#this is very specific to my interests anyway

[simpjaes]

SWEET LITTLE MONEY MAKER. ― S.JY

When your best friend quite literally gifts you an entire man, you realize that you’re in no place to pretend that you don’t love it.  or the one where you’re very much an “i don’t need a man” type of person, and Jake shows you that you do, in fact, need a man….him, you specifically need him. Only because he needs you. 

MDNI! reblogs help writers, so please show your support through a reblog! PAIRING ― stripper!sim jaeyun x rich!afab reader

WORDCOUNT― 13.6k

CONTENT―  he’s a switch and desperately wants to be ur sugar baby, you’re a boring rich bitch who has no interest at first, masturbation, reader is kind of power-hungry, jake chokes her NOTE ― if you’ve read this before, specifically for jeno, hi. that was written by me back in 2022 except now it’s way better and not an absolute trash-fire. enjoy! not proof read kind of.

nsfw tags under cut::

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

NSFW TAGS― jake is a stripper so obv dancing and stripping, HE’S VERY SWITCH BUT MOSTLY SUBBY HERE, hand job, masturbation, choking without permission, finger fucking, making out, protected sex omg GASP, slight nipple play, riding, lil bit of stomach bulge, sensitive cock continues to get fucked lmfao

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It was a gift, or rather, he was the gift.

A downpayment of six hundred dollars told you enough about the man. It’s obvious he offers his services to lonely, sad, rich women who have no one else to spend their money on. A parasite, a leech, is what he is. Yet, still, your best friend has been taunting you with the idea for months in an attempt to have you give the guy a try.

She had apparently heard of the infamous Jake through various means. All rich women, all lonely and unsatisfied women. Which, to you only seems like a fucking insult to be taunted with the very idea of hiring this man. What is she implying? That you’re lonely and unsatisfied? Please.

Some best friend. Then again, she has since experienced Jake herself, and now her taunting feels more like…promises. 

“He’s so clean, toned, and oh god–” She had paused with a flush across her cheeks as she thought back to the heated night. “The way he moves, shit, he teases so much. I could have died right then and there if he were to–” 

The expression of disinterest on your face did not halt her doting, nor did the blatant grimace you eventually shot at her. Genuinely, you cannot take her seriously. Already you know too much about her, which is nice and all, but you could do without the details of her little stripper friend and how “wet” he left her. 

“I even heard that sometimes he even gives special treatments with his services…” She had rolled her eyes after she said that, almost looking offended. “Not that I'd know or anything, he took my cash and left when our session was up.” 

You recall knowing exactly what that “treatment” probably entailed, and the reason your best friend didn’t get it was likely due to the fact that she’s, well, not that rich. You’d assume such an expensive man wouldn’t give special treatments to women who wouldn’t end up being repeat customers anyway. Or, maybe, he just wasn’t trying to drain her dry. 

And even with all of the information being dangled in front of your face, practically force fed to you, the image should be more delicious than the century-old wine you have every night at dinner– for the entire duration of her doting compliments of Jake, you are simply not fucking interested. There’s other things to do in life, more to worry about than getting your body excited for someone who will never finish the job. 

Last week was when your bestie told you all about her single night with him. In fact, her entire visit was just her speaking of him, of how great he is, of how alluring he is. Arguably, you see that she’s a bit obsessed. Does it make you curious? Maybe a little bit, but not enough to actually give him a go yourself. And so, after that visit, you watched her leave with a menacing, evil little glint in her eye. You ignored it, as per usual considering she’s always up to something, unaware that the visit she lends to you today is not a complimentary marketing campaign of a male stripper, no, it’s a fucking ambush. 

When she appeared at your doorstep, she said nothing. She didn’t even look you in the eye, actually. Weird.  She did, however, have an envelope in her hand and you were almost offended at how she threw it at you and trotted away without a single greeting or goodbye. No afternoon lunch over champagne, no gossip, no advertising. Just an envelope. 

Suspicious.

Upon opening said envelope, you find that your bitch of a best friend dropped that six hundred dollar down payment, likely in an attempt to force you out of being the stick in the mud that you always are. There’s a note. Your name in bold letters, a date, a time, and a signature of none other than “Jake Sim” with a fucking website on the back. 

Shortly after huffing and rolling your eyes, about two seconds from tossing her six hundred dollars in the trash, you feel your phone ping to show your best friend texting you. 

Best Friend: I paid for it, you just have to tip him. a lot. tip him a lot. You: why the fuck would you buy a stripper for me?

Best Friend: you need it, trust me. 

So, now here you are waiting for that knock on your door and wondering why you even tried to look nice for some dude that’s about to swing his meat in your face. Appearance, reputation, whatever. Fucking unbelievable, you think, that there’s a stripper out there that only does private parties and your own best friend thinks you need it? You could have any dick you want, why the fuck should you have to pay just to look? 

He’s going to be expecting more than just you here, alone in your house. Surely, he won’t be expecting to waltz into someone’s home all oiled up only to find one very disinterested woman. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

To your dismay, Jake has apparently already been warned of you. Your best friend probably told him that you’re a nightmare, too difficult to fluster or gain an interest from. The first words out of his mouth when you opened your door was “She said you’d give me that look.”

Still, even so, your best friend wasn’t lying to him. You played the part of yourself all too well as you watched him saunter into your home as if he owned the place. You’re impressed actually, with the way he doesn’t seem to feel out of place in such a lavish room. He looks…comfortable here as he scopes out his stage for the night, like he belongs. 

“Big place, looked smaller on the outside.” He says casually, filling the silence in the room since you make no attempt yourself to greet him. 

You watch as he tosses his bag beside your living room couch and eyes the spacious area just in front of the large fireplace. His eyes flick to the windows, to the walls, counting the outlets and looking for shelves with space. 

“The smaller the better, sometimes it feels too big in here for just me.” You finally speak, admitting a small weakness of yours almost immediately. You are lonely, despite never wanting to admit it. And you watch as he shrugs, now crouching to grab wires from his bag. 

“Oh yeah?” He glances at you. “Must get lonely. What a good friend to purchase me to help you with that.”

You bite the inside of your cheek at that, noting his calm and cool tone as he talks his business. The little smirk at the corner of his lips is charming, but it’s all for show. He’s just a pretty man, that’s all he’s got going for him and you guess you can respect the hustle. 

“This was not my doing.” You cross your arms, pretending to be unimpressed. 

“Yeah, yeah–” He waves you off as he begins to set up, making space for small lights to set the mood, looking to see if you have a sound system he can use. “I already know that you’re new to this.” He’s still calm, still collected.

“Lucky for you, first-timers are my favorite to entertain.” He smirks again, now looking directly at you as he, now, fluffs some of your couch pillows. 

Your curiosity spikes again only for a moment. You really did think that the initial meeting would be different, less casual. You half expected him to waltz in cock swinging. Wasn’t he, like, supposed to pretend to be a cop or something? You know, show up and press play on a magical stereo that didn’t exist beforehand and start vibrating on you? 

Instead, he’s just setting up…fully clothed in a ratty sweater with jeans that hug his thighs. He doesn’t appear at all to be a man that gets paid to take his clothes off. It makes you wonder. Makes you want to ask questions. Then again, you still have no interest in learning about him considering you already know exactly what he will be doing soon enough. 

“You’re good with the mood lighting, yeah? Or do you prefer the morgue lighting?” His eyes shoot up to the bright white lights on your ceiling as he goes for his laptop now, presumably to connect it to your very obvious sound system.

You only take slight offense to his comment on your living room lighting, considering you have a control panel that can make them way less blinding, but– he’s right. And now you’re a little insecure that you prefer such a drab color in your home. You make your way to the wall, clicking the buttons on the panel just to prove you have warm lighting too, and that you can adjust the brightness. 

“Ah, perfect.” Jake hums from across the room, eyes focused on his laptop screen before glancing to you and your extravagant light switch. “A little lower.” He guides you, knowing exactly which lighting accentuates his toned body the best when paired with his own little LED colored lights. 

You turn the knob slightly, wondering just how good he must be at dancing in houses like this one. 

“Little more.” He smiles

You dim the lighting more, looking at him and his relaxed posture. 

“Right there.” He finishes in a more gentle tone, eyes focusing back on his laptop as he prepares not only the playlist but the mood lighting from his end too. Red. Lots of red.

And you just watch, his voice ringing in your ears as you try to pretend that your best friend wasn’t right. Even with just this casual set up…he’s…goddamn, he’s alluring. In that ratty old sweater, with his messy hair and pretty smile. 

Stunning. 

This motherfucker is stunning. 

“Go and sit–” Jake says now, nodding to your couch as he places his laptop down, presumably done with the set up. “Just tell me where I can get myself ready and I’ll be back out shortly.” 

You point towards the guest bathroom as you take your seat on the couch, unsure as to why your hands feel so clammy. And by the time he rounds the corner and you can hear the bathroom door shut, you attempt to make yourself comfortable. 

And goddammit, no matter how many times you’ve napped here on this plush and soft surface, you can’t find the comfort here right now. The curiosity of why you’re okay with this burns in your gut despite knowing exactly why. Despite the fact that your best friend can always see straight through you and know exactly what you are. 

At the end of the day though, why the curiosity exists isn’t what matters. It’s the curiosity itself. You want to know how much money Jake makes doing this, if he likes doing it, how he got started, what he does to advertise himself in a way to only find women like you, and many other things. Countless things. He’s hot as hell, actually, and how he’s come to do this kind of work is either one of two things. One being that he’s using what the Gods gave him to the fullest. Two, being that he had no other choice. 

If he’s going to be paid to give you attention, the least you can hope is that he does it because he enjoys it, not because he has to do it. And if it does end up being because he has to do it, then perhaps his tip would be even larger than what you’d give for the ladder. 

You’re uncomfortable. 

The fact looming that you genuinely could go out and find a man at any given moment, yet here you are with a man forced upon you because you simply won’t do it. The implications of this man being here, why he’s here, how he ended up in this situation. 

You’ve never been one to care, so why start now? 

“You overthink too much.” Your best friend had said to you once, twice, hundreds of times during your friendship.  Maybe she’s right, maybe you should just enjoy the show without feeling entitled to a slutty man’s life story.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake remains in the bathroom for a good thirty or so minutes, each of them passing like a nightmare in your head. Back and forth your brain goes, from not wanting to be in this situation to fighting yourself for being such a fucking bore. A very, very attractive man is primping himself for you to look at, he’s going to come out and do his best to turn you on, the least you can do is let yourself enjoy something for once. Enjoy him. Gawk and fawn over him. After all, at least you know there’s no promise to be had after he leaves. 

No missed calls, no blocked numbers. This is business. 

Fucking thankfully, the moment he comes out of your bathroom your mind has adjusted itself into the correct state of mind for this. A torturous adventure of thoughts, but you made it nonetheless. You actually can’t even look away from him now that he’s revealed himself, even when you tried. He isn’t dressed in anything that looks tacky or cheap. Hell, he doesn’t even look sexual. He just looks…

Expensive. 

Jake genuinely looks like this is a place where he belongs. He smells like he belongs here, walks and murmurs like it too. 

You feel yourself physically react to him in his blazer and dress pants. Business is what got you to where you are today, but never have you found the attire sexy in any way until now. The suit looks much like what your team would wear day to day in the office. Always all those shy men coming into your office, stuttering through their questions and need for approvals. Jake isn’t stuttering in his suit though, he’s standing confidently at his laptop as if he hasn’t even noticed you staring yet. 

One look from him though is all he needed. Choosing this attire for someone like you is sure to mix both business and pleasure. It was a gamble of course, to bring your work home for you, but he does have the slight hope that you’ll never look at a man in a suit the same way again after this. 

And goddamn the way his abs were glistening in the dim lighting before he had turned away from you. His blazer was partially open revealing nothing but skin when he walked into the room, and you honestly wonder if he even needed to do that. He could be fully clothed at this point and you think the room would still feel hotter than usual given your mind-state. 

The way his belt held his pants on his hips was enough to have you thinking, looking as if it’s begging to be unbuckled just so the sound of it could fill your ears. The way the blazer widens his shoulders much more than the sweater from before. He looks bigger right now, both physically and in aura. 

The scent of him wafted off of him in an even prettier way when paired with his image. He smells like a sweet type of musk, something you’d be interested in drinking alongside your dinner on special occasions. And under the assumption that the scent is why his abs are fucking glistening– fucking body oil. He uses body oil for this.

His hair rustles about when he turns to face you again, this time with the bass of whatever song he’s playing accentuating each step towards you. So…the talking is done then? Your cheeks heat up at how quickly he starts his session with you, even without a single roll of his body. Already, you could eat him alive, the smirk on his face leading your eyes straight to him. 

Trailing down, down down. To his neck, that small glimpse of exposed chest, to the even more exposed lower abdomen section. His belt.

“Good?” He asks, leaning over you and placing his hands on either side of your head as he grips the couch.

You can’t look up at him, eyes training on his chest that you can now fully see through his single buttoned blazer. That same sweet musk assaulting your lungs. 

Watching you from up here, Jake can tell you’re going to be fun to play with. A woman with such a harsh exterior now melting at the mere image of him when he’s got the right lights on him. To be fair, he really was warned and prepared by your friend, which didn’t seem the type to afford him on more than one occasion.

