#would you mind messaging us your home address and full name?

[pinkthrone445]

Nooo! You can’t leave me hanging with my heartache pls 😭 I need a part 5 to Partner in crime. I am so sad and I’ve been waiting for the next update to this and I finally get it but it’s sadddd naurrrrr. Next part. I demand the next sort my heart needs to feel happy again 😔🥲

P.S I love your writing! It’s soo good!!!! I love it so much!

Thanks for the support! I love this kind of messages, it truly helps me to keep writing. Thanks for all the funny comments too! ❤️

~Partner in crime~ Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:soft, cute, friends to lovers, slow burn, hurt

Warnings:I don't think so

Summary :When they send you to work back in your home town, you start to recall all your memories from your teen years involving the redhead. And now it was finally time to face the past.

You sighed trying to calm the lump in your throat and the pain you felt in your chest as you remembered how things ended with her and how the last time you saw her she had already found her forever home by someone else's side.

Taking a last look at the file that had been brought to you, you reviewed with your eyes the name of the person involved: Anthony "Tony" Schementti. The man for whom you had received a promotion as a cop when you caught him years ago, but also the man that had cost you your whole future and the love of your life.

Many nights you spent reliving that arrest in your head, what would have happened if your partner had entered the building first and made the arrest? Would she still be with you, would your end have been different? What would have happened if you had him let it go? Would it have been worth losing your job to keeping her? You could have find a new job, but you could never find someone like her, Melissa was something special, something that you only get to live once, her magic made your life brighter, better, happier... And even if you tried to find someone new, your days never were as bright, your life never reached that peak of perfection and your heart never felt the same happiness...

You knew you couldn't live in the past anymore, you couldn't change anything and there was no point of spend your time speculating about what would have happened if... But you also couldn't have a full future if your heart had stayed in that past.

With sadness and pain you took that file and closed it, getting up from your desk and taking it to your boss to explain that you would not be part of the revision of the trial since you were involved in the case personally. He understood and after you finish arranging everything, you went to your patrol to start your first day of work on Philly.

That first week back in your home town was "normal", you tried to get used to the town again and to your new partner at work, he was a rookie under your protection and under your guidance, and he didn't had much idea of life.

The redhead popped on your mind more than once, more times that you would like to admit. Sometimes it was because you saw something that reminded you of her, in others she visited you in waves of loving or painful memories, she also visited you on dreams from time to time, where she looked at you with more love than the last time you talked to her. You knew where she lived and worked, it was on the file of her brother because she was his contact information, you only saw the address once, but it was engraved on your mind with no practical use, you would never dare to go to near that part of town and risk seeing her again after all this years.

Another thing that made you think of her was the invitation that was under your door when you got home a few nights ago, the school reunion for the 20th anniversary of your graduation. Everyone in school knew that you dated her many years, would they think that you were still together? They always thought you were the perfect couple, what would they think if they find out that she was married to one of her ex classmates?

You didn't have time to go to that stupid thing anyway...

The noise of interference on your radio brought you back to reality

-"Code Amber on the Philly mall, all free units respond to the scene" - The lady from the radio informed and you turned your lights and the sirens on, immediately changing route to the mall address

-"Copy dispatch, this is L-8230 on route" - You informed

-"Child got lost apparently 10 minutes ago in a school excursion to the cinema, a first grader using a gray t-shirt and blue sport pants, curly short dark hair, green eyes and dark tees, it's using a tag with their name on it, responds to the name of Chris"-she kept giving more instructions and you saw the mall a few blocks away. Your partner looked really nervous and scared, placing his hand on the belt where he had his hand.

-"Look kiddo, we are looking for a little kid, not to shoot anybody. Our coworkers probably already did a perimeter around the mall, if someone is trying to take that kid away, we will see it before they can get away with it. In the most common cases the kid is hiding somewhere inside the mall and we can find him in a few minutes. We will get there and talk to the teacher and the classmates to see if someone saw something, our job it's to be calm so they can be calm, if they start to panic, that only make our jobs harder, okay?"-You tried to explain everything so he could know what to expect and do his job in the best way

-"Y-Yes ma'am, I will follow your lead" - He said taking his hand off the gun holder.

When you arrived at the scene, the police already closed the mall and made a perimeter around it just as you said.

After parking, you quickly entered the mall with your partner following quickly behind you. There were many children gathered around their teachers and nervousness and fear could be felt in the air. Scanning the crowd you approached the teacher of the lost kid to ask a couple of questions. Among all of them you saw a blonde hair, which although many years had passed since the last time you saw her in person, you would recognize her anywhere. Kristin Marie was sobbing trying to keep her composure so as not to scare the other children, but in her eyes from afar you could see the desperation she felt and the guilt that one of her children had gotten lost.

Without trying to startle her more than she already was, you approached carefully and touched her arm

-"Kristin..."-you softly called but she was startled anyway

-"O-Officer..."-she began stuttering from her own sobs and you could see the surprise in her eyes when her sight reached your face-"(Y/N)..."-your name on her lips was just a whisper and she immediately collapsed in your arms crying on your vest, your arms held her protectively

-"Hey... It is ok... We'll find them, they're hiding somewhere and they are safe. Kids tend to hide thinking is funny, I'm sure they are around somewhere else. I promise we will find them" - You reassured. On your job you knew that you shouldn't do promises, specially knowing how unpredictable life was, but rigth now you would say anything to confort your old friend. But apparently, no matter what you said to her, you couldn't stop her from sobbing on your chest.

A well-dressed man approached you with a frown, looking at the woman crying in your chest

-"Pull yourself together Kristin! Don't you realize that this damn mall is full of glass and the reporters who are gathering outside can see you? Do you know how the name of the school could look if that child does not appear?" -The man spoke in a dry tone and for the first time in your life you saw Kristin scared, not by him, but by the idea that that child might not appear again. You carefully stood in front of the man, covering your friend with your body

-"BACK OFF!" - Your voice echoed on the mostly emptied mall-"A child is lost and all you care is the school reputation? Why don't you care about the safety of that kid? Why don't you worry about the parents of him? Their life could change forever and all you care is about some reporters outside?" - Your tone was dry and authoritarian, making him step back a little-"Do not interfere with this and don't talk to her again or I will kick you out of the perimeter so the reporters can eat you alive" - You warned him and he frowned again, mad, but smart enough to no say anything back.

Changing your expression to a soft smile, you looked at your friend who was sobbing silently

-"We will find him, do you want to look for him with me?" - You offered and she nodded, without strength to talk. With one hand you took your radio and began to check where they had already searched to narrow down the area. The other children were sent home with their parents to make the search easier. Apparently the entire mall had been searched and they also announced over each speaker the name of the lost kid to see if he appeared, but both happened.

Kristin started to panic again, but instead of letting her go down into a panic attack, you started to ask questions again

-"Where was the last time you saw him?" - You asked on a neutral tone

-"We were about to enter the movie theater, our was the room number 7, the children began to enter and I began to check their names on my list, inside that room there where only kids, teachers and the guys of the movies that clean, he enter the theater and I checked him on the board, but when I finish checking that every kid got inside, he was no longer on their seat, we searched all over but he was no where to be found, that's when we called the police"-she explained with desperate gesticulation

-"So... Only kids, teachers and cleaning crew, and from one moment to another he wasn't on the room anymore..."-You used your radio again-"Someone checked the interior of the building? The one that the crew of the mall uses to go around?" - You asked but everyone answered the same

-"Negative, he can't be there, you need a key to access" - they answered and you started to run to one of the service door, with the proper technique you kicked the door open and ran inside, Kristin followed you closer, screaming the kid's name

-"CHRIS! CHRIS ARE YOU HERE?!" - You both screamed. After searching for a few minutes, you started to hear sobbing on a corner, when you asked Kristin for silence, you could pinpoint the source of the noise coming from behind of a candy cart. Carefully your aproched gently calling their name

-"Chris, it's that you? I'm (Y/N), I'm a police officer, we have been looking for you, your teacher Miss Schementti is here too" - You encouraged Kristin to speak to him

-"Hey Chris... Everything is okay, you can come out now, your mom came to pick you up" - she whispered and the little kid came out from his hiding spot, their little face stained with tears and some spots of dried candy. The teacher, relieved to see that the child was safe, hugged him tightly lifting him off the ground in her arms, the child's crying stopped and the teacher's increased, a cry of relief and happiness this time-"How did you got here?" - she asked

-"I saw the the candy cart on the movie theater when we got in and I wanted to bring candy for everyone but there where no enough, so I hid inside of the cart so they will take me to the candy store, but when I got here I took the candy for everyone and I wanted to come out but I couldn't open the door, and nobody came back for me or opened the door"-they explained the best that they could and the teacher let out a laugh mixed with tears. While the teacher made sure that her student was okay, you communicated with the radio that the child appeared and that they should notify the parents.

