#this is why CBT only worked as a starting point for me

[chilling-seavey]

She Never Did (gr63)

↳ A/N I just had to post more sub!George because...well...have you seen this man? Who wouldn't want to give him what he deserves and peg him until he's crying with pleasure <3

↳ Summary: George is only missing one thing in his relationship. That one thing is what only you can give to him.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 19.2k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, adultery, George has an unnamed girlfriend and there is a lot of negative talk about their sex life throughout, fem!dom and sub!George, pegging, use of toys (anal beads, cockring, prostate vibrator, strap), oral sex (m and f receiving), sucking off a dildo and forced deepthroating, rimming, degradation (names like 'slut', 'whore', 'pathetic' etc.), brief mommy kink (only used once or twice), lots of lube, watching in a mirror, using cum as lube, minor CBT (cock and ball torture), (mis)use of a safeword, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, begging, choking, restraining with hands, spanking, slapping, hair pulling, finger sucking, nipple play, overstimulation, unprotected sex, aftercare, angst.

Are you busy? Can I come over?

It was always how it started, those two questions lighting up your phone screen, and they often appeared coincidentally right when you were thinking about him. That wasn’t odd, however, as there weren’t many minutes in the day where you weren’t thinking about him.

You lifted your phone from your desk to reply to George’s text message without need for any second thought, accepting him over and his promise to be there within the hour.

You knew why he wanted to come over—it was really the only reason he had since he was usually preoccupied with his girlfriend or traveling all around the world for races—but his dirty little secret was safe with you. It was thrilling, in a sense, to go behind everyone's backs like that but you were too head over heels for George to think logically and he was too unfulfilled in his relationship—in a way that was a bit too taboo to admit to others—to think of stopping what had already been started. You both kept quiet, he got what he wanted, and you got that shot of dopamine from giving him exactly that. You would kill to please him and when he turned to you as the only person to do so successfully? Who were you to deny him that?

In preparation for his impending arrival, you tidied up your apartment just enough to look presentable: putting away the dishes from the sink into the dishwasher and tidying up your desk that was scattered with papers and work, finally finishing with a re-making of your bed and a dusting to your surfaces. He certainly wasn’t coming over to analyze the cleanliness of your apartment but a small sliver of you wanted to aim to impress him; even if he was clueless to it. 

No more than thirty minutes later, your phone rang and you didn’t even have to look at the ID to know it was the buzzer from the lobby. When you answered it, George’s muffled voice through the cheaply made building speaker system crackled through, 

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Come on up.” 

You unlocked the lobby door from your keypad to let him in. 

It only took him a minute to take the elevator up to your floor and soon he was knocking at your suite door. You had almost been waiting in your foyer for him so his hand had barely dropped from the knock by the time you yanked open the door to reveal him on the other side. He was wearing black jeans and his favourite brown boots under a lined jacket with the hood pulled up over his head as if keeping a lazy disguise for the trek between the parking garage and your front door. 

“Hey.” you tried not to grin too widely as you stepped aside, “Come on in.”

It was a familiar occurrence to George so he was perfectly comfortable coming in and taking off his shoes at the door: a habit that you insisted he take up when visiting you. A few times, his girlfriend had pointed out him taking off his shoes when entering his own home—a prime example of how often he was coming to see you—and he had to pass it off with some blasé excuse each time. 

You took his jacket from him to hang it up in the front closet, leaving him in only a linen shirt tucked into his jeans as he took a few casual paces farther into your apartment as you did so. His eyes lingered on your crowded yet organized desk, littered with your notebooks and dual monitors under a large wall calendar scribed with important dates, meetings, deadlines, and friend’s birthdays. His eyes lingered on February 14th labeled ‘Singles Day’ in pink ink in your gentle penmanship, right beside February 15th labeled ‘George’s Birthday’.

“Do you want a drink or anything?”

Your voice startled him out of his slight distractedness and he glanced back at you as if half forgetting you were there, answering smoothly, “Sure. Whatever you’re having.”

He helped himself to the living room of your small apartment as you opened the fridge to serve yourself and your guest and he sat himself on the small two-seater couch. Space was limited so it was the best you could have. George leaned back and watched you silently as you set two glasses on the kitchen island and started each with a single shot of peach liqueur and then filled them the rest of the way with orange juice. His leg bounced restlessly, socked foot tapping dully against the wood floor. 

The silence wasn’t unusual as you got settled into your odd routine but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just full of an indescribable tension that had your heart racing in your chest. You took the drinks to the living room only a few short steps away and George reached to take one glass from you with whispered thanks. You sat beside him on the modest couch. 

“So,” you started, both of you pausing to take a sip of your drinks before you continued, “What were you up to today?”

It always started this way. The casual catch-up and discussion before the action. 

George sighed as he stared into his glass, lips pursed in brief though before he shared like it was a casual recounting of the morning news, “Not much. I woke up with a boner…didn’t bother telling her though because, you know, what’s the point. Ended up having a wank in the shower. Then she left to get her nails done and I tried to work but I was just staring at my laptop so…thought I’d message you.”

“So she’s gone for the day?”

“Mhm.” George said through his next drink before swallowing and then answering, “Getting her nails done or something and then going shopping, I guess. I just texted her saying I was going for a hike.”

“Shopping.” you repeated with a dull nod before countering, “Nothing of sustenance?” 

George shot you a half-amused side eyed glance, “Sustenance like what?”

“I dunno.” you shrugged innocently, “A job?”

“Not everyone can have two jobs, a degree, a second degree in progress, and multiple promising hobbies on the go at once.” George teased. 

“Hey,” you tisked, “why not? Gives a woman purpose in life. But, I guess shopping is fun too.”

You both shared little smiles through your next sips of your mixed drinks. 

You pried a little more, “How’s it been going with her?” 

George shrugged, “It’s going fine.”

You waited to let him continue at his own pace. 

He took another drink before relaxing back on the couch again, his body angled towards you habitually, “You know how it’s going. It’s the usual: really nice generally but kinda boring in bed.”

“Mhm.” you encouraged him on, leaning forward to set your glass on a coaster on the coffee table so you could give him your full attention. 

“I’ve been putting in more hours on the sim this last week or so…flying out to Brackley more often to visit the factory. She brought it up to me that I’ve been distancing myself from her and I didn’t realize it at first but maybe that’s true.”

You ignored the ache in your chest over the discussion of his girlfriend and their sex life, “Why’s that?”

George’s finger traced the rim of his glass and he sucked on his teeth for a second, trying to hide his bashful little smile over his confession, “Because she won’t give me what I want. And I’m tired of doing all the work all the time.”

“She’s really stupid for that.” you replied, earning his eyes to raise to look at you as you explained, “Why wouldn’t she want to pleasure you the way you want? That’s selfish, in my opinion.”

“She can’t help that she’s not into it. I’m not going to make her do something she’s uncomfortable with.”

You kept your mouth shut, knowing that you’d say something a little too hostile if you didn’t. George sensed this and he sat up again and set his half empty glass on the table beside yours. 

“I’m just lucky I have you then.” he gave your arm a little nudge. 

You smiled softly at him and set your hand on his knee, “Me too.”

“I’m really, really lucky.” he continued softly. 

His eyes weren’t discreet as his gaze dropped to your lips and he licked his own. Your hand rubbed gently over his thigh.

“And work?” you pressed. 

“Fine.” he answered, unmoving, “Car’s good. I’ve been consistent this year…feels great.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah…feels good.” he breathed. 

“Mhm?” you gave his thigh a squeeze and he inhaled sharply. 

There was a pause, taken up by both of you just staring at each other side by side, bodies turned towards each other naturally and gazes drifting between lips and eyes. Who was going to make the first move?

“Did you wash up?” you asked lowly. 

“Yeah,” George licked his lips, “Took a detailed shower right before I came over.”

“Good boy.”

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip, smothering a smile. 

“What do you want to do today?” you asked, sliding your hand along the inner seam of his jeans and your thumb caressed his thigh. 

“Whatever you want.” George answered.

“That’s pretty broad.” you stated. “You have nothing specific in mind that you want?”

He shook his head, his body habitually starting to lean towards you. 

“Do you want me to tell you what I’m going to do? Or just do it?” 

He sounded dazed, as if he was already starting to fall into that perfect little headspace without you even properly touching him, “Whatever you want.”

You set your other hand against his chest to keep him from leaning too close, your faces almost centimeters apart. He licked his lips again and then bit his bottom one as he focused on your face, his hand resting on the seat of the couch behind you with how close he was. 

“Whatever I want?” you repeated, giving his thigh a squeeze.

“Mhm.” he answered with a gentle nod, “You know how I like it.”

“I do,” you agreed as you rubbed his thigh right up tauntingly close to his crotch, “and you remember our safe word?”

“Yes, ma’am.” he replied easily.

“Good boy.” you whispered. 

You eased your hand away from his chest, allowing him to lean in towards you and he did so happily until you set your finger against his lips, preventing him from kissing you. He stared into your eyes. You could smell his woodsy cologne on him with how close he sat and you tried not to make it too obvious with how you breathed him in. Your finger dragged down his lips, tugging at the bottom one gently before watching it fall back into place, and your hand on his thigh wrapped around the waistband of his jeans. 

You taunted him with a whisper right to his lips, “Wanna come to my room so I can treat you like the perfect little slutty boy you are?”

“Yes, please.” he breathed. 

You linked your finger in one of his belt loops and tugged him up from the couch and pulled him after you towards your room, half-empty drinks forgotten on the coffee table. George followed after you eagerly despite the way you led him across the hardwood floor and into your bedroom by the hem of his jeans and once you entered, you left the door wide open behind you. You were all alone after all, encapsulated by the thrilling privacy. 

When you turned to face him again, George tried to lean in to kiss you but you grabbed him by his arms and turned him around to shove him backwards onto the end of your bed. He landed on his back with a small gasp, staring up at you with wide blue eyes as you stood at the foot of the bed proudly. You untucked his linen shirt from his jeans with eager fists and he helped you to unbutton it so you could toss it aimlessly towards the pillows. His body was so perfect to you and your eyes glided over his bare torso as he rested on his elbows for you, your hands dancing down his pecs and over the arches and valleys of his muscle. 

“God, just look at you. You’re so sexy.” you said, hints of longing teasing your voice. 

“Thank you.” George replied angelically with a faint smile at his lips. 

Your hands unbuckled his belt and he stared down his body to watch as you pulled the leather strap out of the metal buckle, his bottom lip between his teeth. When your slender fingers popped the button on his jeans and tugged down the little zipper, George’s mouth fell open slightly in anticipation, flicking his eyes between your face and your hands as you worked to undress him. He lifted his legs up to let you pull his jeans and his underwear down in one smooth motion, dropping them to the ground, stripping him absolutely bare on the end of your queen size bed. He stared at you patiently.

The black silicone ring that was wrapped around the base of his cock drew your attention right away as it stood out against his fair skin and nestled against the trimmed hair that grew there. He was already hard and you wondered how he managed to hide it so well in his jeans the whole way up to your apartment and as you shared drinks in your living room. He certainly wasn’t small. 

“Oh my God, angel,” you exhaled, easily falling into your role that he expected of you, “you already put the cockring on yourself?”

“Yeah.” he licked away his cocky grin, “Couldn’t wait. Knew you’d want it on anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re such a good boy,” you reached down to gently stroke his dick with the tips of your fingers.

He hummed faintly at your touch, his hips trying to push up towards your hand and he groaned at the flexing motion. 

Your palms drifted up his abs as you spoke to him in a sickeningly sweet voice, “Coming all the way over here with that big, heavy dick of yours in that little ring…bet you’re just fucking aching for someone to touch you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” George answered, “Been wanting it all day…been wanting you to touch me all day.”

You pressed your palms against his chest and pushed him flat against the bed, leaving his legs hanging off the end, and you climbed on top of him to straddle his lap. George licked his lips as he stared up at you still fully clothed over top of him and his hands gravitated to your waist while yours caressed his chest and his abs. 

“What were you thinking of when you jerked off in the shower this morning?” you asked.

“You,” he answered, “fucking me.”

“Mhm?” you grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the sheets on either side of his head so you were leaning right over him, “Letting me have my way with you?”

“Yes, miss.” he breathed, eyes locked on your lips. 

“Just fucking every single little stupid thought from your pretty little head?”

“Yeah.” George whimpered faintly, “Please, can you?”

“Are you gonna do everything I say like a good little toy?”

“Yes, miss.” he nodded almost eagerly and you could nearly see his pupils dilating from lust in those blue eyes of his. 

He just looked so sweet underneath you like that, with your hands pinning him down and how he stayed just like that so obediently, that you couldn’t help yourself but lean down to dust a faint kiss over his lips. George flinched in pleasant surprise and just as he went to kiss you back, you pulled away. 

“No-” he squeaked. 

You got off of him, “I want you on your stomach.”

George offered no complaints despite his unfulfilled kiss as he shifted on your bed and adjusted himself to lay face down in the middle, resting his arms under his head as he let his gaze follow you while you undressed to your bra and matching panties. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip patiently with a little grind against your bed as you got yourself situated and knelt up onto the bed beside him. 

What you hadn’t noticed initially was the black silicone shape nestled between his ass cheeks, now on display to you with him on his stomach. Your eyebrows raised and you reached out to gently press your middle finger against the flared base, earning a sharp inhale from the man beneath you. 

“Oh, my good boy, you got yourself so prepped and ready for me today.” you complimented, “You must have really wanted it.”

“Yes, miss.” George exhaled, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow shyly as he kept his eyes peeking over his bicep to where you stood at the bedside. 

“My little slut saving me so much time.” Your fingers rubbed gently over the flat narrow elongated base of the toy between his plush cheeks, “It’s so fucking hot thinking of you alone in your bathroom fingering your asshole to get this little toy to fit in there.”

“It was really tight.” George confessed.

“Bet it felt so good.” you said. 

“Mhm.” George answered into his elbow, “Was grinding on the seat of my car the whole way here too. Felt so fucking good.”

You tossed a leg over his thighs so you were straddling him and your hands rubbed lightly over the curve of his ass, one cheek under each hand. George took a shuttering breath. 

“And how does it feel now?” you pressed. 

“Good.” he mumbled, “I feel full.” 

“Just how you like it, right?”

“Mhm.” he shifted against the mattress a little, “Not as good as your dick though.” 

“Good boy.” you chuckled, gently smacking one palm down against his ass. 

He flinched and groaned tightly. 

“Want a little spanking, angel?” you asked. 

“Yeah…please.” George exhaled. 

You hit him gently with your other hand before soothing the spot with a little rub and then repeating that action on the other side, forcing a tight gasp from his mouth. You could see how he clenched around the toy in his ass with every light spank, urging you to do it again. But then you were just dragging your fingers over the curve of his ass and down the backs of his thighs, before giving him a few light smacks up his inner thighs and he groaned prettily into his arm.

“That’s my good boy.” you cooed, sliding your hands up his spine ever so faintly, raising shivers in your wake back down his golden skin. The few freckles that dotted his skin were familiar to you now and part of you wished your relationship was one that would permit you to kiss each one so lovingly. Instead, you pushed your innermost feelings aside with another spank to his ass. 

“Mm.” George grunted softly at the impact, his body flinching. 

When you pulled your hands away, he rutted faintly against the bed, his face still tucked in the crook of his arm on top of your pillows. 

“Needy little slut.” you tisked, giving him another little swat to his soft ass. 

“Please, miss.” he breathed. 

“Speak up, angel.” you said, “Use that pretty voice of yours.” 

George lifted his head from his arm to word his plea over his shoulder to you, “Please can you touch me, miss?”

With persistent grips, you groped his ass in your palms to pull a moan from his chest. 

“Yeah.” he groaned into his arm as the strong persistence of your hands had the toy inside him shifting. 

“Good boy.” you breathed, massaging his ass like dough in your warm palms. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Your hands drifted up his spine and you gave his shoulders a little rub before dragging down his back again, rubbing and caressing his toned muscles tenderly. George gave you appreciative little hums as he fell into easy relaxation under your hands and his eyes struggled to stay open with how good it felt for you to rub him down. His body was art to you and you always liked to take a moment to let yourself admire every inch of it before really getting down to the reason why he showed up…besides, he would never complain about a massage. 

You couldn’t help yourself but lean down so you were laying right on top of him, pressing your hips against his ass to push that toy deeper inside him and he groaned tightly, and your lips found his neck in a gentle kiss. George’s shoulder raised up slightly at the shiver your faint kiss rose over his skin and his sharp inhale had you trailing more right up under his ear while your hips ground down against his ass faintly. 

“Oh my God.” he groaned into the crook of his arm, his eyes closed gently. 

“That’s my good boy.” you praised against the shell of his ear and gave it a little nibble just to earn a soft whine out of him. Then you were moving back down his neck and sucking a hickey into his shoulder. 

“No marks.” he reminded you breathily, “She’s gonna see.”

You pulled away from him with a small string of spit connecting your lips to his shoulder, staring down at the faint blushing love bite you left behind, and you rubbed the heels of your palms into his shoulder blades, counting his gentle protest, “I didn’t hear a safe word, angel.”

He didn’t have a chance to reply as you nudged your hips against his doughy ass in a mock thrust, just to make him really feel that toy inside him, and your nails dragged down his back just hard enough to leave ten straight lines blushing red against his caramel skin. George moaned tightly and you leaned back down to kiss his neck again. 

“Turn over,” you whispered against his ear, “I want to look at you properly.”

You sat back from him so he could shift himself over ungracefully onto his back and you left yourself straddling his thighs, sitting yourself down on them once he got situated. His naked body was laid out for you angelically—like a marble statue—and you rubbed your hands up his abs and his chest and then over his broad shoulders, giving them a warm squeeze. George blinked up at you with his bottom lip between his teeth, his arms draped on either side of his head against your pillow, entirely trusting of you, and all you could think about was how your pillow was going to smell like him that night. What a treat. 

“Gorgeous man.” you breathed. 

Your hands slid back down his chest and you pinched his nipples between thumb and forefinger, giving them a little twist. George’s little shuddering breath had you smirking proudly down at him, trailing your fingers daintily down his abs to feel the hard muscle under your fingertips and the precise expression of man that was laid out before you, all for you to touch and worship. 

His dick was insanely hard and standing up in the cool air of your bedroom with the ring wrapped snugly around the base to hold it there. You stared at it for a second, feeling the way it made your insides coil with arousal. You craved it inside you so intensely but it was a feeling you had never been blessed with and part of you assumed that maybe you never will. Pushing aside those melancholy thoughts, you faintly slid your fingertip along the leaking slit in the head of his cock, smirking at how his dick twitched under your feather-soft touch. His tense little hum had you doing it again before suddenly giving a gentle flick to the underside of the tip. 

“Oh-” George squeaked, his whole body flinching at that. 

Not giving into the touch he so desperately needed from you, you moved your legs from the outside of his to kneel yourself between his two, ordering him sweetly, “Hold your legs back for me, angel.” 

George reached down to grab his thighs and he pulled his legs back towards his chest for you, giving you room to stare at his thick cock between his thighs. Your hands rested on the undersides of his knees and pushed them farther apart. 

“Wider, handsome.” you cooed, “Hold them open by your ankles.”

When he obeyed you and kept a snug grip around each of his ankles to really hold his legs open wide, he looked filthy and so submissive like that, just waiting for you to do whatever you wanted to him. He was so spread and nearly bent in half that you had a clear view of his dick, his balls, and right down to his asshole that still held that matte black toy nestled inside it. 

“Good boy.” you praised and, with a gentle knuckle, you caressed his perineum. 

“Oh, please, miss.” George whimpered, his head falling back against the pillow beneath him, “Please touch me, I’m so fucking horny.” 

You didn’t offer him another word before you were leaning down and dropping out your tongue to lick right up the underside of his cock. The hitch of his breath had you smothering your smile behind another slow lick, dragging your full tongue right up the impressive length of his erection until you could taste the hints of salty precum that leaked from the tip onto your tastebuds. 

“Fuck.” George exhaled, staring down his body at you between his spread legs while your tongue caressed the underside of the tip of his cock, rubbing against the most sensitive spots that had his chest rising and falling heavily. 

With your hands resting daintily on his abs, you shifted onto your stomach so you could reach him easier and you pressed a sloppy wet kiss to the head of his cock. It twitched against your lips and you licked at it tauntingly, staring right back into his wide blue eyes up his vast expanse of abs and chest underneath you. You were always cruel with your teasing and he knew this well, but he also knew that the more you teased, the more you would reward him generously for taking it. So he didn’t argue. 

“Such a pretty dick.” you whispered right up against it with your lips brushing the soft skin of the head. You gave it another kiss. “Pretty dick on a pretty boy.” 

George licked his lips. 

You gave the head of his cock a little teasing suck before sitting back on your knees again and he literally whined at the loss of your fleeting contact. He stayed right where you had positioned him even as you leaned over his body to tug open your night table drawer and pull out a bottle of lube. His eyes nearly shone at the sight of it in your hand and the pop of the cap had him licking his lips excitedly and adjusting his hold on his ankles. 

You squirted a generous amount of lube onto the head of his cock, watching it drip down the sides filthily and right to the black silicone ring around the base. Then your hand was wrapping around it and smearing the lube back up the shaft of his cock, just gently enough to pull a shuddering breath from George’s chest. He lolled his head to the side as he watched you but his gaze caught in the mirrored closet doors just to the right of your bed and he gazed into the reflection. Seeing himself spread so salaciously on your bed had his cheeks turning pink but he couldn’t stop staring at it all the same - especially as he had a clear view of you knelt on the end of the bed with your slippery hand wrapped around his aching cock.

“Good boy.” you whispered, stroking him in gentle pumps of your hand until the room was filled with the wet squelch of lube. 

“Ohh God.” George moaned shakily. 

You let your other hand join your right, wrapping your fingers and thumb around the ring that held strong at the base of his dick and you kept him still as your right hand pulled twisting strokes. 

“You have such a big dick.” you breathed, “Can’t even get my fingers all the way around it.” 

“It’s yours.” he whispered, staring intently at the reflection in the full length mirror to his right. 

“Yeah, you belong to me, don’t you, baby boy?” 

“Yeah.” he exhaled. 

You gave his dick a little snug squeeze around the tip to have him gasping lightly as you ordered, “Look at me.”

George tore his eyes away from the mirror to meet your gaze and just as he did, you sped up your hand around his cock in quick flicks of your wrist. His nose scrunched up slightly as you gave him the attention he craved and he sunk his teeth back into his bottom lip with a soft chuckle laced so prettily with a whimper.

“You like looking at yourself, huh?” you taunted. 

