractedly take a sip from your own glass, tongue immediately peeking out to trace along your bottom lip subconsciously, as if you might be trying to savor the flavor. As if you can even taste the flavor. Your tongue has gone all but numb to the ruby liquid as a very different shade of red has captured your interest. 

This could be the same wine from the druid party at the beginning of your journey, the party in which you snatched a bottle from the very shadow that is watching your every move, and you wouldn’t know the difference. 

“It is,” you lie, swirling the red liquid a little bit, an attempt to bring back the taste all over your tongue. 

And even if she buys your lie, Shadowheart can tell something is off, leaning in just a bit closer, peering at you just a little more concerningly, “Is everything okay? You don’t seem yourself.” 

You don’t feel yourself. You should be feeling much more jubilant. You should be joining in on the same fun everyone else is having, toasting to yet another battle won. The end of it all was so close you could taste it. 

And yet, you don’t. Because he’s in the corner brooding, and with him he’s seemingly taken both your mind and your mood. 

“It’s been a long day,” It’s been one long day after another for months, it seems, “I suppose the wine is just making me relax a bit too much.” 

That it is. The alcohol has managed to wiggle its way into your bloodstream, heading straight up your spine and to your brain. All your thoughts feather at the edge, and perhaps that was why you were watching Astarion back so intensely. 

Months of this journey, and you still felt no closer to figuring him out than you had that very first night of discovering his vampirism. Each layer of him that you had peeled back only revealed more confusion to sit with. Some days, you swore you had him entirely figured out. You knew every in and every out of all his wits, and you knew all the steps to the dance in which he’d attempt to draw you into. You could play into whatever design he was spinning between the two of you; you could beat him at his own game. 

But other days, days like today, you simply couldn’t. 

All his flirtations, all his subtle seductions – you couldn’t decipher what was real and what was still for show. For every innuendo he’d whispered into your ear, he shared just as scandalous a comment with another party member. For every seemingly accidental graze of his cold skin against yours, he was attaching himself at the hip of another one of your companions. For all he gave, he would take just as much. Leaving you spinning in the hope of it all; leaving you with a yearning hunger that probably neared the threshold of his own vampiric hunger. 

You want him. You hate him. He infatuates you. He irritates you. He is both sides of the same coin that has damned you every step along the way of this peculiar journey you’ve embarked on together.

“I know what you mean,” Shadowheart brings you back to reality with one swoop of her hair, a careful gathering of the locks to leave a shoulder exposed, “What is it that they always say? Wine is the secret ingredient for every bad decision?”

Your eyes trace carefully over her skin, the slope of where her neck meets her collarbone, the residual bruising leftover from the latest fight blooming beautifully over her. A welcome distraction.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard them say that,” you muse, a smile tugging on your lips, eyes still traveling. Up, up, up. 

Over the line of her jaw, across the curve of her chin. Pillowy bottom lip and softly rounded nose. Softness – she’s made up of all soft and delicate features, such a contrast to someone such as Ast-

You must stop thinking about Astarion.

You’re no longer asking yourself of it, you’re demanding yourself of it. You make a point to move your body and head carefully, positioning yourself just so that the outline of the confusing vampire on your mind is entirely blocked out by Shadowheart’s silhouette. 

“Oh, trust me – they say it all the time,” something simmers beneath Shadowheart’s returning grin, a sparkle in her eyes that should spark some sort of excitement in you. But it’s a hollow ache; you’re still painfully aware that he’s in the room, “Say, would you like to maybe… I don’t know, get out of here? I’m sure we could sneak some more of this exquisite wine to the room upstairs, perhaps find somewhere to relax together even more-” 

“Oh, my dear Shadowheart, don’t you know that that would be thievery?” 

His voice, so close and sudden, sucks all of the air out of your lungs. 

“Astarion!” Shadowheart jumps a bit at his sudden appearance, but you hardly move a muscle. As though your body had been expecting him, as if you had always known the night was leading to this outcome, “I’m surprised to see you’ve given up your gloomy act to join us all. I thought you might sulk in the corner all night.”

His eyes lock on you, and the facade of his usual self seemingly melts. There’s something darker beneath the surface, an animal caged away, and you can see it as it bares its teeth, “Not sulking. Merely observing.” 

You can’t speak. Your entire chest is still tight, lungs still deflated, by his proximity. 

“Well, hard to tell the difference when you hide away in the darkness,” Shadowheart manages to get out before her lips press tightly together, clearly irritated at your companion. 

She’d nearly had you. She had been giving you clear signals, doing away with any games of cats and mice, and she had nearly had you. 

“It’s in my nature, I suppose,” his tone falls flatter than normal, the words void of all the airiness and usual cadence he accentuates. 

He still has you far more enraptured than she’d ever stood a chance of accomplishing. 

“We were just heading upstairs,” you blurt out, and Astarion’s eyebrows raise at your proclamation.

“Is that so?” 

You don’t quite understand why, but you feel the need to over explain yourself, painfully aware of Shadowheart’s inquisitive gaze as she watches you fumble with your words, “Yes! I- I was just telling Shadowheart how tired I’ve grown. We were just calling it a night-” 

“By stealing a bottle of wine?” his tone is growing sharper, and you squirm beneath what has almost become a glare. In an instant, he’s noticing all that discomfort, and you watch the facade be built back up in real time. Brick by brick, he once again resumes his usual role, voice raising a few octaves and a dangerous smirk returning, “And stealing our dearest cleric away from such a wonderful night of celebration? Nonsense! Allow me to accompany you instead, my sweet.”

The nickname rolls off his tongue as naturally as it always does. Sugary syllables, predatory purring. It almost reels you in until you remember the give and the take. The push and the pull. 

Two sides, same coin. And you’ve yet to figure out the value of that coin. 

“There’s no need for that-” Shadowheart begins to protest, but Astarion quickly cuts her off with a flourish of his hand. 

“Please, I insist,” even with his words lightened, sweetened up the slightest bit, that animal still lingers below the tone. Shadowheart will not be accompanying you up to the room. That much you know. “You were clearly having such a good time. It’s truly no problem, I don’t mind watching after our fearless leader.” 

“I don’t need to be babysat,” you snap, reactive like a dog threatened. 

Like a dog cornered.

Yes, that was what you were. A rapid animal, backed up into a space, given no choice. Your heart was racing at the idea of being alone with Astarion. It was no longer a game of mental chess played across a busy tavern – it would be just you, just him, and all those terrible layers you had yet to decipher. It was a recipe for disaster. It was the perfect storm brewing, set for the destruction of you.

“I won’t be babysitting you, dear,” he smiles, and it looks more like a hungered sneer than a sign of genuinity, “Simply there, at your service, for whatever you may need.

I need you to leave me alone. I need our journey to be over so I can stop being your puppet to string along.

You wonder if the thought may have traveled over the tadpole bond and that was why his face falls, rather than your stubborn silence. 

For a moment, you think Shadowheart is going to speak up. That possibly, she might just fight back against him, save you from the impending doom. But when her mouth opens, you hear the last possible thing you could have ached to have fallen from her lips. 

“I… suppose I’ll be on my way then. Have a good night.”

Defeat. 

It wraps around your name as she whispers it before she stands from her stool, unassuming to all your silent signals begging her to stay. Footsteps echoing over the commotion around you as she turns her back, and you feel the walls of this corner drawing in on you. 

“I-” you start when you finally look back to Astarion, but he’s already reaching out to grab you. 

“She’ll get over it,” he says harshly, pulling you along as if you were nothing. As though you weren’t digging your heels into the creaking floorboards below, as if you weren’t resisting him with every fiber of your being. 

“Astarion- stop, I’m- I’m not worried about her,” you stutter out, cursing the way your voice falters, tugging against his grip on you, “Gods, why do you do that?” 

The question has him halting at the foot of the stairs. The shadows encase the two of you as his eyes glow in the subtle darkness. 

“Do what?” 

“This.”

You wave your free hand in the space between the two of you wildly, as though that might suffice for explanation. But when Astarion only levels you with a blank stare, you know it won’t. You know it doesn’t. 

“You pull me along, you push me away,” you continue, heart still racing wildly, breaths coming out short and fast, “You treat me like something special and then discard me, and the moment I seek out that genuine treatment from someone else, you’re back to collect me as your own personal play toy. I want to know why.”

For all the exasperation you feel, there’s a pride beneath it all. The pride of being able to articulate, the smugness of assuming you’ve left him speechless. You haven’t.

Today is not one of the days in which you can beat him at his own game. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he claims, chin lifting just an inch, eyes flitting towards the ceiling before making their way to the bar scene behind you. Anywhere but you. “I’ve done no such thing-”

“Bullshit,” you spit out, “Bull-fucking-shit. You’ve done it numerous times, Astarion. Do you not recall the night in which Gale had approached me, offering to teach me about the Weave, and how you’d interrupted-”

“Our dearest wizard would have bored you to death. It was a mercy to interject.”

“-or the night of the tiefling party, when Karlach had been on the verge of confessing something that seemed an awful lot like an admittance of liking me-”

“Karlach likes everyone. Have you seen the eyes she makes at Wyll?”

“-And how about the time when Lae’zel openly invited me to share a bed with her, and you’d overheard, and obnoxiously guffawed? Hm? What’s your excuse there?” 

Finally, his grip has slackened on your wrist, allowing you to pull both arms tightly across your chest as you glare at him. Chest still heaving, mind still reeling. 

He clearly doesn’t have a very good answer as his lips twitch briefly into a pathetic smile, fading quickly as he shrugs, “Well, I simply found the entire image conjured amusing.”

Your heart nearly stops, leaving your chest as empty a cavern as Astarion’s, “You find the image of someone wanting me, wanting to lay with me, amusing?”

And for all he plays dumb, Astarion is not a fool. 

He catches the fall in your demeanor, the way your arms slowly drop and your entire face contorts with your frown. Damage has been done. 

“No, wait, I-” he tries to begin damage control, but the damage has been done.

“Save it,” you cut him off, “I’m going upstairs now. You can continue on your moping down here in the shadows – I don’t need a babysitter.” 

He almost looks as defeated as Shadowheart had when he’d intervened for a second, a second just long enough that you begin taking the long strides up the stairs. You think you’ve gotten the last word, for that eternity of a second. Making it all the way to the first platform, turning to take on the second set of stairs. 

When suddenly, your back is flat against the wall behind you, a cold body pressed against the entirety of yours. 

“I do not find it amusing,” Astarion huffs, those beady eyes suddenly staring right into yours, lips dangerously close to your own. The defeat has been long forgotten, “The image of you with the others – entranced by Gale’s magic, giggling by the fire with Karlach, on your knees for Lae’zel – is not amusing,” his hands are tight on your hips, bruising grip keeping you pinned with no escape. His body rolls, every inch of his clothed skin beginning to press against your own, “You, laying with anyone else, is the farthest thing from amusing, darling.”

His head tilts in warning, forehead nearly pressed to yours, the end of his nose bumping against yours. You can feel every unnecessary breath he takes. Every huff of his sudden irritation invades your space, and all you can do is attempt to turn your head. 

One of his hands is quick to reach up, pinching your chin between his thumb and pointer. You want to look away, but he won’t allow it. 

“Would you like to know the truth?” 

A loaded question. A ticking time bomb when it comes to this game between the two of you. 

You decide to set the fuse aflame when you nod your stiff head against his pinching grip. 

“The truth is,” he takes a deep breath, one you know he doesn’t need. He’s sucking all the air out of the room, air he has no need for, before his heavy eyes pour into yours. You’re blinded, all visions of red and smoky warning signs, the chatter of the tavern faded to nothing, “the image of you laying with anyone else absolutely infuriates me.”