He thought it was nice that she paid for another session, shocking him to learn that it wasn’t for herself at all. What a wonderful friend, and what a bitch you’d be to have turned him away. 

Finally, you nod to him, still eyeing his body in a shameful show of how much you genuinely did need this. What’s so bad about paying to look? Especially when the man is Jake, and he’s presenting himself like this.

“Rule number one.” Jake smiles, swaying in front of you as his grip tightens against the couch, wanting you to feel trapped and hopefully mesmerized by him, “I only accept bills of twenty, fifty, and one hundred. If you toss a fucking dollar, I’m leaving.” 

That’s clearly not an issue you could fathom having, despite your internal protests. You only carry bigger bills anyway so you nod to him, quickly forgetting he even shared that ridiculous rule that would never apply to you by means of watching his hips swirl rather than sway. You see the heaviness in his pants, and you wonder if he gets himself hard for these little shows. 

You fear looking up at his face now too, because you know he’s staring down at you, watching your every breath, every move. 

“Rule number two,” He lends down now, lowering his voice and blowing against your ear in a short breath. “Don’t touch me without being invited, or without asking.”

Now, that’s a rule that applies to you only because you immediately want to defy it. There’s a knee jerk reaction almost that makes you want to reach out, to grip his flexing body and pull it closer. You wanted to feel how slick his skin is with that wonderfully scented oil. You wanted the scent on your fingers for later, you wanted to feel how warm he must be. 

He doesn’t wait for your nod this time though, already noticing a familiar look on your face that he gets from most, if not all, of his clients. This is why he’s so in demand, after all. If he plays hard to get, sometimes he gets more out of his sessions. Sometimes he even gets a repeat client. 

“And rule number three–” He continues, this time pulling back and positioning his face in front of yours. This rule appears to be an important one, the rule where you need to look at his face rather than his body. As if it needs to be heard. “I won’t touch you unless you ask– or beg.” 

What you’re not realizing at this moment is that rule number three isn’t something he often speaks of. Sometimes, very rarely, Jake is in a mood when he goes out on a job. Condoms are always with him, just in case, but he never intends to use them or utter rule number three until meeting said client. They pay to look at him, not to touch him, however…if they pique his interest he surely offers the third rule. 

And if a client never hears of it, they know that even if they ask to touch, he would never. Even if they want him to touch, he wouldn’t touch anywhere too pleasurable. 

Meaning, you were right to assume what he was doing in your bathroom for so long. His hand felt better than usual against his length for the split second he had of tucking it into the most attractive position. He knew instantly that tonight was one of those nights, and you were to be a point of his own desire too. He played with himself for a bit, allowing himself to get half hard before coming out of the bathroom.

The way you looked at him finished the job, allowing his cock to grow to full attention at the mere sight of you fawning over him in silent discomfort. So– yeah, the third rule being for you was a given. 

And when you swallow around a lump in your throat and look dead into his eyes, he thinks you know exactly what he means too. You’re lucky his cock is acting up, hell, he’s lucky it’s acting up. Look at you, fuck. Those tired eyes look ignited, and what luck the two of you have to have ever known your best friend. 

“Deal?” He finally says, tilting his head cutely and waiting for you to nod. And you do nod, just as he suspected you would. Slowly, before glancing down at his body again. 

He knows now that it’s time to start moving. Really moving.

“Is the song okay?” He asks, now pulling back and bracing himself against the back of your couch with all of his strength. “It was picked specifically for you.”

You’re not entirely what he means by that, but you assume your friend must have told him what she thinks you’d like. 

“It’s fine.” You say, glancing away from his direct eye contact and suddenly feeling like a love-struck puppy in the way you feel so incredibly fucking shy because of him.

Jake notes that you didn’t ask what he meant by the song, but he doesn’t push. He’s better at talking with his body anyway. So, he begins to focus. Opting to start slowly and work his way up, specifically to work you up. 

He steps back and away from the couch, centering himself in your living room as he closes his eyes and stretches his arms up to loosen his body a little more. Most of his clients love to see the way his muscles move as he stretches, and he suspects you’re of the same mind. 

This entire playlist is chosen for clients like you. The ones he intends to let see all of him if they so wish to. The music is slow, the bass is strong, and each beat runs through the body in a way that makes him shiver. He can move as if he’s fucking you even from across the room without so much as a touch, and he knows you’ll realize it.

He’s at his best too, when this sort of thing happens to him. The eye contact is more intense, his hips are more pointed for a reason other than payment, and arguably he feels he’s most attractive like this too. Considering the countless times he’s been paid to dance and expose himself to women he’d never even look at twice, it always hits differently when a client is just his type. 

And when he looks at you through the start of his dance, you appear to be painfully stiff against that soft couch. He smirks, a small chuckle rumbling from his chest. If only you knew how lucky you are, knowing his clients would be on their knees for a chance to experience him like this. 

The fact that it’s your first time doing this…he’d be smart to not pull this shit on you. He’s never tried this with a new client, after all but–fuck, just look at you.

Jake’s hips move on their own for the most part, he doesn’t have to think much when he’s getting into it. He easily dances along to the music for you, as if it’s second nature to him despite not yet removing any clothing. It’s the build-up for him now, and he thinks it may be that for you too. Of course, if he leaves your house tonight with a large tip in his pocket and a hard, untouched cock, that’s fine too, though not preferable. 

You watch him the same way he watches you, after all, the electricity for this to play out is there. It’s rare that he can feel goosebumps raise on his skin by a mere look from a woman that looks far too powerful despite sitting there helpless. He’s making you helpless, the dim lighting of this room accentuating his body is making you helpless. 

And truly, you find yourself understanding with each shadow on his stomach as to why he’s so favored in the groups of lonely women. Arguably, you’re shocked your best friend decided to share him.

As the song begins to fade, Jake readjusts himself. He watches you during the brief silence, a sort of fondness in his eyes making you wonder if he’s looking at you or if he does this for everyone. It feels intimate with the way his eyes slowly scan your body in the quiet room. As if the silence doesn’t need to be filled with anything other than eye contact.

For him though, a woman has never met his eye between songs. Typically, their eyes are glued to his chest, cock, hands, and neck– never his eyes. They’re muttering, moaning, or shouting for him to hurry up, that the clock is ticking and they want to see more. But not you. Even as the next song plays, your eyes stay focused on his until he looks away and starts closing the distance. He skews his body now, allowing you to see him in profile. 

In some ways, you have him feeling a bit flustered in the way you keep meeting his eye despite his body making a show for you. He’s never had to act with his face more than he has with you, even as he drops to his knees during a particular part in the song, thrusting his hips forward in an attempt to make you imagine yourself bent over on the floor in front of him. 

He glances to his side, and still you’re searching his face.

He, now, looks back down for a moment, finding himself trying to guide yours somewhere else. He knows his job is to be looked at, to be seen, but this is far too seen for his liking. Thankfully, your eyes do follow his, and you gasp at the way he moves. 

Your mouth falls open, gripping the hem of your dress as you imagine exactly what he intended.

The fact that this is your first time, Jake realizes this is new ground for him too. Typically, he speaks with his body and it appears now, he needs to portray some form of sexuality to you with his eyes. Like the roles are switched, he has to do to you what you’re supposed to be doing to him.

This is new, but warranted. Easy, even, for him to do it because he does want you.

You watch him intently, not fully realizing that you’re barely watching him fuck the air in front of him. Yeah, you see that too, but your eyes always go back to his and now, his own gaze is meeting yours. His gaze is searching your body, watching you move in reaction. From the way your fingers grip at the clothes he’d like to see on the floor later, to the way you slightly rub your legs together in a way that is almost too easy to miss. This alone is enough for him as his eyes burn their gaze into you. Much like you’re supposed to be doing to him.

He’s supposed to be able to look at you and know exactly what you’re thinking. So be it, the least he can do is let you know what he’s thinking. 

Jake’s dance is more intentional now when he leans back on his arms, throwing his head back but keeping his head turned towards you. He tries to show you specifically what he would do to you. That bulge in his pants is large and blatant as he thrusts forward and back to the music. You glance to it, offering the same jittery reactions of arousal. 

And this is when he allows his blazer to slide off of his shoulders, reaching to unbutton that single clasp for it to go sliding to the floor. He continues his movements through it, watching your eyes move to his arms and the strength used to hold himself up, his skin more and more visible to you. You do try to keep eye contact but…well, the way his abs flex when he presses forward, going concave with each inhale of those sensual lips that constantly smirk at you. 

It’s a shame, really, to know that the bulge in his pants will remain there, unseen. 

With his blazer now pooled at his wrists, he regains his focus. He wants you so badly by this point that it’s driving him crazy how hard he’s having to work for it. You’re supposed to be feeling this way, not him. Even if he can see that his routine is causing a reaction from you, he’s practically masturbating himself against the inseam of his pants just to get you to say something to him. 

Meaning, he needs to work harder. The current song is soon to be replaced with another, his favorite to dance to, his favorite to fuck to. And to be fair, by the time this playlist gets to this song on this specific playlist, usually his clients are already shaking under him. Not you though, you’re holding yourself back and he can fucking see it.

He ignores the fact that it’s technically not time for him to move on to his next set of dancing, mostly because he almost never has to get to this part, he leaves his blazer on your floor as he positions himself back on his knees, turning towards you this time and looking you straight in the eyes. The fact that he’s hard and horny is enough to amplify the way he’s looking at you, confidence so high that he’s fine with being seen in any way you want.

He’s slow when he does it, crawling a few steps closer to you. You watch the way his shoulders move in the light, his eyes rounded and cheeky, his hair falling in front of them with a charming movement. It’s not intentional when you rub your legs together at the image yet again, very much wanting to spread them the closer he gets to you. 

You can’t help but think he looks smaller on his hands and knees, eyes looking up at you as if he could eat you whole. You do wonder if your face reads the same for him, with the nervousness hitting you off and on. 

“You’re hot when you look down at me like that.” Jake mutters out of nowhere under the veil of his music, stopping in place in front of you, planting himself right at your feet. “I’d like to touch you, is that okay?”

Nevermind the fact that Jake has never actually had to ask to touch a client before, he really can’t help it at this point. His cock is aching in his pants and he isn’t quite ready to wait an entire playlist worth of songs just to put his clothes back on and leave the door with pain between his legs. He very much wants to fuck something right now, preferably someone.

You.

On the other hand, he’s pleased to see how fucking fast you accept his request. Yes, he can touch you. Fuck, you want him to touch you.

And the whole idea that this is just him doing his job is so far in the back of your mind right now that you almost forget that he probably does this to most of the women he’s paid to entertain. Quite frankly, you don’t give a fuck. You can pretend that he only does this for you, you can live in a fantasy just for a night. 

Jake lends you a smile as the current song finally fades out, the silence back except this time, you’re not looking into his eyes when you nod. 

He’s slow when he places his hand on your knees, rubbing up, up, up until he’s able to lift himself and hover over you. He intentionally pushes your dress up your thighs, solely because he wanted to see you rub them together in full, shameless view for him. He wants to know what his body does for you. What it does to you. 

And he stands, hovering over you for a moment with his hands glued to your thighs before he stares down at them. You just do as he expected, you rub your legs together, you look anywhere but at his eyes now, your hands grip the couch beneath you.

“I’m going to get on top of you,” Jake says now, dipping his head into your line of sight and forcing eye contact again, now gripping the back of the couch rather than your thighs, Just as he did when all of this started. “Would you like that?”

“Do you do this for all of your clients?” You suddenly ask with a smaller voice than you gave him upon opening your door. You breathe in sharply when he moves instead of answering your question immediately. 

He spreads his legs, propping himself right on your lap, facing towards you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest radiating near your face. 

“What kind of answer are you looking for?” He laughs fondly, grabbing your hands and placing them on his chest. “You should touch me, by the way.” He foregoes his own rule with that one, not wanting to wait any longer for you to maybe ask him yourself. “Just pull away if you don’t want to.” He adds, guiding your hands over his chest and down his abdomen.

“You didn’t answer my question–” You interrupt him, feeling the warmth pool and drip into your panties. “It’s a yes or no question.”

He chuckles sweetly, stopping your hands at his abs and holding them there. 

“No,” he admits, moving his focus to the music now that he’s got your hands on him. “I don’t do this for all  of my clients.” 

Jake isn’t sure why he does it, but now he can’t bring himself to look at you. The eye contact feels more intimate than it should with you asking him such a question and demanding an answer. Even as he swirls his hips, feeling his clothed cock rub up and against you every few seconds, it feels almost too intimate. 

“Oh, yeah?” You nervously chuckle back, feeling his muscles move beneath your hand as he thrusts his hips forward. 

“You know,” He mutters, guiding your hands a bit lower despite his own confusion at how much he’s enjoying this moment with you. You feel the cold metal of his belt buckle against your palm and you think he’s going to stop there, like maybe this is just something he does to amp up the show or something, but no. He drags your hand down further until you feel the warmth of his cock under his pants..  

Your pulse quickens as your ears start to ring. Your eyes avoid where your hand is right now, taking in a deep breath and looking up at him with question. He’s not looking back though, instead, his head is dropped and he’s staring at his pathetic bulge against your hand. He’s dancing into it, against it.