Once the boy was reunited with his parents, the news were informed of the reappearance and they let everyone go home. You sent your partner home and decided to stay with Kristin

-"Did you bring your car?" - You asked and she denied with her head, hugging her shacking body

-"It was on the mechanic and also we came with the school bus, but now is gone..."-she explained, the adrenaline running low now making her body shake

-"Let's go, I will take you home" - You offer guiding her to the black patrol car. Once you were on your way to her house, which was still the same address as the last time you saw her in person, she told you what had become of her life and she asked you questions about yours, making the trip go by quickly. You explained that you had discovered that the child was in the corridors of the staff since he had not left through the front door and the only other exit that existed inside the room, was the service door. She also told you that her boss was a disgusting person but teaching those children made it worth staying.

When you got home you found it strange to see her car in the garage of her house since she had told you that it was in the mechanic, but with how scared she had been maybe she had been confused and you decided not to pay attention to it.

When she opened the door of her house an aroma of food made you smile, for some reason that aroma reminded you of your childhood and made you feel loved. You could also smell a perfume that belonged to a person very familiar to you, but before you could react, that redhead you always saw in your dreams came out of the kitchen holding a towel in her hands

-"Finally! I went to the mechanic to get your car and bring it like you asked, but when I got here your kitchen was a mess and I started cleaning and since you didn't arrived yet I also made you fo..."-her voice drowned on her throat when her eyes landed on yours. She looked practically the same as the last time you saw her, her hair was a few shades darker indicating that she surely had started to dye her hair to hide her gray strands, which did not surprise you since she was always very aware of her looks. On top of that, her face had new lines, especially around her eyes, you secretly hopped them to be from smiling so much and having a happy life. Her wardrobe didn't changed much, she still used tank tops and leather, her hair was in a ponytail that it was messy but looked amazing on her. She started using glasses that at that moment were on the top of her head.

Her eyebrows were almost on the roof because of the surpire of seeing you, that was a familiar mannerism of her.

She was the same Melissa, the Mel that once was yours, but at the same time she seemed like a completely different person.

Your feet were tempted to turn and run away before her surprised face changed to one of anger like the last time you spoke before breaking up. But instead, her eyebrows relaxed and her lips let out a soft, subtle smile. This time surprising you but nobody moved from where you were standing.

-"Mel... The food is burning" - Her sister warned breaking the spell that hung on the air. The redhead runned to the stove letting a few small curses out. You looked at her sister, unaware of what to do

-"Now that Melissa is here..."-You paused for a few seconds, her name on your lips felt so familiar and yet so strange, you were so used to say it but when you broke up you stoped mentioning her, even if you thouth a lot about her, her name never met your lips again. The redhead heard her name from your lips too and a chill runner through her whole body-"...now that she is here, do you want me to go home?"-You asked but the blonde took your hand

-"Don't go please, I'm don't feel so good yet and being with people helps... Beside we have to catch up since you are back" - she begged with her eyes and you agreed even if you were no so sure about it.

The night went calmer and comfier that you expected to. When the food was ready, the redhead served 3 plates for you all and you almost cried on how delicious it was, it was better that you remembered.

Although the conversation between you and her was almost non-existent, Kristin acted as an intermediary and the conversation about trivial topics flowed smoothly. The environment was not uncomfortable as you thought it would be, rather it was cautious, but bearable.

At the end of the meal, Kristin lifted the dishes quite fast and informed you that she was feeling better and sleepy, so you and Melissa could leave the house now.

She called you aside while Melissa put the leftovers in Tupperwares

-"Look, it's lovely to see you again and I missed you so much, but I wanna sleep now and we can get together another day, but now I want to be alone..."- she seemed a lot more calmer than before - "You know... since Melissa brought the car home she has no way to go back to her house..."-she started talking while you looked at her, you had a feeling that you knew where this was going

-"We can order an Uber" - You said but she kept talking

-"... And I'm afraid to ask her for an uber at this time of night..."-she continued

-"It's nine o'clock at night..." - you interrupted again

-"You know how crazy people is, you see it all the time in your line of work, you don't know what the person is capable of..."-she had a mischievous little smile on the corner of her mouth that she thouth you wouldn't notice

-"Spill it out Schementti" - You told her

-"Can you take her home? Pleeeeeeease?" - Her voice reached an anoying high pitch, impressive if you had in mind how deep her voice usually was

-"Kristen she hates me, we haven't seen each other in almost 20 years, she won't go with me even if I say yes"-You explained

-"Time has passed, feelings had changed, people changed, I think it would be a good idea to reconnect..." - she used a softer voice this time and you signed

-"Fine, I will take her home, but if this goes badly, I'm blaming you... Are you sure that you are okay to stay alone?" - You answered and she nodded exited

-"I'm much better, thank you" - she told you and you said your good bye to her and went outside.

When Melissa got everything ready and said goodbye to her sister, she left the house surprised to see you still there waiting, leaning on your car

-"Hey... Kristin asked me if I could take you home... If you don't want to is okay but if I didn't offer she would have killed me..."-You explained and she got closer

-"Yes please, I appreciate it" - she answered incredibly fast for your surprise, carefully you opened the door for to her.

At the beginning of the drive the music and your breathing was the only noise that you could hear, your head couldn't believe that she was there after all this years. Your mind was racing and your hands shook a little, at your work you had been in nerve-wracking situations and you were able to face it way more calmer that what you felt in that moment. For a few minutes you drove without knowing what to say until you remembered that you had no idea where you were going, truth be told, you knew where she lived because you saw it on that file, but if you drove her home without asking her where she lived, it would appear like you were stalking her and a little creepy

-"Mel..."-that was a common pet name that you used but now you weren't so sure hot to call her-"...Isa where should I drive you?" - You asked her and she seemed as nervous as you

-"I don't want to go home, Jacob is there..."-You thought she was still married, but maybe you were wrong and she got divorced and she had a boyfriend now.... Or maybe he was her son...-"my roommate brought his boyfriend home and the walls are too thin and I don't want to be there right now..." - she confessed and that raised more questions. Was she married or not? Why did she had a roommate? Did she feel uncomfortable in her own house?

-"Do you want to go for an ice cream? "-You offered unsure of what to do, if you invited her to your house it would look too forward and make her uncomfortable, if you took her home anyways it would look rude, so ice cream was the best option at the moment.

-"Yes please" - she smiled softly looking at you, you had missed her smile so much.

When you arrived to the ice cream shop, she insisted on ordering your cone

-"Chocolate and strawberry?" - she asked with confidence still remembering your favorite flavors.

While she order, you stared at your phone watching some messages.

After a few seconds, a cold hand landed on your neck tracing the scar that it was there, sending a chill all over your body. You didn't need to look up to know it was her, her hands soft and delicate as always

-"Life has been... Eventful" - You mentioned and she gently smiled, letting your neck go from her softly grasp

-"I can see that"-Gently she sat on the chair next to you to be closer, instead the one across the table. She offered you your ice cream letting her hand touch yours

-"Thanks... How are you doing?..."-you asked, unsure about the words that left your mouth

-"I've been okay... I'm working on a place I love and I have some nice friends..."-she told you and you smiled knowing that she was happy

-"It's Jacob your son? You mentioned him earlier..."-you tried to ask a another question hidden beneath that one

-"No... He is a coworker and a roommate, it's helpful to pay the bills. Since I got divorced from Joe it's was hard to maintain the house alone...I guess that at some point Marie told you that I got married" - she said a little ashamed

-"She didn't needed to, I saw you on nana's funeral with him" - You murmured and she looked surprised

-"I didn't saw you... I thouth you didn't went" - she confessed

-"I couldn't miss it..."-You signed-"not after what she did for me"

-"Did you got married?" - she asked

-"Never... I focused at work..."-You said honestly

-"You always wanted to get married and have kids..."-she still remembered

-"Yes... But only with the rigth person and I never found it again" - You whispered looking deeply at her eyes, she was the right person and when you lost her, you also lost your dreams. You exchanged tentative looks, beneath the nostalgia, she sensed the weight of years.

This time, the silence was no longer awkward but companion able. Even after all this years, you both could feel how the connection still remained. This reunion was a doorway to the past and a bridge to the future. Or at least that's what you were expecting

-"Do you have a few regrets?" - she asked and you nodded

-"A few..."-You said honestly and she also nodded agreeing with you

-"You seem... different" - she said, studying you and you frowned

-"Different?"- you repeated.