Anyone else. 

Anyone else. 

Anyone else.

You open your mouth to respond, not even sure what you could possibly say to that, but it’s Astarion’s lips on yours that kills all words on your tongue. 

There are no witnesses. Not a single soul below can see as he all but devours you, hungry lips melding to yours in desperation. The shadows he had been taunted for haunting for the night now serve as a veil, allowing you to cling to what’s left of your dignity. If anything, it feels as though he might be controlling the shadows, beckoning them to come and wrap the two of you up as his arm sneaks behind your back, pulling your body tightly to his as he chooses to steal the breath directly from your lungs now. 

The push, the pull – the coin. The value, it seems, is finally coming to light. 

Through the kiss, you can feel the damnation of all the emotions Astarion must have been holding back for the journey. All the want, all the yearning, all the anger, all the confusion – every single emotion you’ve been battling, breaking the surface as his fangs nip at your bottom lip. 

It takes more willpower than you’d expected to shove him away. 

“Astarion-” you gasp out, taking gulps of air into your burning lungs. 

“Tell me to walk away,” he begs, body still aligned with yours, hands still clinging to you, “Tell me to leave you alone, and this time, I’ll obey.” 

Your tongue can’t move. The depths of his whispers, his pleads, are ringing in your bones, and you can’t say the words he asks of you. 

“Say it,” he presses on, his fingers only digging deeper into your hips. You can’t tell if they’ve gone numb from the chill of his fingers, or from the lack of circulation due to his strength, “Just say it, and I’ll do it. Say anything. I’m yours to command.”

You should tell him to walk away. You should call off the game of cat and mouse. You should save what’s left of your soul for someone else, anyone else, who won’t send your head spinning with a plethora of mixed signals. 

“Room. Now.” 

Of course, you don’t. 

The game was never one-sided. It was never you, a merciful victim of Astarion, always trapped in his shadows. It’s a game for two – and you’ve earned your blame in it all, the same as Astarion. 

And you continue to earn it as your hands tangle up in the snowy curls at the nape of his neck, silvery strands slipping between aching knuckles, lips attaching themselves to his porcelain skin as he guides you up that final flight of stairs. You’re not thinking of Shadowheart, not thinking of anything delicate or soft. Harsh clashes of teeth, harsh bites to rebuttal his fangs against you, harsh fingers digging into soft meat, harsh red lines left behind across his skin that fade away too quickly for your liking. 

Harsh, harsh, harsh. 

All your tensions and frustrations are put into the meshing, and you hardly notice once Astarion’s gotten the two of you through the threshold of the shared room. Everyone else is still downstairs, still celebrating, still cheersing and chatting away. Completely unaware of your demise. Oblivious to what’s about to happen.

Anyone else.

It’s been a long time coming. 

You can see flashes of it in your mind as he carries you with him, door locked behind his back before he’s finding one of the vacated beds to lay you down onto. The night you’d discovered his vampiric nature, the night you had been his mirror with his scars, all the times in which he’d blatantly saved your ass during fights. The blurry figure that is your savior, conveniently getting between you and goblins or shadows alike as he buries his daggers to the hilt. Always there, always watching.

Always yearning. 

Your heads sing in tune as that tadpole connection comes to life, like an exposed nerve as you feel it all reciprocated from him tenfold. Flashes of yourself, with soft eyes and gentle words. Patient palms and charming smiles. A pulling gravity so grandiose that it sparks sheer fear. 

The room is quiet save for your gasps every time Astarion’s lips leave yours long enough to allow for breathing, the ruffling of clothing and bed sheets filling the air soon enough. Just quiet enough you can hone in on that fear, dig your claws into it instead of his back, focused entirely on following it all the way down. 

More memories of his overriding yours. His exposure of Cazador, his admittance of his past. All the trust he put into you – all the faith he’d blindly handed over to you on a silver platter, only reminiscing and regretting once he was left to his own devices at the end of the day.

And then came the jealousy. 

You’d already felt enough of it through his kisses and movements – the way he pins your body beneath his, the way his fangs graze your exposed neck – but it nearly drowns you once the connection has opened the floodgates. 

The image of you and Gale, and a twist in your gut like no other. Incomparable to even vampiric hunger. 

The image of you and Lae’zel, and a burn in the back of your throat that drives you beyond reason. 

The glimpse of you and Karlach, and the urgency rising in your chest to simply stop it. To pull the brakes, not once considering the consequences. 

Every small moment between you and someone else – companions, strangers, those who have helped along the way – is given to you from Astarion’s point of view. You feel all that he has felt; you burn as he has burned. 

You feel a glimmer of understanding, a pitiful ounce of sympathy, but then you remember all that you have felt. All that confusion, all that unsureness. Every time you’ve had to question the glances the vampire offers in your direction or double back on his words. 

He’d done it to himself. You had to remember that – he’d done it to himself every single step of the way.

“You could have said something,” you whisper out as his lips travel down the path of your neck, sharp tips of his fangs pressing to your pulse but not quite breaking skin, “You could have just told me.”

He’s lithe as a cat above you, each scrap of clothing being removed between the two of you exposing more of your bare flesh to the chill of his. You can feel all those muscles beneath his surface, and you can feel the hesitation as you say this. The freeze – the pause. 

“You make it sound so simple.”

The fangs scrape at your jugular as he whispers it, mouth shaking as he uses all his self-constraint to not simply bite down. Taste your sweet blood, let it sing on his tongue rather than this conversation you can tell is setting fire to all his anxieties. He doesn’t want to talk.

You’re not even sure if you want to talk. 

But you do, with the weight of him between your hips and his hands dancing along your torso. Your head is thrown back as you sigh, “It could be.”

It could be simple, it could have been simple this entire time, if only he’d allow it. 

He’s had you dancing beneath his spell since the moment you’d met him. You had offered yourself over to him, time and time again, knowing all the costs. Despite the warnings from others, and despite all the sirens sounding off in your head every time your eyes had met his, you’d still pined. Still fantasized what this current moment might taste like as you’d lay in your tent at night, still chased after his attention across Faerun. If he had just directly said the word rather than stringing you along, burning in private – you would have been his far sooner than now. He could have had you in the palm of his hands long before he’d ever spotted the Gate of the city. 

He has you now, though. Entirely encapsulated, bending to every whim of his fingertips.  

A flick of his wrist, and you’re exposing more of your neck. A nudge of his knee, and you’re arching your back to press more of yourself against him. Offering your skin, offering your soul, offering your blood. A silent temptation for him to simply devour you whole; a silent begging to not complicate things more than what was necessary. 

You had both been in the wrong. He had sent mixed signals, and you had been complicit in your own silence. 

And right now, you weren’t particularly in the mood to rehash and reassign blame. 

“Show me how simple it could be,” his voice is muffled against your skin, lips velvet against your pulse. It nearly frustrates you – was that not what you were currently doing? Were you not proving to him just how easily he could unravel you with those cold, cold palms? “Go ahead, darling. Prove me wrong.”

You’re not the one meant to take an action, though. Your hands fly up, fisting at his white curls, and you apply pressure to let him sink deeper into your skin, but you’re not the one who can break the barrier.

It’s him that must – his fangs must do it. The first bite, the smallest of sips. 

Your blood trickles past his lips and you let out a sigh. As if this was what you were waiting for, as if this was all that it took. Your vitality draining slowly to invigorate him, your breath becoming his, your heart now beating for both of you. 

He must feel it. He must taste it. 

The simple entanglement of the living and unliving. How simple it was to become his.

You swear you only allow your heart to race as it does to encourage your blood to pump faster onto his eager tongue. He laps at it, hums at the taste, his grip on you becoming stronger with each pass of the ichor. Each passing second with his mouth glued to the side of your neck isn’t marked with the tick of a clock, but the roll of his hips, and your own desperate legs shaking in those precious moments between, cursed to choose between tightening shut around his hips or spreading wider to encourage more of him to occupy you. 

Just as you start to feel light-headed, he pulls back. Wide and vibrant scarlet eyes boring into yours, fangs tinged pink with you poking against his bottom lip. 

The tadpole connection has gone silent. Not due to either of you cutting it off entirely, but due to the lack of thoughts transpiring. Both your minds have gone quiet, and all that’s left is the warm buzz of knowing you’re connected. Static that you can feel at the back of your head, running down your spine, all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. 

Simple. Mind-numbingly simple. 

You can feel the spark of something snapping after only a few moments of eye-contact, and you know it’s the ember that blazes within him as his next few actions transpire. Messy kisses leaving behind a trail of pink spit along your skin, hands no longer grappling at you mindlessly but with intention. He slips them between your thighs, a finger trailing down your cunt in time with his tongue down your sternum. What might be a memorized dance to him has become an entirely unknown experience to you, body buzzing with the novelty when his fingertip’s cool caress circles your clit before he slips down to your hole. It’s seamless – the stretch, the crook of his knuckle against you as he sinks deeper, the relief in the curl of your toes. 

“You’re not another mindless dance,” he murmurs as he sinks deeper and lower, an unnecessary breath escaping him across your lower abdomen. 

He’d heard it. He’d heard all of your thoughts at the moment. 

You peer down at the ethereal sight of him between your thighs, his hair and mouth seemingly shimmering with all the stars and moon itself, “No?” 

“No,” his voice is strong as he lets the tip of his nose press against you, mouth creeping closer to where two fingers now pump within you, “You’re not like the others.” 

He doesn’t elaborate, even as the haunting question of who the others might be echoes within you. He completely distracts you as his fingers slip from your cunt and his tongue begins its work, worshiping you with every flick of it. Nose, tongue, breath – they all work in conglomeration as the unraveling truly begins. Every ounce of you is tensing, combating all the relief of having his mouth on you, as he pushes you closer and closer to a precipice you’ve only dreamed of him guiding you to. 

The suckle of his lips. The cut of his fangs when he gets a bit too excited. The lap of a tongue like a dog worshiping at your altar. It’s all almost a bit much. 

When your hands travel to entangle in his hair, you can feel the hesitation. For a moment, you believe he might reach up to take your touch away. Force you to grasp at the bed sheets, at the edge of the mattress, at the frame above your head. Anywhere but him. 

But he doesn’t.

The pause only lasts a few seconds before he’s returning to his mitigations, even more intent than before. Words that could never be spoken between the two of you take the shape of his lips around your clit, sucking almost as hard as he had at your neck. An animal seemingly overtakes him, his mouth not leaving you for the mortal necessity of breathing, but rather for something harsher; he breaks away only for his fingers to slide back within you, and immediately takes to biting at your thighs. 

It isn’t like he had done to your neck. This time, he’s not chasing after your blood. Nips and fuller bites, not just his sharpened canines sinking into fletch but his front teeth as well. 

These aren’t bites to drink from you. These are bites to claim you.  

He lines your legs with them, scattered sporadically as he shifts himself up and down. From the apex of your thigh down to your ankle, there’s hardly an inch of your skin that doesn’t paint with Astarion’s touch. The bite marks, lingering outlines of his hands clinging to your flesh, patient hickies left throughout. 

You’re mine. 

The message is clear enough whether you had seen it in his actions, or if he had sent it through the bond. You understand well what point he is making. 

The point stands stronger and stronger when he works his way back up your body. He offers your hips the same worshiping treatment, leaves his imprints across your chest as well. A few marks brand your shoulders and neck, matching the two pricks that started this entire devourment. 