“I’ve never gotten this hard over a client that doesn’t want me.” He admits shamefully in a pathetic little laugh, bucking against your palm again to the beat of the song. “I can’t tell if I’m doing my job well enough.”

You feel shocked at that. A client that doesn’t want him? Is he fucking insane?! Then again, you need to be honest with yourself sometimes. You’ve tried to appear as uninterested as possible until he started crawling to you. There is clear attraction, obvious needs swirling in the air right now. You force yourself now to look at your hand with the hefty bulge rubbing desperately against it. The sheer size of him is something entirely different from what you were expecting out of him. This feels forbidden.

Wrong, even, But goddamn. The man is masquerading his dance solely so he can fuck against your right now. Maybe you should show some interest. 

“You’re doing well, Jake,” You finally mutter to him, the first compliment you’ve given since he got here. 

“Yeah?’ He sighs out, relieved as his hips press harder into your palm. Arguably, he’s not even dancing at this point, just trying to get off. “How well?”

Yeah, he’s a little desperate at this point for you to do something on your own. It’s so out of character for him to do all of this just to…well, get off.

“Show me,” He raises his brows, now removing his hands from yours and running them up his chest. His hips continue to move on you, and he watches you as you hold your hand in place. “Come on, the buckle is right there–” he nearly pleads. “You don’t have to be shy.”

Like a book, the two of you read the other at this moment. You’re not a woman of many words and he seems to understand that now, taking your single compliment and running with it. You do as he says, unbuckling his belt and now, sliding your hands up his body to meet his. 

“There you go,” He stresses through another relieved sigh. Leaving your hands where they are against his chest and sliding the belt from his loops on his own. He tosses the belt behind him, relishing in that lost look in your eye.

You clearly have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you seem to like it. And god, does he fucking love it. Especially when he motions his head back down, forcing your hands back to where they belong and helping you unbutton his pants. 

“Take it out, go on.” He says in a rush, “I’m asking you to do it.”

To be fair, you’re going to do it despite the nervousness in your gut. It’s been so long since you’ve touched a man, and even longer since you wanted to. You could half argue that you feel like you’re about to lose your virginity right now despite all those hook-ups in college. Still, you don’t even nod at him when you do it. Carefully tugging his pants down and watching the weight of his cock do the rest of the work for you. 

His legs spread wider as he points it up at you, a lewd scene, one that feels both disgustingly sexy and very, very, straight forward. You’ve never been like this with any other person. Or rather, no one has ever blatantly shown themselves like this to you. 

And still, Jake just looks at you. So much eye contact becoming more and more comfortable as he learns what you seem to like. He can feel the air in your apartment against the head of his cock, the cool air rushing past his shaft and causing him to shiver with a very quiet moan. He still only looks at you during this moment, wondering why you’ve let your hands fall to his thighs. Then he sees a new look in your eyes.

Are you…waiting to be told what to do? 

For some reason, he keeps forgetting that you’ve never had a stripper in your home before, let alone been seduced by one. Honestly though, he assumed you’d catch on by the point his cock was out. This isn’t for show anymore, he wants you. 

“Touch me?” He asks gently, reaching back down to your hands and urging you to grab his cock. “You don’t even have to move, I can do the rest–” He chokes out a groan mid-sentence as he feels you grasp him in your fist.

Such a silent woman beneath him. He can only read you in specific moments, this one not at all being one of them. You’re hesitant but willing, perhaps? You leave him questioning himself and his own motives, still wondering if that compliment you gave him was genuine or just part of your own little show. 

Yet still, you’re gripping him tightly and allow him to focus his hopes. Dancing beautifully into that little circle your hand creates for him. The best part is that when or if he ever actually dances to this song, it’s when he’s blatantly fucking someone. So the movements come naturally, just as they would if your legs were buckling and your pussy was spread open on him. So, basically, this dance is nothing short of fucking your fist, pretending to keep up an act that he so wishes you’d see through. 

He keeps his face intense, moving his shoulders and arms as if it’s easy for him to turn the tables and position you to where your legs are on his shoulders and he’s rubbing his cock against your, hopefully, soaked panties.  

It’s a struggle though, to not moan out in desperation when you tighten your grip on him. He watches your pupils blow out, and can see the way you’d now probably ask him to do just that. To put it on you, to shove it in you. And so, he slows his hips a bit and catches his breath, staring down at you in wait. 

“You’re really expecting me to get off all on my own?” He finally says in an exasperated breath to your stillness and silence. He really is, trying to act as though he can’t see the look in your eyes and how it’s changed since he started dancing. “Baby, don’t you want it?” He adds, now waiting to see if you’ll move your hand away from him.

You don’t though, to his surprise, you actually start moving your hand on him. You’re jerking him off, staring up at him like you want it, squeezing the head of his cock before dragging those pretty fingers back down. 

Instantly his eyes roll back. “Fuck, that’s good,” He compliments your hand, shaking a bit and shivering at the fact that you really just did that. “Can I stop pretending that I’m still dancing for you now?”  

You find it in yourself to chuckle now, nodding with a confident sort of smile. It hit you fairly quickly, actually, as you watched him chase his pleasure all by himself. He’s so hard, and so incredibly thick in your hand, you’d be stupid to say it didn’t turn you on. It’s that fact that you’ve barely said anything to him and he’s begging you to look at him, to watch him, to touch him. All of your nervousness slowly disappeared because it was being replaced with power. 

Now, that, you’re used to. You know what power feels like in all aspects of the working world, but never at home. Never when sex is involved. You’re always expected to play the part of a desperate woman in need of love, and that’s just not you. No, you’re a powerful woman with nerves that could kill you. And the way Jake parallels your working world, it’s almost too perfect. You’re used to men being beneath you, begging for your money, giving you all of their attention, apologizing for normal human errors. 

Jake isn’t exactly begging you for money, but he’s still begging for your hands. 

“No.” You finally say, relishing in the shock on Jake’s face. “Keep dancing, it’s what you’re being paid to do.”

His eyes fall a bit now as he nods his head. You almost feel his cock falter at the same time at your response, but you move your hand a bit faster. You grip a bit tighter, urging him to do whatever it is that’s on his mind. You want to see if he will actually do as he’s told now, considering you’re the one with the money to bring him back here. 

It’s endearing how he does his best, and honestly, his best probably far surpasses some of the most notable dancers on the market if you had any idea of how they were. It’s just a bit hard to continue this act for him when you’re gripping his cock in such a beautiful way. 

“You’re–” He pauses to hold in a moan, feeling the way you drag your hand in time with his dance. “You’re not going to ask me to touch you?” He finally adds, meeker than before, far less confidence. 

In fact, he’s hiding his face.

You smile in response, looking up at him with dark and wide pupils as you swallow each movement his body makes for you. Your ears are still ringing, unable to comprehend the music blasting in your sound system. Your focus is solely on him, your hands are on him, your confidence is because of him. 

The answer to that question should be a given, after all, shouldn’t he be well aware considering this little stunt he pulled that actions truly speak louder than words?

“No wonder she liked you so much.” You start, now loosening your grip on him just to see the way his hips frantically chase the warmth of your palm.

“Wait–” He asks slightly out of breath, cheeks flushed and bashful. “You really thought, I let her get me off like this?” 

It almost pisses him off that you’d say that to him, then again, it’s not like you knew that this specific instance is rare and reserved for very few clients. 

“You couldn’t even look at me properly thirty minutes ago, now you think you can make assumptions?” He argues, pushing away from you.

Your response is skewing an eyebrow at him, watching him fight for control as he pulls his hips back and shuffles off of you and onto his feet. You glance down at his cock and the way it stands painfully erect, twitching at the sudden lack of friction. 

“Is it wrong to assume when you very clearly want me to make you cum?” 

He stills himself, a blank expression turning to that of a devilish smile, eyes narrowing at you as he leans over you. 

“Are you suggesting that you’ll get me off?”

You smile, spreading your legs a bit and feeling the stickiness drip through your panties now. 

“She did tell me that some clients have gotten special treatment from you,” You mock him slightly, watching his eyes glue themselves to your thighs. You make a show to spread your legs a bit for him. “I also know that she was no such client.”

A small moment of silence as he devours you with his eyes, seemingly interested in the attitude you have towards him now.

“I also didn’t imagine your clients would be the ones getting you off.” 

Honestly, it’s like he hit the fucking jackpot with you. Challenging him, mocking him with his cock out in front of you. If you so much as wiggled your cunt in front of him, he would instantly be back on his knees, letting you soak his face in whatever way you please. 

“Normally they’d be jumping at the chance, you though–” Jake very nearly growls at you with a deepened voice. “You look like you’re the one who needs to get off, if anything to get that snarky grin off your face.”

“Go on then, dance.”

It’s almost like a game now, he feels. You know he’s trying to seduce you and it seems you’re enjoying the fact that you haven’t let him yet. He knows that you intend to let him, so yeah, fuck yeah, he’s going to play along. 

He raises a brow at you as he steps back once more, trying to ignore the fact that his cock is aching to be touched again. You still want your show? Good. He’ll fucking give you a show.

Jake does as he’s told, finally kicking his pants off in full and keeping his eyes on you the entire time. He watches the way your legs spread when he rubs his hands down his naked chest, straight down to his cock where he only briefly tugs at himself. He can almost see under your dress as you continue to spread your legs more and more, but the lighting is far too dim to see what his act is doing to you just yet.

When he saunters behind you, dipping his head by your neck and whispering the dirtiest part of the song into your ear, he can see your sharp intake of air, and he watches the way your breasts move with each breath he forces out of you, and the way your nipples perk through the fabric.

So, he stays here behind you with his hips pressed to the back of your couch, ghosting his hands over your neck, moving down your arms, and then to your chest. He doesn’t touch, because you still haven't asked yet, but he knows hovering alone is enough. It’s like he can feel the electricity beneath his fingers somehow reaching your skin. 

  And he continues to sing against your ear, leaning further forward to plant his hands on your thighs again, mostly because he’s already been given permission to touch you there. 

“More,” He gently demands between lyrics. “Spread them all the way.”

Jake watches for a moment from behind you, pressing his cock against the back of the couch the moment he sees your legs stretch open, your dress hiking up past your waist, enough now that he can at least see a glimpse of the skin closest to your pussy. 

“Ask me to touch you.” He pleads against your ear, trailing his fingers up your thighs enough to where he would need you to tell him to stop otherwise. “Just tell me you want it.” 

It’s silent save for the music playing, and his cock is aching so badly by this point that each time he rubs against the couch he’s almost breaking down to fucking beg you to let him touch you. That alone could make him cum, but god, you’re so good at playing hard to get even if it’s blatantly obvious that he’s already got you. 

You’re fucking playing with him, and he can’t decide if he loves it or hates it. 

Your silence is so damning to his dripping cock, and his skin feels so hot right now that he’s almost forgotten that he was paid to be doing anything that’s not this. 

“No.” You playfully respond, dangling yourself just out of reach. You breathe in deep though, knowing you can’t keep denying him for much longer with the way his hands are rubbing at you. “I like it better when you’re the one asking for it.” You lean your head back and rest it against the cushions of the couch, and he instantly moves from your neck to look down at you. 

Oh. 

“Cute.” He says, having no issue at all to be the one to ask, beg, plead, or cry. Whatever it takes to get a feel of you at this point. It’s just…new to him.

Another long moment of eye contact has him trailing his hands higher than before, almost to the point that there’s no skin on your thighs to touch that doesn’t involve your panty line. 

“May I?” He asks, leaning down a bit closer so that his face is mere inches from yours. “Will you take my fingers?” 

You could mistake this distance as something that should not be crossed between the two of you. Barely hearing his question at this moment, the only thing you want to do is to kiss him, and it hit you so fucking fast that you almost forgot he’s doing anything you ask of him. 

“Come again?” You smile, blinking up at him. 

He breathes in, seemingly frustrated.

“My fingers. Take them.” He says rather than asking this time, already moving his hands to trace up your panties and feeling the wetness seep through onto his fingertips. “You’re already dripping–baby,” He stops to moan at it, amazed by how fucking soaked you are. “I can imagine they’d slide right in.” 

Typically, you wouldn’t allow anyone to call you that. “Baby.” but coming from his mouth, it sounds fitting. It sounds seductive, sexy. It has your stomach in knots, actually, your hips bouncing up just slightly at his words with the pet name attached. Finally, you let him. Finally, you grind yourself against his fingers. 

“I’ll make you feel so good–” He groans at your movements, loving how desperate you suddenly appear despite pretending you weren’t going to work for your own pleasure. He continues to trace his fingers up and down just to feel the mess of you, the one that he created, and the one that he intends to make messier. 

“Moving your hips isn’t the answer though, baby.”

You swear he can read your mind, there’s no fucking way he would say it like that without knowing how you just internally admitted to liking it. 

“Yes,” You let out shortly, darting your eyes away from him. “I’ll take them.”

That breathy laugh he releases sounds sweet, almost dripping like syrup when he lays his head beside your neck. His soft singing picks back up as he listens to you now more than the music, his fingers continuously ghosting where he promised to put them, not yet moving your panties. 