-"More guarded" - she clarified. Your eyes flashed, a hint of vulnerability she easily saw

-"Life has a way of doing that" - you said, your voice measured. She sensed there was more.

-"I'm so sorry about leaving you... I'm sorry for taking it all out on you, I'm sorry for ruining our lives, for walking away... I'm full of regrets, all my life I tried to get the happiness that I had with you and I never could. I fucked up time after time, I never loved him, I was just trying to fulfill the emptiness of not having you but you always were irreplaceable. I missed you every passing second and I can't believe how much time has passed between us and yet... I feel the same love that I felt the day that we were on my prom night, our first time together"-she said barley above a whisper, so much vulnerability on her eyes, she leaned a little, scared of speaking lauder and letting the whole world that she never stopped loving you. You just stated at her, unsure of what to say, unsure if this was real. After a few seconds, she got nervous because you stared at her without saying a word

-"Don't stare...say something... scream, shout, get mad at me, say something!" - she screamed and flinched when you lifted your hand, she felt like she deserved a slap but never thought you were capable of it. She choosed to close her eyes and get ready for the painful slapping, but instead of that your hand gently caressed her cheek. With her heart pounding, she opend her eyes confused, only to find you looking at her with such love in your eyes

-"You are even more beautiful than the day I lost you" - You whispered and her heart shattered in million pieces, after all that happend, after all those years, you never stoped loving her.

As she looked at the love in your eyes, she leaned on your palm, she had missed your warmth so much, your smell, your smile, your peace, your love, all of you.

As you locked eyes deeply staring at each other's souls, the years melted away. Time had etched its mark on your bodies, but your eyes still sparkled with the same mischief, the same love

-"Aren't we too old to be doing this?... We aren't teens anymore" - You asked, scared of getting your heart broken again

-"We aren't too old to choose love... It's never too old for happiness... We will get our happy ending... Finally together" - she whispered and kissed the palm of your hand. As you enjoyed the warmth of her lips on your palm, you finally accepted something, no matter how much time passed, how many mistakes, how much distance... Some sparks never truly fade and it was never too late to start again.

[houseofanticipation]

Don't Want To Be A Person Anymore. Need Someone To Make Me The Lowest Of The Low.

This was the text of the ad you placed on multiple message boards for your city. Most places took it down, a few banned you, but not before you received dozens of replies from guys offering to fuck you, dom you, even rape you. It was nice, being perceived as a sexual object by so many people, but only one seemed to truly understand. The message was simple, with no greeting or identifying information attached: when i am done with you strangers on the street will perceive you as a Thing. send me your mailing address if interested.

You read that message over and over again. You tried to ignore it, got wet, read it again. You knew sharing your address was stupid, dangerous, but wasn't that what you were looking for? Anything they could do to you would just be a step in the right direction, right? For three days you stayed strong, waited for a better offer. For three days you found other things to focus on. For three days you avoided reading the message during your morning masturbation session.

On the fourth day you gave in.

You waited for something to happen. You could barely sleep at night, waiting for some masked stranger to come into your home and rape you. You fantasized about your face being pushed into the bed, your pussy stretched almost to the point of breaking. You imagined begging him to stop, telling him you'd changed your mind, only to have him cover your mouth and rape you harder. You tried to resist the urge to masturbate, but eventually the ache inside you became too great, and you lay face down, humping your hand and repeating to yourself what a worthless slut you were.

You went on like this for six agonizing days, telling yourself each night that this, this would be the night it happened, but you became less and less convinced each morning. Had he forgotten you? Gotten cold feet? Had he ever intended to do more than tease you? You felt ashamed at how turned on you'd been, and turned on by how ashamed you were.

Then, one week after sending the message, you got something in the mail. It was a manilla envelope lined with bubble wrap, something thin and hard inside. It had no address on it—it must have been delivered by hand—but it did have your full first and last name handwritten on it in bold, blocky text. You hadn't included that information in your message.

Inside the envelope was a sheet of looseleaf paper, a pair of panties, and a cheap smartphone. The handwritten message on the paper read:

take this phone and destroy any others you own. throw away your computer, your tv, any other means you have of contacting or connecting to the outside world. do not speak to your family. do not speak to your friends. if anyone comes looking for you ignore them until they go away. if you need to watch pornography, you may ask me and I will share something appropriate. contact me when ready.

Most of the instructions were easy enough to follow. You didn't have friends anymore, and you hadn't spoken to your family in years. The hardest thing to give up was your computer, which you used for all your masturbation material: stories, images, videos, audio files, all the things that got your pussy wet. The more shameful and depraved the better. But you liked the idea of having your porn picked out for you, and if all else failed you knew you could always fall back on your fantasies to make you cum.

When all was done, when your old phone and your laptop and your little brick TV were all in the trash, you opened the phone and texted the only number saved in the contacts. I'm ready.

The reply was quick: good girl. put on the panties and go to this address. the red heart is a remote controlled vibrator. make sure it's lined up over your clit. Attached was a map location.

You examined the panties and found there was indeed a red heart in exactly the place your clit would go, and it contained something flat and hard. Thin strands of drool clung to your old panties as you pulled them away and within moments the new pair were already sporting a wet spot. The vibrator sat in exactly the right place.

The address turned out to be a mall. The person in your phone instructed you to go to the food court and sit at a table, which you did. You waited for a minute, then two, and after three minutes you got another message. Now.

No sooner had you read the word than the vibrator started to work. It started light, barely enough to notice, but it amped up gradually, and it was so persistent. You pressed your knees together, clasped your hands on the table, lowered your head to hide your face. Your phone vibrated. do not try to hide your orgasm. let the people see what you really are.

Your face red with shame, you slowly lifted your head. The panties were pulsing now, low to high, high to low, and you were sure it was visible on your face. You could feel the orgasm coming, and you knew you wouldn't be able to hide it. Already a few people were eyeing you curiously, probably wondering if you were in trouble, or mentally ill. Probably both, you thought to yourself, and came.

Your body spasmed involuntarily. Your hands clenched into fists on the table. You choked out an agonized moan, fighting with your better sense to let it out, let it all out, cum loud and hard in front of all these people. The vibrator slowed, then stopped. Your face burned with embarrassment as you opened your eyes. People were staring. A few were whispering to each other. You were sick. A pervert. A whore. And just thinking about it made your pussy quiver.

from now on, said your phone, you will always come when you feel like coming. touch yourself if you like, or rub yourself against something, but do not deny it and do not hide it. people deserve to know how sick you are.

They should know, you thought. It was wrong to let them believe you were a regular person, someone like them. You were a thing, and it was unfair to them to make them think differently.

go into the men's restroom. sit in the middle stall. await instruction.

You stood, knees shaking. The bathrooms were on the other side of the food court, and you felt dozens of eyes follow you across the open space. You made a point to look as many people in the eyes as you could. They always looked away before you.

The middle stall of the men's restroom clean, if not immaculate. A few drops of dried piss flecked the seat, but you ignored them, checking your phone. a friend of mine will be coming in soon, said the message. suck him to completion. make sure he ejaculates on your face. The prospect made you want to cum again, and you'd been given clear instructions about what to do in that event. You hiked up your skirt, pulled the vibrating panties down around your ankles, and began to stroke yourself. It was easier in here to be as vocal as you wanted. You moaned and whined and whimpered, desperately pleasuring yourself as your pussy drool trickled into the toilet.

You heard the door to the bathroom open and close. You paused for a moment and then, remembering your instructions, got back to work. You were almost ready to orgasm right then, but you decided to hold off, continue to edge yourself until there was cum on your face. It felt only appropriate.

A man came around the bend, standing outside the open door to the stall. He looked to be in his early 20s, with a mop of curly hair and a hesitant expression. You recognized him—he'd been back there in the food court, watching you. You didn't bother to stop edging. You gazed into his eyes, knowing the lust was naked on your face, and he took a nervous step toward you. Impatiently, you hooked your fingers into his waistband and pulled him closer. He made a surprised sound, but didn't resist. The sound of your fingers sliding in and out just made you hornier, and it looked like it was doing the same to him: there was a growing bulge in his basketball shorts, and when you pulled down the elastic his cock sprang forth like an animal freed from its cage.

He moaned as you took him in your mouth. It was a sweet sound, tender, too pure for a slut like you, but you relished in it anyway. He held the tops of the stall for support, gently thrusting into every bob of your head. The head of his cock pulsated in your mouth, and you caressed its every inch with your tongue. With every second your fingers became ever more urgent, more eager, but you willed yourself to have a little more patience. You stared unblinking into his eyes, and he seemed transfixed, unable to look away. You felt like you could make him do anything in that moment, but you didn't have anything you wanted him to do. You just wanted him to cum on your face.