George just hummed tightly, staring down at your hand tending to his aching cock with both hands, one perfectly still as the other jerked him off rapidly until his toes were curling in the air where he was holding them. Then you stopped suddenly and his head tossed back with a little grunt, only having to linger in that unpleasant ache for a few seconds before you slowly started stroking his dick with both hands in opposite twisting pumps. 

“Ohh fuck.” he whined and he met his reflection again easily, staring at himself and his expression’s natural waver. 

“You really like looking at yourself.” you reiterated, “Looking at what a perfect, beautiful little slut you are?”

“Yes, ma’am.” George groaned. 

“Yeah, you can’t even look at me when I ask you to…you just gotta stare at yourself in that mirror, huh?” you pressed. 

George turned his head back towards you, “Sorry.”

“Watching me stroke your dick is too much for you, angel?”

George exhaled, “Yeah.” 

“Mhm?” 

Your right hand was focused on the top half of his dick and with his response, you gave him quick little pumps right around the tip that had his head arching back against the pillow with a moan. 

“Oh, baby-” he withered. 

“Good boy.” you praised lustfully. 

The slick sound of your lube streaked hand tending to his cock filled your quaint bedroom and George stared down at it with his mouth agape. He gave you the sweetest sounds that made you wonder how anyone could deny him all the pleasure in the world, just how he wanted it. Just the sounds of him had you wanting to give it all up for him, giving him anything, so long as he kept moaning for you. It was what you thought of and imagined on those lonely nights after he went home to his girlfriend and you were left to touch yourself to the mere memory of him and the scent of his sweat and cologne that lingered on your pillow.

His cock throbbed in your hand under your impressive flicks of your wrist and once his nose started to scrunch up with pleasure, you stopped and pulled your hands right off of him. George inhaled sharply as his head fell backwards again and he groaned lowly to the ceiling at your edging.

“Fuck, I wanna cum so bad.” he spoke shakily. 

“Did you not cum this morning?” you asked, trailing your finger down the shaft of his dick, “In the shower?”

“Yeah, but…” he sniffled, “Barely.”

You cracked a small smile, cooing down to him lustfully, “My poor baby boy.”

George hummed in faint appreciation for your acknowledgment of his treacherous struggle and as both of your hands gently cupped his balls, his hum molded into a soft moan. 

“Poor little angel just wants to cum.” you tisked, massaging him in your hands snugly, “These heavy balls just need some relief, don’t they?”

“Yeah.” George exhaled, readjusting his grip on his ankles as he still held himself spread for you.

“Mhm.” you leaned down and wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock for a little suckle, hollowing your cheeks to make him feel the warm wet confines of your mouth that was only for him to be blessed with. 

“God.” he groaned through his teeth. 

You pulled off him again with a pop and his ample cock fell up against his abdomen, glistening in lube in the light from your open curtains. Without any tissues nearby, you reached for his linen shirt that was laying tossed over your opposite pillow from moments earlier when you stripped him in a rush, and you used that to wipe the lube off your hands. As you did so, you instructed him gently, “Hands and knees now, please, handsome.”

George dropped his legs with a half-relieved sigh and he turned over onto his hands and knees as expected of him, facing your headboard. Dropping the shirt to the side again, you rubbed your soft hands over the curve of his ass and leaned down to kiss one cheek before punctuating the soft act with a hard spank. He grunted tightly at the impact. 

“We’re gonna take this toy out of you now, okay?” you warning. 

“Okay.” George exhaled. 

You grabbed the bottle of lube and squirted another pump right between his cheeks and you watched as the clear liquid trickled down to his asshole and spread itself around the body of the toy that was nestled inside him. With a careful hand, you slid two fingers under each side of the flared base like you were handling a corkscrew and you gave it a gentle twist just to smear that lube around a little more. George’s tight inhale had you caressing his thigh with your other hand and you held him gently as you started to pull at the toy. 

You could see how his muscles stretched around it as the body of the toy was slowly eased out of him and you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip to keep focused on your cautious move. George’s mouth was hanging open as he stared over into the mirror again to watch, letting out a tight groan as the modest size sphere was pulled from his ass. You had anticipated that it would be done and he had just tucked a cheeky little buttplug up there before coming over, but even when you pulled it out, it was still stuck inside. 

“Naughty little slut, look at you.” you chuckled, giving the base of the toy a little teasing tug, “Didn’t even know you had a bigger plug.”

“Ordered one last week just for you, miss.” George confessed behind blushing pink cheeks. 

“You’re such a good boy, baby.” you tisked. “How’d you sneak it past her?”

“Kept it under one of my old helmets in my office.” George answered obediently. “It’s where I keep all my presents for you.” 

“For you.” you corrected him. 

“For me.” he repeated softly. 

“Yeah, it’s all for you, angel.” you reminded him sweetly and gave the toy another little tug. 

George groaned softly and you kissed the bottom of his spine, holding him tenderly as you carefully eased out the second sphere. He was so sensitive and tight and it took a fair amount of effort to finally get the toy completely out of him with a careful hand. 

When it finally came free with a filthy wet pop, George gasped for breath after having held it for the last few long seconds and you stared at how his hole clenched and gaped back at you. You couldn’t help yourself but slide two fingers inside him, slicked up easily in the excess lube that coated his skin and dripped down the toy. The return of the sight fullness had George moaning softly, thankfully, and you kissed his back again before eyeing the anal beads that rested used in your open palm. Three fair sized spheres were equally spread up the narrow silicone base, glistening in lube, and the mere concept of him standing alone in his ensuite bathroom and lubing himself up to slide these in his ass for you had you pulsing with desire for the man at your mercy. 

The anal beads were tossed to the side of the bed, landing on top of his discarded shirt, and you kissed down his spine again as your fingers thrusted into him slowly. George’s reverberating moan had you smiling against his skin and prying apart his flesh with your free hand, giving you room to drop your tongue out and lick around your fingers that were pushing shallowly inside him. He literally withered and his legs naturally spread a little wider, welcoming you in closer. 

You pursed your lips and let a thick dribble of spit fall onto your fingers and your tongue followed after it, swirling it around the snug rim of muscle that hugged your two digits tightly. George groaned shakily and you lapped at his asshole gladly, loving the way he was so vocal and trusting with you. You would give him anything. 

“Fuck, that’s so good, baby.” George exhaled, staring at himself in the full-length mirror to his left, earning a full view of his naked body on hands and knees and your face buried behind him with your hand on his waist.

His breathing alone was erotic and you pulled your fingers out of him so you could have a clear shot at his ass with your tongue, kissing it wetly a few times as your slippery hand dropped down to take hold of his dick between his legs. George let out the shakiest little whine as you started stroking his cock sloppily and let your tongue swirl and pry at his asshole between wet messy kisses. He slumped down onto his forearms against the bed without tearing his locked gaze away from the mirror, wide eyed gaping at how you stroked his dick and smothered yourself between his cheeks. 

“Ohh-” he whimpered, fisting the pillow in his large hands, “Yeah, please-”

You pulled away from him with a taunt, “Does that feel good, baby boy?”

“Yes, miss. Feels so fucking good.” he pleaded. 

Your tongue nudged inside him and he pushed back against your face desperately. You kept a snug grip on the base of his cock, holding his balls in your palm at the same time, to give all your focus on rimming him filthily. The wet slurps that fell from your throat were only dramatized slightly because, in reality, he did make you drool uncontrollably. Your free hand pulled back to spank him again and as you did so, you could feel him clench under your tongue, making you chuckle warmly against him as you pulled him back on your mouth by a snug handful of his flesh. 

“Christ, I need it.” George begged, pushing back on your face some more, “I need you inside me.”

“Mhm?” you taunted against his body, spanking him again, ordering with a muffled voice as you kissed down the backs of his thighs, “Beg for it.”

“Please, fuck me.” he answered easily, the words spilling out of him, “I really, really need you to fuck me. I need it so bad. Been wanting it all day, mommy, please let me take your dick.” 

You dragged your tongue right back up his thigh and over his balls and perineum and you left him with one more wet kiss to his asshole. You could never say no to him. Not when he asked so prettily.

Sitting back from him, you left him with a hard slap across the ass, already starting to see the blush of pink of your handprint left behind on his fair skin as you told him, “I don’t want you touching yourself. Keep your hands flat on the headboard so I can see them.” 

George slid his hands out from underneath him and, resting forward on his elbows, he set his palms against the wood of your headboard. You gave him another little spank before getting off the bed. He watched intently as you reached behind your back to unclip your bra and let it fall to the floor, quickly followed by the drop of your panties. He licked his lips in anticipation and his gaze followed your every slight movement as you opened your bedside table drawer again to retrieve your purple dildo and black leather harness. 

“Oh my God.” George exhaled impatiently as he watched you buckle the harness around your hips and thighs, “That’s your biggest, right?”

“Yeah.” you answered, “Is that okay?”

“Fuck yeah, that’s okay.”

You dropped your smirk at his response as you tucked the dildo through the secure loop in the harness, “Of course you want the biggest one, fucking slut.”

George hid his smile into the crook of his arm with his hands still held against your headboard like you asked. His eyes never left you as you made sure the strap-on was secure and even when you climbed back onto the bed behind him, he stared at you through the mirror. You were awe-inspiring to him. 

The pop of the bottle of lube had his teeth sinking into his bottom lip but the dry squelch that came with the press of the pump wasn’t what was expected. George glanced over his shoulder at you as you shook it and then squeezed the pump again, earning nothing but a little drop to come out onto your hand. 

“Looks like I’m out of lube.” you announced. 

George’s eyes widened and he nearly sounded heartbroken, “No.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry.” you leaned over him to reach into your open drawer again, “I have a spare.”

He hid his embarrassment over his obvious momentary disappointment into the pillow, “Good.” 

“Just shows how often you come over, huh?” you gave his bum a little pat before unlocking the cap of the new bottle, “Already gone through the bulk size in a matter of a month.” 

“Sorry.” George mumbled, his voice muffled by fabric.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Georgie.” you assured him as you pumped a few generous squirts onto the strap and then slicked it up with your hand, “I always love having you over to hang out.” 

George offered a half smile that you didn’t catch at your little joke before he was countering gently, “You’re spending so much money on lube.”

“Fine then.” you compromised as you smeared some around his asshole and slid two fingers inside to get him nice and slick, “Next time, you bring your own bottle.” 

George chuckled softly, “Deal.” 

You grabbed his stray shirt again and wiped your hands off before tossing it and the bottle to the other side of the bed to give you your hands free. George’s flushed skin welcomed your warm hands and you caressed his waist and the flesh of his ass and you slid the length of the strap-on between his cheeks. 

“Get comfy, angel.” 

George slid his arms back underneath him to be propped up on his forearms, bent at the waist, with you between his spread knees. He shuffled back towards you a little so he could feel the slick jelly dildo poking against him. 

“Okay.” he said. 

You held the base of the toy between thumb and forefinger, sliding it teasingly between his cheeks as you asked, “Softer or rougher today, baby?”

“Whatever you want.” George replied, his voice strained with anticipation. 

You tisked at his response, “And yet I’m not the one getting it up the ass.” 

George smiled into the reflection of the mirror and he fisted your pillow underneath his arms as you lined up with his asshole. He took a routine few deep breaths and then you were slipping inside him slowly. Watching the both of you through the mirror, George could also see how his mouth dropped open and his face screwed up at the tight fit and he sunk his teeth into his forearm through the ache that it pushed through his insides. 

“Ah, fuck.” he squeaked. 

“Good boy.” you held his waist snugly to hold him steady as you guided the strap into him deeper, nice and slowly, “You’re so fucking tight, angel. Always makes me really have to push here.” 

When you reached about halfway, you stopped and leaned down to kiss his spine and your hands caressed his waist comfortingly as he adjusted to the size. George groaned and tried to push back on you some more. 

“Aww, you want it that bad, huh?” you chuckled, slapping your hand down against his ass as you sat back on your knees proudly, having him bent over in front of you, “Want me to give you more?”

“Yes, ma’am.” George mumbled. “Please.”

“Yeah? You’re so desperate for dick, aren’t you, angel? Just begging me to push it all the way in and fill your tiny little asshole right up.”

George withered at your words, “Oh God, please.” 

You eased in deeper, painfully slowly, and George’s grip tightened on the pillow as he stared with a narrowed strained expression into the mirror. You spanked him again before speaking, “Baby boy just needs to get fucked properly, isn’t that right? Coming crying to me to give him what he wants…to be filled up and fucked until he can’t think straight…called a pretty boy…darling little angel…my perfect little slut.” 

“Yeah, I’m your slut.” George whimpered, his biceps bulging as he strained against you and pushed his ass back right up against your body so the strap was tucked all the way inside him. His withering moan was heavenly and you slapped your hand down hard against his blushing flesh, a big handsome man turned to putty in your hands. 

“Beg for it.” you ordered. 

You met his eyes in the mirror as he stared at you longingly, a sweet desperate pout on his lips and he gave you a little whine before speaking angelically, “Please, miss, you own me. Please fuck me like your good little whore. I’ll be so good for you, baby, please, I need you to fuck me until I can’t think straight.”

The sharp slap of your hand against his ass made him wince and gasp. 

“Good boy.”

Another spank. 

“Good fucking boy.”

Another. 

George pushed back against you desperately, starting to fuck himself on the strap, “Please, please, please, gimme that dick.”

You gave him one more hard spank before you were grabbing the blushing flesh of his ass in both hands and yanking him back onto the toy. 

“Fuck.” George grunted, his mouth falling open as you started to fuck him slowly. His eyes literally rolled and he dropped his face into the crook of his arm. “Oh, fuck-” 

“There you go, angel.” you spanked him again as you thrusted into him steadily, “This what you needed?”

“Yes, ma’am.” he responded obediently. 

“Good boy.” 

Your hands gripped his waist as you gave him tauntingly slow, deep curling thrusts that had his hands gripping the pillow tightly. George’s trembling little moans had you biting back your proud smirk, pushing into his tense body until your hips were pressed right up against the curve of his ass again and again. 

“Feels so fucking good.” he exhaled. 

“Yeah?” you kept your slow pace going, “But you’re not gonna cum until I tell you to, isn’t that right?”

George groaned as you pushed deeply into him, “Yes, ma’am.”

You couldn’t help but start to thrust into him a little faster, paired nicely with a nice sharp spank to his blushing ass and you stared down at how it jigged with each nudge of your hips against it. George moaned into the pillow and kept himself in perfect place for you, the perfect angle for you to watch the thick dildo disappear inside him completely with each thrust. The lube squelched filthily between you and his skin was shimmering in it, keeping your motions gliding easily no matter how tight he gripped around the strap. 

“Can I touch my cock?” George asked, his words muffled by the pillow. 

You spanked him again, “No.” 

“Oh.” he whimpered in reply, smothering his face into the crook of his arm. 

“Am I not fucking you well enough, angel?” you taunted him with a voice filled with demeaning tones, “Am I not giving you what you want?”

“My God, I want more.” George pleaded. 

You spanked his ass again, “Who’s in charge?”

“You.” 

He squirmed on the bed and spread his legs a little farther apart with a huff. You slapped your hand down on his blushing ass again as you kept your lazy thrusts going, barely giving him enough to cause the bed to creak. In fact, the only sound was the steady squish of the lube and George’s whimpery breaths. 

Finally, 

“Red.”

George mumble of the safeword had you stopping right away and you rubbed your hands up his back comfortingly. 

“I hear you.” you acknowledged, “What happened? Do you want me to pull out?”

“No.” George whined, reaching back to grab your thigh to make sure you stayed tucked deeply inside him, “I just wanna cum.”

“That’s not a reason to use your safeword.” you spanked him harder in punishment, “You can’t use your safeword just because you’re not getting what you want. Last time I checked, you wanted to do whatever I wanted.” 

George groaned heavily into the sheets in frustration, “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Now, was there something serious or were you just being a brat?”

George turned his head and pouted at you through the mirror, “Was just being a brat.”

“Forgot who’s in charge, hm?”

He refused to answer that question. 

“Let me remind you.”

When you pulled out of him, he let out a strained gasp and you left behind his gaping hole that you left like that just to make him ache and squirm. Instead, you got off the bed and walked around to the side, situating yourself to stand right in front of his head and you tangled your hand in the back of his hair to force him closer. 

“Open your mouth.”

George hesitated a moment—knowing what was coming—and he let his eyes raise up your body to your face as he opened his mouth obediently. Drunk on lust, your precision wasn’t great, and the tip of the lubed up dildo hit the corner of his mouth first as you tried to shove it in, smearing lube over his cheek, but he then turned his head slightly to help you get it in properly. The taste of artificial strawberry that came with the unpleasant texture of the excess lube that coated the strap-on made George’s eyebrows furrow and you pulled his mouth down farther around it. He gagged on it when he got only halfway and he tried to pull back but you held his head in place with a secure hand in his hair. 

“Show me what a needy little cockslut you are.” you spoke down to him, “Choke on my dick.” 

He didn’t have much of a choice as you started to thrust the strap into his mouth although he didn’t put up a fight against it either. Instead, from his position on his elbows, George raised a hand up to wrap around the base of the harness to try and control it as much as he could, even as you fucked the wet gags from his throat until he was drooling down his chin. With a furrowed expression of filthy punished bliss, George’s blue eyes raised up your body to your face and you were blessed with the sight of him taking your favourite dildo balls deep into his slobbery mouth. 

“God, fucking look at you.” you exhaled, your pussy absolutely throbbing at the mere sight of him, “You look like a pathetic fucking whore, choking on my strap like a good little toy.” 

George moaned weakly for you, tears brimming in his eyes as you fucked the dildo against the back of his throat and he gagged loudly around it. You pulled it back to give him a bit of a break to catch his breath while you smeared the faux cockhead against his spitty lips as he licked them breathlessly. But seconds later, you were pushing back into his mouth and tugging him down again onto the strap, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip at the gurgling sound he made as you filled his throat with your essence of power. He took over for you as he grew used to the motions and he drooled down the toy with ungraceful bobs of his head. 

As he did so, George dropped his hand from the base of the dildo to set a gentle hand against your inner thigh, only finding your skin damp in the process. He pulled off the strap with a faint wet pop and spoke up to you, “Are you okay?”

Ignoring his innocent question since you knew he had just found out how damn horny you were from the way you were literally dripping down your thighs, you lifted your right leg up off the ground and tossed it over his shoulder, tugging his head closer to the edge of the bed by his hair, “Clean it up.”

George dropped his tongue out to drag messily over your glistening pussy - something he had never done with you before. The act always felt too adulterous to him but in that moment, he was way too horny to care and he was ready to do anything to get you to fuck him again. His tongue had you withering and your body jumped slightly at his warm wet touch, even as he licked up your inner thighs and suckled on your damp skin. You rubbed your pussy against his mouth and George groaned against you, lapping at your folds and suckling on them greedily to taste you as much as he could. 

Still standing at the side of the bed, when you tried to adjust your position your leg behind his shoulder ended up bonking him in the back of the head. You gently rubbed your hand through his hair over the spot with a quick, “Shit, sorry.”

George barely pulled away from you as he replied with a hurried, “That’s okay. That’s okay.”

You stared down at him with his face between your legs and the thick purple dildo standing up tall from your harness and hindering the view off half of his face. But he kept his eyes on you right back with his long lashes fluttering slowly in pleasure as he ate you out hungrily and savoured the taste of you on his tongue. He swore you were the best thing he had ever tasted and he moaned against your cunt with his nose bumping against your clit, ignoring the ache of his neck at the slightly awkward angle just so he could smother himself in you. 

“God, look at my good boy.” you exhaled, your fingers tightening in the back of his hair, “So fuckin’ pussy whipped.” 

George’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at your words, his soft moan against you proof of just how much he was enjoying it, and he shook his head slightly to get his tongue deeper inside you, ready to please. Your heart was racing but you refused to show it, desperate to keep your higher ground above him just how he liked it. 

With your hand in his hair, you pulled him away from your pussy and he separated reluctantly with a wet slurp, peering up at you with glistening lips. You reached down with your free hand to smack his cheek a few times, speaking to him sweetly, “Look at my pretty boy with his face covered in my pussy juice just like he’s meant to.” 

“You taste so fucking good, mommy.” George breathed, licking his lips. 

“Yeah?” you pushed two fingers into his mouth and he let you pry him open so you could bend down slightly and spit against his eager tongue, “Aren’t you a lucky fucking boy then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he agreed easily.

You took hold of the strap and carefully guided it over his wet lips and over his cheek, rubbing his face with it even as his eyes fluttered closed and he groaned filthily. His lips were pouted and cheeks were flushed pink and you slapped the heavy jelly dildo against his face a few times. 

“Kiss it.” you ordered. 

George puckered out his lips and turned his head slightly to deliver a kiss to the head of your strap and as you rubbed it over his mouth a few more times, he gave it a few more kisses. 

“Open your mouth.” 

He did, and you slid it back into his mouth against his tongue and he gladly moaned around it, starting to suck it off right away. With shallow bobs of his head, he was already starting to gag on it and his fingers wrapped in the leather harness that was snug around your thigh. A single tear trickled down his cheek and he stared up at you longingly, desperate for praise. 

“My pretty boy.” you swiped the tear away with your thumb and held him tenderly by the head, “You look so fucking pretty with these tears on your face from my dick.”

George smothered himself down on it some more, gagging loudly around it, and you scratched your fingers gently through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. 

You asked him sweetly, “Gonna be a good little boy for me and let me fuck your ass?”

He pulled off the strap to answer breathlessly, “Yes, ma’am.”

You took your leg back from over his shoulder so you were standing properly at the side of the bed and you gave his cheek a few little pats before bending down to take his lips with yours in a filthy kiss. George honestly whimpered thankfully at the treat, kissing you back insistently for only a few seconds before you were breaking away from him and returning to your rightful spot at the foot of the bed. 

“Right up on your hands and knees now, handsome.” you instructed while you shuffled up behind him again.  

George arranged himself without complaint and as he did so, you grabbed the bottle of lube again and reapplied some generously to your dildo to make up for the prior application that was wasted by the faux blowjob you just made him give you. Again, his shirt was used to wipe off your hand after you stroked the strap in lube and then you were angling the head right up against his puckered hole. 

“Please.” George exhaled. “Please, I need it so bad, miss.” 

You eased back inside him slowly and he let out a long trembling moan right along with it until you were fully inside him. He then received three hard spanks by your hand before you were grabbing his waist and starting to fuck him again. 

“Ugh, fuck.” he withered, fisting the sheets under his straight arms. 

“Good boy.” you praised, spanking him again, “That’s my good boy.”

George’s wavering moan was shameless and it only grew louder as you tangled a hand in the back of his hair and yanked his head back, making him whine out to the walls of your room. He reached a hand up to smack flat against the wall behind your bed, trying to push himself back into your every thrust, pleasure smeared all over his face. 