“Do you have any idea of the hold you have upon me?” he sighs out as he holds himself above your body, hovering just close enough that your skin jumps as the skin of his abdomen brushes your own, “Our entire journey, I have been so focused on… on freedom, on abandoning the concept of ever being controlled…” he trails off, and when he looks into your eyes this time, you can see something clicking into place. A fearsome realization. “Only to end up in the thralls of your beck and call.” 

You hold your breath and await the inevitable. This is the part where he runs. Where he removes his flesh from yours, where he jumps across the room and surely spits out some sarcastic remark. It’s the time in which he is meant to break all the hope that had been built over the minutes spent alone. He’ll make some nonchalant remark, or a crude joke, and he’ll go make eyes at some other poor fool below. He’ll cast his spell over someone else, anyone else. He’ll leave you, wanting and yearning and hopeless, once more. 

His body stays above yours, the thin fabric of space shaking between you two. 

With a trembling hand, warm against his skin, you take a chance, “I’m not your master, Astarion.” 

You aren’t. 

You have no desire to control him the way he describes. You would curse the day should you ever become something even comparable to being a placeholder for Cazador. He isn’t telling you anything new; you’ve known his end goal of this entire journey. Astarion has always wanted one thing and one thing only – freedom. 

And you thought you’d been helping him. Following him blindly through the woes, helping him achieve his ultimate goal wholeheartedly. Never for a single second had you assumed the role he’s seemingly given you. 

A short laugh escapes him, the smallest of smiles flitting his face, “No. No, you aren’t. And that only enthralls me further.” 

His lips descend upon yours in a fervent fashion, even more desperate than before. It feels as if he’s actually trying to devour you whole this time – it feels as though he might actually accomplish melding you into his existence, sinking you right into the marrow of his hollow bones. 

When his cock sinks into your heat, it’s ecstasy. Euphoria. Everything you’ve been wishing for. Everything you’d been hoping for. You stretch around him, just as you had his fingers, body eager to take in every last inch of him. The buzz becomes a roar and your entire body feels as though it might be on fire. You want more, you need more, and he’s more than willing to give it. 

More, more, more. 

His hips roll agonizingly slow against yours, making sure every movement is felt across every nerve ending within your body. Deep within your gut, down along your thighs, all the way up your chest. You feel him everywhere – he makes sure of it. 

Centuries, his voice curls through your mind like dark smoke.  For centuries, this body has felt tainted. Never quite mine, never quite clean. 

His hands are shaking as he lets them caress down your sides, over your hips, clinging for support. 

You take that feeling away. 

The words are heavy, the press of his chest over you heavier. Your own hands wander, and you make a point to avoid the scars on his back. The ones hardly deciphered, the ones that have tied him to a fate you refuse to let him succumb to. No amount of jealousy, no amount of spite, can reverse that ardent decision within your mind. 

You’re not an old coat, Astarion. You whisper it back, along the bond, your physical mouth gaping wide open as you tilt your head back into the pillow, feeling yourself tighten around him. You’re not a worn pair of boots. You’re a person. 

A terrible mon-

You cut off his rebuttal, a complicated person. Snarky, indecisive, too flirtatious for your own good. But still a person, and still worthy. 

Two simple words, and they send shudders through his entire body. Still worthy. You don’t look at him as something to be discarded or owned; you don’t envision him as a prize or a trophy. And you certainly don’t see only his flaws when you look at him. When his ruby eyes meet yours, both his and your own eyelashes flutter ridiculously as all the pressure mounts, the blush of your blood across his cheeks and running down his throat, you both know. You don’t need to put it into words.

Even when he infuriated you. Even when he made you second-guess his companionship in the beginning. Even when he made you swoon like a schoolgirl only to divert his attention. Never once have you fully faulted him for the mistakes. 

He’s done bad things. You’ve all done terrible things. And yet, you still want him. 

He’s worth more than the sum of his worst moments, even if he hadn’t bedded you tonight. You would still help slay Cazador. You would still fight tooth and claw for his freedom. 

You love him. You hate him. You hate to love him, you love to hate him. It’s all smoke and mirrors at the end of the day when you’re feeling the weight of him collapse on top of you. And it’s mutual. The complicated, infuriating emotions are all reciprocated. 

Every inch of your skin stings with the lingerance of his fangs and lips, gasps and mews slipping between your lips as he picks up his pace. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs and hips in a failing attempt to pull your body back to his, the reciprocation languid in every stroke. Every slap of his skin against yours, every moan of his own – they mingle in the air and spell out the inevitability of this moment. You swear you feel his sharp nails nick you, a bead of blood no doubt bubbling and staining the sheets below.

You don’t care. He doesn’t, either. 

Your whine echoes through the empty room right along with a harsh grunt from him. He’s ravaging you. Bruising you inside and out. 

“Fuck, Astarion,” you gasp out, giving up using the bond. Your mind has melted far too much for coherent thoughts as both your breaths quicken, both abdomens tightening as you feel him reach even deeper inside your cunt, “Fuck.”

You can feel him letting go just as it feels as though your body might give out. Blissful soreness hidden behind a curtain of pleasure that turns your vision white. You almost wonder if your body had been simply a vessel for his own pleasure this entire time. 

You wouldn’t mind if it had been, but he’s made damn sure it isn’t. 

You’ve never felt quite as cared for as when his hips stutter, feeling warmth fill your fluttering cunt as his open mouth places random kisses anywhere they can reach. His head falls to the crook of your neck and you can feel his tired lips pressing repetitively over your marked neck, your shoulder. They even graze the original bite mark, and the simple action sends shockwaves through you to join the rest of the residual quakes that keep your legs shaking around his waist. 

The bedlinen sticks to your skin from a mixture of blood and sweat as he collapses next to you for a moment, still curling up to you like a cat. Nose running along your bare shoulder, lips still reaching out for you. 

It takes you a second, but when you finally catch your breath, you can’t help but ask the dreaded question, “Does this mean you’re officially mine?” 

His chuckle is unexpected, vibrating against your chest as he rolls most of his weight off you and lifts his head, “Have I not made that much obvious?” 

“I just needed to make sur-”

He cuts off all your hesitation, lifting the entirety of his upper body now, “Allow me to make this very clear to you, darling. I have been yours since the moment you reacted to me holding a dagger to your throat with a damned headbutt.”

You smile sheepishly, “So you’re telling me when I did that… I knocked some sense into you?” 

“Never,” he scoffs, waving a hand, the only sign of his own fatigue to match yours being the way he drops back down at your side. You don’t miss the faint smile gracing his lips, “But it was an impressive move. Quite enchanting for this old heart of mine.” 

“So now you admit that you’re old?” you joke, prodding at an inside joke that had been ongoing since he’d admitted the entirety of his vampiric nature to you. He’d always pouted like a child at any mention of his age, but he’d always allowed only you to get away with any jabs at it. Your entire group still doesn’t speak of his reaction to Gale trying his hand at one of the jokes, “Goodness, what has gotten into you, my Star?” 

He flushes at the nickname, eyes diverting as he slowly creeps his body up the bed, face to face with you now. Your heart tightens a bit when he takes his time replying, swallowing hard, tongue peeking out instinctively as he runs it over his lips and fangs slowly. 

You almost believe he won’t look you in the eyes again, but he does. As he says the heaviest words yet, he looks to you as if you’re the only thing in the room for this moment. 

“I care for you,” his voice comes out tight, nearly strained. “Deeply. You make me want to be… a better… man, monster, whatever I might be. And if that’s a crime?” he pauses, and takes another one of those pesky deep breaths that you’re well aware aren’t vital to him. A glimmer of the human, the person, beneath the self-proclaimed monster. “Well, I haven’t been much of a rule follower thus far in our journey anyways, have I?” 

You pay no mind to his joking tone, seeing the words for what they are. Your hand reaches up, fingers carding through silver waves, and you can’t help your grin when he doesn’t swat you away as he had done Shadowheart for the exact same show of affection the week before. 

I adore you, Astarion. 

Quiet words. Silent words. Only for the two of you, within the confines of a shared mine. 

He clears his throat uncomfortably, “Mind you, I may need some time, given all the memories this wretched city brings-”

“Take all the time you need,” you interrupt. From the second he’d opened up to you, offering that vulnerability in the heat of the moment regarding his body, you’d seen this coming. “I can wait for you, my love. Let’s just focus on surviving all this, yeah?” 

He can’t hide his affection. It’s written plainly on his face, it travels clearly across the bond. 

“Yes,” he whispers back, reaching for your wrist finally, but only to hold it placid as he turns his lips towards it. You think for a moment he might bite you one final time, and you’d let him, but he surprises you. No fangs appear – only the softest of kisses against the most vulnerable of skin. “Survival. Of course.” 

It’s not so much words as it is an image, a promise, that comes to mind from him. The fluttering of a future he sees being possible, the threat of a city burned down should any harm come to you. 

“And no more jealousy,” you croak out, trying to not be overwhelmed by his own emotions mixing with yours. “You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

Another kiss to your wrist, this one far quicker, far more habitual than the first. He’s kissing you simply because he can. 

You know there’s more behind his smile when he whispers, “Oh, of course, lover.” 

And you find out later on the reason for such a mischievous smile, once he’s cleaned you both up and migrated for you two to rest in his claimed bed. When Shadowheart is the first of the group to enter the room, confronted with the image of you curled up on Astarion’s chest as his fingers dance over your aching skin, you don’t even have to wake up properly to see the vision of a smug Astarion through your dreary eyes. 

Words are exchanged, but they’re lost to you in your sleepy state. You only catch the ones that matter. 

“Astarion! Are those bite marks-”

“Mine?” if you were any more conscious, you would have scolded him. He knows it, too, as he squeezes you closer to him, “Why, yes. Yes, they are, our dearest Shadowheart.” 

Shadowheart’s huff of breath tells you all you need to know about Astarion’s smirk. You’ll talk more of jealousy in the morning. 

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 31ST LEGALLY BLONDE ━━ seishiro nagi + coercion !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. seishiro nagi + coercion. there’s no way someone broke up with nagi because he’s too blonde!? poor baby, maybe you could provide a little emotional support…(5.5K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, dark content, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, strangers to lovers (?), teaching assistant/student relationship, dom/sub dynamics, some switching, reader is lifted up by nagi, coercion, dubcon, handjobs, virginity loss, cherry chasing, oral fixation, mind break, praise kink, creampies, soft sex, clothed sex, unprotected sex, TA!reader, elle woods!nagi.