Paired with it, his abdomen stays tense as he humps against your couch, his muscles locking up at the pleasure running through him in this position. Your hips lightly chase his fingers, up when his fingers move down, and he can’t help the shy smile that spreads across his lips. It’s one you don’t see, but the constant shift in your personality is something that keeps him on edge. Keeps him wanting more, to know more, to see and feel more of you. 

And when he finally reaches around you with his other hand, pulling your panties to the side and exposing your pussy, he watches you take over for him and push them down instead, offering far more than he anticipated. He watches as you kick them off your ankles almost elegantly, as if you could do this job of dancing better than he can.

“Eager?” He teases, knowing you won’t respond to that. And you don’t. It pleases him to know that at least by now, he can kind of read you. Yet, still, there’s nothing more at this moment that would please him more than getting to see you in full. To wander back around this couch and get a real good, close up look at what he’s doing to you. 

“You’re so wet right now.” He groans, knowing that you were soaked before and only hoping you’re dripping more and more for him now. His cock is weeping as much as he’d like for you to be, chasing any amount of friction he could have. And he can see his fingers slip and slide through your slick into places he wasn’t even attempting to touch just yet solely because of how wet you are. 

“You held out for so long,” He coos now with a soft breath against your neck, feeling your cheek nuzzle against his flexing arm. “Look at that,” Two of his fingers tease at your hole before– “they slipped right in.”

Your breathing is labored by this point, feeling him play with you as if he has all the time in the world to fuck with your head. Which is…nice. No rushing despite the time limit on his session, proving time and time again that you’re getting more than others get from him. Lucky you, that you can moan out without shame for him. 

And you do, grabbing his hand and practically fucking yourself with his fingers. That takes him by surprise as the warmth and sheer tightness envelopes his digits. You are excruciatingly sexy to him, he doesn’t even attempt to stop you.

In fact, he doesn’t even hold back now, meeting each chase of your hips with the force of his fingers plunging into you deeply, with full intention. He scissors them open, feeling your hole stretch around them beautifully enough to fit in a third. And god, you’re so fucking wet. He can hear the slapping of his soaked fingers inside of you pushing more and more of that arousal out. 

He moans blatantly against your ear now, easing you into talking back to you. 

“Bet you could take cock so well–” He murmurs, feeling you shiver against his grasp. “How long has it been? Hm?”

He’s talking to you, yes, but hyping himself up at the same time. The scent of your hair forcing a slight obsession with you in his mind. The way you feel, look, smell, move when you’re just inches from him like this. He knows you won’t respond to a goddamn thing he says too, but it doesn’t matter too much to him at this point. Because now, you’re whimpering.

Such a confident, well respected woman…fucking whimpering.

“What was that?” He asks playfully, running his other hand up your body until he gets to your neck. “Has it been that long?”

And for the first time, you were going to answer. For the first time, he doesn’t leave room for you to answer. Instead, you feel his palm resting flush against your neck, now pressing in and practically holding you down by the neck as he fucks his fingers into you faster. 

Painfully faster.

“Cry for me again,” He encourages you, wincing as his own hips frantically chase the back of your couch. “You’re allowed, come on, do it again.”

And because he’s working for it, because he’s doing so fucking well, you let out another choked moan. His hand straining your neck so tightly that any sound coming out sounds strained and desperate, even the sound of yourself right now ignites a fire inside of you. You can feel that grasp tighten each time his fingers fuck into you with a painful jab, his palm placed so perfectly that you can feel your clit being rubbed each time he pulls his hand back.

It’s…overwhelming.

“Yes, fuck- again.” He groans, bucking his hips forward and frantically lifting his head from your shoulder, all so he can look down at you. He’s heard you, now he wants to fucking see how desperate you are when you cry out. 

When you open your eyes again, wincing every few seconds at both the pleasure and pain of his desperate hands, all you can see is his face. All you can feel are those same long fingers threatening more and more cries from your chest. He’s hitting spots inside of you that haven't been touched in a long time. Feeling it now almost burns, even with the cold metal of that single ring on his finger against your neck. 

And when he tightens that hand on your neck once more, not only do you cry out, but he matches you with his own stuttered gasp. You strain to keep your eyes on him through this moment, watching the way his teeth appear to scrape at his bottom lip when the sound of you envelopes his ears. So, you do it again, and again, and again. 

His fingers only continue their aggressive assault inside of you, his palms still hitting your clit, and that other hand around your throat…honestly? You could fucking sing songs to him at this moment if he so wished it. 

“You’re shaking.” He comments, eyes flicking to your body. “Can you even breathe right now?”

His smile looks so fucking mean, knowing full well that you can’t breathe and only tightening his hand harder against your throat. Nevermind the fact that you never discussed this type of thing with him, fucking wasn’t even in the agenda. But now? Fuck it. You do like it. Maybe you even love it. The way you’re moaning for him is all either of you need to know. 

This time though, when you moan out and it’s sounding particularly raspy, he releases his hand from your throat and instantly leans down to your lips. He’s a bit shocked that you immediately strain your neck to kiss him. What he was going to do was degrade you. Now though, he’s just tasting the way you’re so desperate to kiss him. As if you’re wanting this to be real, to be intimate. 

Arguably, your idea was better than his own because now he can’t bring himself to degrade you. In fact, he was stupid to even consider such a fucking thing. Despite never kissing his clients, things with you have already lasted far longer than he’d normally allow. Things have already surpassed the intimacy level he allows too, even with the very few lucky women who get to touch him. He’s never asked for it, and he’s never gotten this much of his own pleasure out of finger fucking them. Not once has he ever fucked himself against a couch to hold himself back for a woman either. 

Maybe just this once, he can want it to be real too. Even if he leaves with a pocket full of cash, the fantasy right now is enough for him to accept it as is. If you want him to kiss you, he will fucking kiss you.

His pupils grow as his eyes close, slowing his fingers unintentionally as he focuses on your lips and tongue. Even his body against your couch relaxes and his hips slow to that of a sensual thrust forward, one that offers a long and painful drag against his already raw and reddened cock. You kiss him back better than he’s even been kissed before, and falling into it was terrifyingly easy. 

His brain nearly short circuits at the softness of it, allowing his hands to move on their own accord, cupping your jaw with one hand and emptying your pussy to rub your clit with the other. He’s intentionally deepening the kiss far past his own comfort level.

But he is comfortable, and that’s precisely what’s uncomfortable about it. 

“You can take it–” Jake mutters between kisses, more focused on your lips than the words he spilling to you. “You want more, right?” He continues, only now pulling back in a breath and waiting for you to adjust your eyes on his. 

Immediately, when you open your eyes they widen at him. Goddamn, was he this sexy before? Did he even look this into you when he was on your lap fucking your fist? Out of all of his begging, this…this right here. Are you really about to fuck a stripper? The man you were so against meeting just this morning? The man who has $600 in his bank account from your lovely, fucking adored and beautiful best friend? 

The man that you’re probably going to give the entirety of the contents in your purse to the moment he packs up and moves on as if this never happened?

Yes.

“I want more–” You say to him, blinking at his pretty eyes and intentionally rubbing your clit against his fingers, mostly because it appears as if he’s stopped functioning all together.

And before you can even blink, his fingers are pulled away and his presence is gone. You lift your head to watch him, cock still erect and heavy against his thigh as he goes directly to his bag. As if he knew it was going to happen, as if this was his plan before he even met you, he pulls out a condom and slips it on without so much as a sigh of relief.

After all, he does have to take precautions to be fucking an absolute stranger like this.

“Oh.” You huff in disappointment, not entirely meaning for him to hear it. 

He raises his eyes to you as he pulls at the end of the condom, offering plenty of space for whatever release he intends to have soon, but his eyes don’t seem concerned nor bothered. 

“What? You want it raw?” He asks playfully, wiggling his eyebrows briefly before making his way back to you. “That’ll require a bit more discussion, you know.”

Discussion that neither of you are willing to have solely because your pussy is throbbing and his cock appears to be more pathetic than it already was being strangled in that thin layer of latex. And without another word, allowing both of you to put that to rest for now, he’s right back over you, lifting your dress up and off of you. 

“Fuck.” He breathes out as your tits falls from their perfect place within the dress. The sopping wet couch beneath you only soaking up more of your slick as his words force more out of you. God, you feel so wanted. 

You keep your arms lifted to help him ease the dress entirely off of you, leaving you bare beneath him as he instantly goes to grab both tits, pressing them together before flicking both nipples with the tips of his fingers. 

Your body jolts at the sensation, feeling it run through you and swell your clit more than it already was. The ache is worse, your hole is pulsing, yearning, wanting to be filled. Still though, he takes his precious expensive time, leaning down and sucking one erect nub into his mouth and flicking it all the same with his tongue. 

“Right here?” He mouths from around your tit, eyes closed and tongue still focused elsewhere. “You want to be fucked here?” He mumbles again, realizing that his question will likely go unanswered. It’s very likely that he is going to fuck you right here, on your living room couch. Asking you such a thing was stupid, borderline cringe-worthy. 

To his surprise though, you lend him a small “no.” as you lace your fingers in his hair, pushing his lips to your other nipple just to feel the warmth of his tongue.

“No?” He questions, blinking up at you from your chest before biting gently around the sensitive bud against his mouth. “Where then?” 

To his dismay, your smile is still beautiful but the way you close your legs and sit yourself up from the slouched, relaxed position you were in disappoints him. Mostly because he’s now forced to stand up too, and even more so because he has to keep his head dipped in order to keep his mouth on that perfect nipple of yours. 

His disappointment fades as you hold his head there, feeling your legs almost buckle against him when he moans around it, sending vibrations through your chest. You remain gentle though, wobbling on your legs and shuffling forward, allowing him to continue his antics. Slowly but surely, you turn him around and back him up against the couch.

Only now, when you push him back and his teeth graze your sensitive nub do you realize that he’s so, so much needier than you expected. Even with his begging, his little disappointed sound didn’t go unnoticed. His brows are still furrowed now, not even paying attention to the fact that you’ve just shoved him down so that you can be the one straddling him. It’s cute, actually. Noticing how he was so intimidating when he came into your house, walking with confidence, dancing with intention, finger fucking you and choking you as if he had a right to do it…only to now look at him and the way he’s melting.

The way he’s needy, borderline puppy-like to be near you.

His eyebrows shoot up from that little face of disappointment though, when you pull yourself from his mouth and instead plant yourself right on his lap, letting your pussy lips envelope the underside of his cock as you grind up immediately.

It’s the first slippery touch his cock has felt all night and honestly? He’s been on edge this entire time. You grind so fucking beautifully, and it’s a first for him to realize that he’s entirely speechless.

You’ve rendered him incapable of speaking. 

“You’re cute, I don’t think you realize that.” You comment, gliding against his cock and watching his hands reach out to grip your waist, “Really cute.”

He doesn’t falter at your compliments, instead he just melts into it even more. His cheeks are permanently blushed as he leans forward to try and get your tits in his face again, and all you can do is grip his hair and let him. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the head of a cock bumping your clit, and you’d never forgive yourself for not letting yourself have this kind of fun more often. 

And Jake just gets whinier. His cock pulses and twitches to be inside of you all the while despite the discomfort of that latex layer likely needing to be replaced already. Still, his hands keep moving your waist, pushing and pulling you faster against him until– ah.

You angle yourself perfectly when he slides your upwards again. All you had to do was perk your ass out and wait for him to push you back down. Finally, he slides in without fully realizing that’s what was going to happen, and goddamn the sound he makes, fuck.

“Mmfuck,” He winces, digging his nails into your hips at the speed of which he bottomed out. The breath is knocked out of him and all you can do is stare down. Look at him now, so docile and sweet like he wasn’t fucking your livingroom floor prior to this. 

And the grip of you on him, so strong. The slide was so easy, so fast, that he genuinely is seeing stars at how good you feel wrapped around him. The velvet walls inside of you pulsing, pushing and squeezing his cock all over. He can’t help the sounds he makes, grunting and feeling that grip you have in his hair intensify his pleasure. 

Both of you now let out a long winded breathy groan at the sensation of your body adjusting to his, in all fairness, you had to grip onto something and his hair just so happened to be the best thing at the moment. He seems to love it though, so when you finally regain your senses of being absolutely fucking full, you pull at it again, tilting his head back so that you can see the expanse of his neck and the way it moves when he swallows. 

“Bounce.” He croaks out at you, eyes glistening with pure fucking hope that you will. 

And, well…when you feel his length pulse in place inside of you, you do exactly as he asked. You bounce, taking his full, thick cock each and every time. Not allowing a single inch of it to be neglected. All he can do in response is squint, trying to keep his eyes open through each breathy groan of praise and encouragement. He does lose himself entirely to the feeling of euphoria and the pain of how harshly you keep his head tilted back. 

He really didn’t think you could get any sexier, honestly, and as far as he’s concerned…if he moves right now he’s going to cum. So, he doesn’t. Instead, he just lazily smiles at you and lets his eyes finally close so that he can fall right back into the state of seeing nothing but stars.