In an act of unexpected boldness, he put his hands on either side of your head and began to guide your motions. You could tell he was moments away, so you pulled him out, took him in your hand, and lunged for his scrotum, taking the whole thing in your mouth in one fluid motion. It took you only four strokes before he was shooting thick ropes of cum over your nose. Stroke. Across your closed eye. Stroke. Into your hair. You were sure you felt his balls deflating in your mouth, and that was the thought you finally came to, screaming your pleasure into his testicles. At long last you released him and looked up again, gingerly wiping his cum away from your eye. All you saw on his face was disgust. With himself, with you, it didn't matter. You had put that look on his face. He hurriedly shoved his cock back in his shorts and fled the bathroom.

You gushed a little more into the toilet.

You looked at your phone. I lied before. I have never met that boy. you took that stranger into your mouth without ever exchanging a single word. he went into the bathroom believing you to be a person, but you have shown him his mistake. you are a foul thing, to be ignored, or avoided, or, if desperate, fucked. take this as your roadmap. one day everyone will see you this way.

An odd sort of bliss washed through you. Finally, for the first time in years, you felt like you were on the right track.

You left the panties on the floor of the bathroom. It was night when you left the mall, face still covered in cum. You took the bus home. On the way, you noticed an old man trying to take a picture up your skirt. You squatted slightly to give him a better angle, and shot him a wink when he looked up at you. The look on his face as he gazed at the picture turned you on, so you took his wrist and stuck his hand up your skirt. He was more aggressive than you'd expected, tried to fit more fingers in than you could comfortably take, but the pain just reminded you of your place.

When you got home you realized you had nothing to do. you couldn't watch tv, couldn't surf the internet. You sent a message to your benefactor. Could use something to watch before I go to bed.

The response was quick, like he'd been waiting. There were no words, just a link to a porn site. You opened the link and there, already with hundreds of views, was an overhead video of you ravenously devouring cock in the mall bathroom.

You decided you could cum one more time that night.

Part 2

[stabbyfoxandrew]

This is the first time in like 2 months that your ask box is still open when I get up so now I can finally make a request for some arsonist neil/firefighter andrew! (hopefully you don’t have too many already)

WIP Wednesday (9/11) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 227)

"How's that?" Andrew asks at the same time as Neil's phone vibrates against his ear, rattling his skull. He grimaces and pulls it away from his head. He hates this stupid phone. He almost wishes he had one of those smartphones that can handle video calls— 

Huh, Neil supposes he could get one. It's not like it's hard to procure a cell phone nowadays. Not like it used to be. Hell, Walmart's even got a burner phone section now! (Ahem, he means a ‘prepaid, no-contract cell phone’ section.) Maybe he'll look into that sometime. It would have to be more convenient, right? Plus maybe he'd get to see Andrew more often if they could video call...

"Just a sec," Neil says, earning a groan from Andrew's end as he ends the call to go check his messages. Andrew has sent him a few photos this evening, but Neil is not prepared in the slightest for the image waiting for him. He sucks in a sharp breath and wishes his phone's screen was bigger than a postage stamp. He holds it as close to his face as possible without going cross-eyed and sighs appreciatively.

The photo, like the others, is of Andrew's reflection in the floor-length mirror in the corner of his bedroom. Andrew fills up almost the whole thing. He's all broad shoulders and green cashmere and soft blond hair and... Neil swallows thickly. What the fuck? How does he look so fucking good? He's not even posing! He's just standing there, head cocked to the side and one foot sticking out to show off his boots— black leather, stompy-looking things. They seem to add to Andrew's height. Neil wonders how much.

Neil curses his stupid phone for not being able to zoom in. He wants to see what expression Andrew's wearing. He can almost imagine looking into his eyes and the idea flusters him. Neil huffs and holds his phone away from him, sliding the keyboard out and in a few times before looking at it again. It's still the same! Andrew looks amazing and sharply soft, which isn't a thing, and fuck! Neil blinks and realizes he's been staring at this picture for six minutes without replying.

"Goddamn." He curses himself and downloads the photo to his phone's nearly full memory card before going back to his call log. He mashes the button on Andrew's name and impatiently waits for it to start ringing. When Andrew answers, he sounds weird.

"Was it that bad?"

"N-no. No, it's good. It's really, really good. Andrew, that's what you should wear." Neil sputters, sounding like a fucking simpleton. He clears his throat and shakes his head but it does nothing to dislodge the image seared into his brain. Fuck, he wants to burn something. He wants—

"You think so?"

"Yeah," Neil nods, though Andrew is miles away. "Yeah, wear that. And, um, send me a picture of your face."

Andrew is quiet for a minute. "Why?"

Neil hasn't got a reasonable answer. "I... Never mind. Um, have a good night."

"I doubt that will happen, but I appreciate the sentiment," Andrew sighs out. "Sort of wish you were going with me."

"Why? So I could burn the place down if things get awkward?"

Andrew snorts. "Maybe. That would at least liven things up. And I'd be in my element. Sort of. At least more in my element than..." He sighs again, clucks his tongue. "So, should I send you the address or...?"

Neil laughs. "No, definitely not."

"Fine." Andrew blows air. "Well, I gotta go. If we all survive this evening, I'll call you when I get home. Otherwise, I suppose you'll be seeing me on the news tomorrow."

"Andrew. Andrew, hey, hey. Repeat after me: no matter what, I will not kill anyone tonight," Neil says, waiting for Andrew's pledge. It takes a second, but he reluctantly says it back.

"Unless I really, really have to.” Andrew sneaks in. “Bye."

"Bye. Good luck." Neil says, then the line goes dead. He flops face first onto his bed and smashes his face against the mattress, then opens his messages with Andrew. Before he can open the picture to stare it at a little longer, a new one comes in.

A selfie.

[inkykeiji]

chatplots interest check + beta testing!

hey, pssst! touya-nii would like to have a little chat with you. well? what are you waiting for! go talk to him!

note: currently, chatplots works best on a mobile device! you can find the faq beneath the cut! <3 please read through the entire thing before sending in any questions or playing the game; there's a lot of important info in there about how the game works!

click here to submit your feedback!

WHAT IS CHATPLOTS?

chatplots is a simulation game where you can enter into various situations with specific characters and 'message' them. each chat has multiple choices for the player to choose and at least two endings. your choices and behaviour throughout the chat will influence how the character reacts and responds to you, and will ultimately determine which ending you get! it is essentially like a playable oneshot! chatplots IS NOT AI. it is a game that was written by me and developed by my boyfriend. each conversation was painstakingly crafted by me; it is all my writing, and it will always be completely and entirely written by me.

HOW DOES IT WORK?

chatplots can be downloaded as a web app on your home screen if you'd prefer to have it on your phone! (this is the option i personally recommend hehe) but chatplots can also be played on any device in any mobile or desktop browser, accessible through this link: https://chatplots.inkyclari.com.

how to download it on ios:

go to chatplots.inkyclari.com

tap the share icon (on safari: the little square with the upwards arrow, in the middle of the bottom of the screen, next to the bookmarks option; on chrome: the little square with the upwards arrow at the end of the address bar)

scroll down and select 'add to home screen'

you're done!

how to download it on android:

go to chatplots.inkyclari.com

on chrome, press the three dots in the upper righthand corner

click 'install app'

you're done!

here's how it'll all go down once the chat is open:

touya-nii will send a message (or several messages)

the response button (the button with the little paper airplane) will begin pulsing when you can respond back to him

pressing the button will open up all of your available response options. you can then choose which one to send back to him.

this will continue until you reach the end of the game. the response button will begin pulsing with your ending, which is a piece of prose 700-900 words long. the chat takes about 10-15 minutes to play though once.

notes:

touya-nii will refer to you by name. the name you input at the start of the game will be the name he uses, though this name can be changed at any time in the settings (the little gear in the bottom left corner!). also! check out the settings while he's still typing for a cute lil surprise ehehe c:

touya-nii will behave like a real human throughout the duration of the chat. he takes a moment to read your message before he responds, and the time it takes him to type out a response is akin to that of a real person—meaning if his response is longer, he will take longer to type it than a response that is only a word or two.

THINGS TO KEEP IN MIND:

this is a beta, which means it is not the finished product.

the chat you are playing is technically only half of what the full chat would be; you are only playing one route with a few different branches and two variations of the same single ending. (in other words, there are several different ways to reach the same ending, and each branch has slight variations).

a full chat would have at least two separate routes within the same scenario/setting, and at least two different endings.

we encourage you to play through the chat several times to discover which choices yield which results, and to explore all touya-nii has to say!