୨୧ — director’s note. happy halloween my loves! i hope you enjoy the final kinktober fic! its been super fun writing and editing for you all. stay tuned for the bonus in the coming weeks <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

this law school thing wasn’t all what it cracked up to be. 

after the love of his life, reo mikage, had broken up with him for someone smarter, blander and richer than him — nagi had been blessed with the genius idea of following his ex all the way to one of the top law schools in the world. the plan was practically fool proof, the guys at his sorority worked hard to help seishiro study — pulling all nighters for practice tests and rewarding him with naps every time he had gotten a question right. 

rin itoshi had even convinced his parents to reach out to a hollywood director so that they could film nagi’s audition tape. it obviously featured isagi and bachira too. nagi had even worn his best designer swim trunks to impress the board of admissions. they’d all been super supportive of the light haired male in his endeavours and were there when he passed his LSAT exam

with all of this combined, he had managed to get in in — if that wasn’t enough for reo, then what was?

the answer? nothing.

reo still wanted that bland, basic bitch his family was marrying him off to. she was sensible, she was rich and seishiro quickly realised that he had only ever been a bit of ditzy fun to reo — a dumb blonde to stick his dick into whenever the time felt right. eye candy and nothing more. balancing his shattering hard with the complexities of law school had been tough for the white haired male and everything seemed to be going wrong. no one would study with him, reo wouldn’t even look at him and his friends back home were busy with the wedding plans nagi so desperately wished he had. 

however, that’s when you came along. 

after having the epiphany that he didn’t need reo to succeed — nagi knuckles down and studied hard for the law firm internship being offered amongst his cohort. he was relieved to have you as a teaching assistant in the process, not only were you absolutely gorgeous but you were compassionate and empathetic. you were smart, eloquent and everything seishiro wished he could be for his ex.

perhaps that’s what drew him to you, why he followed your every word like a puppy drooling after a treat. you’d been kind to nagi for the entire semester, from helping him out with studying for the internship right down to today, where he would be taking on his very first case in a court of law. it should have been easy, the facts were simple too. the client and fellow fraternity brother  (shidou ryousei) was accused of and arrested for the murder of his wife… but something about the events weren’t seeming to add up. nagi couldn’t come up with an alibi either. 

it was as if the words; the reasonings, the justification for shidou’s freedom were right in front of grey-scale eyes, only scrambled up like morse code. “how about we take a break?” as if you were a vision from his dreams or an angel from up above, you appear behind nagi’s tall frame as he slumps defeatedly against the hotel room desk — your hands fixing themselves to his broad shoulders for a massage. “you’ve been at this all night, seishiro.”

the law student swears your touch could heal all human ailments, the warmth of your palms seeping into the tense parts of his muscles like a cell performing diffusion — relaxation forming a comfortable fog over his brain. “i know shidou didn’t do it,” nagi defends with a grumpy pout, leaning back into you so that his head rests lazily against your stomach. “he told me… he said he was getting liposuction.” 

“we’ll need evidence of that,” you note, jerking your head to the side so that nagi can write it down. this entire time you’d been such a good mentor. “good boy.” something clicks in the light-haired male’s brain, a crackle of electricity shooting down his spine at your praise — swirling around in his guts as if to activate arousal.  “run me through the witness statements again.” there’s a sensual lilt to the tone of your voice and your touch cascades from his shoulders up to his neck like a backwards flowing waterfall.

seishiro isn’t sure if he’s making things up or reading the signs correctly — but he knows that there’s some kind of tension bubbling in the air. particles that resemble an aphrodisiac using kinetic energy to collide together, painting the room with lustful colours. “shidou’s step daughter says she heard a gunshot around 2:15pm after leaving the shower, walkin’ downstairs only to find shidou hangin’ over his wife’s body — covered in blood. ugh, this is too much hassle. this doesn’t make any sense!” he tosses an annoyed sigh into quietness of the room, moaning in surprise when you cup the base of nagi’s neck to pull his head up to face you and your eyes meet.

“you need a break seishiro, we can come back to this later,” you hum, the vibrations of your voice laced with sex appeal. as he swallows thickly, the law student’s Adam’s apple bobs under the pressure of your fairy-light grip on his throat — anticipating more from you. at this point, you’re half bent over him as he leans back in the chair, pink tongue slowly darting out to cover your lips in a spit shine. “how about it?” 

this feels so wrong. nagi’s cock stirring beneath his slacks at how good and kind you’re acting towards him. no one has ever gotten him this hot before — no one aside from reo. and you were still his teacher, by technicality, it would be wrong for nagi to even consider sucking your tongue down his throat. and yet, he can’t find it in himself to stop the temperature from rising between you, for falling into your dangerously salacious trap. 

“y-yeah,” he breathes deep when you squeeze his throat a little to test the waters. “i could do with a break.” 

“me too,” you gasp all too agreeably, bending the rest of the way down to capture seishiro’s lips in a searingly hot kiss. just as he wished you pry his mouth open with the tip of your curious tongue — pushing through his plush lips and curling around his own pink appendage. the lip lock is passionate, ravenous despite the mess and spit that you exchange. he chases your lips until he can’t breathe, sloppily accepting anything you give him, letting you lead where he can’t. 

he’s never done this before, not like this, not without reo. but in this moment, the silver-blonde doesn’t think he could ever go back to making out with his ex. not now that you’re the one kissing him. 

“i-i've never done any of this before.” the blonde gulps, swallowing down the copious amount of spit that builds on the palette of his tongue — looking into your eyes as a sense of hunger dawns on him, as if you’re the very meal he’s set to devour. “not without anyone that wasn’t—“

reo. 

sure they’d done stuff together. naughty touches here and there, hands ghosting over boxer briefs and fingers tweaking nipples (sei’s were especially sensitive because of the cute little piercings his ex insisted he get) — but nothing close to actual sex, nothing with a girl, nothing with someone like you. a burning heat, unlike anything nagi’s ever felt before, begins to brew in his lower stomach. his cock rises beneath his pants that suddenly feel all too tight.

nagi’s girth twitches against his thigh as your nails rake their way down his chest and slowly pop open the buttons of his crisply pressed white shirt. it heaves beneath his clothes — heart hammering against its calcium cage of his ribs. 

“i can tell, pretty boy.” you soothe him by purring into the shell of his ear, teeth tugging at the softness of his lobe. “but you’re a good kisser though. did reo teach you that?” your lips cascade down to his neck like a gentle flowing river at the same time that your hands delve below the belt to squeeze at seishiro’s swelling erection — testing the waters. 

his hips instinctively buck up into the warmth of your palm and a grin spreads across your plush lips at the feeling of his precum soaking his underwater and smearing across your fingers in thick, clingy webs. 

white and seedy and he’s nowhere close to cumming. almost like a little virgin. 

“have you ever done this before, seishiro?” 

the sound of his name, salaciously spelt out on his tongue, earns you a high pitched whine from nagi — his head rolling to the side and his thighs squeezing together with vicious need. “n-no,” he pauses before he grunts out a response and his entire body seizes as you take a firmer grip on his cock — jamming a thumb into his leaky slit to spread his arousal. “but i wanted to i just… reo said not until marriage—“

“— you don’t have to listen to reo anymore.” you announce breathily, setting a steady pace to your fist to jerk him off with. you’ve barely started and yet your hand is already glossed in a slight sheen of pre, soiling your knuckles from its viscousness. it’s so much for someone who’s never gone father than sloppy kisses and grinding while making out. it nurtures a certain seed of satisfaction in your chest to see him so messy so fast. “you can listen to me, sweet boy. do you want this… do you want it with me?” 

without letting go of the fat, drippy cock within your grasp — you shift to stand between the desk and nagi’s chair, shoving papers and court notes to the ground in your lustful haze. nagi thrusts lazily into your closed fist as if it’s instinct, following the sensation like a moth takes to a candle light. his grey eyes grow murky like a pond, swimming with desire for you and only you.

who was reo mikage to seishiro nagi? when there was an angel like you willing to feed this inexperienced man morsels of a heavenly pleasure he’s never felt before. the lawyer in training nods at your words like an eager man fallen to siren’s song as bait. “i want you,” he whimpers airily. “i wanna with you.” 

you rub down his thick, lengthy dick far enough to have your fingertips briefly brush against seishiro’s sensitive, weightly balls — just pulsing full of seed to give to you. the feeling makes nagi jump up from his seat so that he immediately towers over you. his height doesn’t overwhelm you, not when the towering blonde collapses onto you with a case of the shakes. he trembles above you, supporting himself by using one hand on the table while is mouth sloppily finds your neck to suck on and pacify himself.

“good boy, sei,” you coo, voice as sweet as hot sugar or candy. “i want you too. i always have. you’re such a pure, darling boy. glad to see that it’s true.” your praise is hidden in your soft moans as seishiro licks at the crystalline salt on your bare skin. you’re a little too twisted, taking advantage of his inexperience and his position beneath you as a student, but neither of you seem to care in this very moment. 

sweat beads against nagi’s hairline like diamonds on an expensive Chanel necklace and roses bloom across his cheeks with exertion — his hips rise and fall into your sticky fist in fluid motions, changing the steady stream of ecstasy you provide him. your hand is a solace for his aching cock, but you still make your student work for it. make nagi chase you since he only works hard for the things he wants. and right now, he wants to reach the end of the tight rope of pleasure you have him walking on. and to stave off the stormy frustration he feels from the case.

your hand wriggles it’s way into his wet silver locks, dragging nagi’s hungry mouth over yours since he’s so desperate to taste you, to have at you. it shows in the way he roughly grabs your hips too, grip so tight it threatens to leave bruises he’ll have to apologise for later. “ngh… please. g-god. miss…a-angel please,” he stutters, his bucking into your hand faster and harder, back and forth, back and forth through the tight ring of your fist. his bright and angry red cockhead peeks through the other side, glazed in opaque white — it’s a nice feeling, blistering hot and sensitive. “i…hah… gotta—“

nagi’s lashes flutter against your cheek — a strained whine reverbing in the base of his throat while you let him fuck your hands to his heart’s content, let him chase this new pleasure he’s never known. let him fall from the high heavens with blackened and burnt angel’s wings. you make him sin, for the first time ever. something about this should feel off to nagi, his law teacher taking advantage of him like this — but at this point, he’s too far gone, drowning in a hellfire of lust. 

mocking his moans, your mouth falls open in one of your own as you follow along with the pitiful expressions crossing the contours of seishirou’s face. “what is it, sei? what do you need?”

the room is too hot. your bodies against each other are temperate in the sex tainted air — accompanied by wet slapping sounds from your hand around his throbbing cock. “n-need to let go. it h-hurts,” he sniffles out, forcing his tongue into your mouth again to calm himself down. the more you speed up, remorselessly jerking him off, the closer nagi gets to the end of his own tether. this sensation is unfamiliar, the crumbling foundation of his orgasm coming crashing down as you fling droplets of his precum and arousal about the place — some of it landing on your clothes, the desk and discarded papers. 

again, neither of you care. 

“surrender to me baby, it’s okay. i’ve got you.” guiding the pale blonde through his first ever orgasm, you pour your heated words into his slobbering mouth — tongue running over his pearly white teeth and tangling with his drool coated tongue. that’s all sei needs to hear before he crumples against you with a shout — the first wave of his high crashing over him and pulling him under. 

it’s world shattering, brain melting as he cums. his abdomen contracts under your never-ending touch, ropes of hot white dribbling from his stimulated tip like a tap that keeps running. nagi swears he almost blacks out, falling dizzy and victim to your lustful charms as he twitches and cums and cums into your soiled palm. 

“f-fuck,” a soft whimper bubbles up on his raw bitten lips, stuttered out in suprise. “w-what was that?” 

“you orgasmed for me, sei, so pretty baby.” comes another set of your gentle praises. he feels his entire body wrack with a shakes at your words, his cock doesn’t dare to soften either. “you look so good when you cum.” 

his greyish-brownish eyes roll back into his skull when you let him go, his tip slapping against his clothed tummy. the brush of his cotton shirt against the slit on his tip makes him writhe from the sensitivity. “c-can i cum for you again? promise i’ll keep being good.” 

“of course,” you grin, proud that to have corrupted the poor boy. “are you okay to let me touch you again or do you want it now?” 