Frustrated, yet incredibly turned on by the way you’ve just completely lost him, you bounce harder, then you sit flush against him, twisting and swirling your hips. Grinding forward back, counting how he moans each time you do something that feels particularly sensitive for him. And you hang onto that, repeating those actions, lifting your ass and sliding back down. Again and again, until your legs shake and your fingers threaten to pull his hair too hard.

“Look at you now,” You half-chuckle out of breath, hearing the wet slaps of skin on skin paired with his blatant and sensual moans drowning out the playlist that has been long forgotten. “You can’t even move.”

All he does is nod his head, that same lazy and cocky smile appears as if to insinuate that you’re damn fucking right he can’t. Like he’s proud of it. And you’re not going to ignore the fact that his hands are still on your waist either, gripping onto you so tightly that you fear he could draw blood if you move the wrong way.

“Keep going, baby–” He somehow manages to say to you. “Don’t stop.”

There it is. This entire time he’s been begging to fuck you, and now he’s finally begging you to fuck him. His voice still sounds like honey, with that impressively hard cock inside of you pulsing so constantly that you could probably feel him in your stomach if you were to press against it. 

“Mhm,” You answer him, promising that you won’t stop through just a half-moan and a long winded intake of air. Honestly? At this very moment, you feel like you’re sitting on a throne. Jake, obviously, being said throne but whatever. The fucking power he’s making you feel is nothing short of alluring. 

And now, as that power goes to your head, you opt to grind rather than bounce for him now. Your hips aren’t as erratic, yet still he tenses up for you, forcing his cock to somehow feel even harder as you fuck it into yourself through lazy drags of your clit against his pelvis. 

If you keep going like this, you could cum in an instant. But before you can even finish that thought, you look down at him on instinct due to his sudden silence. 

His eyes are squeezed shut tightly, and his mouth is open in a silent moan. You can see that he’s not breathing, seemingly holding his breath even after you release his hair. His head lolls back with that same expression, and that’s when you feel his fingernails dig.

“Oh,” You moan, now resuming your grinding much harder now, making a point to bump your clit repeatedly against him. “Fuck, are you cumming right now?”

Still he doesn’t respond, you can only feel his hips stutter under you despite trying to remain entirely still and stiff for you. You know that now is when you need to be chasing, because you’ll be damned if you’re not going to cum with him inside of you. 

You want to be full like this, you want to squeeze him, to play with his sensitive cock even if it starts to soften. He’s too pretty, too fucking pretty when he whimpers. And so, you continue grinding, up until you’re on the brink of your orgasm but not quite there yet. To the point his cock is only half in you with the way you’re angling your clit against him, chasing your own high so aggressively that you barely feel his fingers tightening on you again. 

Jake shoots his head back up, eyes opening as the sensitivity hits him quicker than he would have liked, but you don’t relent. The pain is intense from how hard you’re riding him, but he can see how close you are, the image alone compliments that sensitivity he’s feeling right now. 

He seethes out painful praises to you as your desperate cunt finally reaches orgasm, squeezing against his softening length so tightly that he can’t help but whimper with you. Still, he studies your face through his own winces, shuddering at the way you close your legs around him despite them being forced to stay open in this position. You try to curl into the pleasure, as if you wish you could disappear completely alongside it. 

And god, the way you grip at his arms for leverage as you shake through it. Dare he say…he’s fond of you. It still hurts, but it kind of hurts more when he knows it’s over. Mostly because it feels like he’s been in this room with you for days, knowing that’s not true. Surely he’s stayed longer than your allotted time with him, but you seemed to have given him something worth staying for at least.

When you slump over him, he almost wants to cry from how fucking sensitive he is right now. Thankfully, you seem sensitive too as you wince before he does, remaining as gentle as you can when you reach down to the base of his cock and hold the condom, allowing him to slide out of you at his own pace. 

And then, the playlist comes to an abrupt end at just the wrong moment, because it forces Jake to realize that he hadn’t stayed at all over his paid time frame. Now, all he can hear is the way his breath is entirely too uneven compared to any of his sessions with prior clients like this. He’s breathing much too fondly for you, or rather, not breathing well because of you. He can’t just…go home can he?

“You okay?” You ask to the slight panicked look on his face, seeing how he stares straight up at the ceiling, not blinking, no readable expression. “Jake?”

He shakes himself out of it, eyes slowly moving and blinking to look at you.

“That–” He tries to talk, genuinely, he does. “Um…”

The change in atmosphere almost freaks you out. Isn’t this what he wanted? You saw the way he lost himself there briefly though, you can admit. None of this was even that rough or kinky, so you’re a bit confused as to why he’s acting like this.

Maybe you even feel a bit guilty. Like you’re the problem. So, you silence yourself and lift onto weak legs to stumble and find your dress. You throw it on quickly, hiding your shame that he so wanted to see just fifteen minutes ago. Then, you head for your purse and grab every single bill you have folded neatly inside. 

Just like that, you place the money in his shaking hand and can’t bare to look at him.

“Wha-” He starts, licking his dried lips and sitting up a bit too quickly. “Why are you giving me so much?”

“It’s your tip.” You try to say casually as you clear your throat. “You can shower too, if you’d like.” 

Jake holds his breath, hoping you don’t genuinely think he did all of that for the money. He was already paid to be here, the whole…you know, fucking thing, was his doing. What happened was because he wanted it, and…he still does. Are you truly just strictly back to business like this? You literally just handed him his rent for the month and then some, it kind of amazes him. The audacity. As if he’s never been handed handsome sums of cash from drunken lonely women. You aren’t a woman who needs him, and yet you pay like you did. 

“Shower with me?” He forces himself to ask, because he knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t. After all, this tip feels like a rejection of what just happened. Hush money, even. 

He doesn’t know what just crept into this room through the fucking silence, but he doesn’t like it. And it seems you don’t either, because you instantly comfort him with a smile and a step forward. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He didn’t intend to spend the night, free of charge no less, but he did. All of that including some embarrassing talk involving the seriousness of how this is not normal for him. 

Surprisingly, you believe him. 

After the shower, the mood had shifted into something that felt natural and less rehearsed. He wasn’t just some stripper you could call over with a downpayment of $600, he was Jake, a man trying to make ends meet in a city far too expensive even for you if you’re being honest. 

Jake, a man wanted by several women. You, on the other hand, feel the need to mend your lonely and stone-cold heart with him, however much that may cost. Not to fall in love, or to fill any type of voice. If anything, you want to be taken care of in specific ways, and you’d like to take care of him in turn. 

So, when he grimaced at your joke, saying that he would practically be your sugar baby and that you’d run off all of his other business out of need to continuously be fucked by him and him alone, you almost stopped pressing the matter.

Because you would run off all his clients solely for keeping him too busy with you to go to them. You would be paying him every time, making damn sure he’s well taken care of and financially stable. 

Jake did notice how you looked disappointed, quickly backtracking his grimace.

“Wait, you’re serious?” 

You nod shyly, blinking at him.

“It’s not like we have to sleep together every time, you won’t even have to dance for me anymore.” You argue, knowing that’s at least a half-lie. “All I ask is that you don’t fuck your other clients if you’re still seeing me, and intending to..you know–”

Jake nods happily, without question even.

“So, what happens if I’m horny and you’re not available then?”

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“Jerk off like a normal person?”

Fair enough.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

man, i forgot how lame this fic is but yknow what? good for me. jake is so fuckin’ fine fr I DON’T EVEN CAREEEEEEEEEEE. pls reblog and leave feedback on my work :D

[taffywabbit]

I've been thinking about this song a lot again since yesterday, and if you'll indulge me in being overly wordy and a bit sentimental, I kinda wanna share some of my thoughts here:

so I alluded to this a bit while rambling on bluesky earlier, but early in the process of composing this song I REALLY wanted it to have lyrics. I tried writing some, and having looked at them again this morning, frankly they're kinda garbage and I stand by my decision to scrap them and let the music just speak for itself. but I only really wanted to write lyrics in the first place because I got ONE specific line (and subsequently a chorus, or at least one version of it) stuck in my head and wanted the rest of the song to kinda revolve around it.

the scrapped verses were sorta loosely about how, when you're younger, you tend to have a very straightforward and simple sense of optimism and justice - kids generally believe that things WILL just work out somehow, and often have surprisingly obvious and on-point responses when they learn about societal issues, but adults will often talk down to them and tell them they just don't understand how the real world works yet. and as you get older, that optimism gets conflated heavily with childlike naivety and kinda gets metaphorically beaten out of a lot of people over time, until they're just kinda consigned to the status quo and thinking of societal problems being too large/permanent for them to fix or influence.

this song was meant to embody a sense of rebellious optimism - a stubborn belief that we have a say in the kind of world we live in, and furthermore that our inner child would never forgive us for shrugging and giving up now that we're finally Adults and Adults are supposed to be the ones with the power to actually Fix Things. it was meant to evoke some nostalgia too, sure - thus the title "Grass Stains", which came from the scrapped first verse about childhood, and also just the general musical style being reminiscent of pop punk music I really liked as a kid and still tend to associate with summertime and old video games from that era. but more than that, I wanted to convey the idea that, sooner or later, we have to stop waiting for the Adults to decide how to fix things and get a hand on the ball ourselves; the idea that growing up should empower us, not make us cynical and detached and too tired to care anymore.

anyways, I will spare you most of the unfinished lyrics because I really do promise they're not interesting or good at all, but here's the chorus part and the specific last line that I was really fixated on back then and (for reasons that are probably not hard to imagine) thinking a lot about again now:

you keep pacing

so sullenly facing

away from the task left to you

why can't you see it?

if you want hope, then be it

those gears aren't just going to move

you gotta change the world, before it changes you

so yeah. shit's rough out there right now. shit's been rough for a while and it's gonna continue being rough for the foreseeable future. like I mentioned in the original caption, i wrote this song when I was feeling pretty awful (both mentally and physically, actually - I'm pretty sure I had covid for the second time when I made this lol) and needed something to perk up my mood, and it... kinda worked honestly? and now when I listen to it again I still kinda get a boost from it, especially if I let myself think back to the original message I was trying to imbue it with. it's hard for me to feel totally hopeless or unmotivated while I'm listening to it, and I hope that energy sorta comes through for other people too (though I would obviously be just as happy that people like the music I made anyways, without deeper context or ideas attached to it).

I guess i just wanna say this: remember that the world's gonna change one way or another, but your contributions to it are never meaningless, and their absence would be felt. and you also have the power to embolden and support those around you to become a stronger force for good together. the only real way to fail in all of this is to give up and lay down and let whatever happens wash over you, to believe them when they treat you like you're too small to be a threat or a challenge. and even if you don't believe your efforts matter to anyone else, let them matter to you. if you want hope, then be it. strive to be a force for good in spite of all opposition, and that goodness will in turn continue to propel you forwards.

ok I think that's about as sappy I can stand to be, I'm going to bed lol

hey i finished a new song!! check it out!!

my prompt for starting this was essentially "i'm in a bad mood and i want to make music that'll fix that". apparently what that translated to was whatever genre "music that would make 9-year-old me think they could do a backflip off the swings at the park" is, but like... it DID cheer me up? so, mission accomplished? i hope you enjoy it too!

♫ made with OpenMPT! ✎ cover art by me!

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

i am having. Many Thoughts. about my HWINEBHABWNAJCAHOWEEATOWEUB AU Ford, so here are some unfiltered rambles about him <3

The entire premise of this AU is that it goes exactly the same as canon right up until Bill betrays Ford steals Fiddleford's eyes, and then Ford kills Bill in retaliation. Everything just sorta snowballs into a huge mess from there, with this sad fuck of a man SMACK BAM in the middle of it all.

I like to explore my Ford in the way he reacts to things. It's interesting to see how far I can really take it until it becomes borderline OOC, especially when he kills Bill. He didn't actually fully mean to kill him, but at the same time that was exactly his intention, if that makes any sense?

Although Bill stealing Fiddleford's sight privileges instead of Ford's was one of the main reasons that triggered Stanford's decision to murder him, I'd like to compare his act more as a frantic, desperate grasp to survive, rather than a calculated, cold revenge being enacted. I think that he was just trying to live, in that primal, undeniable fear of death that can consume anyone, even Gods. Especially Gods.

I think that, as much as Bill's murder was a moment of power reversal, in which the victim got a taste of the power their abuser had over them, it was also a moment when Gods and mortals alike became so very aware of their own helplessness in the face of sheer and blind will to just survive. I don't think that Ford felt like a God when he killed Bill. I think that Bill wasn't facing wrathful being in that moment, he was facing a mere man who was so afraid to die he was willing to do anything. But you can't blame him for that, right? You can't blame him for wanting to live? For fearing death? He's only human.

"They say that when saving a drowning person, you have to be careful to not be pulled under the water by their flailing hands, because in their haste to survive, they might not even notice they are inadvertedly killing you."

[spiderfunkz]

HYUN-JU x TALKACTIVE!READER

pairings. cho hyun-ju x f!reader

author's note: this is so me.. i talk way too much so i'm lowkey just projecting myself on here. anyways, requests are open but i'm taking my time replying since i've been busy so just keep that in mind!

▸ hyun-ju is a good listener. a great one, even. she's got a big heart and soul, she's someone who is willing to listen to whatever you have to say. and she doesn't just listen, she tries to understand. which is a quality that is hard to find these days.