WHAT IS THIS SHORT KEIGO CHAT?

the short keigo chat is a sfw test chat i made specifically for my best friend. it only takes 1-3 minutes to play through and has options that are specifically tailored to my best friend's personality and tastes. you are welcome to play through it as well if you'd like! just bear these things in mind hehe

WILL OTHER CHARACTERS BE ADDED IN THE FUTURE?

yes, of course! any of my iterations of ANY character has the potential to be added to the game in the future. i am also open to taking suggests and prompts from you all for future chat scenarios!

HOW MUCH WILL THE FULL GAME COST?

chats would either be sold on an individual basis, where you can buy each chat separately for $4-$6 USD depending on the length, complexity, number of endings, etc OR through a monthly subscription of $7 USD, enabling you to have continual access to the entire catalogue of chats as it grows, with the minimum number chats being released at least two per month. please let us know which option appeals to you more right here! <3

WE NEED YOUR FEEDBACK!

after you've played through the chat a couple of times, we would be extremely grateful if you would take a moment or two to answer a few questions in order to help us gauge interest and further determine the direction we should move forward in. you are also, of course, always welcome to send your feedback and thoughts through my ask box!

we can't wait to hear from you, and we hope you enjoy the beta! <3

[theteablogger]

Is there by any chance a screenshot of the details of the shaman wizard battle in a better resolution? I cannot make any of it out

Here's a screenshot of another archived version.

In case that doesn't work, here's the full text of the LiveJournal entry in question. m_oquinn is Brittany, who wrote the emails from her and Andy. To avoid confusion, I've put the emails from Brittany and Andy in italics.

28th-Dec-2009 11:32 am

Okay, my friends, here is the sum total of the Astral Undead Shaman Wizard exchange. I am leaving out the contact info and also one entire email that contained extremely specific personal info about Cfc, who is completely innocent of all of this and had no idea this was being done behind her back.

The worst part of this? Cfc has kids, and Andy and company divulged her address and other personal info which should never, ever have been revealed. So that part is left out.

Keep in mind I never bought into this for a second...from my very first response, I was leading them on, for the lulz.

The good stuff is behind the cut. *passes out popcorn* Everything beginning with this > is from me. The others are from m_oquinn and Andy

First: Many weeks ago, I posted about a recurring dream I was having of wandering through the woods. Somehow, that led to this:

Dear [redacted], Look, I know that you were the one to talk to Luvcharlie, AND I know that you did not mean for anything that happened to happen. Someone has been fucking with us. Cfc is under some kind of attack, something is trying to literally eat her kids. She sent message and we didn't get it because we were on road-now when we contact her it is like no one is home. Cheerful, everything is wonderful mode-nothing has been wonderful for ages. there is something big and something dangerous and deadly-You have the capacity and strength and power to do something. We are powerless and have been rung out by trip. Please, this is your dream-the children are in the house in the woods being eaten by monsters-Andy is down and when his shield over those kids break. it. is. over.

> Oh my. > Anything and everything else aside, let's deal with the > important stuff. I can and will help of course. > > I need a general idea of where they are. If you have a pic > you could email that would help. Their names, if you know > them. Anything that would help me zero in on them, > y'know? > I'll do what I can right now, but it won't do much > good without something more specific to work with. > > Please get me whatever info you can asap. > Love you dear, be strong, all will be well. > xoxo > [redacted]

[Way too much personal info, redacted] We will have more info following. The most important thing is to get inside the house so to speak, and distract from the children. Thank you thank you thank you

>working. more info on nature of threat? >please tell andy he can step down and relax, not to burn himself out. i've got some serious >shields started and am trying to target the actual threat, but i can't pinpoint it yet.

Spirit/Astral form of technically dead but v. powerful Seneca Sachem-level shaman, plus allies and minions. I know this sounds crazy, but is true.

>ok. i'm enlisting some help. >do you know why this is happening? who's ultimately behind it? that would help...whoever's >sending the ill will is a tool. i want the source. >something isn't right here. this isn't shamanic energy, but something darker. and there's >only one energy signature, no sign of "allies" or "minions". are you sure of your source? >also, there seems to be a secondary target, but i can't identify it. what's really going on?

A source said that it was above " the wheel" with each spoke a world and the hub a connection place. it was a shaman/wizard cross in late 16th possibly but that has passed from place of dead to something above that. Several targets have been hit so far. Not sure who or what is current secondary. The "allies" seem to have been neutralized by someone from the hub as a favor to Andy.

[At this point, I grew weary of the insanity and decided to go to bed. This was my final reply. I have heard nothing since]

Okay guys, this has been vastly entertaining, but I've had enough. I don't know if you all are serious about all this and therefore either being duped by someone or are in real need of some help, or if you're just trying to draw other people into your little games, but really. This? All of it? A genius level of what-the-fuckery.

Some good lulz, but I like playing in the real world. You've failed your saving throw. Your low charisma stat made this inevitable. Is there a paladin in your party?

Evil twins, IRA, mysterious pasts, Claymore scars, now astral undead wizards? Really? And you all just believe this? Without a second thought? What next, a coma?

Such amazing energy and clear creative talent should be used for something a lot more productive than this nonsense. It's a shame that the talent doesn't seem to be enough.

I'm sorry. I just can't be a part of this drama and lunacy. I have a life, in the real world, and I like it just fine. I hope all of you find the same someday.

[friedpicklesandsouthmoon]

I am at peace. I never thought I would say that. I thought the pain of what you did to me would always penetrate every part of me, yet somehow, it doesn't feel like it used too. A 3:34am text message on Friday. A cry after 9am yoga on Saturday. A year and a half later, following the weekend your brother promised his life to someone else, and yet, there I was, on your mind. It's a test, I thought to myself, a test of if I could not respond, a test of if I could resist you. It was a test, but it was also a goodbye. I responded shortly, "didn't expect to hear from you, whats going on." I waited for a response that came at 11:08 that night. I was surrounded by laughter and free flowing tequila and the glow of warmth. The text was rambling and lost, like your mind and your soul. Should I see you, I want to see you, I need to tell you something, it might be better in person, maybe that's not ok, call me when you're alone. I listened to my friends, the ones that don't know you. The ones that hate you for what you did to me. I responded short, and said let's talk tomorrow. But when I was alone, all I said was your name. "Noah." "Here," was the response. A quick exchange, "Would it be a terrible thing if I brought over a bottle of wine and we laughed and cried a bit, or is that completely out of bounds." I just responded with my address and the song, cover me up, by Morgan Wallen. I gave you an out, it is bad..but. You didn't take it and before I knew what was happening you were climbing up my creaking stairs to my new apartment that I now call home, to sit on the edge of my bed and fumble over the words "I think so" when I asked you if you were proposing. You never can answer me straight, and you didn't. We talked for a long time. You're lost, and feeling uninspired in your life. Trapped in a life you halfway want to live. Feeling like there's more but having no strength to find it. You're always looking for answers in everyone else, because you can't find them inside yourself, and so you came to me, the girl you love, to tell me that you're moving toward forever with the girl you left me for. I told you about my yoga retreat and all the healing and letting go that happened there. I told you I pictured you when I thought of someone easy to love. I pictured Wesley when I thought of someone hard to love, and I pictured her as a little girl. I told him about the vision where he fell over the waterfall. There was no anger, no resentment, no fighting or trying or crying or wanting. There just was this moment. This moment we found each other softly. I grabbed your face in my hands, "I forgive you," I said tears streaming down my face. And then you kissed me. You kissed me hard and gentle, desire and tears mixing on both of our tongues. I know it wasn't right. But damn, it was beautiful. You lifted me onto the bed and slowly took off my clothes, taking in every inch of me. You're so hot, you whispered as you knelt down to kiss my inner thighs, and then you made love to me. Not angry, not sad, not lustful, just the kind of lovemaking where you know it's the last time. A goodbye to all the love we had. When we were done, I cried on your chest and looked up at you, "do you think we'll always love each other?" "I do," you said. And we held each other in silence. Finally I looked up at him, eyes full of tears, "The saddest part about all of this, is no matter how much we could ever want this, its too fucked up beyond repair to ever go back." And we can't. And we won't. We talked and made love until 6 in the morning. You called me baby. You woke me up with neck kisses. I told you I loved you. In the morning light you had my body one more time. And when you left, you turned back and said, "I love you" and I said it back. 