You propped one foot up onto the mattress to fuck him deeper, really giving it to him until the bed was creaking underneath you. With another spank, you reached underneath to grab his dick and gave it a gentle squeeze before wrapping your hand around his balls and giving them a little tug. George’s tight grunt from his throat was mixed pleasurably with pain and his eyes screwed up as you literally had him by the hair and the balls. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” you reminded him. 

“No, ma’am.” he answered squeakily, “I’m yours.”

“That’s right. These big, heavy balls are mine.” 

George let out the sweetest moan as he pushed back against you and you gripped him a little tighter, fucking him strongly until the headboard was hitting the wall in steady thuds. The whimpers tumbled from George’s throat and it wasn’t long before he was unable to hold himself up anymore and he slumped down onto his forearms against the bed. You let go of his hair to let his head drop between his arms and you spanked him right across his blushing ass instead, watching yourself fuck him strongly. 

“I know you need this.” you spoke down to him, “I know you can’t live without my cock in your ass.”

“Uh huh.” George whined. 

“You might like pussy but you can’t fucking live without my cock up your ass, huh?”

“No, ma’am.” George agreed easily, his face screwed up in pleasure, “I’m yours. I’m all fucking yours.” 

You spanked his ass hard, “Tell me you’re my little cockslut.”

“I’m your little cockslut. I’m your slut.” George cried out. “Fuck!” 

“That’s right.” you slid both of your hands up his back and pressed them down against his shoulder blades, forcing him to slide flat on the bed so he was bent right over at the waist and his arms wrapped around your pillow to smother his face in it. He moaned more freely that way and you wished you had a mirror in front of him so you could see the way his eyes rolled at how deep you got. 

“Who’s my good boy?” you asked sternly. 

“I am.” George answered shakily, words muffled by the pillow, “I’m your good boy.” 

You held him there by the back of his neck, spanking his ass with your other hand again. The headboard was hitting the wall loud enough that you might have wanted to be worried if your neighbours could hear but your only priority in that moment was to make the man who had your heart cum completely hands free. 

His biceps were massive like that, only flexed more with how he gripped the pillow in his arms so tightly, tensing his entire body so much so that you could feel him getting tighter around the strap that pounded away inside him. You spanked him again just to spur on more of those angelic whimpers that he muffled into your pillow and his knees pressed harder into the mattress to try and escape your overwhelming gift. You only made you grab his balls again in a snug grasp, keeping him in place with a squealing whine out of his throat until he suddenly went silent. His right hand flew out from under the pillow and he slammed it hard against the headboard, wrapping his slender fingers around the white wood until his knuckles nearly blended into the paint colour. 

“Cum for me.” you ordered, still fucking into him at that consistent pace, “Cum for me, angel.” 

George could barely breathe as he let out a strained “ohh-” into your pillow. He shuddered as he came, gaping into the silk pillowcase with the most erotic expression you wished he could have blessed you with a front row view of. His asshole gripped right up around the strap but you just grabbed his waist to help thrust into him steadily through it regardless, especially with how he trembled. 

“Good boy.” you praised richly, “Good boy, Georgie.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” George heaved for breath as he lifted his face out of your pillow and turned to his left to look in the full length mirror again, being met with his erotic pose and flushed tear streaked face. “Shit.” 

You rubbed your hands warmly over his back and left a gentle kiss to his spine before slowly pulling out of him. He audibly winced at the sudden emptiness and he carefully rolled over onto his back to rest against your pillows with his arms draped above his head, his chest rising and falling heavily. His legs were spread slightly and you were positioned between them still, earning the ethereal sight of him draped out naked and blissful on your bed with his skin blushed pink with arousal and streaks of creamy white scattered over his abs and down the shaft of his still-hard cock. That ring around the base was gripping him for dear life and you ran a gentle fingertip around it, watching how it made him flinch with a soft grunt. 

“Beautiful man.” you breathed, licking your lips as your eyes soaked him all in. 

George pushed a hand through his frazzled brown hair and offered you a weak smile in return. You reached for his shirt still tossed to the side of the bed and you used the fabric to wipe up the creamy white mess from his abs and around his dick all while he watched you intently, hands tucked behind his head. He then reached down and carefully slid the cockring off his softening dick with a heavy sigh, “I’m starving.” 

You chuckled lightly and gave his waist a squeeze, asking through your own breathlessness, “Me too. What are you feeling like? Pizza?” 

“Yeah, that sounds so fucking good right now.” he agreed easily. 

“Okay. I can order some.” you offered, “Do you wanna get cleaned up a little in the meantime?”

“Yeah.” George started to make a move to sit up and his light wince had you smiling and dusting a kiss to his shoulder. 

You watched him disappear into the bathroom, leaving you with the slippery cockring in hand to be in charge of washing up the toys while he washed up himself. First, you ordered the pizza so while it was being prepared, you had time to tidy up. You threw out the empty bottle of lube and dumped your now-warm unfinished drinks from the living room and began to scrub the used toys in the kitchen sink. Washed and dried, the purple dildo rested heavy in your hand and you couldn’t help but strap it back onto the harness, letting it dangle straight out, proudly, from your body as you muddled around your apartment in the nude to get things in order. There was some sense of pride and power about it. 

After growing familiar with each other, George felt perfectly comfortable showering at your place and he did so that late afternoon in the privacy of your bathroom. You listened to his muffled voice singing a little off-key in the shower and part of you ached to join him; lather him up in your body wash and feel every crevice of his body under the warm water. So you distracted yourself from your impossible thoughts by picking up his discarded clothes from your bedroom floor and you folded them, placing his phone on your bedside table for him to retrieve later. When you set it down, the wallpaper of his girlfriend stared back at you; some professional photoshoot she did from one of her modeling gigs. You stared at it blankly until his screen went black again. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening had you moving away from the presence of his phone and you looked over as he walked into your bedroom with your towel hanging low around his waist. He sent you a small smile which you returned and he slid past you, his eyes caught by the black leather harness and purple dildo that still sat pretty around your waist. His little smirk was unmissable and he grabbed his underwear from where you had folded it and placed it on top of your dresser. 

“Still wearing it?” he nodded towards the strap.

“Yeah.” you sat on the side of your bed, watching how the jelly dildo wobbled for a moment, and you replied to him, “Makes me feel all powerful.” 

“Try having a dick 24/7.” he teased as he dropped your towel to leave himself bare in the light of the sunset streaming in through your window. “No wonder why men think they can rule the world.” 

“I dunno…” you said, shamelessly watching him pull his underwear up his legs, “I can feel equally powerful as a woman sometimes too.”

“You are incredibly powerful,” George complimented before picking up your towel from the floor, “Sorry about using your towel, by the way. I was covered in lube and I seriously needed a shower.”

You shrugged, “No problem. What’s mine is yours.” 

He sent you a smile on his way back out of the bedroom and you watched him disappear towards the bathroom again. You pressed your fist against your chest for a moment with how strong and burning your heartbeat felt in moments like that where for a second it felt like a hint of domestic life with the man who had your heart and soul. 

Your phone rang to alert you that the pizza arrived and you let the delivery driver into the building so he could bring it to the door. When he knocked, George called out to you that he was going to answer it so you waited in your nakedness in the safety of your room. Seconds later, George joined you with the steaming pizza box in hand, still dressed in only his underwear, and you scooted backwards on your bed so he could join you. 

The two of you made a little pile of pillows against the headboard to rest against comfortably and you retrieved your laptop from under your bed so you could find something to watch on Netflix while you ate. You selected a choice together while George opened the pizza box and pulled his first slice from the pie, holding it carefully with both hands as he leaned back against your pillows. 

“I’ll pay you back for half.” he said through his first bite. 

“No, don’t be silly.” you replied without looking up from your screen, “My treat.”

“You sure?” he asked. “I don’t mind.” 

You turned to look at him over your shoulder, “You’re not paying for me to fuck you.” 

He scoffed, “Well don’t put it like that.” 

You pulled a smile and focused back on the Netflix home screen and your intentful scrolling, “Isn’t she going to wonder why you’re not home for dinner?”

George shrugged, “She’ll be out with friends anyway.” 

You didn’t answer. 

“Why?” he pressed. 

You shrugged and selected the next episode of the show you had started together before resting back against the pillows alongside him, “Just curious.” 

“Did you want me to go?” 

Your head whipped over to look at him quickly, “God, no. Not at all. I love it when you’re here.”

It was hard to hold back the strong emotion and adoration behind your words. George just met your smile for a beat before turning back to his pizza and the opening scene of the TV show. 

He shifted in place slightly and let out a little strained sigh, peaking your attention back over to him. He answered your silent inquiry with a light chuckle and a, “It kinda hurts to sit.”

You licked away a grin and served yourself a slice of pizza.

As the episode progressed and the pizza grew smaller as you ate, you found yourself naturally leaning towards each other on your bed until your heads were nearly resting together. You couldn’t help yourself but glance over at him discreetly, catching him watching the show so intently that his eyebrows had the slightest furrow to them. He looked so cute like that and you could have stared at him for hours with just as much interest as any TV show you played. You just craved him so strongly in every way possible. 

His low chuckle drew your attention to your laptop again, noting the steamy long-awaiting kiss shared between the two main characters behind the swell of emotional music. George tisked, “Took long enough.”

You couldn’t help yourself, “Too bad he hasn’t divorced his wife yet.”

George countered casually, “He’s creating a whole new church to do so, that’s how dedicated he is for this woman. Give the guy some time. You can’t create a whole new religion in an afternoon.” 

You wondered if your discreet meaning had just gone right over his head and you analyzed his face as he watched the progression of the scene at your side. Sensing your stare, he turned to look at you too. 

“What?” he asked. 

Your mind swirled with all sorts of sappy confessions of your undying love for him, but the only thing that made it past your brain’s filters was a messy unimportant discussion question of, “Do you think Henry VIII ever took it up the ass?”

George snorted, “Maybe.”

“Anne Boleyn here seems like a boss bitch, to be honest. I could see her pegging the king.”

“Would you?”

“Peg the king?” you raised an eyebrow in his direction.

George looked back at you, “Mhm?”

“Only if you were the king.”

His lips perked up at the corner in a cheeky little grin at your response and he reached over to grab the purple dildo that was still secured around your waist and he jokingly aimed to put you closer by it while his face leaned in towards yours. You gladly let him kiss you, feeling those same swells of emotion that had been encapsulated in the music of the scene you had been watching. Leaning into each other, you raised your hand up to slide around the side of his neck to keep his lips on yours as you shared slow passionate kisses that filled your insides with butterflies. 

You turned towards him a little more, determined to savour the feeling of his kisses as they were often few and far between - especially unwarranted like this - and yet they were your favourite part of your little situationship. You could taste the pizza on his tongue and the heat from the shower still lingering on his skin and although the scent of his cologne was now mostly replaced with the scent of your own body wash, it only made you realize how much better it smelt on him. You were completely enamoured with him. 

Greedily, your hand slid down his bare chest and around his waist, feeling the smoothness of his skin and the tension of his muscles with his body turned towards you the slightest amount. George was leaning back against the headboard and plentiful pillows comfortably, letting you lead your sloppy kisses that took precedence over the scene still playing on your laptop. He pulled away from you to kiss down your chest instead and his large hand guided one of your breasts to his mouth so he could take your nipple between his lips. You shifted beside him to give him a better angle and he tongued at your nipple and sucked on it until it was hard, humming pleasantly against your chest before pulling back with a wet pop. 

“Haven’t had enough, have you?” you breathed, sliding your hand into the back of his hair as he took your opposite nipple in his mouth for a quick suck and then he peppered impatient kisses up your neck.

“Mm mm.” he shook his head faintly and nipped at your earlobe to make you shiver. 

You pulled away from him for a moment just long enough to pause the episode and then close your laptop and set it and the pizza box back on the ground all while George adjusted himself with a giddy smile. When you turned back to him, your hand drifted up his leg and over the front of his snug briefs to rub the obvious shape of his cock hidden underneath while your lips moved in to meet his again. He moaned softly into your mouth at your teasing touches and right away was making a move to push his underwear down his legs. Permitting it, you let him drop them off the side of the bed before he was grabbing the strap again and pulling you closer by the harness. 

Your lips met again in messy tongue-led kisses and you wrapped your hand around his semi-soft dick to help him get harder, gently caressing the underside of the head with the pad of your thumb. He shuttered at your touch and held you close by the back of your neck, naturally spreading his legs wider for you. 

“Good boy.” you praised into his mouth between passionate kisses, “I’m gonna make you feel so good. Leave those pretty legs spread for me.” 

George licked his lips as you pulled away from him and he bent his legs up and spread them wider on your bed while he watched you shift over to your bedside table and grab the bottle of lube again and something from your drawer. You set the clean prostate vibrator between your lips while you popped the cap on the bottle of lube and squirted some onto your fingers under the impatient eye of the man with you. He stroked himself lazily and you offered him a generous squirt onto the head of his cock to help him out…his gentle hum was thanks enough. 

You then smeared your fingers around his asshole, reapplying the lube that had been washed away in the shower, and he winced faintly at the feeling of your warm touch against his sensitive muscle. It was still slightly gaping from your previous fucking and you only slid the tips of two fingers inside just to make sure he was lubricated sufficiently. George’s soft whine was impatient and angelic and you pulled the silicone vibrator from your mouth with your free hand so you could lean down and capture his lips in a kiss instead. He reached for you adoringly, still stroking his dick as he held your lips on his with his other hand, kissing you like his life depended on it and it made you dizzy with lust. You wanted him forever. 

After a few moments, you pulled away from his lips to focus on your goal. With another pump of lube to the end of the vibrator, you smeared it in enough to cover the ribbed shaft and then angled it carefully against his glistening hole. George shifted a bit farther down against the pillows and spread his legs a little wider, watching with his bottom lip between his teeth as you slowly eased the toy inside him. His muscles hugged the silicone erotically, stretching over each ridge and curve until it was tucked securely in place. The flared base had a short arm that reached along the length of his perineum and nestled right behind his balls so when you turned it on, the steady vibrations covered him completely. 

George’s face literally withered in pleasure, eyes rolling and mouth falling agape, and he stared up at you with that lustful expression that had your insides fluttering at the mere sight of him. Your one finger rested against the base to make sure the vibrator was secure in place, watching his physical reaction from your position on your knees between his spread legs. 

“How's that?” you asked. 

“Intense,” George exhaled, “Good.” 

Glancing down to his hand still wrapped around the base of his cock, you stated, “You’re getting really hard.” 

As if that were a reminder, George gave himself a few lazy pumps, “Yeah.” 

You licked your lips, staring at his dick shamelessly as you held the vibrator in place, going completely heart eyes over the sight of how big it was in his large hand, glistening in lube and already pearling precum from the swollen head. With a nudge to his wrist, you got him to let go so you could have a clear view of his entire cock and how thick and heavy it looked, angled right up against his abdomen. You just wanted it so badly. Honestly, you could have cried. 

George squirmed slightly from the vibrations inside him and you gave his dick a little pet with the palm of your hand, earning a soft moan from his chest. The pad of your index finger rubbed taunting just under the head in that sensitive spot and his dick flinched naturally from your feather soft touches. 

“I want you inside me.” you breathed. 

George hummed tightly, answering just as quietly with a blissful waver to his voice, “We can’t.” 

“Why not?” you pressed. 

“You know why not. I can’t risk anything.” 

“She won’t know.” 

“She might.”

Still gently rubbing his cock with your fingertips, you pressed the button at the bottom of the vibrator with your other hands, making it increase in intensity. George’s head dropped back against the pillows with a tight groan, his legs trying to curl up towards his chest if it weren’t for you sitting pretty between them. 

You weren't done trying, letting your feelings for him cloud your judgement and the unwritten rules of your pre-agreed upon situationship. “What’s she gonna do? Whine to her friends because she can’t satisfy her boyfriend so he found someone who could?” 

George groaned your name through a sigh. 

“What?” you answered innocently, loving the way he writhed against your bed just to feel more of those vibrations in all the right places. You had him right where you wanted him, under your complete control, and maybe you got too into that, taking his moment of submission to get a step above him, “Bet she doesn’t even know how to treat you…how to really take dick. She probably just lays there.” 

He repeated your name firmly as if trying to get you to stop but his tone sounded much more pleasurable than annoyed thanks to the toy tucked inside him. 

Your finger trailed down the length of his dick slowly, taunting him, “I’m right here, I could just sink down on your big thick cock so easily.”

He whimpered your name again, sinking his nails into your thighs faintly with his legs spread wide on either side of you. 

“Your poor dick just wants some attention, look at him, he’s so swollen and angry.” you pouted innocently as you wrapped your hand around it to lift it up off his abdomen and gave him a few faint strokes. “So yummy.” 

He groaned your name shakily once more. 

You stroked his dick slowly and tauntingly, drifting your gaze up to his face again to note how his expression withered from the vibrator still buzzing away inside him, his cheeks pink and eyebrows furrowed prettily. With a sultry smile, you asked him, “Doesn’t my pretty angel want to know what a good pussy can feel like?”

“Ohh-“ George whined, staring right back at you from where he was draped against your bed and plentiful pillows. 

“My perfect boy deserves a real woman. Gotta know what one feels like at least once in your life.” 

“Mm-“ George’s hips ground upwards and in doing so he thrusted into your hand the slightest bit. He grabbed your thighs tighter, especially as your hand started to twist your motions over the thick shaft of his cock. His eyes were a little glassy with lust and he kept licking and biting his lips impatiently for more of that addictive pleasure. 

“Don’t you wanna feel how tight and warm my pussy is for you?” you asked softly, pulling his hand between your legs and under the purple dildo and leather harness so his fingers grazed over your wet folds, “I’ll let you fuck me raw so you can feel every little inch of it. All for you.”

“Oh my God.” George breathed shakily, his voice trembling, “You’re so wet.”

“Thanks to you.” you replied smoothly. “You wanna feel it? Want me to sink down on this perfect fucking cock of yours so you can get a taste of what a real woman can do?” 

George literally whimpered at the mere thought, trying to keep himself composed despite the intense vibrations that were still sending warm shockwaves through his body. He gaped up at you behind furrowed brows, digging his heels into the mattress to try and work through the pleasure that was building inside him. Still stroking his cock with one hand while the other forced him to get a feel of how soaked and ready you were for him, you didn’t let up no matter how much he groaned and squirmed, even when he reached his free hand to try and grab your wrist to slow you down. 

“Answer me.” you ordered, stroking his cock faster. “Yes or no? Do you want my pussy?”

“Yes.” George squeaked, “Yes, mommy, please, I want it.” 

You shoved his hands away from your body completely and he held them obediently in mid-air as you tossed one leg over his lap and then his other and he watched you with wide eyes, grinding down against the bed as the vibrator hit all the right spots. With a gentle slap to his cheek, you then shoved two fingers in his mouth past his parted lips and he gagged around them slightly but didn’t protest. 

“That’s my good fucking boy.” you praised through your teeth. “Letting me use you like my little toy, huh?”

“Yes, ma’am.” George spoke through your fingers and his hands took to your hips, his once obvious hesitation was replaced with horny impatience as he tried to pull you down on him. 

“Such an impatient little slut.” you tisked. “Hold your dick for me and beg for it.”

George reached down to grab hold of his cock and he angled it up for you as you hovered above him at just a distance for him to graze the head between your slick lips. It was hard to stay focused with the vibrator still buzzing inside him but he kept wanting more, more, more…so he obeyed you, speaking his desires through your fingers still in his mouth, “Please, miss, I want your pussy. I want your perfect little pussy on my dick so fucking bad. Let me be your toy…wanna be a good boy for you.” 

The moment you sank down enough to let the head of his cock slip inside the tight confines of your cunt, his eyes literally rolled. He moaned heavenly through your bedroom, drooling around your fingers, and he grabbed your waist to try to slow you down. But you were a woman on a mission after having waited so long for that exact moment that you didn’t have an ounce of patience. He was so big that the stretch ached between your legs and over your hips and you had to pull your fingers from his mouth to set your hands down flat against his shoulders to support yourself through it, digging your nails into his toned skin. 

“Oh my fucking God.” George whimpered, peering down his naked body to watch how his dick disappeared inside you, “You’re so fucking tight.”

“What do you say?” you asked sternly as your ass met his thighs and you were stuffed full of him, pinching his cheeks in your hand.

“Thank you, miss.” George responded shakily. 

Drunk on your unbelievable ability to convince him to engage in such adulterous acts, you used the leverage from his shoulders to start to bounce on his lap. His hands found your waist again with a tight groan that fell from his chest and his face screwed up in ecstasy. 

“Thank you.” he repeated, strained and pretty. 

With the harness still strapped securely around your hips, the firm jelly dildo bounced in the air in time with your motions and the clap of your skin against his was arguably the best thing you had ever heard. You swore you could feel the reverberations of the vibrator up through his balls and cock and deep into your cunt but maybe that was just you trembling with adrenaline and lust, overwhelmed with the reality of your situation. He was so big inside you and the balance between that and the relief of finally getting what you wanted brought honest tears to your eyes.

He sounded even better when you rode him than when you pegged him: a beautiful symphony of lustful groans and adoring whimpers and intense breaths that only showed your hold over him if nothing else. 

He was a mess of ‘oh my God’ and intelligible sounds that had your pussy gripping tighter around him naturally, forcing his head to toss back against the pillows as he gripped your hips pleadingly and dug his nails right into your skin. The sharp pinch of his grip only spurred you on, desperate to make him completely lose himself to you like he never had before. It seemed to be working too because soon he was growing quieter and his face was spread with ecstasy, barely able to keep his eyes open, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you. 

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.” he whimpered. 

“Already?” you taunted, sliding a hand around his throat to pin his head down against the pillows to choke him a little, keeping up your dizzying bounces, “Filthy boy. Wanna cum inside me?”

“Oh, God, yeah, can I?” he withered as if he had been hoping for it but afraid to ask. 

“Of course, baby boy. I’d love for you to cum in me.” you cooed, “Show me who I belong to. Fill me up.”

George’s hands on your hips yanked you right down on him and held you there, his biceps bulging as he held you against your attempt to keep going but he certainly was stronger than you. With a trembling moan and eyes rolling with pure euphoria, George ground up against you slightly to cum as deep as he could into your dripping cunt. His entire body shuttered and the shower of moans and gasps that spilled from his lips was intoxicating to you. 

“Good boy.” you praised him loudly through his orgasm, unable to hide the beaming grin that spread across your face at the feeling of the first spurt releasing inside you, “Good fucking boy, gimme all that cum. Every last fucking drop is mine.”

“Yes, mommy.” George whimpered tightly, “It’s yours.” 

The buzzing toy was still tucked inside him and, now incredibly sensitive, George winced intensely at the sensation. You reached behind you to get between his legs and turn it up one more notch. 