“touch me. now.” he growls, gripping your hand and guiding it towards his dribbling shaft, aiding the movement of your palm around him to start slow and lazy — working seishiro up into a heat once more. this time, the way your hand languidly jerks him off is made smooth by the evidence of his last orgasm, which you now use as lube. if you weren’t pressed for time and with a court case first thing tomorrow, you would have gotten onto your knees to clean up his copious amounts of mess. 

you quickly reduce him to a babbling mess against you, drool laden on his tongue and dripping onto his skin as you drive your thumb over nagi’s hot tip in tight circles with your free hand — touching what doesn’t fit in the other. “reo treated you so badly, poor baby,” you mewl sweetly, kitten licking at his pulse point just below his neck. “you work so hard, you deserve so much better. you deserve me.” 

he believes you, blindly and naively. nodding tenderly despite the way he widely fucks both of your hands as if they’re a makeshift hole — warm and slick, all for him. dopamine shocks him at the stem of his brain, spreading throughout his body like a wildfire only you can tame — it burns so good and  feels even better to have your dainty, perfectly manicured fingers wrap around his chubby girth so deliciously.

for a moment, you let seishiro go to squeeze at his heavy breeder’s balls — noticing the way they pulsate in your palm to signify the pale blonde’s second impending orgasm. “i think…hah… i think ‘m gonna… c-cum! again!”

pushing at his shirt, you press a kiss to the creamy skin of nagi’s shoulder and hum pridefully. “thank you for letting me know, sweetheart. cum for me. give it to me.”

with your permission granted, another blinding ecstasy takes over nagi, and he falls victim to you and your merciless hands once again. blood rushes through his ears like a storm surge, drowning at your angel coos while you guide him through his high, never letting up as you palm him through it all. he quivers and his knees buckle, shooting a hot and hefty load of seed all over your hand and clothes and the papers nearby.  “o-oh! fuck…” nagi chokes on a weak sob, bleating like an innocent lamb at the slaughter house while he weighed against your shorter frame — allowing you to bare the brunt of his weight and height. 

he’s so pretty when he cums, silvering blonde locks matted to his forehead by sweat — cheeks pink and lips swollen and red. if you could, you’d swallow him whole and selfishly devour your student for all that he has to offer. silly little blonde, stupid for trusting you, for wanting to fuck you.

your hand doesn’t slow around his pulsing cock but instead speeds up, digging your thumb into his oozing slit as arousal pearls at its centre once more. “n-no, s’too much.” seishiro cries quietly, tears stinging a pathway down the apples of his milky cheeks. “it hurts.” 

“poor you, poor baby.” you say harshly, mocking the poor blonde’s sniffles and hiccups. he’s exhausted and frustrated but doesn’t dare to pull away — his hips running after your hand hungrily. “you’re so cute sei, panting for me like a bitch in heat, fucking my hand like the dumb little blonde you are.” he hisses at the overstimulation, gargles on spit as it floods his mouth to accompany his appetite for you. 

“i’m not…ngh… ‘m not dumb.” he whinges in response and before either of you know it, seishiro is cumming again. hard. soiling his lap with abundant amounts of white. his chest heaves as he comes down, collapsing against you. he might deny it later, but being dumbed down and reduced to a stupid blonde seemed to really do it for him. 

finding his lips again, you soothe nagi with short and sweet kisses that grow more feverish by his own demand. all of a sudden you find yourself pinned to the desk below with the tall blonde between your instinctually parted legs so that he can grind against your panty clad core. “you’re…you’re right,” you say, breathing deep through your nose as your composure threatens to fall apart. “you’re so smart, sei. you’re the best lawyer on our team but…” bucking your hips once, you lower your voice by an octave so that your words slip through his ears like molten chocolate. “you’re acting like a dumb slut right now. don’t you wanna be my dumb slut, sei?”

his palm flattens against the mahogany desk just above your head, caging you in against its cold surface. “y-yes i do, oh fuck. please lemme fuck you. lemme be inside. i’ll be good.” 

“are you sure, baby?” 

“please—“ 

“but sei,” you brush a stray hair that curls at the centre of his forehead, the dumb blonde looking down at you with swimming grey eyes because he’s so needy. “it’d be your first time…” 

his face scrunches, nose crinkled at its bridge and brows knitted together in frustration. now that nagi’s had a taste of your sinful elixir he can’t seem to stop, you’re like a drug an addict can’t quit. something that could ruin his life or future prospects if he doesn’t get help. and yet he can’t look away, can’t pull his body away from yours and his achy dick from between your thighs — instead leaning closer so that it sinks between your plush pussy lips. 

nagi licks his lips, tongue rolling over his bottom one as he pants desperately. “please angel,” comes his broken beg, hanging pathetically in the sex tainted hair. “i need you. need it so bad. please please please— mph—!”

satisfied with his begging, you shove a set of cum soaked digits past the swell of seishiro’s pretty lips — chuckling darkly as his tongue laps over and in between them, and he whines at the salty taste of his arousal on your skin. “atta boy,” you coo, thrusting deep into the hot cavern of his mouth until the pale blonde gags around you, swallowing your fingers down like they’re a cock. he sucks so obediently, so desperately as if to please. like a good student too — and all the while, you work on kicking off your panties and flipping up your skirt so that he can get a nice rewarding view of your glistening cunt. 

“c’mere,” you reach out to the blonde and he leans into you, letting you wrap an arm around his shoulders to keep him in place. “sei,” you gasp at the first contact of his thick, long shaft against your throbbing wet mound — mouth agape as if you’ve taken a gunshot wound to the chest. “do you know how to do this, smart boy? do you know how to fuck?”

nagi nods, pressing his forehead to yours while his hips jut forward on their own and his seedy tip brushes against your pearling clit so deliciously. at first, his movements are lax and the room is filled with the lewd squelches of your sexes moving over one another, but your breathing soon grows ragged and the salacious bump and grind becomes stickier and wetter. 

“u-uhuh.” he mumbles in response.

he’s so good for you even when his mouth is full and his mind is dazed, sucking on your fingers while he lets you overwhelm him. however, the blonde is only so well behaved and patient, and it’s not long before he slips his girth past the tight ring of your entrance without any warning. his fingertips dance up to your waist, grabbing at the fat there and using it as leverage to drag you to the edge of the table so he can sink into you further.

“oh…fucking hell!” you whimper wetly against the junction of nagi’s neck, nails digging into his shoulders to steady yourself while he sets the pace to your sinful dance. he’s bigger than what you expected (despite mapping his girth out with your hands), stretching your sloppy walls wide to accommodate for his size. you don’t complain, however, eyes rolling as he brushes up against pleasure spots you could never reach on your own. “o-oh baby, fuck me.” 

you pull your fingers out of his mouth with a lewd pop, desperate to hear the symphony of his sweet, low and sexy moans instead of having them muffled by your fingers while he fucks you for the first time. the pale blonde can hardly believe it — having your warmth wrapped around him and your cunt drool down on him like a waterfall. 

the law student throws his weight into fucking you, bullying his way into the deepest parts of your womb to slothfully fuck up your gooey insides. your cunt, your moans, your whole body has some kind of control over nagi — dumbing him down and reducing him to a sex crazed mess. to the point where he can’t even remember his ex’s name. he’s a mop of pale blonde hair and sweaty clothes, entirely hunched over you. 

“y-you’re so tight,” he tells you in a dreamy sigh, lost in the heat of your core. nagi’s grabs at your pudgy thighs and drags you back and forth onto his dick, the new deepness to his thrusts causing you to squeeze and froth around the fat base of nagi’s cock. “hah, feels so…so good.” 

wrapping your shaky legs around his slender waist, you offer up the same treatment to nagi — pulling him close to the point where he’s buried in your sluice sex right up to the hilt. his precum smears against your ribbed walls and his broken whimper echoes around your hotel room. “that’s it, fuck me like you fucked my hand, sweet boy.” lust sparks against your sex slicked bodies, your breasts bouncing with every one of nagi’s calculated yet sloppy thrusts. you can’t get enough of one another, clinging and clawing at one another’s bodies madly. “you can do it, prove to reo that you don’t need him. only me.” 

“o-only you.” nagi repeats weakly, tucking his face into your neck as he pounds you to the high heavens. the desk creaks beneath the force of his thrusts, threatening to break at the nails and bolts that hold it together. his eyelashes flutter against your skin, his low and deep moans mixed with high pitched gasps send a hot rush of dopamine across your brain and it really is all too much. 

nagi’s already cum three times and managed to fold you in half over his desk as a virgin. he feel as though he might break with how much he loves this, loves fucking you senseless. another fresh set of tears burn tracks down his face and gather in his unfairly long lashes as they tickle your skin. he hiccups and heaves against you, whilst his breathing grows ragged every time his glistening cock escapes the snugness of your tight pussy, precum stringing along your puffy folds. 

“so good baby, s-so fucking good!” your voice is broken and husky as you praise him, making his dick pulse against your g-spot over and over again. you’re fairing no better than he is, your skin blistering hot to the touch and bruised from how tight your student is gripping you — pulling you back onto his cock.

the pale blonde feels though he might burst, cream your insides like he did your hand and ruin that pretty skirt of yours — the one that sticks to his pelvis because of how close your bodies are. it’s rubbed him raw while he fucks you raw. “‘m i the best?” seishiro asks, cherishing the embrace of your viscous walls, his shaft coated in a crude mix of white as it froths from your tight little hole. “t-tell me i’m the best…” 

“t-the best i’ve ever had! f-fuck, sei!” you squeal in response, only egging the law student on, babbling your praises while fat droplets of your arousal flies about the place — painting nagi’s pelvis in a shiny gloss, curling in his white happy trail as well. 

“‘m the best. i’m the best for you.” grunting from the exertion and the very force of his own thrusts, seishiro wraps both of his strong arms around your middle and stands up from the table — taking you with him. at the new angle, the coil in your stomach only tightens and you fling your arms around his neck to prepare yourself for what’s to come next. “s’not enough, not deep enough. fuuuck you’re so wet and warm. i-i can’t,” he drawls lowly, nipping at the shell of your ear on instinct. 

that’s when seishiro begins to use his sheer strength to lift and drop you back onto his thick girth, fucking up into you at the exact same time. “g-good god!” you cry out, your impending orgasm prickling at your pelvis — shooting down each section of your spine. all of it only serves to spur nagi on. 

“give me your fingers,” he demands huskily, cantering into you from bellow — your juices running a steamy track down his heavy balls as they harshly smack against your peachy ass. “wan’ suck on ‘em. give ‘em.”

you don’t have time to register his ask because he grabs your wrist before your mind can even catch up (too occupied with the way he’s churning up your guts) and has two of your fingers in his eager little mouth — sucking on them diligently. you shudder as nagi runs his tongue between them, coats them in spit and drool that tracks across his chin once he’s done with them. 

“touch yourself for me?” he pleads through a wet whine, almost too innocently. “wanna see you cum this time.” 

it’s only then that you realise he’s been holding himself back, staving off his orgasm so he can see you writhe and gush all for him. the overstimulation must be burning at his brain, sizzling off his nerve endings and it’s probably more than the dumb little blonde virgin can take. so you do as he asks, trailing your spit slicked fingers between your bodies as they grind down on one another and you with your sensitive clit, pulling its hood back to draw tight circles over the pleasure nub. 

“o-oh! seishiro!” 

“that’s right, touch yourself f’me. wanna see you lose it like you make me lose it,” he moans softly constraining with how rough nagi pounds up into you. one of his hands slips from your hips to grope at your ass, pushing you down on him and forcing his cock to grind against that one special spot threatening to make you break. “‘m sorry,” he whimpers as though he’s going to cry. “d-don’t think i can hold back, angel.” 