Strangely, I feel at peace. I know the door has shut on us, I'm no longer bound  by the endless pain of resentment. You are who you are. You came to tell me you are marrying her, yet you did it while telling me you loved me, and that alone is enough to confirm, you are not for me. Forgiveness is a beautiful thing, but a thing that you can't force yourself to feel. It's something that only happens once you wring every bit of pain out of the life cloth of experience and then there's no pain left to give it any more. And that's when you forgive. "Thank you for your grace, I don't deserve it" flashed up on my phone after he left. "I can't help myself" I said, "but I appreciate those words. I treasure you and the time we had together and I only wish you happiness Noah. It's been a long road but forgiveness and time heal a multitude of sins. I only hope that you continue on the journey of facing your stuff so that you can be free." A gentle reminder that his sins became my cross to bear. A gentle reminder that he will never be who I thought he was. A gentle reminder that time heals. A gentle reminder that sometimes the answer isn't what you think it is. It was a goodbye that I don't think many people ever get. I feel sad for the girl he claims to love, her life is not one I envy. The door is finally closed though. I wonder what I'll feel in a few days, a few weeks, a few months, a few years..but for now, I feel at peace. I know maybe this was all wrong, but what about us was ever right. It was only right for the moments like these. I am thankful that I got to hold you, the boy who I loved more than anything, and finally let you go. I am thankful that I got to say goodbye. Your life is yours now, your choices are yours, and so are mine. In some ways maybe this is harder, it was the best time I've had with you, and it's funny how that works. In some ways we never made sense. And so, I keep this secret, you and me, my goodbye, my love, the one who broke me in a million pieces, it is finally over and I am finally free. 

[infactforgetthepark]

[Free Audiobooks] The Woman Who Split the Atom by Marissa Moss & Bump by Chiara Atik [Award-Winning YA Science Biography & Pregnancy Drama Play]

The annual SYNC Summer of Listening program encouraging literacy among teens by giving away a themed weekly pair of audiobooks—usually 1 modern or non-fiction, 1 classic or drama—returns for another year, courtesy of sponsor AudioFile Magazine and participating publishers.

This 10th week's theme is “Inventive People”, featuring technically-minded discoverers and tinkerers, available from Thursday June 29th through Wednesday July 5th:

The Woman Who Split the Atom: The Life of Lise Meitner by award winning children's book author and illustrator Marissa Moss, read by Sandy Rustin from Recorded Books. This is a YA level scientist biography of pioneering mid-20th century Austrian Jewish physicist Lise Meitner, who fled the Nazi regime and contributed significantly to the key discovery of nuclear fission, which would later lead to the development of the atomic bomb and nuclear reactors, and has the chemical element Meitnerium named after her. The audiobook reading of this was a recipient of AudioFile Magazine's own Earphones Award.

Bump by playwright Chiara Atik, a recipient of the Steinberg/ATCA Award, performed by a full cast from L. A. Theatre Works. This is a comedic social drama play focused on the experience of pregnancy and childbirth in three intertwining timelines: one with hilarious posts on a social media message board for moms, one an historical strand featuring interactions between a midwife and a first time mother in the late 18th century, and the core story of a young woman planning a home birth as her inventor father experiments with building a birthing gadget to help make the experience easier. This audiobook includes an interview with the playwright and a gynecologist.

The freebies are available via Overdrive's Sora service (listenable via browser on their website, or via their mobile app for iOS & Android devices). To claim them, you'll need to register on the SYNC website with a valid email address to use in a Sora account, using the setup code and directions in the instructions in SYNC's FAQ (no need to re-register if you've participated in previous years' giveaways), clicking “Borrow” to add them to your Sora library as a permanent loan. NB: if you need to free up space on your device later, follow the instructions in the FAQ to only “delete files” and DO NOT “Return” the title, which would remove your future access.

Offered worldwide through Wednesday July 5th until just before midnight Eastern Time, available via the Sora website and app. You can also browse AudioFile Magazine's planned season list to see what will be offered in the weeks ahead and if there's anything you'd especially like to get.

[mjdrawsalot]

actually you know what i'll give it a try

How Alfred (the Butler) would talk to people: basic cheatsheet

All of these "rules" I'm about to list are based on old-fashioned employer-employee rules of respect and social status, and are about as commonplace in the 21st century as a three-person household with a butler. But they're fun for the classic detective novel vibes

If Alfred is talking to one of his employers, say Thomas or Martha Wayne, he would address them as Mr./Mrs. Wayne. e.g "Mr./Mrs. Wayne, the gardener needs to know this month's schedule."

If he is responding directly to them, then they would be Sir or Madam. e.g. "I'll prepare it right away, sir/madam."

If he is talking about them to a third person, then he would refer to them as Mr./Mrs. Wayne. Mr. Thomas Wayne/Mrs. Martha Wayne if he needs to introduce them directly to someone, but that is an unlikely circumstance. e.g. "Mr./Mrs. Wayne is not home right now, could you leave a message?"

Not Mr. Thomas/Mrs. Martha! Unless there's multiple adult Waynes in the same room and he's discussing them with someone else, it's gonna be Mr./Mrs. Lastname and context clues/body language would indicate who he's addressing. (Are there any other canonical adult Waynes who lived when Bruce's parents were alive? I have no idea)

Since canonically the Waynes considered Alfred a trusted companion, enough to leave him custody of their child, it wouldn't be silly to assume that, in a case of heightened emotion (life-or-death situation, mental breakdown etc these are adventure comics these things happen!) when the distance of employer/employee formality might be put aside, he could address them as Thomas or Martha. He has done that with Bruce multiple times after all. I'm leaving the possible scenarios up to you, go nuts lol

You still with me? Cool let's move on to the most useful part: The Children!

In the comics Alfred uses the pretty old fashioned title Master to refer to Bruce and his kids. That's a way to address the children of your employers. Normally now that Bruce is the adult head of the family he should be addressed as Mr. Wayne, but what was probably writer oversight has resulted in some delightfully angsty headcanons, so I don't mind.

If Alfred is talking to one of the bat-kids directly, he would address them as Master MaleFirstName or Miss FemaleFirstName. Yes, it's stupidly gendered e.g. "Master Bruce/Miss Cassandra, should I call the police department?"

If he's responding to one of them directly, he would call them Sir/Miss. e.g. "I've taken the liberty of putting away you uniform, sir/miss."

If he's talking about them to a third person, he would refer to them as Mr./Miss Lastname. Or just their first names tbh especially if they're underage children in his custody. If he's going to introduce them to someone, he would probably refer to them just by full name, except maybe the adult kids, in which case Mr./Miss. Maybe Ms. Lastname if you feel like being a bit more 21st century. e.g. "Mr. Thomas will be down in just a second."

Occasionally he has referred to the kids as young master/miss, eg. "Young master Damian has informed me he will not be joining us for dinner." IMO this is exceedingly old-fashioned even for Alfred and I choose to believe there's a dose of sarcasm in its use lol. In any case, it should only be used when talking about someone and not when talking to them directly.

When the situation is dire and he needs to cut through the formalities, Alfred has never had an issue addressing any of his children by their first names, so don't feel restricted by the posh language

For even more fluff, he has also addressed them as (my) dear boy/girl/child!

Again, the titles are there to replace calling someone by their first name, as a sign of respect/professionalism. You don't need to use them in every sentence, only about as often as someone's name would come up in dialogue.

QUICK AND DIRTY DO-NOTS

No Mr./Mrs FirstName

No calling someone just master! This isn't BDSM (unless you specifically want it to be)

Similarly, no referring to someone as master to other people eg "Master Bruce is not home right now." That's henchman-of-the dark-lord speech!

Yes, gendered words are stupid, but not all of Bruce's kids would be addressed as master. The girls would be miss. Not mistress (halp)! And since aaaaall of this is old fashioned, women are miss until they get married at which point they become madam, yay sexism

No Sir First or LastName to refer to someone! That's only for official titled knights, not Dark Knights

No Lady First or LastName, that also requires a title

okay that's about all i can come up with at the moment! if anyone has additions or corrections, feel free to tell me, im obviously not an expert here

Bonus:

How Alfred (The Cat) Would Talk to People

meow

hey you! batman fic writer! I'm taking you by the hand and learning the proper old british way butlers addressed the household together

[askgcbc]

What do you guys honestly think of President Business??

Hiya, Champ! That's kind of a weird question, or is it just me? Of course my good friend Badcop likes me- I'm his boss, after all! Remember: questions like these come kind of close to breaking the rules, so just be careful, mi amigo! Thanks for participating in Octan's citizen outreach program, though!

[the-malfunctioning-somnambulist]

As much as I agree with jokes and genuine analysis about Irwing being the inspiration for Dracula, what I've been thinking about since starting 'Leaves of Grass' and since reading Bram Stoker's letter to Walt Whitman in full, is another possible parallel: between Stoker's relationship with Whitman and Seward's relationship with Van Helsing.

Van Helsing is a foreigner, like Whitman was to Stoker, but to Seward he too embodies universal human ideals - "an absolutely open mind", "indomitable resolution", "the kindliest and truest heart that beats" etc. As for his funky speech, well, there's that part of the letter...