“Oh shit!” George squealed out, trying to push you off of him as he writhed against your bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

“Is that too much?” you taunted. 

“Please, miss, I can’t take it!” George stumbled out, how voice wavering and stumbling over his words, falling into a pathetic mess of whimpers and cries. 

“Oh, my pretty angel can’t take all this pleasure, hm?” you lifted up from his lap, letting his dick slip out of you and fall against his thigh, glistening in white cream and your own arousal, and you grabbed his hand to force him to touch you. Your body dripped his cum right back out and onto his fingers and then you wrapped his hand around the dildo still strapped to your body to start to slick it up in his own natural lubrication. 

“I can’t.�� George panted through a tight groan, “I fucking can’t, baby.”

You slid off his lap and back between his spread and trembling legs and you grabbed his thigh to flip him over onto his stomach. He moved for you like he weighed nothing, perfectly content in doing whatever you wanted of him even when it felt like so much that he was close to tears. Laying flat on your bed, George ground against your mattress as his arms encircled your pillow again, smothering his moans into the fabric as his legs trembled. You spared him with a click of the vibrator to turn it off and he was gasping with relief to the walls of your bedroom, heaving for air. But you worked quickly to slide the toy out of his ass and barely gave him a second to process the sudden emptiness before you were stuffing him with the strap again. 

George literally mewled at the feeling.

With your legs straddling his, he was kept nice and tight and right away you were starting to thrust into him messily. He whimpered generously and you leaned down over top of him to grab his wrists and pull them out from under your pillow so you could pin them down on top instead, holding him down while your hips shoved roughly against his ass in rhythmic strokes. 

“Oh God.” George whined loudly, bunching his hands into fists from where you had them held. 

The dildo was lubed up in his own cum and you fucked it back into him roughly in long deep strokes that had his eyes fluttering shut in filthy bliss as you fucked the moans from his chest. You were going so hard with it that the bed was starting to hit the wall in time with your thrusts and George’s moans were only getting louder and tighter. 

“Who do you belong to?” you asked strongly, biting your lip at the feeling of his cum leaking back out of you and down your inner thighs. 

“You, mommy.” he answered easily. “I belong to you!”

“That’s right.” you spoke down to him, your voice laced with taunting lust. “That means I can show up to your house in the middle of the night and rip your fucking clothes off and fuck you any time I want, isn’t that right?”

“Fuck.” George groaned pitchily at the threat, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Yeah?” you spoke through your teeth and gripped his wrists tighter, really forcing yourself to fuck him harder with precise curls of your hips in time with each hard jab, “My little slut just wants me to use him whenever I want?”

George cried out shakily, barely getting out an “uh huh” without his voice breaking. His eyes couldn’t stay open and part of you wished you could have a better angle to see his face as you fucked him flat into your bed. He only got louder and although he tried to smother his noises into your pillow, his pleasure was obvious.

“Jesus Christ—” George sobbed out, “You’re hitting my fucking prostate dead fucking on, baby…shit!”

“That’s my good boy.” you smirked to yourself proudly, “Give into it for me. I want you to cum again.” 

George’s large hands flexed stiffly from where you had his wrists pinned down, his fingers stretching out like starfish in need of something to grip onto. 

“Come on, angel, you got one more in you, I know it.” you encouraged, “Show me who really owns you.”

“You.” George choked, quickly followed by some incomprehensible noise that might have sounded to your neighbours like he was in pain but you knew—better than anyone—that it stemmed from nothing but pure, raw, overstimulated pleasure. You had been the only one to ever make him make noises like that after all. He rushed out some incomprehensible sentence in which the only word you could make out was ‘cum’ and then seconds later he was tensing right up around the strap and falling perfectly silent. 

“Good boy.” you praised strongly as he rutted himself against your bed desperately, undoubtedly ruining your sheets in yet another round of cum but you certainly didn’t mind. 

George was gasping and writhing underneath you as you slowed down so as to not overwhelm him too much. It was that balance of pleasure and pain he liked but you never wanted to overstep any possible boundaries. This was close, however. 

You leaned down to kiss his neck and his shoulder and you let his wrists go so you could sit back on your knees and then slowly pull out of him for the last time that evening. His little hum when you left him empty had you caressing his ass tenderly and you kissed the bottom of his spine comfortingly. 

“Such a good boy for me.” you whispered, running your hands up and down his back lovingly to help ease him out of that intense session, “How was that?”

“Crazy.” George exhaled and then let out a tired laugh, “Fuck.”

“Done for today?” you asked. 

He made a move to roll over so you shifted off of him to let him but he grabbed your arm so you couldn’t go far, making one simple request with a tug of the harness around your waist, “Take this off. I want you to sit on my face.”

Your eyes widened in surprise but you didn’t question it, hurriedly unbuckling the leather harness to drop it and the attached dildo to the floor as George scooted farther down your bed on his back, giving you room to soon toss a leg over his head. 

“You sure this is okay?” you asked quietly. 

He was still breathless from your very eventful afternoon but he nodded and grabbed your thighs to guide you down onto his mouth, promising, “Very.”

His eager tongue met the soft skin of your inner thighs first and he licked up the droplets of his own cum that were leaking down, adding open mouthed kisses to the mix just to have you shuttering at the teasing touches of his mouth. He brushed his nose over your pussy first and then guided you a little closer to glide his tongue right between your folds, ending with a little suckle to your clit. You were well past turned on after a full afternoon of pleasing him and ignoring your own ache that he barely had to touch you and you were already so responsive - not to mention that this was the first day he had ever touched you like this. Usually it was always all about him. 

Your hands grasped the headboard with a shaky sigh, almost afraid to look at him as you chose to stare at the wall in front of you instead. George’s tongue helped itself to your body and he started to eat you out sloppily, right away encouraging you to start to rock against his mouth slightly. He moaned against you and pressed his fingers into the flesh of your thighs a little tighter to settle you farther down on his face. You were nervous that you were going to hurt him if you put too much weight on his head but he didn’t seem to care. He seemed insistent that he be taken up entirely by you and your body. 

“Fuck.” George had to pull back to breathe for a second, still breathless from his catered evening, and he kissed your thighs again before speaking up to you, “You still taste so fucking good—maybe even better—with my cum dripping out of you.” 

“Holy shit.” you withered. You could dish the dirty talk but taking it was new and it turned you into a flustered mess. You had only imagined him saying such things to you that now, having it as reality, felt so surreal. 

You finally permitted yourself to look down at him between your legs as he returned his mouth to your pussy, swearing your eyes molded into the shape of hearts at the sight of his big blue eyes staring right back up at you. The very same eyes you fell a little too hard for. It made your stomach erupt in nauseating butterflies and your hand dropped to his soft hair. 

“Oh my God, George.” you moaned greedily, grinding on his face slightly and your hand in his hair aimed to pull him closer. 

He took your hint and tugged you right down on his mouth, nearly smothering himself in your cunt as he ate you out so heavenly and stared right up into your eyes above him. You couldn’t help the moans that tumbled from your lips, slivers tearing up your spine as you felt that unmissable warmth coiling inside you. It had barely been a minute and you were already so close—all too aroused by him and his perfect body to need any further edging. 

The moment that wave of pleasure tore through you, you dropped your second hand from the headboard to grab his hair too, crying his name out perfectly to the walls of your bedroom that wasn’t unlike those nights you found yourself alone. Now, however, he was there to be blessed by the sound of your voice crying out for him lustfully. Oh God, it made his heart race. He knew he was fucked from that moment on. Metaphorically. You had already covered the physically well before. 

When you finally rolled off of him and slumped backwards against the pillow lined headboard yourself, you were breathing heavily right alongside him, letting the silence of your apartment linger between you. Although your curtains were still open, the sun had long since set and you were restored to the faint light of your bedside table lamp, the darkness of the rest of your apartment leaking through your half closed bedroom door. Neither you nor George really knew what to say after all of that. 

Instead of talking about the lines you crossed, you returned to hostess mode, looking over at him laying flat beside you to ask, “Did you need a towel or something? Water?”

He cracked a small smile at your generosity and he looked up at you in return, his hands resting on his bare chest, “Water would be great. I can just use my shirt you apparently claimed as a cum rag earlier to clean myself up.”

“Sorry.” you chuckled. 

He just gave you a little wink as you slunk off the bed to help yourself to the kitchen. You walked through your modest apartment comfortably in the nude and navigated the kitchen by the light of the city lights leaking through the balcony doors in the adjacent living room. When you returned to your bedroom with two glasses of water, George was already back in his underwear and getting himself under the sheets of your bed. 

“What are you doing?” you asked teasingly as you passed him his glass. 

He thanked you before answering, “I wanna cuddle.” 

You would never say no to that. 

“Let me pee and wash the toys and then I’ll come back.” you said. 

“No,” George pouted and reached for you, linking his finger in yours, “Wash the toys in the morning.”

“Okay.” you didn’t need convincing. You leaned in to kiss his nose and then hurried out of the room to the washroom. 

It didn’t take you very long—mostly because you had the boy who had your heart waiting for you in your bed—and soon you were back in your room and pulling on a pair of underwear and stepping over the plentiful used toys that littered the floor before returning to him. George’s water glass was empty but before you could ask if he wanted more, he was holding up your blankets to welcome you in without a complaint. Smiling, you nestled yourself into bed with him and he wrapped you up in his arms. 

Cuddling after hooking up wasn’t new to either of you but it felt heavier this time…like it carried a weight that neither of you could quite place. With your head on his chest, you listened to his strong heartbeat and caressed your thumb over the smooth skin of his waist, holding him close for as long as you were able. 

George interrupted your quiet moment with a stroke of your hair and a quiet, “So…remind me to buy you a new duvet.” 

“Why?” you asked. 

He reached down to pick up the fabric a bit farther down between thumb and forefinger, showing off the messy white stain on the royal blue material, “I kinda…came on it.” 

You snorted and just cuddled closer to him, “That’s okay.”

“It’s okay that you have my cum stain on your bed for all eternity?” 

“Yeah.” you giggled tiredly, “Reminds me of you. And how I am the only one who can make you cry from pleasure.”

“Oh psh,” George scoffed, “I did not cry.”

“Almost.”

“Almost.” 

Under the blankets, you draped one of your legs over his as if needing to feel him as close as possible, making sure he wasn’t going to leave just yet. He had someone to go home to but once he walked out your door, you would be terribly alone. You hated when he left.

A few quiet minutes passed as you both just appreciated the silence and the comfort of each other to ease you out of your tiring afternoon. It was arguably your favourite part of your situationship because it was the time when you could close your eyes and pretend that what you had was real and not just meaningless sex. Even still, despite the selfishness that filled your heart, you knew the real divide of right and wrong. 

“You can’t fall asleep here.” you whispered into the dark room. 

George sighed softly, confessing sleepily against your hair, “I don’t wanna go.” 

“I don’t want you to go either.” you replied. 

“Let me just stay for a few more minutes?”

You leaned your head back against his shoulder to dust a kiss to his jawline, replying easily with a gentle, “Okay.”

Those few more minutes turned into a few more hours and soon you were blinking awake to the bright light of the morning seeping in through the edges of your curtains, not remembering how or when you actually fell asleep. The first thing that you processed was the weight around your middle and the breath against your back and your heart dropped at the realization that George had fallen asleep in your bed and thus never went home to his girlfriend. Your immediate heart drop stemmed from your instinctual compassionate nature but once your heart took over from your brain, you were filled with a little giddy warmth of realization. He had stayed the night…and he had cuddled you all night. 

Even now, with the rise of the sun and the start of a new day, he was spooning you closely and honestly taking up more than half of your bed as if he had chased you to find your body against his again. It was the most glorious feeling to wake up next to him and you truly wished you could have stayed there forever. He was yours in that moment. That’s how you wanted it to stay. 

You lingered there for a little while longer, drifting in and out of a light sleep,  before you had to get up. Logically, you knew it would make the most sense to wake him up but, selfishly, you didn’t want to. You wanted him to stay as long as possible. So you carefully slid out of his arms in exchange for one of your pillows for him to cuddle and he barely stirred at the change, merely sighing in his sleep and tugging the pillow closer. He looked so pretty in the faint morning light and you couldn’t help but brush a hand through his hair and leave a gentle kiss to his head. 

The illumination of his phone screen from the opposite side of your bed curiously drew you over and you peeked at his notifications, seeing dozens of missed calls and double that of text messages from his girlfriend. You silently flipped his phone face down and then slunk out of the room, grabbing your robe before closing the door almost all the way behind you.

You busied yourself with making breakfast, choosing pancakes with fresh fruit to really treat him for the morning after…and also knowing he was going into a long day ahead with his accidental sleepover from last night going to bite him in the butt when he returned home. Part of you wished you could be a fly on the wall for that anticipated fight but at the same time, you were glad to stay away. 

It must have been the smell of breakfast that finally lured George out of bed and into the kitchen and he came out of your room with a panicked expression on his face as he buckled up his jeans in a half hurry. 

“I fell asleep,” he stated the obvious.

“We both did apparently.” you replied, tending to the fresh batch of pancakes sizzling in the pan on the stove. 

“I’m actually fucked. What am I supposed to tell her?” 

There was obvious stress in his voice and you couldn’t help the slight ache in your heart from seeing where his priorities lay. There you were, making him breakfast after a passionate afternoon and evening the night before and the first thing he could say to you was in concern about his girlfriend. You shouldn’t have suspected any differently…you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up. 

The question was more rhetorical than anything and George hurried past the kitchen to the bathroom to freshen up quickly. You swallowed back your tears and turned off the stove, dumping the last of the pancakes onto the serving plate, leaving the rest of the uncooked batter to thicken and be forgotten about on the counter. Just in the way you felt forgotten by him. 

When he emerged from the bathroom, he was making a beeline for your bedroom again to finish getting dressed, not even sparing you a glance on his way. Every little reminder that you were his second choice no matter the magic that you thought you shared the day before nearly killed you. You stayed in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter and trying to ignore the flashbacks from the previous afternoon as you stared at the spot where he had begged you to fuck him, how he promised you through his bliss that you were all that mattered to him. Lust made people say ridiculous things. 

George returned to the kitchen, completely dressed with his ruined shirt in hand, “Can I borrow a shirt to wear home?”

You lingered in place, knowing that if you made any move to talk or even take a step, you might have cried. The stress on George’s face faltered into more of a worry as he stared at your flushed expression and sad eyes. 

He took a step towards you, “Are you okay?”

You took a small breath and then spoke, “I…made you pancakes.”

His expression softened in realization of his own edge that morning and he walked over to you with a sigh, setting his soiled shirt on the island so he could have both hands free to gently take your wrists, “I’m sorry.”

You stared at his bare chest, not wanting to look him in the eye. 

“Hey,” George slid his hands up your arms and gave your biceps a little squeeze, leaning his head down slightly to try and get into your line of vision, “what’s wrong?”

You sniffled and looked to the side, your voice flat, “Nothing. I can wrap up some pancakes for you to eat on the drive home if you want.”

When you tried to slip out of his grasp, he wrapped an arm around your middle to stop you from walking away. 

“Talk to me. What’s got you all upset? Did I do something?” 

His voice was so soft and gentle and it ripped at your heartstrings with each syllable and you scrunched your eyes shut to try and keep yourself composed. George’s hand rubbed tenderly over your arm, staring at you so insistently with this concern in his gaze that you almost believed. 

“You have to go.” you said as strongly as you could muster. “She’s waiting for you. She’s probably pissed off and waiting for you and you don’t want to keep her waiting any longer than she already has been.” 

“I’m not going until I know you’re okay.”

You took a sharp inhale of breath and finally looked at him for a split second before speaking down to his chest again, “I’m not okay…with any of this.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “With what? Us?”

“With…you.” you mumbled. “With you and her.” 

George just blinked at you for a moment as if he were completely clueless. You thought he was the stupidest man on Earth to have not realized how madly in love with him you were. 

You continued, “I’m never going to be okay with it but it’s just something I’ve had to suck up and deal with so please can you just take a shirt from my closet and your damn pancakes and leave?”

“I don’t want to leave it like this.” George said seriously. 

“Well I dunno what to tell you.” you said tightly, “I just…don’t want to have this conversation right now.”

George stared at you for a beat and when it was realized that you weren’t going to look at him, he took a small step back with a light nod. He hesitated in front of you but then walked around the island and back to your room to find himself a shirt. It made it feel like it was meant to be only more and more knowing you were the same size in height and general build. You swore he was your other half, especially with everything he would tell you between the sheets…only to return to his girlfriend by the end of the night. 

He emerged from your room again wearing an oversized concert shirt from your closet—one of the few shirts in your closet that wouldn’t look solely like it was a woman’s—and you couldn’t help yourself but eye him longingly. He looked so good in your clothes…in your bed…in your apartment. God, you swore he was meant to be yours. The world was unfair. 

You turned away from him to grab a Ziploc bag from the cupboard and you tossed three pancakes into it and zipped it up. He watched you silently and when you held out the baggie to him across the island, he instead walked around it and took it from your hand right beside you. You didn’t look at him. 

“You mean the world to me.” he whispered to you, gently brushing your hair out of your face so he could see you the best he could. “I don’t want to just not see you again. Can we talk later? And fix this?”

You nodded faintly. 

“Okay.” he leaned in to kiss your cheek. 

With a gentle finger, he rested it against your opposite cheek to try and turn your head towards him. You barely offered him a 45° turn with your eyes still downcast but, regardless, he pressed a feather soft kiss to your lips. 

“Don’t give up on me yet, please?” he spoke softly, resting his forehead against the side of your head, “I need you.” 

You raised a hand up to slide your fingers through his soft hair at the nape of his neck, holding him there for a few more moments before you would let him slip away and into the arms of someone who didn’t deserve him. 

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[monsterfuker3000]

You Call the Shots, Babe ༺♡༻

Hi kittens, mommy’s had a rough one and that’s why it’s been since October since I published anything lol. My now-ex boyfriend broke up with me and it thrust me head first into my man-hating era and I couldn’t write to save my life. I’m not happy with this fic but I had to publish SOMETHING bc it’s been rotting in my WIP folder forever. Enjoy, my stinkies 🩷

WARNINGS: p in v sex, perv!Leon, unprotected sex, mentions of male masturbation, a lil bit of footjob action/very light CBT, Leon is a two pump chump I’m sorry, creampie as always, uhhh you degrade him and stuff but he’s Leon so he gets off to that, idk RE2R Leon strikes me as a panty thief who would get off on being told he’s a pervert so that’s what I wrote lol

Word count: 3k words of Leon being a perv

“Leon?” you called.

“Yes?”

“Why do you have my fucking panties?”

Movie night with Leon was always unnecessarily complicated. It very nearly felt like it took him hours to get settled; he needed the right snacks for the two of you, the right drinks, the right comfy clothes, the right movie. If he put much more effort into every movie night, it would start to feel like a date. Not that he’d mind that.

You, however, seemed like you would mind. He had tried like hell to hint to you that he wanted something more than friendship; brushing his hand against yours whenever he could, resting his hand at the small of your back in a manner that was much more than friendly, letting his gazes linger a bit longer than they needed to. But you? Dear, distant, unmovable you? Never once reciprocated his affections. Leon was desperate for you.

That’s why the movie nights came about; they were the closest Leon could get to a date night, and by God did he push the envelope. He’d spend every movie night with an arm around your shoulder, both of you under the same blanket. He’d behave himself, keep his hand a where they belonged, but all the while he’d have to try like hell to conceal the hard-on he’d be sporting every time. He felt pathetic, jerking off to the thought of you every night after you’d leave. That’s when he started stealing your panties.

It started out with just one pair he’d seen discarded on top of your hamper in your room, too careless to hide it before he came over. He’d snuck them into his pocket, vowing to himself they he would return them the next time he was at your place. Only he didn’t return them, and he did do it again.

He jumped at every chance to spend time at your place instead of his, sneaking another pair from you nearly every time. You had to be wondering where they kept going, but as long as his operation was still going off without a hitch, he was going to keep stealing them.

Then came the hitch.

You had come over for the aforementioned movie night, barging in after work without knocking like you owned the place, not that Leon minded.

“Lee!” You whined, “It’s cold out! How come you have to live so far from where I work?” You continued your lament as you kicked off your shoes by the door and walked further into the apartment toward the kitchen. Leon poked his head out from the doorway, pointing to his bedroom door.

“Go grab one of my hoodies or something if you’re cold, I’m making popcorn, so help yourself!” He busied himself with the popcorn once again as he heard you turn and walk toward his room, thanking him as you walked away.

“Leon?” you called.

“Yes?”

“Why do you have my fucking panties?”

His heart immediately dropped into his stomach, remembering just how many pairs of your used panties were tucked away in his drawer. The volume and variety would have been impressive if he didn’t feel downright creepy.

He slunk towards his room like a child expecting to be scolded, and his face reddened when he stepped into the doorway. You had your arms crossed, one of his favorite pairs of your panties dangling from one finger

It was a little baby-pink number; cotton, his favorite, with delicate lace around waistband that he couldn’t get enough of. Memories flashed through his head of just what perverted things he’d done with the scraps of cloth spilling out of the drawer you’d apparently yanked open.

He loved to jerk off with them wrapped around his cock, eyes closed and head falling back, sometimes with another pair pressed to his nose to inhale your scent. The worst thing he did, however, embarrassed even him; he loved to jerk off directly into the crotch of your panties, imagining that the reason they were covered in his cum was because it had spilled out of you. This was his favorite of all of his dirty fantasies about you, and imagining that the panties in his hand were soiled because you’d finally let him fuck you would often make him have to touch himself a second time.

“I saw these sticking out of your drawer, and I thought they looked familiar,” you said flatly.

He forced himself to return to the present at your words, fidgeting a bit to try to hide the half-chub that refused to go down even in the face of such profound shame. You cocked an eyebrow, looking all too relaxed given the situation the two of you were in.

“I asked you a question, Leon,” you reminded him. “Why do you have so many pairs of my panties? And I know theyre mine, don’t try to tell me they aren’t,’ you added, effectively crushing to death the only chance at redemption he thought he might have.

“Um, well. . .” He trailed off immediately, completely unable to tear his eyes away from the panties swinging from your hand, not sure how he was going to get out of this one. “I don’t- I. . . It’s beacuse-“

“I know why you have them,” you cut him off, his eyes finally snapping up to meet yours before the embarrassment made him duck away again. “It’s because youre a fucking pervert.”

His heart dropped; this was it. You were disgusted with him, you were going to leave his apartment and never come back, you were going to tell everyone you knew that he was a disgusting panty thief, never to be trusted. However, there was no hiding the full-blown hard-on he was now sporting, thanks to the insult. His face reddened more, if that was even possible. Your eyes flicked down to his crotch, and the scowl you’d been wearing slowly turned into a smirk.