▸ you noticed it a bit later in your relationship. every time you talk, she listens and isn't afraid to ask questions regarding your situation or interest. she's genuinely invested in what you have to say. "oh, really? tell me more, hon."

▸ even if you just say random things or suggestions related to literally anything, she's all ears! whatever is going on in your head, every single sentence you utter, she's always nodding a long. she's probably wondering how you managed to say three sentences in a second.

▸ you tend to get very extroverted when you get comfortable. you'd ramble about anything for hours and hours, hyun-ju finds this adorable. she's definitely admiring you as you speak, your words always find a way to her heart.

▸ if you were talking about something she has no clue in, she's gonna research about it either online or in books so she could talk about it with you! even if small mistakes slip, her efforts show. and you appreciate that more than ever.

▸ "wait, you watched the movie and read the book?" — "yeah! i thought it would be nice to discuss it with you. you talked about it nonstop last week, so i figured i'd give it a look, and i must admit- you do have amazing taste."

▸ good moods mean you'd go on walks with hyun-ju and visit multiple parks at once. pointing out random birds, trees, and flower types. speaking whatever crossed your mind in specific moments.

▸ "oh look! a daisy. did you know daisies bloom in the spring like every other flower and their last bloom is in autumn? though, that's very common, um. ah! moon flowers, they only bloom one night a year." you'd giggle, "i did not know, but i do now!" hyun-ju smiles.

▸ during movies you can get very quiet. but as the movie ends, you'd ramble quicker than speed itself. "it's okay. at best. i just don't understand why the characters would do such things! i guess it is fictional, but still! does logic not exist in that universe?"

▸ same thing with books, you can read for hours in silence, but as soon as you close the book... "hyun! you must read this! not only is this one of a kind, but once you read it you can not put it down. i love it so much, it made me tear up a bit because of a character, but, um. okay, no spoilers!"

▸ hyun-ju could get really lost in your voice sometimes. you'd be talking about something silly like rocks or something, and she'd still be mesmerized. hyun-ju thinks that your voice could easily soothe her to sleep.

▸ and it's true, your voice makes her feel so safe. during conversations, she gets sudden realizations of how lucky she truly is. to be able to listen to you, in a calm setting, just the two of you.

▸ if you send her voice notes, she'd listen to it on repeat. especially when she's away or vice versa, she loves hearing your voice over and over as it gives ger comfort.

▸ "hey, hyun! i know you're really busy, and i know you only listen to my voice notes when you're done with work, so i ought to tell you about how much i love you. and how much i miss you. don't forget to tell me goodnight, or not the bed bugs might bite me."

▸ she would never think of your ongoing talks as unimportant. if you would suddenly pause and stop talking, she'd notice immediately. but hyun-ju always reassures you that it's perfectly okay.

▸ if you feel tired or off, and you just wanna be quiet for a bit, hyun-ju likes to ramble too, she does it a bit more often ever since she's met you. her voice is sleepy, her head lays near yours, your bed is cold and hyun-ju is the only source of warmth. as she traces your hands, "do you wanna know what happened earlier in the office?" you'd nod, she'd talk and only stop when you've completely fallen asleep.

▸ "and that's the end of it. goodnight, angel." she'd place a kiss on your forehead before falling asleep herself.

[dunmeshistash]

ive always wondered if milsiril's overprotectiveness of kabru was less because of infantilisation (although she def like all elves has that problem) and more so out of guilt. she was a captain of the canaries during the Utaya incident I believe and she witnessed what happened and she couldn't stop it. and she left the canaries because of it and took in the kid who was the Only survivor, raised him in extreme comfort so he'd never see the horrors again and didn't want him anywhere near the dungeons! like i think learning self defense for defenses sake would have made her hesitant but she would have obliged but because it was specifically for the dungeons she was so against it. also like he must have had a rough few years dealing with that trauma as well which doubled her protectiveness

I believe it's a mixture of both, I don't think you can really take away the guilt (actually unsure if that's the best word to describe it) nor the race relations from how Milsiril sees Kabru.

I am the Milsiril apologist ™ but the fact she see's Kabru as a child even now is a big part of their relationship, she's a mother that can't grow up (both for being an elf and for her own issues) and that has to cope with her children outgrowing her fast

Putting a read more cause as usual when it's about Milsiril I talk too much

We can see in every way Milsiril acts that she sees Kabru at most as a toddler during his time with her, she's hand feeding him, has him in a room full of toys and talks about him like he's a cute baby.

I think people are too mean about this side of Milsiril tbh. I think it makes her interesting and it's clear (to me at least) that she does her best to provide for her children even if she doesn't truly understands them. Even in that first interaction with Kabru where she's trying to hand feed him they were *already* training with swords beforehand.

Milsiril also talks to Kabru in a way that kinda seems to expect him to understand more than what a small child would like we can see in the AB extra

So her infantilization doesn't extend to underestimating him at least, rather I think that's how she shows affection (which is still bad 😭)

Anyway, about her trauma with the dungeon and guilt (or maybe shame? Fear?), I do think that was one of the motivations for her to take Kabru in as I said in this post (beware I am a Milsiril apologist and I am VERY biased in seeing her in a more positive light, doesn't mean it's true) but I think that side of her manifests in her sudden switches from crybaby mom to ruthless master

Milsiril is very emotionally unstable from what we can see, she's really trying to convince Kabru not to go into dungeons and when tears don't work she switches into training him so hard he'll give up on his own. I've seen people call this her "true colors" or say she was using "crocodile tears" but in my opnion both the tears and the threat are genuine, I don't think it's a planned switch but rather the fact she's unstable to begin with, both the crybaby mom and the scary swords master are her true self.

Anyway! I think both guilt and infantilization are intertwined in her love towards Kabru, I've said this before but she's a flawed caretaker in a world where she does not have the resources to become a better one. She's traumatized she's depressed and she's an elf, but she's the only one (that we know) willing to at least *try* to treat the people she cares for the correct way. If it wasn't for Milsiril Kabru would have been raised by elves like Rin was (and we know that went very bad, they traumatized her), and Mithrun might not have received the proper rehab he needed to go back into the canaries (He might have managed but we see Milsiril put in the effort to help him cope besides being the one to tell him about Utaya)

That is all to say: Milsiril is still flawed!! It's part of what I love about her, and it's the reason so many people dislike her too. I'm saying this cause sometimes when I go on my Milsiril rants I get asks putting down Kabru to raise her up and that's like, very uncomfortable lmao. Even if she did her best he still was the one that to deal with all of her shortfallings while being raised and he's still the one responsible for getting to where he is, she just made is easier than it could have been.

Disclaimer as is usual for my Milsiril posts: I'm a Milsiril fan, my interpretations of her are very charitable because I often see people being way too uncharitable about her. Please read the original material and make up your own interpretation, this posts only contain what I think it's relevant for my point not an objective view of the whole. I've also already made several posts about her and I don't want to keep repeating myself so if you think I glossed over something important that's probably why.

Edit: thinking more about it, maybe rather than feeling guilty herself she might blame "elves" as a whole for the failure in Utaya, it does say she left it "in disgust". It's not that clear how she feels about it.

I still think it's shared trauma though, I don't think it's possible for Milsiril to not have been affected by what happened there and I think it's part of why she doesn't want Kabru to go to dungeons again. But her way to cope is to turn away from it (and blaming "elves" might be part of how she copes) while Kabru's is to face it so it doesn't happen again

[velvetvexations]

Please correct me If I'm wrong, but didn't Playdough's whole beef with Bechdel trying to reframe her as a TERF start originally because escentially she wanted to prove that HOMESTUCK is somehow more deep and influencial and important queer media than DTWOF?? It was a poll thing and people where getting mad that homestuck was beating dtwof (this is the homestuck website like cmon) so Playdough started there the discourse of Bechdel being a terf to discredit her work

I have no idea if homestuck is actually that queer in it's content, but this incident made me realize something very common about pretentious cult-like groups like TRF and Tankies.

They want to find the way to parrot that their interests are somehow morally superior and more correct than other's; forcemem can not be just a kink it's actually a culturally significant political practice and forcemasc is just a transmisogynist bastard copy, transfem headcanons can not be just normal fandom shit for enjoyment they are the more correct and intelectual reading an analysis of any character that doesn't adhere to strict tradicional cis gender roles and transmascs headcanons are anti intelectual media illiterate misogyny, homestuck can't be just a popular old webcomic you still like despite It's flaws (like srly It has a shit ton of racism and ableism, it was created on the era of the internet 4chan was more culturally relevant than ever in memes mostly so of course) no It's not a pillar of queerness in fiction and media and the comics created by a literal feminists trans ally buch need to somehow be morally inferior because they're both compiting in a Tumblr poll

AHAHAHAHAHAHA SHE'S STILL DOING IT TOO

I'm sorry, but imagine having this much of a grudge over your fave losing a poll lmao lmao lmao lmao this is so funny oh my God.

But it's especially hilarious because all of what she wrote about June is complete nonsense that was never part of the text. Now let's look at what she had to say about transmasc headcanons:

Welcome to projection playground, ma'am! She's literally using the idea of "legitimate analysis" just to prop up her own headcanon. This is so gutbustingly hilarious. Does she even think it's possible transmascs could have headcanons based in 'legitimate analysis'? Considering the fact that she seems to vehemently insist literally every transmasc headcanon ever is actually transfem, probably not, right? Because she doesn't understand masculinity is revolutionary and transgressive for people who weren't assigned it? Because she's a self-centered moron?

But wait, there's more!

She's so consumer-brained and she doesn't even know it.

I love that her whole personality is structured around being the world's most obnoxious Homestuck fan who uses academic language to build a comfort blanket to soothe her insecurities and lash out at others because it's gender validating if she gets to lash out at trans men the way cis women are allowed to with cis men. Except I've never seen a cis woman do it this ineptly, or so blatantly the product of issues they desperately need to work out.

Anyway, back to Bechdel...

I know I've been ranting about this subject in a general, undirected way all morning, but I'm going to tell you that this is a problem with Plaidos, specifically, which she passes on to her audience:

They don't know what TERFs are.

A TERF has defined political views. There is a lot going on with them. You cannot take one belief or action in particular, such as Bechdel softly supporting some sex-segregated spaces, and call her a TERF when she's praxis in much bigger, material ways. It's not just about Homestuck with Plaidos, or TERFs in general. It's also about the fact that Bechdel ever did anything that had anything to do with the idea that some people are more wymynly than them, which they take personal offense to that overshadows, oh, I don't know, loud and consistent advocacy for children having access to HRT? Any real transfeminist would recognize that matters infinitely more. But with these people, that's not the issue. They don't care about anything but how badly it hurt them to hypothetically not be welcome to a shitty music festival, and Bechdel having went - even if she criticized it's policies - is basically the same as having flaunted her gender assignment to intentionally make them dysphoric.

But Bechdel supports minors getting HRT. She supports them being in women's bathrooms. A lot of TERFs have identical conversations about her.

So what makes her a TERF? Because she went to a party you weren't invited to?

Do you understand how pathetic this makes you look?

It's gross and TERF-y to say trans women as a category are jealous of people AFAB on some level but when you prioritize like this where being let into the club is the one big all-consuming deal over things like Bechdel repeatedly going to bat for minors having HRT, and they obsessively treat trans men the way they do...

Like, listen. TRFs. My friends. You're women. I promise you you're Trve Wymyn. Please get over not having been AFAB. Come to peace with it and accept that people who got what you want are on your side and are happy to support you in being recognized as a woman in spite of what was on your birth certificate. Get over it.

Just get over it.

And also get over your transfem headcanons not being any more textually supported than transmasc headcanons, losers. You're so obviously the ones addicted to seeing yourself reflected in every piece of media you consume if you have to write essays about how it's bad literary analysis to not believe in your strings-on-a-thumbtack-board shit and run down anyone else having headcanons related to their identity. You're not doing literary analysis, you're playing pretend with cartoons for children and getting upset when you see other people having their own fun without you.

One last thing:

EXTREMELY holy shit racist. Do you see what I mean? How TRFs care so much about slights to their Trve Wymynhood over all else that they say shit like this? Like yeah Michfest was basically the KKK, you're right, unimaginably stupid White woman. Remember when Lisa Vogel hung all those trans women to warn us not to vote?

[faerybella219]

First night at Gale's Tower

@desertharper 's request

Oh, I just read yours the other night on AO3, great job! Could I possibly get Gal and a female elven sorcerer Tav post-game the night they arrive home to his tower? NSFW/SFW, your choice. I just love post-game interactions for the good endings. :)

Fun fact: I play BG3 on Xbox and I started on my old Microsoft account. For some reason, I got logged out/ got “hacked?” and had to delete my account with 200+ hours… I was at the Netherbrain guys!!! So I haven’t finished the game yet but I also love domestic post-game fics. My Bard R! Durge, Vivienne, (who I have posted on here)  is my current run to the finish. In act 3 once again! Anyway, here ya go. It’s like half headcanon half fiction. 

It is still a shock to both of your systems that you’re actually alive. You have defeated the netherbrain against all odds- the old-fashioned way. With swords, spells, and sweat. 