"More than a year after I heard two men in College talking of you. One of them had your book (Rossetti’s edition) and was reading aloud some passages at which both laughed. They chose only those passages which are most foreign to British ears and made fun of them. Something struck me that I had judged you hastily. I took home the volume and read far into the night."

Also Stoker writes to Whitman:

"I have not addressed you in any form as I hear that you dislike to a certain degree the conventional forms in letters."

Compare it to the way Renfield first addresses Van Helsing while asking to be let out:

"What shall any man say of his pleasure at meeting Van Helsing? Sir, I make no apology for dropping all forms of conventional prefix. When an individual has revolutionised therapeutics by his discovery of the continuous evolution of brain-matter, conventional forms are unfitting, since they would seem to limit him to one of a class. "

There is no objection from Van Helsing at that - everyone in the group is indicated to be impressed by the whole speech, which means Van Helsing, like Whitman, does not mind this disregard for titles.

Did someone say big blue eyes? As well as bushy eyebrows and a broad fine forehead with hair fallling naturally back and to the sides? If you look up a couple photos of Whitman, they do deliver. Between him and Irwing, is it me or did Stoker have a thing for eyebrows?

And well, throughout the book, Van Helsing is described by Seward as a great teacher - and as very much a man. (Drinking game for each time Seward uses the epithet "iron" for his jaw or for other aspects of him, seriously). Again, let me quote from the letter:

"You are a true man, and I would like to be one myself, and so I would be towards you as a brother and as a pupil to his master."

And:

"How sweet a thing it is for a strong healthy man with a woman’s eye and a child’s wishes to feel that he can speak to a man who can be if he wishes father, and brother and wife to his soul."

Seward as a character is someone who has a bunch of icky urges (ahem, experimenting on your inmates, ahem, getting jealous that your crush took less blood from you than from her actual husband, AHEM), but at the same time Seward wouldn't risk losing his social position and perceived moral purity to fully give in to those urges. Stoker displays the same kind of caution in his first message to Whitman:

"If you are going to read this letter any further I should tell you that I am not prepared to “give up all else” so far as words go. The only thing I am prepared to give up is prejudice..."

And there's this, fandom bullshit aside, truly heartbreaking sentence in the letter:

"But be assured of this Walt Whitman — that a man of less than half your own age, reared a conservative in a conservative country, and who has always heard your name cried down by the great mass of people who mention it, here felt his heart leap towards you across the Atlantic and his soul swelling at the words or rather the thoughts."

Stoker's first letter is very naive in how it calls to Whitman and challenges him for even a moment of attention. It's a heartwrenching mess of defensive anxiety and hopeless honesty. It very much sounds like the voice of someone who never left the closet, before or after thirty.

(Marrying in his thirtieth year means he was an old bachelor by the era's standard. Seward is twenty-nine when he proposes to Lucy.)

And then Whitman responded to all that, and the tone of the letter feels largely friendzone-y. "My dear young man", flattered and honored but in a more impersonal way, please don't idealize my image because by now I'm just an old man living in the woods and suffering after paralysis. Something lukewarm.

Is it then really such a stretch to suggest that Jonathan and Dracula's isn't the only relationship Stoker, perhaps inadvertently, channeled something more personal into? A fantasy where your idol and mentor comes all the way from another country just because you asked him to, shares his toil with you and trusts you with his innermost thoughts while still avoiding complete and definitive interpretation because he is no common man?

I do think the two Johns parallel each other a bit as focal characters who often center their narratives on striking older guys showing them affection in weird but not fully unwelcome ways.

... anyway, this is why I headcanon Seward as the same kind of watchful dark-eyed thing that Stoker was in photographs

[hoodiewithhorns]

━  using your safeword scenarios p.3 !★

genre : hurt/comfort smut.

characters : f! reader x sakusa, matsukawa, kenma

p.1  + p.2 + m.sterlist + requests  

(please read the rules before requesting ty.)

▼ cw : not proof read, use of safeword, neglect , unprotected sex, degradation , clit spanking ( 1 ), impact play ( sakusas part ), mentions of exe(s), caught masturbation (reader) , pillow humping, thigh riding, implied punishment, kinda crybaby reader, implied cockwarming, cheating (?), angst, established relationship, all characters are 18+, MDNI ▲

different safewords used this time <3

- ty to the anons and user @/please-take-me-to-the-moon for the scenarios <3 

sakusa 

word count : 1.4k

you knew better than to do this, humping your dearly beloved boyfriends pillow with just your cotton panties, a loose shirt with no bra under, like a bitch in heat, desperate for friction of any kind. You knew if he had caught you like this he would punish you that was guaranteed. however, in the literal heat of the moment you didn’t care. sakusa’s constant pattern of coming home the minute you were already fast asleep in your shared bed, never being able to fill the void of need in your little cunt. 

〜　☆

Considering he’d let this slide since its been a month since you’ve two have done anything sexual, these thoughts only making you hump his pillow even more desperate leaving a pool of your arousal staining his pillow, with the occasional soft whimpers of his name. losing yourself in your own lust, You didn’t hear the sound of the door clicking open.

Sakusa, leaving his practice early since his performance was unfavorable by the shitty mood he was in, lashing out on his teammates for the smallest things they’d do and so many more. in short, his team suggested he’d stay home t’ill he cooled down. 

“y/n? i’m home.”he walked around the empty apartment accompanied by the muffles of your soft moans, trying to find you as quickly as possible, obviously knowing it was you. he opened the bedroom door slowly and quietly. his eyes grew wide at the scene in front of him. 

still not noticing his presence in the door frame you continued humping his pillow feeling your high approach, but leave you since you needed him. 

“tch.” clicking his tongue at you in disapproval. you flinched letting go of his pillow to face him, feeling your heart race when you made eye contact with him, arms folded and a look of disgust planted on his pale face. Your eyes already filling up with tears knowing what comes next. “m’ y-yoomi! w-welcome home-”

“who the fuck gave you permission to touch yourself?” cutting you off, walking towards the bed, he pinned you down to the bed, arms on your sides, hovering over you with his dead, cold, heartless gaze cutting through you, as you tried to look away in shame only earning you a slap to the face to make you look at him. the sting causing you to choke out a sob. praying internally that he’d let you off the hook just this once. you were just needy for him.he has to understand that, right?

“answer me, right.now.”

“n-no one yoomi... i’m s-sorry please don’t wanna be punished!” you pleaded to him only making him more angrier. he grabbed your jaw making you whimper at the tight grip. scanning you top to bottom, eyeing at the wet patch on your underwear. 

“then why did you huh? couldn’t wait until i got home couldn’t you? needy fucking thing.” he tutted, letting go of your jaw harshly, tugging your panties down to your knees already feeling impatient himself by how his cock hardened through his shorts. despite wanting to punish you, he wanted you. needed you to be precise.

 the man hasn’t felt you in a whole month how could he not miss his girlfriends tight slutty cunt? removing his volleyball shorts letting his cock spring free, he strokes himself a few times before lining himself against your cunt, letting a small sigh when you felt his hard tip touch your soaked entrance. 

feeling slightly relief you were finally gonna feel him after so long. That feeling of relief however didn’t last long when he slammed his fat cock inside you without warning. you let out a yelp, hands immediately going to his chest hoping for him to not bruise your cervix from how deep he was already. he growled when he felt your palms try and stop him, so he slapped your hands away roughly marking them red. 

“b-but yoomi please it hurts..it h-hurts” 

you figured he didn’t hear you. but he was too focused on punishing you to care if it hurt or not. so you pleaded again for him to slow down. finally getting a response from him.

“shut up you disgusting whore.you brought this on yourself, touching yourself while your boyfriends away.”

“...dirtying up his fucking pillow while he’s gone. how fucking pathetic.”  he spits, slapping your clit harshly in attempt to get you to shut up. his degrading not having a hint of reassurance anywhere like it usually does when he fucks you. normally, he’d call you his “slut” or his whore but never ever calling you a disgusting one at most, what did this mean?..you asked yourself, mind going hazy with fear. feeling like your boyfriend finds you disgusting for your actions, and not a single trace of love or concern for you, not even noticing how you tried inching yourself away from his pace. 

sakusa was a mean dom yes, but he cared about you and your boundaries and right now it seemed like he didn’t care about any of those.

too focused on his own pleasure, not realizing you slowly started to breakdown in front of him, hands to your eyes shaken from how hard he hit them, as more tears fell to stain your cheeks.