“I’m so sorry, I-“ he began, but you cut him off yet again.

“You’re not sorry you did it,” you salked toward him. “You’re sorry you got caught.’ You were right on the money, as usual, but before Leon could even try to get a word in edgewise, you spoke again. “I think you need to be punished.”

What?

His confusion must have been clear on his face, because you continued.

“What, cat got your tongue?” You teased. “Take your pants off, Leon,” you said. It very obviously wasnt a request.

This felt like a trap to Leon, but he figured things couldn’t get any worse, and so help him he was going to do whatever you asked of him in the hopes it might smooth things over. He cleared his throat, reaching for the drawstring of his sweatpants as you began to slowly circle around him. He felt very much like a cornered animal.

“O-okay,” he finally spoke, albeit haltingly as he slowly pulled at the tie on his pants.

“Tell me, Lee, what have you been doing with all the panties you’ve been stealing, hm? Be specific. And hurry up with your pants, I don’t like waiting when im already impatient.”

God, what were you going to do to him? He tried like hell not to very his hopes up, but he hoped to God this was going to end well for him.

“W-well,” he began, sliding his pants off as he spoke, nervous but still eager to find out what was going to happen next. “I mean, I jack off with them. . .” He trailed off, clearly not wanting to be any more forthcoming than that. He chanced a look at your face again, hoping what little he told you was sufficient, but of course not.

“Tell me more, Lee. And look at me when you do it,” you added. He swallowed hard, fighting to keep his eyes on you while he spoke.

“I wrap them around. . . Around my cock and I, well, I jack off with them, ‘nd then I. . .” He trailed off yet again, cheeks burning bright red, afraid to try your patience but far too embarrassed to get it all out at once. He took a deep breath. “And I like to. . . To finish in the crotch,’ he finally finished.

“Why?” You asked simply. He wasnt prepared to answer that one. He cleared his throat again, and mumbled something, turning away. “Come again?” You asked. He huffed out a breath and looked back up at you, tears very nearly welling up in his eyes from the humiliation but still hard as a rock.

“I said I like to imagine theyre filled with my cum because you put them back on after I fucked you!” He nearly yelled, frustrated with the interrogation. A few embarrassed tears he hadn’t even noticed finally spilled from his eyes and he wiped them away roughly with his sleeve, knowing he had no right to cry.

“I figured,” you replied flatly. How were you staying so calm about this? You’d just found out your best friend had been stealing your panties for the past few months! Leon opened his mouth to ask you just this, but you moved lighting-quick, stuffing the panties into his open mouth and covering it with your hand, swatting away hips hands when he instinctively reached up to push you away.

Holy shit. You just stuffed your panties in his mouth.

“Kneel,” you told him, and his knees were on the floor without a second’s hesitation, placing his hands down on the tops of his thighs. You walked around him, adding the instruction to be careful not to spit them out, and he could hear you once again digging around in the drawer behind him. you gasped behind him, reaching out from behind him to range another pair inches from his nose before snatching it back.

“Leon, these are my favorite!” You cried indignantly. “I’ve been looking for them forever, you pervert,’ you added. God, there was that word again. It absolutely shouldn’t have made his cock twitch in his boxers, but it did anyway. “Hands behind your back,” you instructed him, and he obeyed, wondering what you had in mind. His eyes widened when he felt you twist that second pair of panties around his wrists, essentially improvising a pair of handcuffs. You walked around him again to stand in front of him, and he looked up at you expectantly, tears long-dried. “Try not to rip those, I like them,” you said simply, before sitting on his bed and pressing your socked foot to his crotch without another warning.

He cried out as best he could with a mouthful of your panties, nearly doubling over from the sensation. You were pressing harder than should have been pleasurable, but between how wound up you had him and how long he’d wanted you to touch his cock, he was still in heaven. As you slid your foot up his cock, he wished with everything in him that he didn’t still have his boxers on; that he could feel the friction and not just the pressure, delicious as it was. You leaned back, surveying your work, all the while still working your foot up and down his cock.

“You like that, Leon?” You teased, propped up on your hands. Of course he liked that. Of course you knew he liked that, but how could you not tease him like this?

Your curled your toes gently over the head of his cock, squeezing a bit with your toes. He was sensitive, so fucking sensitive, and he bucked up into your touch with another muffled cry.

“Ah-ah,” you admonished him. “I didn’t say you could move.”

Leon whined again at this, worried you were going to stop touching him, but far too afraid of that prospect to do anything about it.

Instead of withdrawing your foot Ike he expected, you pressed the ball of your foot against his cock, hard. You meant this as a punishment, of course, but poor Leon was so very on edge that he came in his boxers, shaking as he dampened the crotch of them along with your foot.

“Leon. . .” You sighed with a deep frown, one that would have made his heart clench had all his blood not been allocated elsewhere. “You really are a pervert,” you scolded. God, there was that word again. Leon knew at this point that this was all a game, but he couldn’t help the way that word made him feel. Pathetic. Dirty. Unbelievably horny.

You stood, looming over him as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“I was worried about the rest of my plans for you, but it looks like youre still hard,” you remarked, nudging his overly sensitive cock with your foot and pulling a surprised yelp from him. To his shock, you unbuttoned your pants and slid them off along with your panties all in one go. The way his eyes flicked over to the panties you discarded to the side wasnt lost on you.

“Don’t be greedy, Leon. You have more than enough,” you teased. You knelt on the ground in front of him, pushing against his chest and knocking him off balance to sit flat on the floor with his back to his dresser, hands still bound behind him with your panties. You straddled him, hovering over his cock so close that he could feel the heat and wetness of your pussy. He didn’t dare move after what happened last time.

You decided to grant him just a little relief, using your hand to slide his cock shallowly through your folds, Upand down, up and down. His head hit the dresser behind him with a thunk, a deep groan tearing itself from his throat. Then finally, fucking finally, you slid down onto his cock, taking him to the hilt.

He tore his eyes away from the ceiling, and they nearly popped out of his head as he took in the sight in front of him. His cock had completely disappeared inside of you, your clit resting against his pelvis. He was mesmerized for just a moment before you lifted your hips and slammed them back down, earning another muffled shout from him as his head hit the dresser again.

You began a brutal pace right off the bat, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with your moans; yours were completely unbridled, his were still dampened by the panties he absolutely wasnt spitting out.

You reached up to place a hand against his cheek, patting it softly before pulling your hand back and delivering an earnest slap. It took him by surprise and he bucked into you again, but you seemed to let that transgression slide. You squeezed his cheeks with one hand, forcing him to look at you.

“Fucking disgusting, Leon. I should spit in your face for stealing and doing such nasty shit with my things,” you said through gritted teeth, hips still rolling against him. God, he was going to cum way too soon again. Sweat rolled down the side of his face with the effort he was exerting trying to hold off his orgasm.

“‘M gonna cum,” you moaned, and it was like he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. “You wanna cum in me Leon? You wanna fill me up with your cum? Of course you do, you fucking sicko,” and Leon knew he had just seconds.

Finally, with a last, particularly strong roll of your hips, you came. As your pussy pulsed around him, Leon came as well, filling you with his cum and thrusting up into you in earnest now, though he was too fucked-out to notice and correct himself.

As soon as your breathing evened a bit, you stood abruptly, the friction against Leon’s softening cock startling him along with the overstimulation. You hooked the panties in his mouth with your finger to yank them out and he choked a bit, his mouth dry. He was speechless as you shook out the slightly damp panties and slid them on with a snap of the waistband.

You bent over in front of him, showing him that the thin gusset of the panties was wet enough with his spit that it had gone slightly translucent. He could see your pussy lips through the wet fabric, and nearly passed out when he watched the wet patch spread as his cum began to spill out of you and onto the panties, just like he’d jacked off to so many times. If he wasn’t so mindful of not wanting to rip the panties that were still wrapped around his wrists, he probably would have pulled you toward him to fill you up with even more of his cum.

You walked around behind him to untangle him and free his arms. As soon as you did though, his hair stood on end remembering what he’d been caught with earlier. He whirled around, still on his knees to look up at you with big, pleading blue eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry, I know it’s gross that I was taking your panties-“

“Leon,” you interrupted him. “Why do you think my used panties were always on the top of my hamper? No girl would leave her panties visible like that if she knows someone is coming over. I wanted you to find them.” You turned and walked out toward the kitchen before turning back to him and seeing his jaw practically on the ground again. “You might wanna check on your popcorn, Lee.”

I’m on twelve Vicodins smoking on Scooby-Doo dick

[elementary-my-dear-daddy]

Resolutions

Chapter Six: Embracing Servitude

Pairing: Analoceitmus

Content: Orgasm Denial, Cock Cages, Chastity, Dom/sub, Hardcore Dominance and Submission, Boot Worship, No-Touch, Bondage, Sensory Deprivation, Watersports, Omorashi, Piss Play, Degradation, Humiliation, CBT, Gags, Handcuffs, Sounding, DubCon

Summary: Logan learns his place by carrying out tasks for his dominants.

Read the previous chapter here or this one on AO3!

January 17th, 12:53 PM

Logan enjoyed being the sole caretaker of many of the household chores, even outside of his dynamic with the others. He was granted control over how these tasks were done and it made him feel a sense of joy that he could express his love for others by taking on the work of maintaining their living space. It wasn’t like he was demanded to at first, nor did he feel that the others took advantage of his eagerness to please to a degree he was uncomfortable with. As his lovers established more formal control over him, the work was assigned to him as a way to show his service and submission to them, something that positively thrilled him.

His routine followed a daily cycle of chores, leaving room for breaks for hobbies or attending to his doms as their needs arose. He’d usually begin with any laundry that needed to be done first, now having to crawl to the baskets to collect their clothing. Once that was put into the machine, he’d work on arranging anything that required prior preparation for their meals, and consequently doing the dishes from the mess that might occur. He might sweep or vacuum after, or see if his partners required anything from him, but today he aimed to tackle the task of cleaning and shining all of Janus’ footwear to end his punishment early. 

Not only was constantly being on his knees beginning to be uncomfortable, but it was a rather inefficient mode of locomotion that caused his productivity to slow. Not to mention that Remus took to tripping him up whenever he got the chance, and Virgil constantly questioned if his current task could be done while on his knees. In the case of the latter, the answer to the question was always “Yes, Sir.”.

He dragged the bin of shoes from the door to the floor of the living room and retrieved the necessary things for cleaning, conditioning, and shining them. He took out the first pair and went about the steps to get them looking as brand new as he could, wiping down the exterior and gently focusing on any spots of grime, and moving on when they looked suitable. He repeated the process until he worked himself into a rhythm. As he reached for the next pair, he noted Remus entering the room.

“Whatcha up to, Logie?” He asked with a wide grin.

“I’m working on shining all of Master’s shoes, as I promised him.”

“Huh.” Remus came over to observe his work when he was about halfway done with the bin, “Not bad, maybe after this you can clean all our leather gear? I love it when Virgil wears his harness but with the way he sweats it should probably be taken care of before it starts to tear.”

“If you’d like me to, Sire.” Logan simply nodded, buffing out an imperfection in the shoe he was holding, “Though this task takes priority seeing as I must complete it to end my punishment.”

“So that’s why you’re in such a hurry. Hm.” Remus picked up one of the clean pairs, “You want to just get this over with?”

“Well, yes, Sire. I thought that that was the point.”

“No, the point of punishment is to put your cute ass back in its place.” He hummed, “Something you clearly don’t understand if you’re trying to do it as fast as possible.”

As he inspected Logan’s work, he frowned, “Looks like you missed a spot here-”

The shoe was tossed back into the bin, inciting a look of confusion from Logan, “I just cleaned that one!”

“Welp, looks like you’ll have to do it again!” Remus chose another one. With a grin, he spat on the side of it, “This one too!”

“You’re ruining the leather!” Logan reached to grab that one and salvage what he could so he didn’t have to start from the beginning again.

“Oops, my mistake!” Remus laughed. His eyes widened with a sudden plan forming, “Oh! Wait right here!”

He suddenly left, leaving Logan on his own again. He went back to his task, trying to undo the damage Remus had done before he came back. When he returned, he was grinning and holding a pair of handcuffs attached by a short chain.

“Gimme your hands.” He ordered, yanking them forward and locking Logan’s wrists into them in front of him, “There. Now it’ll take just a bit longer for you to be done, and that means you’ll be punished for longer! I’m a fucking genius.”

Logan sighed as he lowered his now bound wrists. It wasn’t impossible to complete his task, but he was right, it would take a lot more effort and time on top of his other expected chores. He’d have to really pick up the pace now. 

Remus bent down to pick up one of the bottles of cleaner and uncapped it, “What does this do?”

He said, pouring it out over some of the cleaned pairs.

“No no no don’t-!” Logan went to stop him but it was too late. Most of his work was ruined.

Remus just shrugged, “Oh well. Clean it up. I’ll come by later and have you do some of the gear then too!”

With that, he left Logan to basically start from scratch, who wanted to lash out and yell at him, but he was already being punished, and that would just make things worse. He’d start again, this time slowly working through the motions of cleaning.

In a way, this was also rewarding. Bootblacking allowed him to fall into a submissive haze of dutifulness, feeling that he was being useful, which caused him much delight. Despite his setback, he’d make good progress on the task, until he heard the timer for the drier go off and his presence was required elsewhere. He cleaned up his supplies, his mobility limited as it was, and crawled off to fold the laundry. 

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly and he was able to return to his prior work once again. He realized as he was putting the finishing solution over the metal of the exposed steel toe of one of the boots that he hadn’t thought once about his arousal today, whether that was a good or bad thing he didn’t know. The month was more than halfway over and regardless of the teasing he endured from his dominants, he felt he was doing well in this challenge. He didn’t once beg to be touched, and while he felt he hadn’t gone so long without sex in ages, he felt content submitting this way. There was pleasure in the servitude he partook in away from sex, a kind he found himself enjoying more than a simple round of intercourse.

By the evening, the basket was just about empty, with the clean pairs lined up beside him, gleaming with polish. As swiped the rag over the sole of the one in his hand, he heard the front door opening- Janus must have just gotten home.

He was correct, seeing his lover strolling into the room. He casually kicked off the shoes he was wearing into the bin beside Logan before beginning a rant as he flopped to the couch, “You would not believe the absolute monstrosity of a day I’ve had…”

Logan listened as he continued, hearing about the woes of Janus’ life while he broke down the fresh dirt on the boots he just shucked off. He smiled affectionately. Janus was a cruel master, giving him contradictory commands and sadistic orders for his own pleasure, yes, but he was also dramatic, charming, caring, and loving at his core, and Logan could tell by concentrating on his passionate tone.

“But at least I get to come home to you, and at the end of the day I suppose that’s worth it.” He ended his rant, looking at Logan when he was finished. He just then noticed the handcuffs he sported as he worked in a conditioner on the tongue of the boots, “How long have you had those on?”

“A few hours, Master. Sire put them on me.”

“Oh? Were you misbehaving?”

“Not at all.” Logan shook his head, “He believed I was working too quickly and my punishment would be over too soon, so he wanted to hinder my progress.”

“I was about to say, I expected you to be working on the ones in the closet by now.” Janus sat up and watched him work. It was quite a sight to behold.

“I shall tomorrow after my primary chores. And I think he’d like me to care for our leather gear as well.” He explained.

“Oh, what a good idea. Aren’t you so glad we keep you busy so you aren’t thinking about that sad little cock of yours all the time?”

“Yes, Master.” 

“Well, finish up here then put these back for me. Dinner after and run me a bath to unwind before dishes are done. I’ll see to Remus about taking care of those cuffs.” Janus stood, going to find his other partners.

Logan followed his orders exactly, piling up the boots in the bin after a final shine on each of them. He hastily put everything away, beginning a simple dinner for them all with his still reduced dexterity. They ate together, with him taking it on his knees. He rushed to prepare everything needed for Janus’ bath, filling the bathtub with warm water and aromatic salts, lighting candles, and placing a tray with the novel his lover had been reading through, a lavender bath bomb, and a tall glass of wine over the water. When it was ready, he sought him out, finding him lounging with his other partners in the bedroom.

“What is it, Logan?” Janus asked, noting his entry.

“Your bath is ready for you, Master.”

“Oh, fantastic. Good boy.” Janus leaned down to press a kiss to his temple as he passed him on his way to the bathroom. As he left, Logan cleared his throat.

“Sire? May I have the handcuffs removed now that I’m done?” He asked. This earned a knowing snicker from Virgil, who was lying in bed beside Remus.

“I dunno, baby,” Remus purred, “Are you done blacking all of Janus’ boots? Did you polish up all of our leather gear?”

“No, Sire.” Logan nearly whispered, “I intend to tomorrow.”

“Then you’ll have them on until it’s done.” He returned with a wicked smirk.

“Don’t worry, Lo. There’s still a few hours before bed, you can at least make some progress.” Virgil added.

“Dishes first! Then you’ll do that till it’s time for bed, got it?”

Logan nodded, “Yes, Sire, I understand.”

He dragged himself to the kitchen, standing to clean off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. The chain of his handcuffs kept getting stuck on one of the hooks holding up the plates, forcing him to work at a reduced pace, but eventually the machine was running for the night. He, once again, grabbed the leather cleaning supplies and entered the bedroom closet, both Virgil and Remus practically ignoring his presence. 

The few harnesses they had were treated and polished, with Logan remembering images of wearing them himself and the others wearing them as well. He was about to set down their leather panel gag after it’d been cared for when he heard one of his lovers approach from behind. 

“I’ll take that.” It was Virgil. He handed over the piece before going to pick up the next one when the gag was strapped over his mouth and buckled tightly behind his head. The scent of the freshly treated hide filled his nose, making him nearly instantly drunk on the smell. He looked up at Virgil, searching for an explanation.

“What? You look cute when you’re gagged. Our little wordless pet.” He ruffled his hair and smiled, “Get back to it, now. I know how much you love to serve us.”

Logan whimpered. He loved it when they gagged him and just had him go about his day. He went right back to work, getting about half the leather equipment done before he was called to clean it up before bed. He did, settling onto the bed and into his doms arms when he was finished. 

“You did so well today, Logan, I’m impressed.” Janus praised as he took him into his side.

“I know, he was so obedient today.” Virgil said, petting his hair.

“I thought he was gonna lose it when I screwed with him earlier, but nope!” Remus cheered, “He’s such a good little slut!”

Logan whined, muffled from the gag. Obeying his doms and doing what they wanted was one thing and helped distract him from his horniness, teasing him about it had the opposite effect.

“I don’t know why we didn’t think of having him do it before. He loves worshiping your boots, Jan.” Virgil commented, playing with the strap of the gag.

“Oh! Before we go to bed we should do his video thing for him!” Remus suggested, rolling over to get the camera from its place on the nightstand.

Janus agreed, “True, it’s important to show how he keeps his mind off the incessant need to come.”

“Exactly, say hi to the camera, Lo!” Remus flashed the lens in his face. He let out a meek whine at the action.

“It’s day…what’s today?”

“The seventeenth.”

“Day seventeen of Logan being our little cuck slut! He spent all day cleaning boots and gear and now he’s gonna go to bed handcuffed and gagged because we told him to.” Remus narrated for him. 

“I can’t wait for those new cages to come in for him, they should be here in a few days and it's gonna be so fun to make him sit and writhe in them.”

Logan squirmed already, only having a slight idea of how torturous it might be. He was promptly held down by Virgil, who let out a small laugh, “Do you like that how much we’ve been putting you to work so far? How much we let you serve us?”

“Mmph- Mm!” Logan whimpered.

“Aww, I bet he loves it.” Janus cooed, “After all, it’s the only thing that gives him pleasure that we allow. 

“Yeah, cause he’s a little freak. Why else would he enjoy it so much?” Remus grinned, “Only 348 days to go. Where we deny you and torture you and make you-”

Logan’s head spun when he heard the number. Had they really not even gotten it under 300 days? He moaned at the practical eternity before him, making his doms focus attention on him.

“You better like it.” Virgil teased, “Tomorrow I think you should stay gagged too, unless you’re eating, that way you only have to focus on what we tell you to do, be a good servant.”

“Ooo, I like that.” Janus ran his fingers over where his lips were beneath the leather, “Alright, Remus, any last things for the camera?”

Remus pointed it towards himself, “Hi Logie in the future! When you see this video, you have to find one of us and cockwarm us until we say you can leave! Ok, bye!”

The device was put back on the nightstand and the three of them settled into bed for the night, with Logan achingly hard inside his chastity cage from all the teasing.

After a few moments of laying together in the darkness, Virgil’s voice cut the silence.

“Is anyone else hard right now?”

“Yep.”

“Definitely.”

He sat up, “Leave him here and fuck in the guest room?”

“You read my mind!”

“We could all watch that log so far and get off to that.” Janus suggested.

Logan whimpered again, pouting underneath the gag.

“Be good- oh, wait!” Remus reached for his keys, including the one for Logan’s handcuffs, and unlocked one wrist. He slid the chain through a loop in the bed’s headboard and reconnected it to Logan’s wrist before picking up the camera, “There. Now you gotta be good. Love you!”

The three of them laughed as they shut the door to the bedroom. He could hear them chatting as they walked down the hall to the guest bedroom, until they were behind too many walls to be eavesdropped upon. He groaned in frustration, yearning to see them, to get them off and touch them, and for him to receive the same. But he knew he would be in this state of being denied for a long time and it would have to be something he was used to.

Spread out on the bed, he sighed through his nose and closed his eyes, falling asleep as he waited for them to return.

[dragoninsuit]

My fav t9 TC cards so far

This post will be me about yapping my fav tension cards so far! Note that this will contain spoilers from the cbt (even tho the cbt period is now over), so please beware!!

And I got these TC card pics and stories from my friends, big thanks to them 🙏✨🫶

The Adachi tribe TC

Them fighting for their tribe is just 😭✨ Even tho they're already hurt from the previous fight with 24 tribe, they still going for it

(Tatsuto caring for his hair tho-)

Misteltein △

Yutaka stayed up until midnight that he started to have eyebags under his eyes to finish his work. But bro just only said "I'll just.. Take a nap..." Like bro PLEASE 😭 Don't just take a nap-- SLEEP 😭😭

Also Minami caring for him by placing a cozy blanket on him

Dear Lumpy & Minami's tc card

My fav tc cards abt my fav girlboss 😭✨💛 Her weakness towards cute things toward cute things r just like me 😭😭😭 (maybe I should kin her-) and Lumpy is her No. 1 top secret that even Yutaka doesn't know abt it-- (Fun fact: she has Lumpy as her pfp too!)

And to her tc, this was abt her character development bc when she was a child she wasn't rlly good with putting a smile on her face to the point she had a nickname "Iron Mask", and Yutaka was the reason why she got to smile.