“then don’t,” you gasp at the new friction, holding onto your last strings of sanity as you fumble with your clit tucked away between your ravaged folds. “i know you wanna cum for me, sei. l-let go, yeah? wanna see you break for me, like a good blonde slut.” 

your encouragement doesn’t give seishiro much choice, and while he’s in control of your bodies — his lean, strong frame anchoring you down onto his cock as it bullies your insides, you are in control of his mind. you destroy his train of thought, ruin the self-made man he was and send him tumbling into his final high. nagi’s orgasm breaks the surface viciously, pouring another load of his cum against your ripe and rippling walls. there’s still so much of it, the warm and viscous white seeping from your cunt and smearing all over your hot mound. 

the force of nagi’s high is so strong that he nearly drops you, just about managing to pin you safely to the desk once more. he’s still cumming and cumming and cumming — but that doesn’t stop him from thrusting into you hard and fast, desperate to trigger your orgasm so he can reward himself. it doesn’t take long, he’d already had you seated on the edge before his mind had shattered to pieces just from fucking you. 

you gush down his length and all over what remains of your shitty case notes (he probably didn’t need them anyways) with a pornographic shout when you finally hit your peak. it’s like the crescendo of a beautiful song — the world around you spinning and flashing white as you squirt and gush for the white haired lawyer. 

“f-fuck.” you giggle with a soft smile, fatigue washing over the both of you come down from the gates of heaven — crashing back down to earth with ecstasy still buzzing in your veins. “good boy, sei. you did so good for me,” you hum softly. “do you feel any better?” 

seishiro looks up at you from where his heavy frame has collapsed on your chest — clothes sweaty and askew, and offers you a lazy grin in return. “better,” he mumbles meekly and kisses a slither of your exposed skin, still grinding his seed into you as if to make sure it sticks. “thank you.” 

bringing a hand up to toy with his hair and soothing him, you nod. “good, we should get some rest, you’ve got a big trial tomorrow, pretty boy.” 

“do you think I can do it?” 

“i know you can, sei.” you scratch at his scalp. “i meant it. what i said earlier. you’re the best lawyer on our team. shidou’s defence stands a pretty good chance.” 

nagi grins once more, only this time he leans up to press a chaste kiss to your unexpecting mouth — pouring all of his gratefulness into it. 

because thanks to you, he feels more confident about the trial, — almost as if he’s won the trial already. and even if nagi goes lose, at least he’s won you over.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[hiveswap]

Summary of The Cat of The Year poll atrocities of 2023/2024

I'm sure that most people on this side of tumblr have seen the Jellie vs. Nefarious Anglerfish poll going around with like 60k votes at this point, and I'd really like clear up some of what happened since I was around for the whole thing.

Url blocked out for op's privacy. They have already left but don't look for it if you haven't seen it/don't harrass them if you already have.

1. The previous round (preparation)

I discovered the poll in its previous round, needless to say she beat Jort's ass severely. This was around the 3rd of january, meaning that this round finished before jellie's passing with only about 7k votes. Op did add their own piece of propaganda from their main:

...which was FINE. (except for stuff we'll see later) Of course running a poll while biased isn't ideal but I for one didn't even know they were the op until much later. I also added my own piece in a separate thread, and they didn't interact with it at all. There was no drama.

2. The Finale

Jellie unfortunately passed away right before the starting of this poll, which was the catalyst for what happened next. Op did exactly as last time and added a slightly more mean spirited encouragement to vote for the other contestant. This is the point where I believe that i fucked up personally.

I added this thinkpiece accusing op of associating all mcyters with Dream (who we all hate for the record) despite them not alluding to him at all. This is because tumblr has a history of disimissing all mcyters as... everything that dream was been accused of. Op did allude to not caring for mcyt. but they didn't say what i accused them of. This is important to point out because this reblog of mine is still being spread. Jellie was in the lead at the time, but not by the time i woke up next morning.

I won't be including anyone else's additions because I don't want to put blame on any specific person. Just felt like clearing up mine.

3. The Fuckening

Some time later op made this post to their personal blog:

which is insanely shitty because, as other people have pointed out, the "lame ass youtube cat" didn't die to inconvinience op or ruin their fun, and people would have probably voted for her anyway because jelly is universally beloved in the mcyt community. This isn't anti democratic. This post was added to the poll with a caption saying op should not be running this poll, and it took off. Op later went on to say that this was a joke:

This apology was not taken well by people, (including me) because "you were not meant to see it" isn't an apology and they still very much made fun of someone's pet dying. Safe to say this did not make the drama stop and only added fuel to the flame. I believe this was the point where the conversation of mcyt fans being unjustly sent hate to was reignited.

We should discuss that! it's a real thing that happens often and is equal to childish bullying. However, in this case, OP was the only one getting sent hate to my knowledge. The notes were mostly saturated by mcyt fans, and even now i can only find one or two hateful stance towards us under the whole 20k notes post.

4. Conclusions

Op posted a second apology to the catoftheyear blog to try and calm people down (i believe this is comprehensive and a lot better than the previous one) The blog was deactivated shortly after, so i only have my phone screenshots of it that i also added to the poll itself at some point:

(Edit) Here's proof that op did not write the justification they got criticised for, from the notes of the original poll:

This apology didn't get seen, or get accepted by enough people, so op made this statement on their personal:

Needless to say I am deeply dissapointed (and guilty) that it's come to this. Yes, op said tasteless things that made us all angry, but telling a human being to commit suicide is worse than being insensitive about a stranger's pet dying. Even after I posted about the blog being decatived i had someone come into my notes to wish that "they never find happiness" i mean wtf. This isn't like shipping where we can do whatever without the content creator's input. this is fucking harrowing and i can't imagine how i'd feel if this was done in my/my pet's name especially after losing them as recently as a week ago.

I hope no one from hermitcraft who is on here (let alone scar holy shit) learns about this like they did with previous lighthearted tournaments. If you truly respect the creators you claim to be a fan of as people, you do not tell people to kill themselves over them. And finally, let Jellie fucking rest, guys. she had a long, good life. I hope op can come back and also avoids behaving like this if they ever wish to do so. I'm angrier at mcytblr, though.

[morwap]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄

ex!regulus black x fem!reader

nav | m.list | r.b m.list

smut

dom!reg sub!reader, p in v, cunnilingus, handjob, cheating, ex!barty x reader mention, hair pulling. c/n = character name

───────✧ 𓆩♡𓆪 ✧───────

james unlocked the door, a big smile on his face as he had booked a pretty nice airbnb for the long weekend. you and dorcas carried in snacks and drinks to the kitchen as he held the door.

you could hear peter groan as sirius jumped on his back after stretching.

“hey i just wanted to see if you were okay, ya know with regulus being here and all—“

you cut dorcas off with a little laugh, “yeah d its fine, i mean we both have moved on clearly”

dorcas smiled and nodded before rubbing your arm then walking back outside.

moved on was not what you would describe it, regulus was here with a girl he had a met not to long ago, a fling, you could tell by how she acted. it was exactly how you used to act.

maybe he did this to make you jealous and to ruin your time, that was the only justification that went through your head.

you packed the fridge with the food and put things on the counters.

“y/n! where do you want me to put your stuff?” remus yelled, you already knew the sleeping arrangements, you and peter on an air mattress while remus, sirius, dorcas and marlene in a room. james and lily have their own and so does regulus and c/n.

“just put it by the couch!” you yelled as you watched sirius walk in, you grabbed a water and tossed it to him. sirius smiled then looked behind him then looked back at you, giving you an eyebrow raise. a warning sign.

“yeah its up the stairs, second room on the right” regulus mumbled. you watched as she walked up the stairs and regulus stopped to talk to sirius. you could tell he was out of breath from carrying things, you grabbed another water from the fridge and put it on the table before walking to the living room.

to say the tension was strong whenever you and regulus were in the same room was an understatement.

it was getting dark out, everyone was outside while james cleaned the grill for tomorrow and sirius and marlene tried to get a speaker to start working.

you sat next to lily, you both chatting about random topics while scrolling and showing each other different cats at a shelter. you would occasionally look to the other seats and make eye contact with regulus, it only made you wanna roll your eyes when he would at you then at her then back at you. he would get closer to her, having a stare off with you until you looked away.

music started to lighten the tension, marlene had pulled you up to dance with her while she was shit faced drunk. sirius got remus to join in. regulus watched you, thinking that maybe you just didnt care.

the fun ended with marlene throwing up on the other side of the fence and dorcas having to go put her in a bath. mary had called lily to check up on you guys, she wasn’t able to come since she had a wedding to attend.

hours passed and remus was the last to leave living room to you and peter, you sat down on the edge of the air mattress, peter already fast asleep, you had showered before coming to bed and now put on lotion.

the only thoughts you had were of regulus as you started to lay down. you couldn’t sleep a few hours passed until you heard footsteps.

regulus sat on the couch, his elbows on his knees. he cant remember what made him come down here, maybe to get a drink but now its led him here and he cant say he’s mad about it.

“are you doing this to fuck with me? to make me jealous?” you asked in a yelled whisper, sitting on the edge of the air mattress. you made sure not to move too much since peter was next to you with earplugs in.

“what? am i doing this to fuck with you? what are you talking about?” he whispered, his brows furrowed. “you started talking to barty again, what was i supposed to do while you were out flirting with your ex boyfriend?” he added.

“literally what the fuck are you talking about regulus” you scoffed, the last time you saw barty was when you gave him some of his clothes that was still in a box in your closet, it was socks and a few plain white tees but he had messaged you about it since it had his favorite belt and hadnt been able to find it for almost 6 months.

“sirius told me he saw you, how you got in his car and was all up on him, told me all about how you were all giggly and touching his arm, i thought we had something” he argued, making hand gestures.

“we do have something, we always have had something, all i did was give him a box of clothes if i was thinking about getting back together with i would've told you” you whispered, you touched his arm.

“i would never do that to you, regulus i told you everything” you added as a tear pricked your waterline, his head tilted slightly as he closed his eyes and sighed.

you missed him, god you missed him.

“i’m sorry, i should've asked you” he sighed, his hands going to yours. just touching him was like being teased, you missed his hands on you.

you swallowed, you didn’t know if it was the right time and you think he had the same idea.

regulus looked at you, you two were so close, his hair was just the slightest bit damp and he still smelled so strongly of his body wash and shampoo. He wore a plain black tee and sweatpants that was fresh out the dryer.

he leaned in closer, you didn’t want to move more than you already have in case of waking peter.

you tilted your head back as he leaned in more, his lips touching yours. god it felt so good.

your tongue intertwined with his as you two kissed, his hand came to your jaw. you tried to get closer to him. you heard peter groan and you pulled away.

peter rolled over and started to snore.

“cmere” regulus whispered and guided you up and into the kitchen.

your lower back pressed against the counter, as he locked your guys lips together roughly, his hands going up your shirt.

you tried to rub yourself against his groin. regulus groaned into your mouth as he unclipped your bra. he moved around your body until he was able to slip the bra to the ground then undid the knot on your pj pants.

regulus trembled in your grasp as you palmed him, he was getting harder and harder in your grasp. he bit your lip lightly before pulling away.

“turn the fuck around” he panted, his hands moving you roughly and pushing you to bend over the counter. regulus drops to his knees, his fingers slipping down your pj pants and panties.

you could feel his lips on your ass cheek, he bit softly which made you laugh and mumble an “ow,” regulus smile before spreading you open for him.

his tongue met your cunt, making you shiver, your clit throbbed as he sucked slightly. his hands massaged you gently, he did circles around your clit then moved his tongue up and down your vulva.

one of regulus’ hands moved to your cunt, his fingers teasing around your cunt before finally pushing in.

your hand that was gripping the counter went up to your mouth, his fingers were long and soon enough he could fit two in. your legs trembled and you were getting close. minutes passed and then you were on the brink.

regulus pulled away and slowed his fingers. you whined when his fingers left you. you soon felt his lips on the back of your neck. you could feel him press his cock against you, you reached back and slid your hand into his waistbands, he was fucking leaking.

he moaned against your skin as you stroked him, his hand gripped your hand and guided it while the other one held your hip. regulus let go of your hand and pushed his sweats down a bit.