First, we all know Gale’s need to impress you. I imagine him trying to plan a seamless moving day- maybe casting a protective spell over your furniture/ items while they’re being moved into his tower. I can also see him fretting about his various delicate magical artifacts, which the movers seem to disregard! Much to his surprise, might he add, since his mother had suggested this company! Although he likely skips the movers altogether and has his simulacrums move you two in. Some jobs are better done yourself. 

While his simulacrums bring in your boxes/chests of your belongings, they don’t unpack them. He respects your privacy and knows you may be particular about your things. 

I can see things happening quickly after his proposal. The day you move in may be the same day you see his tower (haha) in person for the first time- your new home. 

You can’t help but be overwhelmed by a feeling similar to deja vu. It’s surreal and sort of familiar. You’ve technically been here before. Gale brought you here through the weave while on the road, and you seem magnetically drawn to the balcony. You remember sitting on this very balcony in the weave. Waterdeep’s ocean glitters before you, and you get lost staring into the soothing waves. 

Gale puts his head on the top of yours. His hands rest on the railing on either side of you. He buries his nose in your hair and pulls you close to him from behind. It’s finally happening. It’s finally real. The peace you feel in this moment- hopeful, content, and unbelieving- it’s what makes your journey worth it. 

Turning around in his embrace, you hug him too tight and he makes a groan of strain and laughter. His classic old man noises. You could get used to those.  

Taking his face in your hands, you see joy brimming in his eyes. The way he looks at you makes your heart swell. Gale Dekarios- the wizard of intentionally limited renown is all yours for years to come.

He will likely insist unpacking can wait, it’s your first night together in your new home.

I have no doubt he will take you on a tour of the place, including special spaces he has saved for you/ your interests. You like to craft/crochet/sew? He has a craft room set up. What is his is yours. He knows you will handle his artifacts with care and if you are a sorcerer he will encourage you to bring yours and combine your collection. He has a section of his library saved for whatever literature you might want to add, and a section of what he recommends for you specifically- available for you to pick up at any time. 

Overenthusiastic is an understatement. But he tries to play it lighthearted to not overwhelm you. 

You cook dinner together in your new kitchen. You kiss in your new kitchen. He’s not a good dancer but is so overjoyed by you being here with him that he brings you close to sway. 

When it’s time for bed you notice he ordered a second nightstand for your side of the bed. In the drawer is something special and thoughtful, whether it's a chocolate you like or a book. Maybe it’s a solvent for some ailment that has been bothering you. He will remind you to put it on every night. 

I can see the night being with or without sex. I can picture him lying in bed and staring into your eyes, just treasuring your presence in his bed. There will be a thousand nights in the future for sex. Although, I can see the night needing a physical commemoration as well! It all depends on what your vibe is.

When you wake, you have tender good mornings with sleepy, rasping voices. He pulls you close, onto his chest as he praises the rest of your days together. He cooks you breakfast, and you two spend the rest of your second day unpacking your belongings and creating your shared home. 

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

Pure passion and savoring each other. The sex is emotional and slow. 

Tonight marks the rest of your lives coexisting and living together. You’re having milestone sex. This is no quickie. This is body worship, treasuring each other’s lives, and pure love and devotion. 

You kiss until your lips feel plump, your tongues tangle until you’re wet. Only when you’re squirming does he move south.

Gale uses every kiss as a landmark. He kisses your forehead, cheeks, down your neck- his hands are grasping and caressing anywhere he can reach. 

His hold on you is strong. Hands grip your waist as he devours you. He doesn’t want it to end. He teases you until you beg for release, and once you orgasm you can’t stop. He doesn’t let you get away with less than 3 before the night ends. 

When he fucks you it's languid and deep. His hard cock drags against your walls in a pull so delicious it's torture. Slow tenderness eventually turns to rapid passion as he gives in to his desires. 

You two are moaning and crying out into the night air as he pounds into you. Your grip on him is tight as your mouths and hips move in synch. 

You wake up with little marks over your chest, although you never remember him being rough. 

[tourettesdog]

Hey there! I was just wondering, do you have any DP headcanons that you’d like to share? Any characters you like are good lmao

OOOOOOH boy do I!! owo

I have so many headcanons for this show omg. Just a bunch that I've picked up from reading fics, and chatting with friends, and thought up while planning out fics and prompts. Most of my headcanons center pretty heavily around Danny, since he is the blorbo™️, but I do have hcs for his friends, family, enemies, and more general ones.

This got very long, so it goes under the cut

Danny-focused hcs:

Danny doesn't need to eat much human food (and has a very reduced appetite) while in Amity Park or other ectoplasm-rich places, since his body naturally absorbs energy from ectoplasm. Though his friends and Jazz will still push him to eat even when he's not hungry, to keep his human body healthy. Whenever Danny's in places with less ectoplasm, his appetite returns with a vengeance.

Danny has an ice core and overheats easily in the summer, but in contrast handles winter months with ease. [Sometimes I like to do a reverse of this hc, where the ice core is helpful to him in the summer, but becomes detrimental to his human-side when it gets cold.]

Following the accident, lightning and other sources of raw electricity give Danny anxiety. I like to imagine that during storms he feels the static prickle on his skin.

Danny purrs when happy or content like a cat. In general, I like to imagine cores making all sorts of vibrations, hums, chirps, and other sounds.

Danny has no heartbeat in Phantom form, and doesn't need to breathe (but does so anyway out of habit). In contrast, his heartbeat and breaths per minute (as well as his core body temperature) are much lower than a standard human's.

Danny is trans and came out at a young age. Following the accident, the shock of the portal messed with his glands/hormones and he hasn't had a period since. He also hasn't grown since, with his height being stunted at around 5 foot. (In general, I like to HC that Danny takes after Maddie more in height, with Jazz getting all the tall genes from Jack.)

I like to imagine that Danny loses interest in becoming an astronaut after the accident. Existential dread + gaining the ability to explore a vast realm with many more interesting things in it will do that to a bastard.

I like to do Ghost King stuff with Danny sometimes, but I honestly prefer the idea that he just like has a claim to the throne, but in the same way that a king's 57 bastard children all would have a claim to his throne. (But the king isn't really gone anyway, so anyone with that claim is just sitting on a useless prince title while Pariah slumbers.)

I love the idea of ghost obsessions, and Danny specifically having one that is either focused around protection or helping. If the obsession is in regards to protection, I like to imagine it stems less from him thinking Sam and Tucker were in harms way when the portal went off, and more from him wishing someone would protect him/that he could protect himself.

I like to imagine that Danny (and all ghosts) won't outright fade if they fail to perform their obsession, however. I just imagine that it makes them extremely unhappy, anxious, and sickly. Danny, due to only being half-dead, has some more resilience with this too, I imagine.

I love giving Danny lasting scars, especially lichtenberg figures from the portal. I think it's particularly fun to have the scars wrap up his arm and across neck and/or face.

In addition to his scars, Danny experiences chronic pain and nerve issues in his arm associated with the accident.

I love the hc that Danny's wail is the same sort of scream he let out when he died in the portal.

In terms of orientation, I hc Danny as being asexual and then either biromantic or homoromantic, depending on what I'm feeling for the story. I both love the idea of him being biromantic, or him thinking for a long time that he had to like girls as a trans boy, before later accepting that he was gay. (I also love everlasting trio as a ship, so polyromantic is on the table too.)

Sam-focused hcs:

Sam gets a much better grip on her activism in late high school, after getting humbled a bit. This includes shifting her focus to supporting more sustainable forms of farming, rather than outright decrying the slaughter of animals. (I imagine she herself becomes a vegetarian after this, rather than a vegan.)

Sam was already on the fence about eating meat prior to the portal, but gave it up for good (and briefly became very belligerent about it), because she couldn't get the smell of the portal accident out of her nose. Cooked meat makes her feel sick for a very long time, especially pork.

I love hcs that Sam either dyes her hair and/or wears colored contacts.

Sam becomes rather liminal from being around Danny and the Zone, and retains some plant-based powers from Undergrowth. Overtime, Sam will start to develop a proto-core and have her senses altered by it.

Linked with the previous hc, I like to hc Sam as being prone to sensory overload, and this being exacerbated by an increase in her hearing following the portal.

As an adult, Sam funnels her passion for activism into journalism.

Tucker-focused hcs:

Tucker is hard-of-hearing and requires the use of hearing aids. Being reliant on technology from a young age helped kickstart his interest in it. Also, because of Tucker's disability, both Danny, Sam, Jazz, and eventually Val learn sign language to converse more easily with him.

Following the portal, Tucker is forced to modify his tech (and in particular his hearing aids) to interact more neutrally with ectoplasm.

I like to imagine that Tucker is very forceful with hitting on girls as, similar to Danny, he is fighting against some internalized homophobia. In terms of orientation, I imagine he is pansexual, with a preference for masculine individuals.

Like Sam, Tucker becomes rather liminal following the portal accident, and may develop tech-based powers. While Sam's ears are much more affected by liminality, Tucker instead experiences a dramatic shift in his vision.

Tucker might be an only child, but he comes from a very large, very supportive family that's all over various parts of the US.

Tucker has some food sensitivities, especially in regards to texture. He's definitely somewhere on the autism spectrum, alongside Danny and Jazz.

Tucker was the one to initiate friendship with both Danny and Sam. He met Danny when they were in preschool and insisted on being friends, and dragged Sam into their small group later on after meeting her in elementary-middle school when her family moved to Amity.

Tucker's eyes are brown or a dark hazel, rather than the teal they're depicted as in the show.

Val-focused hcs:

After getting ousted from her previous friend group, Valerie feels more comfortable with exploring some hobbies she previously didn't feel comfortable with around Paulina and Star. This includes video games, card collecting, and skateboarding.

Val's mother passed away when she was a very young child, and she has little to no memories of her.

Val's eyes are brown, rather than the green they're depicted as in the show.

Val becomes very liminal due to her suit-- much more liminal than both Tucker and Sam. By the time she's an adult, Val has a proto-core at the very least, and a sizeable grasp on controlling tech.

Valerie is bisexual, with a large preference for women that she doesn't explore until being ousted from her old friend group.

It isn't until college, when they've learned more about themselves and their internalized biases, that Val starts to reconnect with her old friends.

Jazz-focused hcs:

Jazz is much taller than Danny, and reaches over 6 foot tall by the time she stops growing.

Jazz is bisexual, and has known she is for a long time after helping Danny come out as trans and doing some of her own personal research.

I like to imagine that Jazz either becomes a child therapist or teacher after watching her little brother and his friends struggle in their formative years. Though I also really like the hc that Jazz, rather than Danny, becomes very interested in the technical and tinkering aspects of their parents' work.

I imagine around the end of HS that Jazz realizes she really shouldn't be psychoanalyzing and giving therapy to family and friends.

Jazz's driving is just as terrifying as Jack's, and her car is a beat-up old mess covered in dings and scratches.

Jazz likes to cook, but creates the biggest messes while doing so. In general, organized chaos is her MO.

Like Danny's friends, Jazz is rather liminal. She's less liminal than Val, though more so than Sam and Tuck, due to living directly over the portal. I imagine this comes with a heightened sense of emotion, as well as hearing.

I like to imagine that Jazz is just as, if not more nervous than Danny about him revealing his secret to their parents. To her, it feels similar to the danger of a trans kid coming out of the closet in a transphobic household, and while she'd like to believe their parents would accept Danny as a halfa, she's not willing to chance the risk while he's still dependent on them and they have not changed their tune on ghosts.

Jazz is so focused on helping Danny survive his teens that it isn't until she's like 25-30 that she really starts to unpack her own trauma.

General Amity and ghost hcs:

Amity Park is a bit colder than the surrounding region, due to the heavy presence of ghosts.

The ghosts have also altered the native wildlife. Many native species of animals have fled, or otherwise adjusted their behavior to account for ghostly neighbors. It's not uncommon to see ghostly ducks swimming alongside living ones, or feral groups of cats with some being more transparent than the rest.

Because of the Box Ghost, many residents in Amity Park start to get into the habit of unboxing their groceries as soon as possible. There's more than one spot where boxes can be left in a pile, and it's rare that they remain there for more than a day.

In general, I like to imagine that Amity really embraces the ghostliness, with some shops even taking it up as a theme. It's not uncommon to see Halloween decorations all year round, including ghosts with little Santa hats come Christmas.

Because of all of the ectoplasm in the air, technology has a habit of acting very strangely in Amity Park. Most advanced tech needs to be altered to work correctly within city limits.

Blob ghosts are very endearing, and more than one Amity Parker has one as a pet.

Okay, this got Very long so I'm gonna stop it here cause I could just Keep Going. Especially where stuff like the Far Frozen or crossovers are concerned, but those are for another time lol.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

do you think ghouls are capable of contracting/passing on STDs? also. wouldn't ghoul dick be even more likely to give someone a yeast infection or UTI than a regular one? cuz lbr nobody's washing their hands OR their dicks in the wasteland. sooo, dirt & bacteria buildup = ouchies. also also, could there be concern of irradiated jizz causing cervical cancer if they don't pull out? my answer to all three would be 'yes' but i'm curious about your thoughts as well.

I always get excited to see more ghoul biology questions in the ask. We agree on two out of three points, Anon.