Photo of Young Girl

This tc card story hits me hard like 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

It kinda implies that Roku and Enoki had know eachother for a while now since she was a child, but since Roku said "I wasn't able to protect her.." maybe there might be some event that separated these twos

But when Enoki asked "Why are you always by my side?" Im AUUAGGHRHRR 😭😭😭😭😭

There's actually more of them, but im too lazy to write the whole thing hsjsjsksk

But ngl, I rlly love the tc stories sm. It makes the fandom knows a lot more abt the characters ✨🫶

[goosegoblin]

If therapy is an option and you haven’t already tried it, maybe finding a therapist trained in Somatic Experiencing Therapy? I also had a therapist friend recommend EMDR to help my anxiety once. I thought it was just for people with PTSD or C-PTSD but she said it’s really versatile and can help with desensitization.

Mm, I've been looking into it. I had also assumed those were mostly trauma-only/ trauma-focused therapies, so that's good to know.

I struggle with finding a therapy modality I like, to be honest. I've had many, many therapists over the years, but after a few months I always just end up frustrated and unhappy. My loved ones are like "therapy was so helpful today!" or "I'm really looking forward to therapy", and that confuses me so much. I anticipate sessions with the kind of dread and dismay normally reserved for dental appointments or unwanted social engagements.

CBT often feels surface-level and useless. DBT feels the same, plus some basic coping skills I already have. EMDR is interesting (purple hat/ the eye movement stuff aside)- but at that point, perhaps plain prolonged exposure therapy is better (which I am kind of interested in, ngl).

I can't picture things in my head so anything with guided imagery is useless to me. Polyvagal theory is pseudoscience and I can't fuck with it. My therapist has done some IFS with me, which was interesting at first, but I... kind of feel like I started thinking in those ways naturally during my anorexia recovery, just by the way that my brain works. That's not supposed to be a brag (lmao that would be the most pathetic flex ever)- just that 'viewing my brain as different parts and being kind to them' was already something I was doing, and it hasn't helped for this.

I'm interested in some somatic stuff, but I know lots of it involves like... moving or beahving in certain ways in front of the therapist, and I'd honestly rather die? I do so badly with requests I perceive as 'cringey' that I got politely asked to not return to art therapy when I was inpatient lmao

Anyway, I've spent 5+ years going to therapists and saying "Hello, can we try ACT?", and every time they agree and then make me do a different therapy. I do not know why this keeps happening to me.

[hismercytomyjustice]

Just some more stuff on Pure O (OCD) in general, or at least my personal experience with it. Your mileage may vary!

Yes, Pure O is a bit of a misnomer. You still have compulsions, they’re just internal instead of external. Doing something like washing your hands 10x in a row is a lot easier for others to spot than getting stuck ruminating on the same thought over and over for 10 minutes straight.

Pure O is hard to catch because it masquerades as anxiety, though I’ve actually been diagnosed with it by 3 separate therapists at this point. The first time was when I was in college and was having more of the textbook intrusive thoughts. 2nd was after a severe mental breakdown back in 2022.

2022 was when I started detailing my thought spirals to my therapist at the time who told me that she was just exhausted listening to them and could only imagine how I felt having them. She didn’t say that in a mean way, for the record. She was moreso affirming what a negative experience this was having on my life and that this sort of thing was 100% not normal brain behavior.

Getting back on antidepressants has helped a lot. Antidepressants are commonly prescribed, in addition to therapy. Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP) therapy and Inference-based Cognitive Behavior Therapy (I-CBT) are the common go-tos.

My current therapist specializes in OCD and refers to it as the doubting disease. This article does a good job of explaining why.

Personally, a lot of my OCD results in “what if” thought spirals for which there’s no real answer. The main thing I’ve been learning is how to disrupt these thought spirals rather than get sucked into them like a whirlpool. A lot of that comes down to realizing I’m spiraling and then being able to take a step back and go “oh, this is my OCD, not me.” My go to phrase is “thank you brain, but that’s not helpful.” There are other visualization exercises and those type of things you can do too. The important thing is to acknowledge the thought and then move on. Don’t get stuck in it but also don’t try to suppress it.

I did a loooot of suppression before I learned that actually made things worse lol. But it made sense at the time.

Just like: Bad/distressing thought? If I think about it, it’s gonna make me upset, so I won’t think about it. I’ll just shove it deep down and then problem solved, right?

Right..?

Another important thing to keep in mind is that there aren’t “good” or “bad” thoughts when it comes to OCD. You need to acknowledge the distressing thought without judgment and recognize it’s the result of your OCD and not an indicator of who you are as a person, what your failures are, etc. Assigning a “bad thought” label just tends to increase your anxiety and aversion.

Some of my OCD thought spirals are more distressing than others. Some are even a little silly in retrospect.

Like, for example, I was thinking about signing up for piano lessons. But what if I didn’t like it? What if I didn’t practice enough and I wasted the teacher’s time? They provide lessons in return for payment. What if they see I signed up and they’re like “sweet, that’s another $x I can expect every week and can now budget for” but then I quit and now they’re out that money? Will they hate me? Is that fair for me to do to someone? What if I take the place of an actual dedicated student who won’t leave them in the lurch like that? And I stressed about the opposite too. What if I start taking classes and I’m devoted to it and I can actually help make this hypothetical person’s life easier by paying them to teach me?

The thought of “it’d be cool to learn piano” quickly morphed into “I’m ruining a hypothetical person’s life no matter what I do.”

I was agonizing about this for days. And, frankly, this was like a 3/10 on my personal OCD scale. It was like having a pot of soup on the back burner that I was having to remember to stir periodically, but for days with no end in sight.

I am aware of how my OCD works at this point, but I still didn’t realize this was my OCD until I finally opened up to my husband about it. And I felt I needed to temper my dilemma with “this is probably going to sound silly, but…”

What’s that sound? Oh, that’s just my therapist screaming in the distance, “THAT’S NOT SELF-COMPASSION, HISMERCY!” Another tool therapy has given me to help me with my excessive self-negativity.

My husband is, thankfully, a very grounded person and is well aware of my OCD struggles. His response? “Just sign up for piano lessons.”

This further reassured me that this was an OCD thought spiral and also helped me to get out of it. Like he threw me a rope when I was stuck in quicksand.

OCD is fucking EXHAUSTING. It takes up so much of your brain power when you get caught up in it and that diminishes it for other brain power related things. It’s like constantly being down a spell slot or more depending on how severe it is. And it can be so sneaky too, like the situation above. It took me literal days to realize that something was off about my thought process.

And you never know what could trigger it. I mean, some triggers you can start to be on the lookout for, but why would I think I was wading into quicksand when all I was thinking about was how cool it’d be to learn piano?

You also can’t cure OCD, but you can sort of get it into remission. Periods of high stress are likely to exacerbate it, so a lot of dealing with OCD is just taking preventative measures like the whole “eat right, cut back on caffeine, get enough sleep, exercise, blah blah blah” thing.

I take some comfort in the fact my 2022 mental breakdown was more than likely the result of pandemic stress/trauma and an extremely demanding personal situation I was also in at the time and had been for almost a year at that point. I was worn so thin and then all it took was the wrong trigger at the wrong time and I went to pieces.

Thank god I already had an established therapist at that point. I was able to immediately reach out to her for help. I started seeing her once a week instead of once a month and I got back on antidepressants.

Tbh if I hadn’t been off the antidepressants, it might not have been as severe of a mental breakdown as it was, but I’d been taking antidepressants for depression, not anxiety. I had no idea they also helped with anxiety because I’d never taken anything specifically for my anxiety before.

That’s not to say it wouldn’t have still happened on the antidepressants, but it probably would’ve helped me weather the storm a little better if I’d been on them. And every person and their experience is different too, of course.

But this is what I mean when I say I have OCD/Pure O.

If you or a loved one are experiencing…lol.

But seriously, if you read this and it resonates with you, it might be worth trying to get some help from a trusted family member/friend, a therapist, a doctor, etc. I know that’s easier said than done in a lot of cases, but even just finding out there’s a word for what you’re going through can help sometimes, which is why I wanted to share my personal experience with OCD.

You also don’t have to have a therapist to get medication for anxiety/depression, at least where I am in the US. My primary care doctors have been the ones who have always prescribed antidepressants for me in the past. They do their own screenings and it’s not the same as getting straight up therapy, but they can help too.

Oh yeah, and one more thing. Sometimes I can catch an OCD spiral by thinking “Would I say this to someone else if they came to me with the same concern?” Like with the piano example, my gut reaction is “Of course not, why would they worry about something like that? None of that makes any sense. They should give it a try!”

Idk why it’s so easy to be rational for others but not for myself. This can also work for negative self talk. “Would I say this to a friend? A family member? A stranger? No, because it’s an awful, untrue, and insensitive thing to say.”

Brains are so weird. 🤷

[bestdualdiagnosisrehabinca]

Ona Treatment Center: California’s #1 Dual Diagnosis Rehab

Ona Treatment Center: California’s #1 Dual Diagnosis Rehab

When addiction and mental health collide, healing becomes more complex—but also more important than ever. That’s why Ona Treatment Center, nestled in the quiet beauty of Northern California, has become a true leader in dual diagnosis treatment.

This isn’t just another rehab. It’s where transformation begins.

🌿 More Than a Place—A Sanctuary for Healing

Ona sits on 250 acres of pure calm: nature trails, wide-open skies, and total peace. That environment alone plays a powerful role in recovery. Clients are finally able to pause, reflect, and breathe in a space designed to heal the mind and body.

🧠 They Specialize in Dual Diagnosis

Ona doesn’t treat addiction or mental health—they treat both, together.

Whether it’s anxiety, PTSD, depression, or bipolar disorder, Ona’s team understands the deep connection between mental illness and substance use. Every program follows strict clinical standards set by the American Society of Addiction Medicine (ASAM), ensuring clients receive truly integrated care.

💡 Personalized Treatment That Works

At Ona, there’s no cookie-cutter rehab plan. Each client receives a customized program, built around their specific needs. Therapies include:

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT)

Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT)

Mindfulness and holistic practices

Nutrition, fitness, and emotional wellness

It’s a full-spectrum approach to long-term recovery.

🛌 Luxury Rehab, Real Comfort

Ona is a luxury treatment center, but without the pretense. Clients enjoy private rooms, gourmet meals, and spa-style amenities—because healing works better when you’re cared for in every way.

💬 Staff Who Actually Care

Led by certified expert Jaime Garcia, Ona’s team includes therapists, nurses, and addiction specialists who work together to support each client 24/7. The low client-to-staff ratio means you’re never just a number—you’re a person with a story worth healing.

✨ Stories That Inspire

Former clients speak of breakthroughs, peace, and purpose. Some say Ona helped them recover what they thought was lost forever: self-respect, confidence, and hope.

One client shared:

“Ona didn’t just help me stop using. It helped me finally understand why I started.”

🔁 Support That Doesn’t End at Discharge

With strong aftercare programs, alumni groups, and family support, Ona ensures the healing continues long after treatment. Because real recovery is a journey—not a quick fix.

✅ Certified. Trusted. Proven.

Ona is accredited by The Joint Commission and certified by the California Department of Health Care Services—proof that they deliver care that’s not only compassionate, but top-tier.

💬 Ready for Change?

If you or someone you love is facing the dual battle of addiction and mental health struggles, Ona Treatment Center could be the turning point.

📞 Call (530) 869-6163 🌐 Visit onatreatmentcenter.com

Because recovery isn’t just possible—it’s waiting for you at Ona.

[unwrittenwitness]

31st July 2021 Pushing the Edge

I’ve broken our rule.

Anton and I have known each other since I was 16. I wouldn’t call it a healthy relationship, but it feels… Safe? No, not safe. Familiar.

Laurence doesn’t trust him. But what he really means is—he doesn’t trust me.

And maybe he has a point. Rule #1 of our open relationship was: Don’t sleep with people we know.

I feel sick writing this. My fingers are shaking.

I spent the night at Anton’s, and I knew we were going to have sex. I didn’t even want to, but there was this strange sense of obligation. Like we’d been hinting at it for so long that to say no now would cause a scene. That was the wrong move.

Even holding his hand felt wrong. Our fingers don’t fit together properly. His hands are too soft, too squidgy.

And then something happened.

I was 16 when Anton first came over to my house. I don’t remember why.

Steve had only just stopped abusing me. That feels important to acknowledge. Maybe I’m trying to justify what happened next. Maybe I’m trying to make myself feel better.

I was always a napper. Every day after college: home, pajamas, cereal, nap. I wasn’t about to change my routine just because Anton was there, so I started getting ready, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.

He didn’t.

Instead, he took it as an invitation. I didn’t know how to say no, so I laughed. Tried to push him away. It scared me. I told people at college, and they brushed it off. "Don’t be so childish."

Years later, he told me that was his first sexual experience. That he felt awkward about it. Same.

We lost touch for a while. Then at 24, I transferred into the same department as him at Amex.

I remember asking my boss to put me on a different team. I avoided him. And then suddenly, I wasn’t avoiding him.

Suddenly, we were drinking together all the time, getting high, flirting. It was a game to me. A game I played to distract myself from my own toxic relationship.

And the game went on. For years. For over a decade. Across continents. Through my marriage.

I thought it was harmless.

Then, one morning before work, I slept with him and had a panic attack so bad that I ended up in CBT therapy. That therapy changed my relationship with my depression. Looking back, maybe that’s why I’m grateful for every experience.

I didn’t know then why I’d had that panic attack. I do now.

Laurence will often remind me of something I once said:

"I know he’s going to try something on, so I just get on with it. I laugh. I zone out."

Compartmentalization is a hell of a drug. But after this weekend, I don’t think my brain does it anymore.

Okay.

This weekend, Anton and I finally had sex. Seven years of foreplay.

I felt so dirty about it, while also… kinda having fun? Maybe? And then—

A voice in my head whispered: "I’m having sex with my stepdad."

My whole body went cold. I just stared at the ceiling after that.

I think I’m going to vomit.

Later that night, I told Anton I didn’t want to do this again. He got upset. Said I’d led him on. Made it my fault.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I did.

He pouted himself to sleep. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to his snoring—like an injured wildebeest.

In the morning, I left early. And I know, with absolute certainty, that I will never touch that man again.

Sometimes I have to push things to the very edge before I can finally shove them off the cliff.

Would this gross game have continued if I hadn’t done this? Would I have kept flirting, kept indulging the dynamic, kept pretending it wasn’t toxic?

I feel disgusting.

And it’s not lost on me that all of this is happening while I’m preparing to tell Lara about Steve.

That man abused me for far too long. And I think I’m no longer physically capable of staying silent.

I’m not going to tell Laurence.

First, because there’s no point. Our marriage is ending. There is nothing to gain—only pain.

But second? Because I don’t think I could ever say any of this out loud.

It makes my tongue feel like it’s breaking.

Editor’s Note: 27th February, 2025. 3.5 years later.

I stopped believing in coincidences a long time ago. I believe in cosmic timing.

Right now, the astrology of my life is about old karmic relationships resurfacing. Not to pull me back, but to test me. To see how far I’ve come.

As I post this, I get a message from Anton. We haven’t spoken in six months.

"Hey, how are you? Still smoking weed? Free today?"

I’ve come a long way.

[truewingsfoundation]

Alcohol De Addiction Centre in Mumbai: Transforming Lives with True Wings Foundation

Alcohol addiction is a challenge that affects countless individuals and families. The road to recovery can be arduous, but with the right support and guidance, it is achievable. The Alcohol De Addiction Centre in Mumbai by True Wings Foundation has emerged as a beacon of hope for those seeking a way out of addiction. This article delves into the services, approach, and success stories of this remarkable center.

Understanding Alcohol Addiction

Alcohol addiction, often referred to as alcohol dependency, is a condition characterized by an uncontrollable urge to consume alcohol despite its negative impact on health, relationships, and finances. It is crucial to address this issue early to prevent long-term complications such as liver damage, mental health disorders, and social alienation. The Alcohol De Addiction Centre focuses on providing comprehensive solutions to help individuals regain control of their lives.

Why Choose True Wings Foundation?

The True Wings Foundation stands out among other de-addiction centers due to its personalized approach and holistic treatment methods. Here are some key reasons why it is a preferred choice:

Expert Team: The center is equipped with experienced medical professionals, psychologists, and counselors who work together to create a tailored recovery plan for each patient.

State-of-the-Art Facilities: The center provides a comfortable and safe environment conducive to recovery. Amenities are designed to ensure patients feel at ease during their stay.

Holistic Approach: Beyond medical treatment, the center focuses on mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being, incorporating therapy, meditation, and group activities.

Aftercare Support: Recovery doesn’t end when treatment concludes. The center offers robust aftercare programs to prevent relapse and support long-term sobriety.

Services Offered

The Alcohol De Addiction Centreby True Wings Foundation provides a range of services aimed at addressing the root causes of addiction and fostering complete recovery:

1. Medical Detoxification

The first step in the journey is detoxification, where the body is cleansed of alcohol. This process is supervised by medical experts to ensure safety and comfort.

2. Counseling and Therapy

Individual and group counseling sessions are conducted to address psychological factors contributing to addiction. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and Motivational Interviewing (MI) are some of the techniques used.

3. Family Therapy

Addiction affects not just the individual but also their loved ones. Family therapy sessions help repair relationships and educate family members on how to support recovery efforts.

4. Recreational Activities

To rebuild self-esteem and develop new interests, patients are encouraged to participate in recreational and skill-building activities.

5. Relapse Prevention Training

The center equips patients with strategies to handle triggers and stressors that could lead to relapse. This training is a cornerstone of the recovery program.

Success Stories

Many individuals have successfully overcome addiction with the help of the Alcohol De Addiction Centre in Mumbai. For instance, Ravi (name changed for privacy), a 35-year-old professional, shares his journey:

“I was at my lowest point when I joined the program. The team at True Wings Foundation not only helped me detox but also taught me how to rebuild my life. Today, I am three years sober and thriving in my career.”

Such stories are a testament to the center’s commitment to transforming lives.

The Importance of Seeking Help

Acknowledging the need for help is the first step towards recovery. If you or someone you know is battling alcohol addiction, reaching out to the Alcohol De Addiction Centre can be a life-changing decision. Early intervention increases the chances of a successful recovery and minimizes the risk of long-term health issues.

How to Get Started

Getting started with the True Wings Foundation is simple. You can contact the center directly to schedule an initial consultation. During this session, professionals assess the individual’s condition and recommend a customized treatment plan.

Final Thoughts

Alcohol addiction is a serious condition, but it is not insurmountable. The Alcohol De Addiction Centre in Mumbai by True Wings Foundation offers a comprehensive and compassionate approach to recovery. With its expert team, holistic methods, and unwavering commitment, the center has become a trusted partner for those seeking to reclaim their lives.

Choosing to seek help is an act of courage. If you or a loved one needs assistance, don’t hesitate to reach out to the Alcohol De Addiction Centre in Mumbai. Let the True Wings Foundation guide you towards a brighter, healthier future.

[fucking-feelings-man]

Mental Health and Physical Illness

It’s the beginning of Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. It has hit me particularly hard this year. I am very open about my physical health and tend to be a lot more closed off about my mental health. I am slowly trying to change that as I work on accepting that my mental illness are also a part of my health journey. I think we still have a long way to go on education around mental illnesses. Hopefully, in the future, it will be easier for people to open up about their struggles with their mental health. 

There is a reason why I don’t share my mental health struggles. It is so easy for it to be weaponized against you. My mental illnesses have been used against me in my long journey to find my physical health diagnoses. And it prevented me from getting certain treatment options due to the stigma and poor educational training on mental illnesses in medicine. TW/CW, below, for talk of suicidal ideation, suicide, intrusive thoughts, anxiety attacks, etc. I am taking this as an opportunity to speak a bit more openly about my mental illnesses. Please, look after your own mental health right now. If this post is too much for you to engage with, that is ok.

I have dealt with suicidal ideation since I was 14. I initially received a diagnosis of OCD and 3 anxiety disorders. At the beginning, my suicidal ideation started due to untreated OCD and not knowing why I was having horrific intrusive thoughts. My compulsions were taking up most of my waking hours and I was emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted. I wasn’t able to enter a classroom for 2 years. I was the weird mentally ill kid with a desk in the hallway. I would have panic attacks if I even set foot in a classroom. I thought that if someone looked at me during class, my loved ones would die. Or if someone heard my tummy rumble, it would be the end of the world. This lead to extreme anxiety responses and thinking ending my life was the only way to escape this torment. 

I started therapy after a particularly bad incident in high school that left me unable to even enter the school property for weeks. This was my first bout of active suicidal ideation. I was extremely lucky and found a psychologist that I clicked with and worked my but off for 2 years on ERP & CBT. By my graduating year I was back in the classroom (but always had to be seated by the door or on the end of a row). I was known by almost all of the teachers because I was allowed to exit during classes to go hang out in the hallway to do my work. But, I like to think by the end of it I had a better understanding of myself and my tolerance for in-class work got a heck of a lot better. 

That carried into university and I remember having to tell most of my professors that I needed a reserved seat on the end of a row, and/or a seat right near the exit. I remember having horrific panic attacks if I walked into class and my usual seat was taken. Those were usually the only times I missed lectures. I still can’t quite shake that and it’s ok because it’s a heck of a lot better than it used to be. However, the exam/test anxiety never really vanished so I would dress obnoxiously nice. If I looked put-together on the outside, it kind of tricked my brain into being semi put-together on the inside. That, or I was able to take exams in another location, which was 10x’s easier. 

I was doing pretty ok. My suicidal ideation was only reserved for those fleeting intrusive thoughts. I had gotten used to living with OCD at this point. My general anxiety levels were decent and I was coping pretty well. I was thriving in school and working so many odd jobs, looking back I can’t believe how I was doing it all. I was functioning at a level I never had before. I felt optimistic for the first time in my life.

Then the physical illnesses took over and my world started to shrink. The levels of chronic pain I was dealing with were unacceptable. The nausea/vomiting was debilitating. The fear of passing out every time I stood up consumed every waking moment. And it was all brushed off as anxiety. I was just stressed out. If I did some meditation it would be ok. 

Now, for someone that had been dealing with mental illnesses for 6 years at this point, I was so confused. I knew my anxiety triggers. I came to learn to live with my intrusive thoughts. The hours I spent on compulsions dwindled. And then to be told by health professionals these physical symptoms were just anxiety? I was left lost. How could my mind be doing these things to my body? I thought I knew what my brain was capable of. 