“turn around i wanna see your face” he whispered and let go of you. you kicked off your bottoms before turning. regulus spit in his hand and stroked himself, you watched his chest as he breathed heavily.

you got onto the counter, thankfully it happened to be perfect height.

spreading your legs for him, waiting, you are beautiful.

regulus pressed his tip against your cunt, sliding in as his other hand did circles on your clit. his head tilted back slightly and he bit his lips. his stomach tightened and his eyes closed.

you watched his cock go into you. your hand gripped his forearm.

“youre amazing” he mumbled, looked at you and you leaned in, lips molding together in a fevered rush.

regulus started thrusting, noises caught in your throat, his other hand held the back of your head, guiding it how he wanted.

he started to quicken his pace, his fingers gripping your hair hard. you moaned in his mouth.

a noise from upstairs stopped him, pulling his head away from you and his hand moved to cover your mouth. he slowed his pace but didnt stop completely.

“regulus?” you heard.

he looked at you and then reached to turn the sink on then off.

“yeah?” he said. she stood at the top of the stairs. it was dark the only light being from a nightlight that was next to you.

“you okay?” she asked.

“yeah im just getting a drink and im on the phone with evan, hes having a rough night, go back to bed” he lied on the spot.

“oh alright” she yawned and walked back.

you kissed his neck, nipping at his skin. he started to pick up his pace again.

“im sorry” he whispered, his hands rubbed your sides.

“its okay” you said, you pulled on the hem of his shirt and sucked on his collarbone, leaving a dark mark.

his fingers went fast on your clit, getting you closer and closer.

“i love you” regulus said.

you kissed his cheek, “i love you too regulus” your fingers slipping into his hair.

your brows furrowed as the coil in your stomach snapped. cunt clenching down on him and pulsating. you bit your lips together.

“inside or on your stomach?” he asked hurriedly.

you ignored him.

his eyes closed tightly, “imma need an answer baby quick” he whined.

“stomach” you panted as you came down from your high.

regulus thrusted a few more times before pulling out. your hands went to his cock, jerking him off to the pace he was going before.

he cursed as he came, cock throbbing and now becoming super sensitive.

soon he had cleaned you and himself up and wiped down the counters then you two ended up cuddling on the couch. he whispered in your ear, telling you how he missed you and that you were the best thing to ever happen to him. it was nice, so nice.

you had moved once he fell asleep, getting back to your spot on the air mattress. regulus moved closer to the edge and reached his hand down to grab yours.

“goodnight” he mumbled.

[reaperexe]

Doc ♡

summary : a gynac visit with your lover and his antics will obviously be fun.

warnings : none just fluff <3

Going to the doc with him was a task in itself. it was just a routine check up but he still insisted in accompanying you.

He seemed to be having a new 'living healthy' mindset recently, being more into vitamins, healthy foods and keeping the body clean and healthy and fussing over you to do so too.

Going as far as cancelling all his plans for the day to be there with you, promptly telling anyone that called to ask about him saying "She needs me today" as you facepalm at his serious expression.

He makes sure you're well fed and stresses on your behalf. Makes sure to ask the important questions as well "the doctor? its a women right?" with the most concerened face ever and you can't tell how hard you tried to not face-palm then and there.

Starts packing hours before the appointment cause "we should be there on time" he says. Drives there early too, the receptionist is staring at both your faces confused as to why you're he's acting as if a normal checkup is a complete crisis.

As he sits at the waiting area he looks around at the various health and informative posters on the wall along with the various models of reproductive system in the room.

He points at the fallopian tube, lighting up as he says "Hey! I know that one, you told me about it" as you smile along like a proud parent.

When you two do enter the doctors office, he sits with his arms folded only because you begged him outside to not pull out his intricate notebook and pen he prepared beforehand, his justification being "but baby I need to note down all the important stuff" with the biggest puppy eyes.

It took all your willpower to still say no to him and you could swear you heard the man whimper before putting the notebook away.

He sits infront of the doctor listening intently to every word she says.

It was surprising to you too how much he knew about you, the questions he asked were also some things you might have forgotten to ask but he remembered perfectly.

Fusses over you after you come home and makes sure all the things that the doctor recommended are implemented, goes as far to research meals that would be healthy for you and your body.

A short one but I needed to get out of the block :,(

[gauntletqueen]

isn't banning people based on "vibes" a conservative way of thinking? Idk I feel like forcibly removing people in your community who didn't do anything based on your idea on what's normal & fear that they COULD be dangerous is a justification for alot of right wing politicians & a basis behind xenaphobia.

Its literally a talking point of our oppressors.

First off there's something funny to me about seeing me retweet something on twitter and then going to my tumblr to respond to it anonymously

Second off, you're making big assumptions on what these vibes might be and what reasons streamers and other online creatives might have for removing people.

Here's some examples of people I've banned from my community discord server based on vibes:

Someone who only ever cared about talking to me, and never acknowledging anyone else in the server. They acted far too familiar with me despite me not knowing them, and continuously sent me DMs where they roleplayed things like hugging me. I explained why all of this behavior was not appreciated but they never listened. Classic parasocial behavior but none of it was against the rules. I still removed them based on vibes because they made everyone, especially myself, very uncomfortable and would not listen when told to stop.

A user who made everything about themself. They would derail every conversation to talk about something they did, often unrelated to the current topic, talk over others to praise themself on something, never listen to other people, interrupt others to talk about how they would've done something better, etc. Not against the rules! But it sure is annoying! I removed them because they constantly brought the mood down by making others feel like they had no place to speak.

Multiple users who only spread negativity. Almost always taking worst faith stances on things, barging into perfectly fine conversations with some overly negative angle all the time, sometimes I'd tell them to stop and they'd say it's just for fun, but it's not very fun when all you accomplish is ruining the mood, is it?

Any time something like this happens, Me and my mods make sure to take the person aside in DMs and explain the situation first, make it clear to them what they're doing wrong, and how we'd like them to stop, and if we still remove them then, it's their own fault. There have been plenty of times where someone was told to stop a certain behavior, and they understood and corrected accordingly.

I'm not removing these people because I suspect they might be secretly right-wing, or phobic, or whatever you're assuming when you say "dangerous", I remove them because they're annoying and don't listen, and I don't want annoying people like that in a simple little discord community that I made for people who like what I do to hang out with each other and have a good time. I have to manage that community and if there's too many problems that becomes hard, and it'll just be a less nice place to be. It's not that deep.

[zhivaoverdrive]

Filling the Void Breast Expansion and Butt Expansion via Saline Expander Implants.

But you've seen the image, too late.

Each image from the poster wall is available in full on the extras gallery, some with their own small stories.

Have fun.

----- As I pushed open the door, my eyes widened in horror. Lani lay sprawled across her bed, her body resembling a collection of medicine balls that had been inflated one too many times. Her breasts hung from her chest like overfilled water balloons, threatening to burst at any moment. 

The soft light cast by the lamp on her nightstand danced across her skin, highlighting every vein and crease as if trying to accentuate the sheer magnitude of her transformation. The implants themselves seemed to be straining against Lani's skin, like four enormous balloons about to burst at any moment.

Lani's eyes snapped towards mine, wide with surprise and shame. She looked guilty, her face flushed like a person who'd just been caught cheating. Her gaze darted around the room as if searching for a way to make this situation disappear, but the evidence was undeniable. It was like trying to hide a skyscraper behind a curtain – impossible.

I took in the scene: her already-enormous frame now straining against the seams of reality; empty saline solution bottles littering the room like discarded confetti; and Lani's body... altered, distended by the relentless stream of liquid she'd forced into it. The four orbs of saline inside her seemed to be straining against their containment, as if desperate to escape were it not for Lani's stretched skin holding on with all its might.

"It's not that big of a deal," she said, her voice laced with justification. "I'm fine. Just... just this little bit more..."

I took a deep breath before speaking. "Lani, I know we agreed monthly would be the limit," I reminded her gently.  "But you know how close you came to... complications. And yet here you are again, doing it without supervision."

Lani looked at me pleadingly, her eyes welling up with tears. "Please," she whispered, the air thickening with shame and desperation.

The shame and desperation, struggled to come to terms with being caught. AGAIN.

On one hand, I was impressed by her willingness to take control of her body and push the boundaries of what society considers "OK".

But I was also worried about how far she was taking things. Like, expanders... that's some next-level stuff.

And not just that - Lani had taken her body modification game to a whole new level by having expanders in her butt as well.

I couldn't help but wonder what kind of discomfort she must be going through with those things implanted in her backside. And yet...part of me couldn't help but admire her spirit.

I get that Lani wanted to change herself, but this was just crazy. "You're not even trying to hide what you're doing," I said, shaking my head in amazement. "You're trying to turn yourself into a human balloon or something!"

But as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I had spoken too bluntly.

"You're using expanders like they're some kind of...I don't know, saline-filled superpower or something!" I said, trying to lighten my tone.

"I just need this one more time," she said quietly, her voice filled with reverence.  "I promise I'll slow down after this. It's not like..."

She trailed off, looking down at the floor as if embarrassed by her own words. But that did not last long.

Lani gazed up at the posters on her wall. Her gaze lingered on the statuesque figures, their bodies seemingly defying gravity itself - their breasts rose up from their chests like mountains, butts jutted out far behind them.

"Look at them," Lani said quietly, her voice filled with awe and longing. "They're doing it... Just look at them - so many people adore them, that one's been on TV!"

As Lani admired these perfect forms of femininity, the competing idea inside of her believed she was still the waifish girl she'd been years ago stewed. Trapped between two conflicting realities unable to be reconciled.

"And honestly, what's another litre of saline when you're already..."

I didn't push her for more. Another unnecessary question. A different tack was in order.

"Lani, baby," I said carefully,

"You've never removed ANY saline before. I'm not even exactly sure if we can. What if this is a one-way process without going back to the doctor..."

Her eyes dropped, and she nodded slowly. "I know, but what's the worst that could happen? You'll still l-" "Ah," I interrupted her, trying to sound more reassuring than concerned. "The weight of... well, let me ask you this: how much saline are we talking about here?"

Lani looked down at her chest, a sheepish expression spreading across her face. "I've got 10 litres in each boob.."

My eyes widened in shock. Ten litres per implant? That was... that was a lot of saline. A lot more than last time.

"And?" I prompted, trying to keep my tone light despite the gravity of the situation.

Lani faltered for a moment before she spoke up again. "And... um... well, I might have also exceeded 10 litres in each butt cheek."

My jaw dropped. She couldn't be serious. Could she?

"Lani," I said softly, trying to keep my tone gentle despite the shock and concern I was feeling. "You're telling me that you've got a total of 40,000cc saline forced in your body?"

Lani nodded sheepishly, her face flushing with embarrassment.

I glanced at Lani's ass and saw the telltale signs of strain: deep creases in her skin, fine lines tracing the contours of each implant, and an eerie sheen that hinted at stretchmarks. Her veins stood out like blue highways, pulsing with effort as they struggled to deliver oxygen to her skin.

"The weight of this much saline is crushing you," I said firmly. "You've already been struggling with everyday tasks for months now. You're going to continue to struggle even more as time goes on. Your body simply can't keep up."

Lani's gaze faltered as she tried to consider the consequences of her actions.

"What does the future hold?" I continued. "Don't even get me started on trying to cook dinner or do laundry. You're being short-sighted! What happens when you can't even get out of bed in the morning?"