As for your first question, ghouls don't get "sick", traditionally, something that's established by characters like John Hancock, as well as in dialogue with non-ghoul characters when discussing what happens to people when they turn ghoul. I take that to mean that they don't contract disease that originates from things like viruses/bacteria/prions, etc., as the games demonstrate that ghouls are still susceptible to diseases of the mind.

This tracks, at least to me, since the level of radiation that permeates the average ghoul's entire body would make them an undesirable host to living organisms. Sure, there have been microorganisms discovered that can survive in very inhospitable conditions (such as along the edges of undersea vents that burn at incredible temperatures, or in vacuum), but the vast, vast majority of them wouldn't survive infecting a human being plied with gamma radiation, let alone survive long enough to be passed on to another host.

Mental "diseases" are often not true diseases. They typically originate as problems with the structure of the brain, an imbalance of hormones or other chemicals, damage to the tissues from trauma or substance use, or other such factors that aren't contagious (and wouldn't necessarily be inhibited by the rads). As for literal contagious diseases that affect the brain, see my previous point. A ghoul could be schizophrenic, but you wouldn't see a ghoul with, say, tertiary syphilis where a typical infection begins to affect your mind. At least, if you ask me. Personally, I don't believe you can "catch" anything from a ghoul partner besides ghoulification...or the last two things you mentioned, but even that is a bit complicated.

Yes, you're definitely running the risk of catching a UTI or a yeast infection with a ghoul partner, but I'd say your chances aren't all that much higher than if you'd caught yourself a non-ghoulified partner. So...still a fairly high risk. Ghouls aren't the only ones not washing their dicks in the Fallout universe, though they may struggle more than the average person with finding facilities due to prejudice. Some of them may also have literal wounds on their penis, but I imagine most folks like that wouldn't have a lot of interest in penetrative sex anyway. In New Vegas, you can find some writings that indicate sleeping with ghouls can to painful, odorous discharge and discoloration of the genitals, but, again, that sounds like sexual contact with most Wasteland dwellers to me...

What you would really need to worry about is radiation burns, either from their bodily fluids, or from direct, extended contact with their flesh itself if they're especially irradiated or a glowing one. Fortunately, that's where Rad-X and Radaway come in.

The increased risk of all kinds of cancer around ghouls is pretty significant, not just cervical cancer. Yes, having your cervix absolutely doused in irradiated semen on a regular basis would increase your risk for cervical cancer, specifically. But, again, Radaway removes accumulated radiation (it's basically magic), and I think one could safely assume that most of that risk could be mitigated by fastidious medication use. Plenty of places in the Fallout world are still highly irradiated, as well as sources of water and food. Everyone is running a pretty high risk of cancer if they don't carefully balance out the rads exposure.

[daeyumi]

okay so i previously said i was gonna post some of the weirder asks in the inbox so here they are. i will be deleting the actual asks from my inbox since i’m not comfortable with answering them outright.

weird asks:

okay first off please don’t do this. it’s…… an incredibly bold choice to walk into someone’s inbox and ask for essentially a master study artwork, of a ship that the artist doesn’t like. (i don’t expect everyone to know my ship prefs ofc but it does lead me to question whether this person even follows me, as i literally never post about that ship- so why request it?)

also ofc they were asking this to happen for free, since they posed it as a request. which were also very closed at the time, since i only accept requests when i specifically ask for them

this one….. i can only guess that they were requesting a doodle of imp form midna, dressed as jessica rabbit? or at least wearing her dress?

no thanks.

okay okay hoooooooooooooo boy there is so much to unpack with this one. okay first off, the obvious— they don’t actually state what they’re referring to- i can only speculate that it was the above posted doodle, since it was the only thing i posted around this time that had both zelda & midna in it?? i don’t even think i have any pieces where all three of them are present.

ANYWAYS with that in mind, i mean yes that’s clearly intended to be zelda’s hand in the pic— but why would u assume link is included in this scenario at all?? he’s literally not mentioned whatsoever AND ALSO why immediately assume sexual context? or at least that’s what i’m guessing anon was implying here? based on the wording?

but again, if this is the image they were referring to (and i can’t think of another that would fit better, unless they saw the midzel “i prefer girls” meme redraw i did, which implies a first person view even less than this doodle does, and similarly doesn’t include link whatsoever)— why assume that the cute cheek squish meme redraw post references a completely different scenario of midzelink? nothing against ppl who ship the three of them, but it’s most definitely not the intent of my doodle here. i should also add that i have nothing at all against sexual content, but moreso want to point out that it’s an odd thing to assume about this image in particular.

i don’t even ship midzelink and i just don’t understand what would make anon assume that that’s what i was referencing

anyways. what a thing to leave in someone’s inbox ig.

okay this one i really don’t want to drag this person bc i get what it’s like to be awkward online but. please don’t do this.

i don’t even know u, so i have no opinion of u. if you want to talk to someone online, it’s best to lead with a question about a shared interest or try to get to know them first- asking someone if they like you, with no additional comments or context is just going to lead to confusion or avoidance.

i just don’t know what kind of response anon was expecting

[maybeafrog-blog]

Leonardo and Autism

I am fascinated by the amount of autistic that 2012 Leo is, because unlike Donnie’s convenient tech savant situation, Leo’s autistic traits are solidly plot neutral to negative? He’s obsessed with rewatching one specific TV show (a cartoon with a repetitive and predictable plot), uses his favorite character to script his Leader Speeches to try to get his team to listen. He generally tries to plan every mission in detail and gets very frustrated when his brothers don’t go along with it/when plans have to be changed (at first- he gets more flexible over time). Leo also has an incredibly black and white understanding of morality and tends to take Splinter's teaching's as fact rather than advice, which can make him fairly gullible and easy to manipulate (the Karai situation), and he probably has the least social intelligence of his brothers.

It's interesting that the traits that make Leonardo such a paragon across most iterations have such autistic vibes. 2003 Leo is obsessed with honor but has a ridiculously hard time recognizing his own emotions (you kumquat!), and MM Leo's heroic personality can't be blamed on Splinter without that good Hamato ninja juice, so like, he's just like that. It sorta reminds me of anecdotes about undiagnosed autistic/adhd people thriving in the military-- "Ninja training" and all the rules that come with it probably works like crack on that neurodivergent turtle brain. Kinda makes me wonder about Rise Leonardo and his comparatively very lax upbringing-- obvi the guy would still be a lot more social and silly compared to most Leos, I think he's more ADHD than autistic, but how different would he be if he were trained in the structure of 2003 or 2012 Splinter?

Anyway, give me a Leo who trains everyday not just to get stronger, but because of how badly he needs that routine. How does he react when it's broken? How does he cope with being away from home during the farmhouse arc? Maybe a Leo with sensitive hearing that makes him great at noticing when they're being followed, but overwhelms him when he's too close to street level traffic? A Leo that tries to suppress his stims because that's not very cool stoic ninja of him? How would his brothers react to a Leo who's calm and focused in the midst of battle finally shutting or melting down over something seemingly small?

Also, 2012 Leo is very cute when he gets excited about his space show and it makes me want to squish his dumb turtle face. Give Leos More Hobbies (looking at you Mutant Mayhem, I'm glad he draws his silly lil comics in Tales but I'm concerned all his interests are gonna revolve around April or Ninja Responsibilities. My boy already has anxiety this shit is too much pressure for him.)

[paci-papa]

Sorry, little ones, but Papa is going to go into lecture mode for a moment.

Papa got this ask recently:

"Mr paci I gotta say all your stories make me very blushy and squirmy how do you feel about little boys who are still male but are femboys like boys who are male but want to be more feminine and soft instead of being big and strong all the time anyway yeah bye 🫣🫣"

This short little message requires an answer with a lot of nuance.

Papa believes strongly that gender is a spectrum and all people on that spectrum are valid, little or big.

Papa also believes that categorizing things into stereotypical gender binaries ignores that reality and is inherently harmful to everyone on that spectrum by either ignoring their identities or creating problematic stereotypes.

So, the short answer to this question is that, of course, Papa supports little boys who may be more stereotypically 'feminine.'

In Papa's mind, it's completely acceptable for any little to want to wear dresses or overalls or play with trucks or dolls. All that matters to Papa is that you are engaging in behavior that makes you happy!

However, Papa also received this ask today:

"I am a new diaper sissy. What would you recommend to help me get used to wearing my diapers and girly’s clothes in public? Any outfit/accessory/activity suggestions?"

Papa finds this sort of 'play,' specifically sissy play, potentially problematic.

If the reason a person is interested in engaging in a particular 'feminine' activity is because the taboo created by engaging in gender non-conforming behavior turns you on, that activity is serving to reinforce the gender binaries and stereotypes that Papa hates.

Because of that, Papa doesn't support those sorts (most notably sissy) of gender play.

I understand that this may be confusing, and that is why Papa wanted to take the opportunity to explain this.

Since I know you babies have short extension spans, here is the tldr:

All genders are valid. Gender dichotomies and stereotypes are wrong. Papa supports littles of all genders and with all interests. That said, if you fetishize gender dichotomies and stereotypes, you are part of the problem, and Papa doesn't engage in that type of play.

[moregraceful]

anyway before i got extremo derailed tonight, i was reading neon's curated collection of quotes from a russian interview with klim kostin and it got me wondering if any nhl teams keep chaplains on staff. considering this is the league where they will not even provide translators or language teachers like 95% of the time, i wasn't expecting them to, but cursory research turned up hockey ministries international which appears to pair local christian church pastors with junior, minor, and major leagues and call it chaplaincy even though everything on their website feels like youth pastor jock version. also found this very interesting if christian-focused athletic article from 2019 about the roles of faith in the nhl which mentions 23 nhl teams having a chaplain on staff. but the entire framing around the hmi program and chaplains in the nhl seemed to be around christianity? which admittedly i have only experienced chaplaincy in relation to hospice or extreme crisis situations so maybe single-faith focused chaplaincy is more standard when people aren't like imminently dying.

all of which of course gave me one million more questions while i was doing the dishes. like -- inclusitivity 101 but if they hired chaplains with interfaith training at all levels would they start seeing more religiously and culturally diverse players. and was also wondering if, even though hmi claims to be non-denominational, what kinds of outreach they do for orthodox players like kostin (i assume) or vasilevskiy (mentioned in the article) because none of the language on their website felt ecumenical. and also what kind of spiritual care they offer players in player assistance -- i feel like it's not uncommon to hear about goalies finding religion and coming out of player assistance concurrently. and also the number of goalies themselves who are christian, which was particularly interesting to me, as in the article, most of the ones who self-identified didn't come to faith until adulthood or were deeply on the pro-league career track. i also think about like--like what are the ahl (or echl/sphl) chaplains doing for the players who were raised with prosperity gospel and the various threads associated with that

and these are all very fascinating trains of thought for me to chase bc i love thinking about how faith impacts our lives broadly and in my little hobbies specifically but what i kept getting stuck on is if the framing around spiritual care in the nhl is all christianity, who is providing spiritual care at each stop for nazem kadri, who is a practicing muslim

[silkoodles]

@simonxkeyes Since you asked for specifics, at this point i need to figure out the main story more. My confidence in my own writing fluctuates between "I got this." to "God i'm a fraud." very frequently. So unless you want to help plot things out and bounce story ideas with me...

I also want group 'date' scenes. Lil moments where the group is spending quality time together. How to incorporate it to the main story will be my problem, but if you or anyone really wanted to help, i'd be open to ideas or writings for that. I have a few vague concepts: beach party during a free day or them sneaking out into the kitchen for snacks. I just haven't hammered out any logistics for it.

if anyone is interested, hmu and we can talk. And if I include what you've done, you'll get credit in the game! I reserve the right to edit, i'll need to for coding anyway.

Art wise: After thinking about it I'll probably be drawing everything cause I'm a perfectionist and need everything to match.

I've recently asked the CS OC community if anyone wanted to volunteer their oc to be a character in the game, cause I love that the fandom is out here making ocs and keeping the show alive and I want to showcase some of that.

So I'll open up the floor for that too. I may have a shop keeper already, but i also have other minor characters (for now) that need faces: 2 bullies for the Sheena and Quiet Kid's routes. So if you already have drawn an oc and don't mind me redrawing them to fit the style, I'd love to hear from you. But if no ones interested, I'll design them later :D

I either had to do this or let the seasonal depression win.

Here's an update with what i've been doing before my computer broke and i thought i lost it all.

I have this outline of friendship sim, where you play a student rooming alongside Black Sheep and the group.

Unfortunately this also means the piccrew is gonna take a lil longer cause I'm just alternating between the 2.

In fact, I wouldn't mind if anyone wanted to help. Writing or art. But also if you've played friendship sim games like this (with stat management and all that), what are your recommended games to play?

[thethingliesstill]

The History Boys (2006) Derry Girls (2018-2022)

[ariadne-mouse]

I feel fandom would get along a lot better if there was mutual understanding that liking a character, agreeing with a character, and thinking the character is well constructed/executed are all separate (if often overlapping) positions, each with their separate tastes and subjectivities. Also: character portrayals are intended to make the audience feel things; this is separate from (if often overlapping with) analyzing/appreciating their actions and role in the story.