So, I tried to keep pushing. I dragged myself out of bed to make it to classes at the end of my undergrad and beginning of grad school. I tried to “mind over matter” the fuck out of everything. But I kept getting sicker and sicker. I started reaching out to my psychologist again because I felt so confused and defeated. I was then diagnosed with depression but my psychologist made sure to reiterate that this depression was secondary to a physical health condition. I was depressed because I was in pain and not receiving help. My anxiety was increasing because I was in pain and nobody was listening to me. 

Doctors continued to brush my symptoms off as anxiety because my mental health history was long. This left me angry and sad and I felt like giving up. This is when the suicidal ideation kicked back in. And it was severe this time. I went into my first case of active suicidal ideation in 6 years and I had to work really hard on returning to my safety plan and finding distractions. But, my body was so sick that most distractions took too much out of me. I was left in a sick and dying body and my brain latched onto that and figured it would be easier to end the suffering all together. 

I quite honestly don’t know how I made it through 2019/2020. I think it was guilt and spite that kept me going in my darkest moments. And the fact I had an amazing psychologist and a kick ass mum. And I still had forced connections through school to remind me that I wasn’t alone and that people cared about me. But, I kept returning to the thought of “is my brain so sick that it’s causing me to slowly starve to death and allowing my nervous system to shut down?”. Something just didn’t feel right about that and so with my psychologists help we pushed back. 

I had countless letters written detailing that if medical doctors continued to use my mental health history against me and didn’t follow through on more testing, my death would be on their hands. It quite literally was stated that way. I was at severe risk for suicide and my psychologist didn’t hold back. It was at this point that MAiD was introduced as a possibility for me. I didn’t know what to do with that information so for a brief time period I started looking into MAiD as a serious option. If I couldn’t find a diagnosis, I was set on making the decision to pursue MAiD. 

I held on for another year and that’s when I found the miracle doctor team who figured out why I was sick and gave me my diagnoses. The relief I felt was impossible to describe. I then spent the last year fighting as hard as I could to get the rest of my diagnoses and start the process of finding treatments and symptom management. I had come out on the other side and now have tools in place to treat some of my symptoms. 

However, in the past month, the realization that most of my conditions don’t have cures and don’t have treatments has hit me very hard. I am exhausted. I don’t want to fight anymore. Those dark moments came rushing back and I have spent the last few weeks returning to my safety plan. I have had to have almost round-the-clock supervision. I want to share this as having an incurable disease that rips every shred of your identity away from you is fucking terrifying. The only thing that has kept me going has been fleeting interactions with people. I haven’t been able to properly leave bed in 2 weeks. I have made it outside 3 times to see people and one of those times was to get sedatives to try and control the panic attacks that have riddled most of my days. 

Why am I sharing this? I guess the weight of suicide prevention awareness month really hit me as I realized it was September. I realized 2 more months have slipped away from me as I am in a haze of recovery from my hospital stay. I had to make some really hard decisions recently for my health that have hit me hard mentally. And when I get into these crash cycles where more things are ripped away, that’s when my suicidal ideation becomes active again. And it’s so exhausting to have to fight physically and mentally to survive. 

I also share because I am always told I seem so happy all of the time and have that bubbly energy. So, I am not the face of what you would assume to be someone at high risk of suicide. I always say that I try to make the most out of every situation I have because most of the time I feel like it could be one of the last. And now that I am physically sick, those fleeting moments mean even more to me. I want people to feel a little safer in sharing their stories and reaching out for help. 

I still am not able to directly reach out to people for help. I make vague posts because the thought of putting all of this onto someone else makes me feel even worse. I am lucky to have a support system and people who understand complex mental and physical illnesses. But, we have such a long way to go in ensuring people with mental illnesses are treated fairly in our health system and in our communities. Suicide sometimes feels like the only logical option to deal with the level of suffering we experience. And that is fucking grim because we shouldn’t feel like burdens or like we are drowning. We should have adequate access to resources and practical help. All the therapy in the world isn’t going to do much for me until we find treatments for some of my conditions. 

I have reached the end of the mental health resource line. I am still brainstorming with my psychologist but it’s terrifying that I have already exhausted every avenue that psychology can offer me. And I have had horrific side effects from medication due to my comorbid physical health conditions. I am running out of options to keep myself alive. The only things I have left to hold onto are guilt and spite and that is a terrifying place to be. 

I just hope that in my lifetime we are able to make things better for the next generation of people with post-infectious illnesses and mental illnesses. It’s not ok that people like me are left to die or are pushed towards MAiD. I always say that my life would be a lot easier if our healthcare system was in better shape and if our social systems were revamped so I never had to worry about how I’m going to afford my next round of experimental medications or have to fight with insurance to get mobility devices that will improve my quality of life. It shouldn’t be easier for me to access and be approved for MAiD than access resources and treatments to keep me alive. 

All of this to stay, check in on that friend that always seems really happy and put together. Check in on that person who has mental illnesses but you haven’t heard from in a while. Check in on your sick and disabled friends because I promise you we are not ok. It’s hard to exist in a world that constantly tells you it would be so much easier if you were just dead. And I am fighting so hard to just hold on an extra day. I keep reminding myself that no matter how horrible the day has been, it always ends the same. I get to go to bed. I get to let sleep take over, even if it’s only for a few minutes at a time. I get to experience a tiny reprieve from the hell it is to exist in this world as a mentally ill and physically ill person. And I am so grateful to be able to crawl back into my bed when things get tough. Because chances are, this won’t last forever. 

So, what can you do to prevent suicide? Support workers rights in your local community. Support local mental health networks and collectives that are doing the work to make mental health supports accessible. Support the push to keep our healthcare system public. Support local shelters. Support organizations that are fighting for universal basic income and a living wage. Support mutual aid projects. Support local disability coalitions. And speak up about the failings of our government and hold politicians accountable. Reach out to someone you haven’t heard from in a while. Talk about suicide. Learn a bit more about suicide and mental illnesses. And always check-in on that person that seems to be holding it together. We shouldn’t have to be resilient. We shouldn’t have to be strong.

[shinra-makonoid]

Fixing distress over pronouns = therapy and self confidence.

Fixing distress over your body = conversion therapy.

Those are just not something you should classify together.

If someone doesn't give a fuck about their physical dysphoria then they don't meet the criteria of having gender dysphoria. It's literally a distressed state, it's in the name, dysphoria. This kind of speech is very ableist. Could you imagine if we started saying that you could just "not give a fuck" about having a neurodevelopmental condition? Sorry, it doesn't work like this. Neither I nor anyone can choose to stop having dysphoria just like this, it impacts our lives out in a major way. Even the people who fixed part or all their dysphoria through surgery and hormones acknowledge it dramatically impacted the course of their lives and it took time, money, efforts and patience to see it through. Things that could have been used for literally anything else.

I don't know you, idk if you have dysphoria or not, I don't care. You're not the only person seeing this post either, i didn't write my post being like "i'm sure this person doesn't know what dysphoria is" my point was "this anon was not nice, but I do think we should think about the classification of pronouns, while it can harm people to not be called the right pronouns, can it be really classified as gender dysphoria? It seems like comparing tomatoes and potatoes" and turns out you don't think so and you took offense in regards to questioning it. That's a you issue. The specific same kind of discussion could be held regarding "height dysphoria", and do you know why I think it's not gender dysphoria? Because when I started seeing more people my size I wasn't bothered by it anymore. And it's physical, but it's also social. I was really bothered by it but it's almost fixed now. It wasn't gender dysphoria, I didn't need to get my legs extended to finally feel comfortable in my body. And it's a good thing, it means it's possible to manage it.

That doesn't go further than that, but instead of accepting the idea that someone can think differently and still accept you, you decided it meant I hated you and thought so many things about you, when I literally didn't. You invented all of that in your head and then decided it was me who thought that. I don't. I've been transitioning for more than 5 years, do you really think I still care about the gender anyone has? Seriously I have other things to do in my life, and your gender doesn't affect me at all.

And again, it fell on you because I saw that post, and find it honestly bizarre to put them on the same classification, you could have been the most binary trans person, I'd still think if you have issues with people misgendering you it's something you should take up with a shrink, to find ways to make it less problematic in your life (like with CBT for example) because it's definitely its own issue and taking T/having surgery won't fix that. I even never said you weren't suffering???

I didn't realize it was a touchy subject and now I know, I didn't mean to hurt you at all either. So well, whatever man I'm sorry. I'm not replying further, make of that what you want, my dms are open if you want.

You don't get the right to compare people refusing to call you it/it's to actual transphobia. This take is so chronically online and divorced from actual reality it hurts to see. are you dysphoric from people not calling you it/it's? No. It hurts you in no way besides not receiving the attention and validation from an identity you created for yourself. Honestly though if you want to use it/it's with people who actually consent to using them for you then great! Just don't force it on people. This pronoun is inherently dehumanizing so it makes sense that it would make people uncomfortable (we literally only use it for objects, and me personally i dont even like using it for animals) Your experience is very different from a trans women or trans man, so have some respect and stop pretending you're oppressed for this.

[cat-madhouse]

I think

I think that me thinking I'm a compulsive manipulator for most of my "aware life" has something to do with the tism

[munchflix]

MUNCHFLIX - CASINO ROYALE

IMDB BLURB: After earning 00 status and a license to kill, secret agent James Bond sets out on his first mission as 007. Bond must defeat a private banker funding terrorists in a high-stakes game of poker at Casino Royale, Montenegro.

WARNINGS: Violence (sorta), terrorism, nudity, CBT. No...really.

RATING: One randomly bleeding, asthmatic, chess prodigy Albanian with Mad poker skills.

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER: All reviews are done solely for humor and should not be taken seriously ever. If you cannot handle cursing, crude humor and probably some offensive things, pls do not read this.

Munch: I get to go in blind again! I've never seen this because I don't really fuckin' enjoy Bond movies.

Biscuits: Me either, but we're watching one. Why are we doing this again?

M: Because you've got the hots for Mads Mikkelsen, I assume. This is only pg-13, why are we bothering?

B: I was gonna comment on that. It's not even really an action movie, it's just a movie where a guy goes to a poker game.

M: That's not very Bond, is it? Isn't he supposed to be like banging tons of women and blowing things up?

B: He does have sex with women for no reason, and I guess he does some other stuff. Mostly he seems like a chode who's incompetent at everything.

M: Movie starts all NOIR. I don't know what's happening. Bond is here and some other guy and I guess other guy is selling secrets. Wait, he's not even 007 yet??? What's the point??

B: He's about to get promoted. This is a flashback scene. Bond is played by Daniel Craig, who is a guy. Is he good looking? No. Is he a good actor? Eh...

M: I like Daniel Craig, just not really as James Bond. Would've made a great gay James Bond.

B: Listen, Bond HAS to be a straight white British guy or the world will fall apart. He should have been gay Bond. We have to face so much injustice in this world. I do really like the Bond credit sequence.

M: Oh Eva Green is in this? She's hot. The opening credits always look cool.

B: This movie isn't good but it's heavy on the aesthetic.

M: Is this Soundgarden? I hate soundgarden. Aesthetic can redeem a movie tho. See Coppola's Dracula. It's not great but it's DRIPPING with aesthetic.

B: Also I know this based on the novel of the same name. I don't care.

M: I didn't know they wrote novels! Do all Bond movies have novels??

B: Let's get the jokes out of the way! Bames Nond's having a stronk, call the Bondulance! And when I find the guy who James Bond burgered my sister! There, now I don't have to make them. If you want us to watch other Bond movies, fuck you.

M: I don't wanna watch other Bond movies, they're not really good. So now we're in....fucking somewhere....there's a war going on or something in Africa. There's a lot of people with guns. And like three white dudes and one of them is Mads, so who cares about the others.

B: For this movie, instead of making the villian some Russian super agent who kills people, Le Chiffre is a financier, so we gotta set up this whole complex process of him taking money from people and doing terrorism for...stonks? Why not just a bad guy who kills people?

M: Because! Capitalism is the most evil. Bottom text. He's got a cool eye scar thing going on. I love the evil stock market thing.

B: Evil stonks! That's his whole thing, and Bond has to defeat this guy by beating him at a poker game!

M: That's...impressively lame. I guess we're in Madagascar now with some other dudes who are doing secret agent things but not very well because they just got caught. Bond is just standing there while this other white dude is doing all the work. Is he training him?

B: They're going after this bomb maker guy. Secret agent stuff, dude.

M: How silly of me. A rousing chase scene ensues. Bond suddenly has a fucking industrial plow but this guy knows PARKOUR and he is scaling the building frame in record time. Bond also knows parkour. Now something exploded.

B: I think Bond gets this guy killed.

M: Three other dudes have already died falling off the trellis.

B: That's what I'm saying! He's not a very good secret agent! Why isn't Bond chasing this guy, why is his friend Virgil or whoever chasing him. I don't know if that's his name, I literally just made it up.

M: It is now! Bond is here now and he's gonna chase this guy off a ten mile high building rig cos that's how secret agents do. Isn't this kind of high profile violence for a secret agent? Oh parkour guy is fine, he knows how to tuck and roll. Ow. Bond is definitely not okay but really he is. YOU CAN'T JUST DO A FUCKING 40 FOOT DROP AND BE FINE.

B: Bond has broken like every bone in his body by now and he just busted through a piece of DRYWALL.

M: Aren't they getting tired? This has been like 10 minutes of constant fighting and running and parkour.

B: Uganda's first action movie! Parkour guy set off an alarm and now there's bad guys everywhere and guns.

M: Bond gets hit by exactly zero of the 900000 bullets being fired by the 50 assault rifles. Now he's holding Parkour guy hostage but not really. He lets him go as a fake and then BLOWS UP 30 PEOPLE.

B: James Bond's war crimes, the movie. You could make an entire movie of those.

M: Why do they have 80 year old Nokia phones?

B: This film came out in 2006 so....

M: Back to the Bad guy! French Mads is having dinner with some randos.

B: Blood comes out of his eyeball sometimes.

M: WHY

B: To make him look cooler and more evil. He's really good at math, that's his evil superpower. Statistics.

M: British agent kills unarmed prisoner reads headline. AND 30 OTHER PEOPLE.

B: Mads is looking at this like - this guy sucks at his job. Oh yeah Judi Dench is here.

M: I don’t know how.

B: She was in some bad movies, okay. She was in CATS.

M: Don't make me remember that. She deserves better. Bond is doing some secret agent shit with some fucking computers that seem way too advanced for a world with the old brick Nokias.

Hacking photosynthesis.

B: Geolocating, triangulating. You think the government would have this kind of technology? They can't even afford printers. If there's one lesson life has taught me, it's that the government is incompetent.

M: H ( who is actually M being played by Judi Dench but Munch is dumb )  is kinda pissed about the rampage of death. Bond is awfully sassy for someone who sucks this much at his job.

B: H tells Bond that he's arrogant and shitty and shouldn't be so egotistical,  and he never learns this lesson. He's still arrogant at the end of the movie!

M: That's like the whole Bond thing tho, that he's this verr macho macho man who doesn't need oversight because he's so BADASS except this Bond sucks at being a secret agent.

B: Bond is doing something, he's very cool. He's got GPS.

M: Where the fuck is Q? Doesn't Bond need gadgets and shit??

B: Later. Did I tell you this movie is really boring?

M: No. Bond is tying his shoes and getting the lay the of the land for a long time, which does not at all look suspicious.

B: He's also bad at parking a car. He might have done that on purpose.

M: Just to be an asshole?

B: That guy thought he was the valet.

M: So he destroys his car?

B: You saw what he did to other shit! Bond immediately begins snooping.

M: What even is his mission right now? Watch dvds?

B: He's...secret....I don't know...looking to find some clue? Hang the fuck on, I just got a fucking email from 8TRACKS telling me someone liked my playlist!??! What the hell???

M: Who the hell has an 8tracks account in this year of our lord, 2023???

B: I forgot I did!

James Bond on his Nokia liking my 8tracks Fallout playlist I made in 2014.

M: You and this one other guy apparently. Bond is doing really boring shit. I don't even care. He's getting a hotel room. Whoo. Later we shall bang, beautiful blonde woman at the counter. Bond goes swimming. This is so dull. A woman I assume to be Eva Green rides by on a white horse. No it is not Eva Green. Nevermind. Bond has hacked into H's account to look up criminal profiles on facebook. Le Chiffre, banker...accountant. EVIL GENIUS.

B: Some dudes are playing poker or something. Bond is gonna play. That's important. A hot woman appears. She is the woman from the horse earlier. Her boyfriend is a dick.

M: Bond is gonna gamble away all of H's retirement.

B: Bond is good at poker, but not really.

M: He's probably cheating. And eyeing up the girlfriend. He hasn't banged anyone yet so we gotta get that 13 into the pg-13 rating. Mr Bond is EXTREMELY forward. Hey I know you don't wanna piss off your boyfriend so how about coming back to my place with a man you just met for alcohol?? Biscuits has fucked off and left me. They're just gonna bang on the FLOOR?

B: Sex! James Bond is so cool. Why is she like giving him her life story? By the way this character only exists so Bond have sex with her. I guess he's trying to get information out of her?

M: With his penis?

B: This is spy business!

M: It's penis business, she's going down on him ffs. Or not, cue phone ringing. It's the husband/boyfriend. He's leaving so they can bang all night on the hard floor. Are we sure Bond's not gay? He seems really uninterested in this woman who is crawling all over him.

Hi honey, your voice sounds way deeper over the phone!

B: No he likes banging women, he's a cool guy.

M: When does the next fight scene happen? I'm bored. And out of booze. There's so many scenes of just...nothing happening. More poker is happening and Bond is getting caught by the husbando and they're having a very very boring knife fight where neither one really moves. And husband is stabbed but it's fine, nobody will notice.

B: He just stabs a guy in a museum because he's cool agent guy. Someone has taken the important evidence he was trying to get? But he figures it out by calling the cell phone.

M: How did he have this guy's number? From his wife? Now there's an airport. *yawns* A lot of walking around looking at things. Trying to find the guy who took his stuff. So he calls H and tells her he'll call her back. There might be a bomb.

B: *sits in silence for 10 minutes of these guys walking around doing nothing* Oh yeah...terrorism I guess? That should be the movie summary.

M: Accurate. It's very slow paced terrorism but how exciting can you make evil stonks??

B: They're gonna blow up a plane to tank the stonks and Bond's gotta stop it but he DOESN'T because spoiler alert, he's bad at his job!

M: *sits in silence for another 10 minutes of nothing really exciting happening while Bond doesn't do his job* I guess if I found like...car chases really thrilling...

B: I don't dislike action movie per se, I've discovered, there's some I actually like!

M: There's nothing wrong with some good cheesy action but this is taking itself waaaaaaay too seriously. It's so fucking overwrought. Like....move the fuck on with your action sequence. We all have lives to get back to.

B: The virgin Jame Bond vs the chad John Wick. What's happening? Oh yeah...epic action. SUPA ACTION!

ON IS THE MOVIE!

M: I'd rather be watching Who Killed Captain Alex.

B: That's a masterpiece of cinema so it's not really fair to compare this movie to it.

M: That's true. I like Daniel Craig but baby doll....you can do so much better than this. Let some other boneheaded guy play Bond. Oh I guess Bond's getting arrested.

B: They think he just did terrorism.

M: Meanwhile the other bad guy is blowing up the plane....and himself because Bond...planted a thing on him??

B: Le Chiffre uses an inhaler. I'm really scared of this old accountant with an inhaler. This is your bad guy. This is the guy your government is going after. And that girl Bond was fuckin' is fuckin' dead now.

M: Why is she like...dead on H's lawn???

B: They’re at the hotel I think. H is like...this is all your fault.

M: It IS tho. Le Chiffre is an Albanian chess prodigy accountant to terrorists and he has asthma. He is already like 100 times more interesting than Bond. I wanna know more about this fucking guy. H and Bond have a rousing discussion about stonks.

B: Le Chiffre's biggest crime...insider trading. Btw, you gotta go beat this guy in a poker game to stop terrorism.

M: How...exactly is that gonna stop him?

B: H just explained it, when he loses all his money he's gonna be scared because the guys whose money he has are gonna come after him and then the government is gonna take him in because he knows stuff.

M: Why would Le Chiffre bet ALL HIS MONEY in a poker game???

B: He's...super arrogant. This is Vesper Lynd, our Bond girl.

M: Eva Green is so beautiful and she deserves better than this. So I guess they're just gonna get Bond into this poker game and he's gonna win because uh...he's secret agent guy.

B: Bond has to do some back and forth biting flirtation with her.

M: Bond is apparently also an armchair psychologist. Women love being psychoanalyzed. Gets them so hot.

B: She's right, he is a bastard. She's a good character because she keeps telling him no and he needs to hear that more. He's reckless, he's a danger to everyone around him and he sucks at his job. And half of this movie is just people playing poker. Cool, high energy spy shit.

M: It's not even that interesting when they do the spy shit.

B: He never stops trying to fuck her.

M: Bond apparently only likes married women.

B: Like I said, he's kind of a chode.

M: How did they arrange this game if Le Chiffre knows who Bond is? They were just like, hey we're gonna try and entrap you, you mind?

B: It was already going on and they inserted Bond into it.

M: But if Le Chiffre KNOWS who he is and where he's from then.....

B: Look...the plot makes perfect sense. It just does.

M: WE AREN'T EVEN HALFWAY THROUGH. What the fuck else is gonna build the action for another hour??? We're leading up to a poker game!

B: There is no action. Only poker. Oh yeah Mathis is a character, he's not that important. Bond tells Vesper she needs to look hot for spy reasons so she can distract the other players. Bond assumes MI6 doesn't know his measurements, even though they have a tracking chip in his arm.

M: Seems like a shitty decision for a secret agent to allow a tracking chip....but that's just me.  Are you serious about the poker game going on for an hour?? Oh my god. Oh Le Chiffre knows everything. So...okay.

B: This is important, this whole password thing. Sort of.

M: They get to make a password so they can wire the money anywhere in the world or some shit but...

B: It's just so they have an excuse for Le Chiffre not to kill Bond immediately later.

M: But no spoilers.

B: This is where Mads spends a lot of time smouldering.

M: Well...he's good at it. He's the most interesting thing in this movie anyway.

B: Sorry your back is tired from carrying this whole movie, king.

M: The last Craig Bond movie I saw was that one with Javier Bardem as the villian and he carried the entire movie too. They should just make Bond villian movies.

B: Bond was too busy looking at boobies to make a bet.

M: I too, have been distracted by Eva Green's boobs, and unfortunately for you, I guess we do not get to see Mads’ boobies.

B: We do not.

M: Meester Bohnd.

B: This shouldn't bother me as much as it does, but the dealer keeps taking the player's cards and mixing them back in with the cards on the table, which like?? Why would you do that, don’t do that.

M: No cheating here.

B: They assume the audience doesn't know anything about poker, which they probably don't, but...