The silence between us grew thick with unspoken understanding – a tacit agreement that more caution was needed, but also a recognition that we were both too afraid to seek help.

She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.

"You're right," she said quietly. "I'll need you".

[brokenorbornthatway]

Friendly reminder that nothing in fiction is real. It's all made up. Non existent. The literal equivalent of children's imaginary friends. It's all just humans having fun playing pretend and letting our imaginations run wild with "what if?" None of it actually matters at all and that is exactly why it is so great. You can do whatever you want in fiction. There are no rules. There is no risk. Nobody can be hurt in fiction. Anything is possible in the worlds that don't exist. Every violent thought or fear or fantasy that you would never want in real life but still want somewhere to think about? It's perfectly okay in fiction. You can safely explore anything that you're curious about for whatever reason but don't want to go anywhere near in real life in fiction because none of its real. At the end of the day it's all completely inconsequential thought experiments. Every thought you could ever have, even the terrifying ones (looking at you fellow OCD havers), are safe to have inside your own mind. They are safe to have and safe to explore and fiction is a wonderful tool for that.

Drown out the noise trying to impose rules on how to engage with and enjoy fiction. They're uniformed. We know better. You can love a character who is a rapist or murderer or whatever and you don't need to say a word to explain why you love them because it doesn't matter. The character isn't literally a rapist and you know that and can take comfort in not needing to justify loving a rapist. No justification is needed because you don't actually love a rapist because the character isn't real. It doesn't exist. It hasn't ever raped anyone and never will be able to. So love that character as much as you want and don't feel guilty about it for a second. The notion that it could be compared to a literal rapist is beyond absurd.

Ship whatever you want whenever you want however you want. Be unhinged. Write and read with abandon. Give yourself to the fun of going all in with fiction because you know that none of it is or is meant to be real.

Fiction is self serving, self pleasing, hedonistic in nature. And that's a good thing. Let yourself go. Enjoy yourself. There are so many rules in the real world that are good and important and necessary and all that. Fiction is where you can go to get away from the constraints of reality. Take refuge in that, do whatever you please, and never be ashamed of it for a second.

[saintvainglorious]

My First Fanbind! A Black Sails Fic Anthology Series

It took me a year (and a lot of anxious research) before I worked up the courage to bookbind fanfiction, and after months of on-again-off-again work, my first fanbind is finally done!

I knew that if I was going to bookbind fic, I had to bind something from the Black Sails fandom, aka the fandom and show that have had the biggest impact on my life. Y'all, I almost went into academia to study slavery in the 17th-18th century Caribbean because of this show - when folks say this show rewires your brain chemistry, they are NOT kidding. THEE show of all time. Happy 10th anniversary to Black Sails! This fandom is small but mighty. May we continue to get our hearts and souls blasted to smithereens by this show for many years to come.

Ao3 abounds with magnificent Black Sails oneshots, so I decided to put together an anthology of my favorite Silverflint fics under 20k, which I split into two volumes. Included are works by @justlikeeddie, @vowel-in-thug, @balloonstand, @annevbonny, @francisthegreat, @nysscientia, and more! Thank you, thank you all, you brilliant wonderful people, for gracing the Internet with such amazing writing. When I read the fics in these anthologies I want to fling myself into the sun.

More on the design and binding process below the cut!

Vol. 1 Page Count: 270 (12 fics) Vol. 2 Page Count: 248 (11 fics) Body Font: Sabon Next LT (10.5 pt) Title Font: Goudy Old Style Other Fonts: IM Fell English, pirates pw

The typeset (which I did in Word) took a while, mainly because I'd never done it before. Manually adjusting the hyphenation line-by-line was especially tedious. After making these books, I abandoned Word in favor of InDesign, in large part because InDesign gives you way finer control over your justification and hyphenation settings.

Regarding my actual design choices, I'm happy with how the ocean motif on the title page turned out (it's not the same pattern as my endpapers, but they're complimentary) and I'm very fond of my divider dingbats, which are little swords! Goudy Old Style was a fun title font to use, since it's the font that Black Sails uses as its logo. The stories in Vol. 1 are divided into parts based on what Silver WAS at that point in the show (cook, quartermaster, or king), and Vol. 2 is split up into comedies, histories (AUs set in the canon universe) and tragedies - befitting Black Sails' Shakespearean ~vibes~.

I stuck to a flatback binding, as I wasn't feeling quite ambitious enough to try rounding and/or backing. I've learned that I ~Anakin Skywalker voice~ hate sanding, enjoy folding/sewing, and don't LIKE edge trimming but enjoy the results enough to make it worth it.

The real adventure was decorating the cover, which remained bare for months. After agonizing over Illustrator and experimenting unsuccessfully with HTV and lokta paper embossing, I ultimately turned to using stencil vinyl to paint on the designs. There was a bit of seepage under some of the stencils, but I was able to scrape off the excess with my Cricut weeding tool without damaging the coated surface of the bookcloth (probably Arrestox Blue Ribbon from Hollander's). Even though it was very time-consuming, I'm so happy with the end result of the stenciled paint job and I intend to stick with stencils for my foreseeable future binds.

Are there things I would change? Sure. It was humid out when I printed, so the pages have got a wave. There’s an extra two pages in Vol 2. that I have no idea how I missed, and I got a line of glue in the middle of one of my Vol. 2 endpapers. I’m pretty sure I didn’t case in quite right, since my endpapers pull away from the case at the spine. I think the inner margins are a bit too big, and despite going line-by-line there’s still some wacky justification spacing in the typeset. But man, am I proud of these books! It is so satisfying to learn a new skill - MANY new skills, if we’re being honest - and to make something both beautiful and practical. If I’m still binding in two years or so, I can see myself redoing the typeset in InDesign, cutting out the existing text block, and reusing the cases. I’m also already planning for Vol. 3, which will be Silverflint Modern AUs.

Thanks for reading!

[stackslip]

OK OK CHAINSAW MAN THOUGHTS FOR THIS CHAPTER UHHH i haven't done this in a while.

love, love the continuation of the previous chapter's yoru pointing up into these regular americans pointing up (possibly giving the gun devil more strength inadvertently?). this series of chapters is gonna be such a treat to read once it's put into a volume

lots of talk about how "freedom" and "gun" sound almost the same in japanese and this is clearly a dark pun, but the thing i also really love here is.... the arm symbolizing the "light"/flame of america/american styled "freedom" falling and replaced by a gun. the bit of the gun devil clearly having emerged FROM the statue, crawling out of it and revealing its ghastly interior, the sham it's always been. fujimoto's works starting with fire punch have always been obsessed with the idea of the image/representation and the many truths it disguises, how ugly realities are turned into stories, or propaganda, or even into merchandise to be bought, sold, covered up, used as justification for idleness or atrocities. belief is what makes devils powerful. the statue of liberty symbolizes deep held beliefs that America is all about pursuing dreams and protecting freedom, no matter what america's actual past and present actions reflect upon it. this is just the nature of that symbol and what it represents laid bare for all to see!

one of part 2's greatest strengths and worst weaknesses has been asa's passivity--which fits thematically, and makes her character that much more realistic and interesting when fujimoto bothers to draw her and put her emotions center stage (and makes it that much more depressing when she barely has a role outside of gawking at new information). but see this--this! this is what i want! this is what makes asa's passivity so devastating as a character! the exchange here is SO perfect, from yoru having committed the crime to asa suddenly being in her place, witness to the atrocity she's let herself be an accomplice to--and by extension, having committed it herself! we've seen that most of her power is fueled by guilt and regret--something that comes to her so, so naturally. and now she's confronted with it. with the results of her actions, of her dreams and attempts to save chainsaw man (to have a friend/someone who could love and understand her). the results of her passivity vis-à-vis yoru. she's committed this atrocity, essentially. she can't hide behind yoru for it. this is her body too.

just an unbelievable panel. the hole looks like it's *bleeding*, like a bullet wound on a corpse. sick sick sick!

see what i mean re asa's passivity being so compelling when used right. how could i forget? how could i get so comfortable? gd. also yoru's laugh is so good she looks so awkward. and most importantly she looks like nayuta did when making fun of asa after making her bark like a dog. sisters!

sick ass design. absolutely TWISTED parallel to when denji last faced the gun devil, with humans helping denji and begging him to save them. TWISTED parallel to makima's "save me, chainsaw man" and asa's own "i'll save you, chainsaw man!". fujimoto king of making narrative parallels so evil you'll feel sick ever rereading the first panels.

yeah uh i'm just gonna drop the parallel here and fucking run and die. isn't it romantic? you understand, don't you chainsaw man? you of all people would get the love involved in this?

the juxtaposition of the ruined city by asa/yoru and the children being led to the slaughter by the japanese government to resurrect denji is just. jesus christ man

[snekdood]

whats really unfortunate is im p sure my sister was the catalyst for why people in my town like to just gossip and make shit up about me without asking. like it started with her talking to my middle school bully about me behind my back, probably telling her all kinds of bullshit bc my sisters a compulsive liar, then that bully followed me to highschool for a brief moment before leaving, spreading all the bullshit that started at my old school to my new one before dipping. and then people started making shit up about me at highschool. i was so excited to finally get a fresh start in highschool only for that bitter cunt to come along and sour shit for no fucking reason bc idk she has a weird hate boner for me, who can say (maybe it was some bullshit my sister said 🙃 i wonder!). and since my high school was way bigger and she had a wider range of people, word just spread through the grapevine of whatever dumb shitppl were coming up with mixed with actual events that happened that painted me in an embarrassing light or whatever. and im like. kinda sure that the only reason my ex decided to turn on me so hard, shaming me in every capacity down to just who i am inherently was bc alllll of those stupid rumors came to them after we broke up. like. yall just wont let me escape this NOR EVEN GIVE ME THE FUCKING CHANCE TO SET THE RECORD STRAIGHT IN ANY CAPACITY. why in the FUCK are you SO FUCKING INVESTED IN TRYING TO FUCK UP MY LIFE?? WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING DAMAGE??? LEAVE ME THE FRESH FUCK ALONE!!! IF YOU’RE STILL TALKING ABOUT ME AFTER HIGHSCHOOL WITH PEOPLE WE WENT TO HIGHSCHOOL WITH YOU LITERALLY HAVENT MATURED FOR SHIT AND I FEEL BAD FOR YOU ABOUT THAT. LIKE HOLY FUCK. yall are dense self absorbed pieces of shits who think you’re so above whoever you decide to throw under the bus but you’re literally the same staple mediocre mean girl from every other fucking school anyone has ever fucking seen. if you’re not even going to give me a list of my sins. if none of you assholes are even going to approach me to ASK ME DIRECTLY IF WHAT SOMETHING SOMEONE SAID WAS TRUE. INSTEAD OF HANGING OUT WITH ME TO SECRETLY GET INFO AND HOPEFULLY GET INFO ABOUT THAT OUT OF ME. IF YOU’RE NOT EVEN GOING TO WELCOME ME INTO THE GOSSIP CIRCLE SO I CAN TELL ALL OF YOU **AT THE VERY LEAST** MY PERSPECTIVE, OH, LETS FORGET BELIEVING VICTIMS WHEN IT COMES TO ME, REMEMBER, IM PROBABLY LYING ABOUT EVERYTHING MY FAMILY OR ANYONE WHOS ABUSED ME HAS EVER DONE RIGHT LOL 🤪 KILL YOURSELF. You literally dont deserve anything you could ever benefit from being my friend. i hope all of you selfish drama-vampires, who apparently cant survive without gossiping like its fucking air, rot