M: We gotta take a break so Bond can assault Lynn as some way of pretending he knows that Le Chiffre is bluffing but he's wrong.

Just...something happen! Please!

B: He doesn't know shit, he doesn't know that Le Chiffre is bluffing and Matthus's entire role is to tell the audience things and I hate him. I just want two hours of Mads sitting at a poker table in a beautiful building looking angry. Bond plants a tracking mechanism in Le Chiffre's INHALER which is a little ableist, I gotta tell you.

M: It's kinda fucked up. But then....I don't know why they don't just...kill him and instead decided to risk everything on some dumb high stakes poker game.

B: We gotta take this scene now to show these guys who are attacking Le Chiffre for not having their money but he should have the money! He just won like 4 billion on stock terrorism!

M: How the fuck is this guy in the hole to all these people when he's doing all this fucking underground evil money making?!

B: How do they even know where he is?

Yeah these guys are basically just a plot device, what can ya do.

M: They also put a tracker in his inhaler.

B: He takes the medication thing out and it's just full of tracking bugs. He also doesn't care if you hack his girlfriend into pieces.

M: Is Bond gonna fucking rescue the bad guy? Who is not actually that bad of a guy after all?

B: No but he's gonna kill people for no reason. Saving Le Chiffre would've been a very interesting plot twist!

M: They don't have the balls to do anything that interesting.

B: These guys are gonna shoot at him for...overhearing I guess and they're gonna fight in a stairwell because that's cool. (Editor’s note: Isn’t Bond killing the guys who want money from Le Chiffre kinda antithetical to their whole mission...?)(Editor’s editor note: Yes, but as you pointed out earlier, the plot makes perfect sense, it just does.)

M: He's gonna look really beat up when he gets back to the table.

B: Damn, what happened to you?? Oh I had sex with my wife so hard all this blood came out of my face because I'm so cool.

M: Bond is like...Vesper...go tell Matthus to get rid of all these bodies. What the fuck.

B: We gotta be reminded that Daniel Craig is buff and has abs. He's not really my type but he does have big titties.

M: He's old enough....

B: I'm not gonna respond to that.

M: You don't need to. Your old man thirst is well documented on this blog.

B: Le Chiffre is also fine after his horrific incident of terror.

M: I hope this doesn't affect his poker playing!

B: We're taking a break from the poker now because Vesper is traumatized and is sitting in a shower in her evening gown. This is like the one nice moment where Bond is trying to like...comfort her and maybe he's not a complete douchebag. But then he goes right back to being a douche.

Buck up, little camper.

M: He's sucking on her fingers so....yeah.

B: Just kidding, he was being horny the whole time. This your man?

M: Is there a point to that scene? Are we supposed to think he's a kinder gentler Bond....why has this game paused for the entire night???

B: It's like a tournament that goes on for several days...I think. Matthus just frames some rando for the murders in the stairwell.

M: That's fucked up. Mads stares deeply out a window.

B: Absolutely serving cunt.

M: The worst part is...the poker game is more interesting to me than anything else that's happened in this entire movie.

B: Bames Nond is gonna up the stakes because he thinks he knows when Le Chiffre is bluffing.    

M: They're playing it up by making it look like Le Chiffre has all these tells by touching his temples and shit but come on. This guy is a chess prodigy.

B: And then Le Chiffre goes ALL IN so that Bond has to go all in to match him. And now we're gonna have to pause for a minute so I can rant.

M: Four of a kind beats a full house motherfucker. Okay rant away.

B: Bond bet all his money so now he's broke and he's like, hey Vesper you and the accountant people need to give me more money! And they're like no, which is the correct response, because all he's done is LOSE! He's just demonstrated that he's really bad at poker! But then THIS OTHER GUY who was there at the poker table, who has not been important yet at all, is like "Hey I'm from the CIA and I'll buy you back into the game" - like WHAT. MY MAN. Also ensuring that James Bond receives ABSOLUTELY NO CONSEQUENCES for his fucking failure!

M: Also, Bond just decides he's gonna kill Le Chiffre - with a fucking kitchen knife. But CIA guy stops him.

B: 007, Consequences. That doesn't sound like a very good movie, does it? But then Le Chiffre's girlfriend who kinda looks like Britney Spears poisons Bond's martini.

M: But why, he already lost all his money and he didn't actually attack Le Chiffre so....

B: He unlost tho so....she decided to give him consequences. It was just a drop of consequence poisoning.

M: Bond runs to the bathroom to barf and sweat and then go to his car in the middle of the game, which seems like it would also have consequences but that's where all his cool gadgets are so he can be like oh no I've been poisoned.

When will you learn?? When will you learn that your actions have CONSEQUENCES??

B: I don't wanna have to say it again but...Bames Nond is having a stronk....call the Bondulance. They’re like...defibrillate yourself.

M: Why don't they just fucking call an AMBULANCE. Or a BONDULANCE. How do they know it's digitalis???

B: The chip that monitors his blood can tell that but he didn't plug in the defibrillator because he's bad at his job! Eva shows up and she somehow knows what's going on and how to plug in the defibrillator and save him.

M: Bond, poisoned about 20 seconds ago is fine now. That's not how poison works.

B: When you die, it removes status effects! Come on!

M: You don't suddenly like...have a heart attack and then be like, oh poison gone.

B: Le Chiffre makes a great ‘how are you not dead’ face.

M: Back to poker. Stop trying to kill everyone and just fucking play. Two aces on the table so that's big. Everyone is going all in. If Le Chiffre is not fucking STUPID he won't do it but he's gonna because he's a bad guy. Bond goes all in.

B: As we clarified, he's bad at poker, but he's trying to force Le Chiffre to do it too.

M: He has to lose because otherwise they'll stare at each other longingly for all eternity. What would happen if one of these other dudes had four of a kind? A royal flush?

B: But Bond wins the poker game with a straight flush and Le Chiffre is mad now.

M: Why is the CIA playing in a high stakes game anyway?  Bond needs to get some grub. Which is fair.

B: He just wants to hit on Vesper.

M: There's still like...half an hour left.

B: The climax happens and then the falling action just goes on for like...half an hour.

M: That was the climax???

B: No that's the point that's coming up. That's when I climaxed at least. Vesper is like, don't you even care that you murdered two people?

M: And Bond is like, I've killed way more people than that. Oh shit....Matthus. He might be in danger!

B: Actually he was a double agent! He was working for the bad guy the whole time! And Bond runs after a moving car. He's gotta get in his cooler car.

M: Is this gonna be another 20 minute long chase scene? I'm sorry but there's NO WAY he somehow swerved to miss hitting Vesper tied up in the middle of the road also how did they get here there that fast?

Bond is definitely very alive after this, trust us.

B: Bond wrecks the ever loving shit out of his car and he is now dead. They have Bond now and they gotta get the tracking chip out of his arm. I guess they knew about it because of Matthus. Time for your ball flattening.

M: *dies laughing* Ouch.

B: I'm not kidding!

M: Oh this is a real thing?!

B: Dude this is the cock and ball torture scene!

M: You didn't say anything about a fucking CBT scene!!!

B: I thought everyone knew that happened!

M: NO. We're gonna have to put a CBT warning. I don't wanna see this! Oh god. Bond is naked and strapped to a chair with the base cut out and Le Chiffre is carrying a big rope and uh....

B: Le Chiffre has to sensually tell Bond he's taken good care of his body. All of Bond's villians are gay coded, they have been for ages, it's fine, nobody’s mad.

M: Hannibal training. I really don't need to see this happening. Is this where the pg13 rating comes in?

B: Is this an inappropriate time to say God I wish that were me?

M: YES. He just whacked Bond in the nuts with a huge rope.

B: Thank you daddy, may I have another? I wanna be whoever had to spray Mads to make him that greasy. Man is fucking lubricated.

M: Bond is screaming though, as anyone would be. But he's trying to be cool about having his balls decimated. Le Chiffre has a point tho.....even if he kills Bond, MI6 would still welcome him because he knows too much stuff. Much better terrorist tactic, threaten Vesper.

B: Is little mister Bond gonna tell Daddy the password, or is he gonna keep being a naughty boy?

Man, 50 Shades of Grey looking better than I remember

M: I don't know you.

B: Just in time to save Bond's balls, it's some guy! With a gun! Honestly it would’ve been a very bold move to make it canon that Bond loses his balls. But that doesn't happen. The world wasn't ready for gay, ball-less, villian rescuing James Bond.

M: They weren't even ready for a black Bond, do you remember the hate toward Idris Elba??? They would never let us remove Bond's Balls. Oh yeah....Le Chiffre is dead.

B: Matthus is actually like...a triple agent? He was working for them but now he's not really? Or maybe he is. He's just a plot device.

M: I have no idea. They just tased him.

B: I stopped watching after this point the first time because Mads was dead and all I wanted was him sitting there looking mad at a poker table.

M: Vesper is here and she's gonna make Bond feel all better, and I wanna know how he thinks he's gonna bone her when his balls are the size of grapefruits.

B: This man's testicles are wrecked right now. But because of trauma bonding, they're totally into each other right now. Speaking of people who don't have balls...it's my cat!

M: Hi kitty. They should have Bond sitting there with a giant ice pack on his lap. Vesper suddenly is like, I love you even without your balls. WHY.

B: Dude....

M: Bond is like, I have no armor. You must love me now. I love you. I have no balls. This is the fucking movie, friends. Are we really supposed to believe Names Bond is gonna settle down???

B: Sex mode activated!

M: He's pretty motivated for a dude with a hospital bed in his room.

B: We must be reminded that Daniel Craig is buff. Every Bond actor is like someone your mom thinks is hot.

So you’re a buff guy, like it really rough guy, just can’t get enough guy

M: My mom definitely thinks Daniel Craig is hot. He's okay.

B: I think Vesper double crosses him actually.

M: Good. He's got it coming.

B: I'm ready to quit my job and travel the world with you, woman I've known for two days. He's acting like he's gonna quit because being a secret agent is so hard on him emotionally. He's resigning, but not really.

M: I think he's just afraid for his balls. Which is fair. Why isn't this over yet? The bad guy is dead.

B: We gotta set up for the next movie. He always looks like such a goober when he's not in his sleek spy suit. Why would his employer want him to come back?? He failed at everything.

M: He didn't even take out the bad guy. Le Chiffre is dead but that's not what they wanted, they wanted him alive.

B: Everything went wrong except that Bond is cool now and he gets to fuck a woman half his age.

M: Ooooh H wants to know where the monies are, and Bond is like...oshit...is Vesper stealing all the money?? Uh oh. Now MI6 is gonna kick your ass. To be fair, if I was Vesper...I would've done the same thing. Fuck this guy.

B: She's being manipulated by some secret organization because she couldn't have done this of her own free will because woman.

M: That's way less interesting.

B: I thought it was gonna turn out the person she'd been in love with was Le Chiffre but no. He doesn't like women that much.

M: I like my version better where she's just like, you know what Bond, you're a lying sack of shit with huge swollen balls and I'm taking your monies.

B: We gotta have one more action scene because otherwise the board would be like no we need more shoot gun explosion action.

M: Boo. This should have ended like an hour ago.

B: The falling action goes on forever. They had to set up the next movie instead of being like hey Bond your next mission is to go to Costa Rica and fuck some dudes in the ass! Except more British.

M: He's gotta cause enough property damage to negate all the money MI6 would've gotten back.

Listen, blowing up that building was just a goof!

B: This might be more than that. He's levelling buildings. Daniel Craig does have extremely blue eyes. They are very pretty. Nice titties and very blue eyes.

M: The bar is so low. He's like...perpetually doing duckface tho as his natural expression. I don't even know what's happening, stuff is just exploding. Vesper might be drowning, there's a lot of dust and gunfire. I assume Bond will come out on top. Oh he's gonna rescue Vesper? Or not. She's gonna commit aliven't??

B: Secret agent stuff? I guess? Some kind of thing.

M: This makes no sense.

B: That's implying the rest of the movie did make sense. No, don't try to save me. I love you, let me drown to death. She just exhaled so much, she would be drowning already, so would he.

M: She does tho and he's fine, despite all of his exhalation.

B: He might not be good at his job but he's got the lung capacity of a seal.

M: Somehow he got her out of the water and now he's doing the sexiest version of rescue breathing I've ever seen, wherein he doesn't even exhale and just makes out with her corpse.

B: We don't really feel bad for him tho because as we've clarified, he's kind of an asshole, and we don't feel bad for her because she mostly existed for him to bang.

M: And now M has to explain that Vesper had a boyfriend but they kidnapped him and were threatening to kill him so...that's kinda fucked up. Bond is like, NO I DON'T CARE ANYMORE SHE WAS A BITCH.

B: He's acting like a 10 year old. Now we'll never know who was behind all this because you fucked it all up, Bond. Don't worry, he'll fall in love with a different woman in the next movie.

M: I'm literally just waiting for this fucking movie to end. It won't end. They keep adding random shit that means nothing. There's another criminal fucking organization behind everything and we donut care at all. Some other guy just got shot by Bond. BLARG. I don't really have any closing thoughts uh....Bond really sucks now. Like...either stick to your guns and make him this utterly dehumanizing super macho bullshit strong dude or don't. But don't fucking go back and forth with it the whole movie. It's annoying as hell. The villian was 10000 times more interesting.

B: James Bond? More like LAMES BOND.

M: Parfait.

Munch and Biscuits out, yo.

[dissociativediscourse]

unfortunately i have come to the realization that i am possibly polyfragmented due to Recent Happenings and the fact that i learned a lot of my parts are actually just a bunch of fragments in a trenchcoat (like part a will have four or five fragments inside, part b will have one or two, some have none, then there's some subsystems that i absolutely have no access to at all and total blackout amnesia and it's just layers and layers of bullshit [insert tired emoji])

i cannot begin to count them all (it's impossible since a lot r so underdeveloped and just hold like one single thing almost like they're fragments or smth lol) but i am curious if u have anywhere to start in terms of like. find brain something other than split to do when only minor trauma happens so i can be a little more stable.

my therapist has not been good for me lately and im actively searching for a new one but it's taking a bit. i have a good psychiatrist but i just want to be able to try and help myself a little beyond just getting meds straight yk? and i look up to ur blog since ur well-read and stuff <3

sorry for anon just dont want to out myself as more traumatized than i seem bc Scary

also u definitely do not have to reply, ik u put a lot of time and work into writing and u may not have it atm!! ur very cool and i hope ur having a wonderful day

Hey, anon. I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to get to this. I have severe issues getting things done until it just Happens, sometimes and I hope you’re doing okay. I completely misremembered this ask as well and had come up with a plan to respond to it a certain way only to realize that, I don’t need to do any of that. Whoops.

Splitting happens often in polyfragmentation because the child begins to dissociate very young. Like, pre-mobility young. This can be from something like stressful things in the environment/yelling/really anything that would stress a baby to the point of triggering fight or flight. Which is a lot of shit. It does not always have to be from direct abuse.

The reason this is a factor is because at that time in a child’s life, they are unable to make use of any coping mechanism or response that is NOT dissociation, especially when they don’t receive appropriate comfort from a caregiver.

This effectively means that if you’re polyfragmented, your first and possibly only coping mechanism for a while is dissociation and therefore splitting. The best way to work to break this cycle is to develop new coping mechanisms and work to stabilize, whether that’s in therapy (recommended once you find a therapist that works. I would be up front and honest with any therapist you talk to— don’t want to end up with a therapist that doesn’t work for you. Trust me, it works wonders) or on your own.

This means CBT. This means DBT, sometimes. This means removing yourself from certain situations you know are stressful to you when you’re able, until you’re able to handle them. This means being extremely mindful of your behaviors and why they happen and how you can change them to be healthier, without getting down on yourself and spiraling. This means cutting out unhealthy patterns and unhealthy people and finding new things to do that can help you rather than hinder you.

Finding new coping mechanisms when it comes to something like dissociation isn’t really easy. At all. But it’s necessary to heal. It’s not something that happens fast, but it’s worth it. A great step towards this is grounding when you’re stressed and notice yourself starting to drift off, when your vision starts to get blurry or when you start to feel detached. This requires a lot of mindfulness and practice, which really mainly consists of paying attention to your behaviors without assigning any value to them. Just making sure that you know what you’re doing. It’s extremely important when it comes to trauma responses, and can be very revealing and help you to be the best you that you can be.

You can use whatever grounding technique you like, but a few of my favorites are:

Looking around the room you’re in and naming/talking about objects (out loud helps) and maybe even their stories and how they relate to you. Whatever comes naturally.

Remind yourself of the exact date and time. Year, month, day, time. Your location. That whatever has happened is not happening right now, and that you are in the present and safe.

Run your hands under ice cold water/feel something cold/shit, I have put ice cubes in my clothes before. I’ve stepped out into the snowy weather before. Sudden, severe temperature change can jolt you back to reality.

Splash cold water on your face. This actually triggers an instinct that humans have called the Plunge Response, and will force you to breathe deeply and a few other things that are amazing for grounding. It works.

Remember that meds are only part of the solution. You won’t get far with just medication, as it seems like you know. You need to first stabilize on your own and in therapy and develop healthy coping mechanisms, and then you’ll be able to process the traumas you’ve experienced safely. Without stabilization, this is unadvisable. I did trauma processing before stabilization when I was younger. It fucked me up. I split, certain alters became known to me that I wasn’t ready for, and I was stuck in that place for a long time. Be careful and don’t deep dive until you’re ready. The therapist you have needs to know how to treat complex trauma and stabilize you, and you need to work towards stabilization on your own as well.

I hope I explained everything well, and if you have any more questions at all or I left anything out that I might not have caught, please feel free to DM me or send another ask. I promise it won’t take nearly as long as this time. And again, I’m extremely sorry it did take this long. I hope you see this and are doing well!

[hillbillyoracle]

In your ‘stop telling people to get a therapist’ post, you mention how “Current research is beginning to show that it (CBT) actually makes symptoms worse in people who’ve repeatedly experienced trauma and isn’t terribly effective in cases of personality disorders.” Do you happen to have any recommendations for more information on this?

I ask as a person who is unable to do CBT because I don’t experience a constant running inner monologue (I can’t internally perceive my thoughts unless I’m extremely stressed out) and I’m casually interested in learning more about that research mentioned. You of course don’t have to answer, I just thought to ask.

So originally I started this response with a really long winded way of saying the research I've seen in supporting CBT for trauma and personality disorders is pretty trash especially with regard to patient selection and long term follow up but given review editors bias toward publishing "this works" articles over "this needs more research" articles, it makes finding the information critiquing CBT harder for me as someone without credentials to search at an academic institution (it's not as likely to be in their free previews). I saw this research when I was still connected to a university but now I can't access it since I'm no longer working for one.

If I get access again, I'll try to come back with more but this is all just to say I'm sorry these aren't the quality that I generally like to give. The following articles (and book) touch on the same ideas without the numbers.

Work I've personally interacted with:

Here's a paper discussing how CBT is getting less effective over time and some theories as to why.

If you don't want to slog through that here's a summary from the Guardian.

"The Body Keeps the Score" by Bessel van der Kolk - summarizes both case studies and clinical studies he conducted, largely with military veterans, that pointed to cognitive treatment alone being insufficient at best and sometimes harmful. He doesn't go so far as to suggest CBT is ineffective but advocates for it not being the only course of treatment.

Here's one persons account of why CBT was not effective for them on the basis that their behaviors weren't considered problematic.

This article touches on the fact that even for situations it's considered well suited to CBT is only effective a little over half of the time and how touting it as THE modality hurts people who rely on medication or alternative treatments to function.

This therapist talks about CBT alone isn't trauma informed because of it's focus on the present.

One person's account of how CBT failed her but psychodynamic therapy (a modality that isn't really in vogue at the moment) really helped her.

Modalities that don't require an inner monologue to check out:

polyvagal therapy

somatic experiencing

transference focused psychotherapy

dialectical behavioral therapy (CBT adjacent, but less inner monologue and more skills focused)

scheme therapy (tougher to do without a monologue but possible to use through observing the body and behaviors)

Hope this helps or is at least interesting. I'm very frustrated I can't dig up the really awesome piece I read a while back from someone critiquing CBT as almost innately ableist because of it's moral language around whether a patient complies with a therapists recommendation (without regard to the appropriateness of the therapists recommendation). If I find it again I'll link it, because it's one of my favorite critiques of it to date.

[bishiglomper]

I love my physical therapist! \o/ It went so well.

He was very kind, very gentle. Nothing stressed me out other than the ticker tape going "at which point do i tell him i feel like shit and not up to doing much?" But I didnt have to. 90% of the appointment was testing my arm and figuring out what was wrong exactly. And stuff hurt, but he didnt push me too hard and let up when his prodding was too much. He was actually watching my face and checking in, it was lovely.

He showed me 7 exercises to do, only 2 of them are tough. But I'm looking forward to stretching out my muscles. He did this one thing with my arm that stretched it in such a way that felt good so he did that for me for a bit.

My symptoms confused him though. Because poking at me- the tender spot was behind my shoulder, but the active pain was in the front. He was noting down the pain in the back and i pointed to where it hurt and he literally whipped his head up and went "It's in the front!?" lmao 😂

He took the time to explain what he was doing, why and how it worked. And then kept apologizing for being too technical, but everything was easily understandable. Also he told me to only do half as much at first because i dont wanna get "muscle fatigue" doing too much too fast. 💕

He basically told me that something happened to make my nervous system associate particular motions with pain and that i needed to recalibrate. I mean, he didnt make it sound like it was in my head or anything... Every time I said "i dont feel anything with this motion" or "yeah this motion is tough" he agreed like "yes, that makes sense"

But basically it sounded like my shoulder needs physical "cognitive behavioral therapy" 😂 I mean, sure. I know fibromyalgia can be attributed to trauma and stuff, so it makes sense to me, anyway.. That we need to just tell my body that this is okay and to chill.

Honestly the concept sounds awesome, i wonder if i can do that with my whole body.

I was offered cbt by my counselor but it didnt sound like something that really applied.. Because I get sick and tired of hurting, and I whine a lot but I dont think I MOPE in it. I don't go woe is me. I get frustrated.. But i dont wake up like "gee i wonder when shit is gonna go downhill"

But to retrain my body itself into not being in pain? That makes sense.

Oh, also this guy was cute. 😳 Latino. When he first called for me, he had a strong enough accent I mentally went "oh, CRAP." because accents are hell on my audio processing but somehow he lost most of it when he started getting into it so it wasnt a problem lol

I'm super glad they didnt do any of the same stuff we did the last time my arm acted up. They always made me start with this arm cycling thing for a solid 10 minutes. And then stretches and manipulation. HIS stuff was so much friendlier. 😭

I'm so lucky to find all these wonderful medical professionals. I've been very lucky. 😭