“n-no not disgusting..i-i’m...so sorry..sakusa..just missed you.” you muttered no longer feeling the long needed pleasure of his cock, only feeling a painful discomfort in your chest as if your heart was gonna burst out of it at any minute. he was caught off-guard by you calling him by his last name, but that didn’t stop the brutal pace on your sloppy cunt. repositioning his hand to your hips digging his nails in your sides, bound to leave marks to be seen in the morning. 

“addressing me by my last name? what you think thats gonna make things better?”he muses, his pace speeding up making you whimper. you’ve just about had enough.

“germs! g-germs! no more, i don’t like this!! y-you’re hurting m-me sakusa... please s-stop..stop.” screaming your safeword, trying to get him off you, you pushed with the little strength in you with your fragile hands. it wasn’t enough but he got the message. blinking a few times to make sure he processed the current situation.

he sighed pulling his cock out watching you with wolf eyes as you softly cried to yourself, turning to your side. he didn’t say anything he just laid down beside you. sneaking an arm around your waist, face buried in your neck. he planted some soft kisses onto it trying to make you relax. if he was being brutally honest, he didn’t know what to do.

you never used your safeword and even if it didn’t show in his face, he was pretty frightened. watching you tense up and shake around him all because of him.

“ y-yoomi..im sorry-”

“don’t be.”

he rubs your hands with his thumb in slow but comforting circles, seeing its still red from being slapped away by him, along with him kissing your cheek to simmer down the sting from earlier. god he felt so bad, but was so scared at the same time, all he wanted to do was hold you close..

..and thats what he did, watching you curl up to his chest. The room was silent for a few minutes that felt like hours gone by. you looked up at him with the look you always gave him. Full of love and adoration even with puffy eyes and hurt in your chest you still loved him.

He looked down noticing the soft smile you gave him as if nothing happened. Titling his head in confusion he asks

“why are you smiling? aren’t you upset..at me?”

you shook your head at him, “no yoomi I’m not mad. My body kinda hurts yes, but I’m glad to have you home...i missed you so much I’m sorry i touched myself without permission...”

he lightly smiles at you kissing your lips softly.

“it’s okay. tomorrow we’ll have the day all to ourselves and we can do whatever you want my love. I’m sorry i was so mean... i was having a bad day and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

you paused leaning in closer to his chest as you mumbled.

“can we...take a bath together yoomi?”

“oh sure...here i’l carry you.”

needless to say, you forgave him and gave him one last kiss before going to bed.

kenma

word count : 886

kenmas work schedule was god awful since he was practically up to play games and just that leaving you feeling needy and neglected. you hated it. 

but tonight you were just, so needy and couldn’t stand this constant neglect.

No matter how many times you touched yourself of grind against something it couldn’t compare to the way kenma would stuff you with his cock.

he wasn’t a super harsh dom leaning towards a mix of soft and mean, but he still prioritized your needs before his. and tonight you were gonna get that version of kenma.

walking towards the couch he was playing his games at slowly, with nothing but his hoodie and knee highs. you bit your lip standing in front of him, fiddling your thumbs out of nervousness. He titled his head to remove you from his line of sight to see the tv screen better making your heart ache just a little, being so used to it already.

taking a deep breath you sat in between on of his thighs wrapping your arms around his neck making him let out a groan of annoyance to your needy antics.

he continued to play his game acting as if you weren’t there and nothing changed. it all came to a halt when he felt you grinding on his thigh, letting out small cries of his name.

“baby.... please” you mumbled facing his disinterested face not even sharing a glance at you as he continued to move his thumbs around his controllers joystick. He didn’t even pay mind to the fact you were borderline naked either.

“five minutes pretty girl.” he muttered still too absorbed in his game. You pouted shifting your legs to be wrapped around him now, wet cunt on top of his crotch rubbing against him lightly. Making him flinch at the sudden friction. giving you hope he’d give you what you want now. you smirked continuing to grind against him making him bite back a grunt. 

“ugh what are you doing?” he said clearly annoyed by your antics already.

your face became red while placing your hands on his shoulders slowly starting to grind against his growing bulge. “want your attention kenma please need you so bad.” you begged hoping he’d give you something anything really.

but being kenma, he went back to his video games. your pout returning once more. “but kenma, please i really really need you.” you continued with your antics and he paused his game, putting his controller on the coffee table. 

“fine you want me so fucking bad?” he grabs you by the hips making you yelp as he throws you down the couch. back hitting the cushions while he takes your legs and wraps them around his waist.

he pulls down his sweats pumping himself a few times as he rolls his head back, holding back his grunts. he slowly slides his cock into you, being easy to do considering how wet you were already for him. 

he groans as he bottoms out inside you starting steady, but slowly picking up the pace to be more..brutal.

“k-kenma..m’ feels good thank you thank you” you rambled out praises making him grab you by the throat to thrust into you faster. 

“god you’re so fucking annoying bothering me because you wanted to get your cunt stuffed like a little slut while i fucking work.” he scoffs making your eyes shoot open at him.

“such a fucking annoying little slut.” he continues his degradation thr grip on your throat not loosening. you felt you eyes grow teary as he continued to call you more vulgar names with the sprinkle of him calling you annoying. 

“ c-console...” you mumbled wrapping your hands on his wrists, making him let go of your throat. he froze getting closer to your face as he pulls out slowly.

“huh? Whats wrong does it hurt?” he asks rubbing away your tears with the pad of his thumb. 

your lip quivered as more tears started to form. “...i-im annoying...?” you looked him in his eyes as more broken sobs leave you.

“I just wanted some attention kenma...you’re always so busy sometimes I don’t even think you remember i exist..” you muttered feeling small under his cat like stare. 

he sighed kissing your cheek, falling to your. side feeling his breath hit your neck. “sorry baby i swear i didn’t mean it...you’re not annoying its my fault for not giving you attention.” he admits as you wrap around him. 

“y-you promise you didn’t mean it?” you ask once more. he sneaks a hand under your head to lift you up to his chest, patting your head softly. 

“ i promise. here why don’t you sit on my lap, we can do that thing you wanted to try last week...” he looks away embarrassed, you tilt your head in confusion but then realize what he was referring to. you nodded joyfully wrapping your arms around his neck, he adjusts himself for you to line up to take him. he  slowly puts you back down on his cock. hissing at the returning feeling.

He smiled kissing your forehead lightly as he hugged you tight. 

“better my love?”

“mhm mhm!” you said placing your head on his shoulder as you relax into him. slowly drifting away into sleep. its not much, but at-least it stuffs your very needy cunt.

matsukawa 

word count : 615

what lead to this? you two were just on a simple date together at a nearby mall shopping together, looking at upcoming movies, stopping by a few manga stores and bakeries to treat yourselves. overall, just enjoying the time shared together. 

that is t’ill the two of ran into your ex. issei watching the two of you talk to each other not realizing how uncomfortable you really were, hiding it with a friendly facade of course going unnoticed by him since he was practically death glaring your ex. 

he was basically third wheeling in your conversation with your ex. you would side eye issei hoping he’d pull you out of your situation but it was too late since his mind was cloudy with jealousy and rage.  

now, leading up to your current predicament. a heavy make-out now leading to a degradation fest.  

“aw whats wrong little slut can’t take me, fucking pathetic much?” he teases pounding you at a faster pace. “can’t believe my own fucking girlfriend was just there being all friendly to her ex..what don’t tell me you still want him?” he muses making you rapidly shake your head. 

“ no i don’t i swear issei..just wan’ you..”you muttered eyes growing puffy from how cruel he spoke to you as he continued to suggest away of how would get him back since it seemed like you missed him from how friendly you were acting.

growing quiet at his words trying to tune out his words. it’ll all be over soon anyways, you just had to hold on a bit you told yourself. of course you were an idiot for letting him keep going. 

“ maybe i should go ask how kimi’s doing act all friendly and nice towards her.” you tuned into what issei had said in horror at what he just said.

kimi, his much prettier ex who t’ill this day wasn’t over him and he knew this. throwing it in your face as he darkly chuckled at you. you removed your arms that were wrapped around his neck pulling him close. and cupped your face in your hands at the thought of your boyfriend going back to his ex. leaving you alone again.

he wouldn’t right? even though she was much prettier in every feature she had compared to you. he wouldn’t right..? right? 

“f-funeral...“you sniffled making him stop all his movements and lock eyes with you. your safeword ringing in his ears. 

“hey..hey no i didn’t mean it...” he quickly pulls you towards him, pulling you out of him and hugging you tight. he rocks you softly back and forth in his embrace letting all your bottle up feelings burst onto him.  he quick to comfort you and pepper a few kisses on your face.

“ issei..” you mumbled against his chest. he rubs your back looking down at you.

“yes baby..?” his voice shaken with worry hoping you weren’t too mad at him.

“ i-i don’t miss him.. i was only being nice..i was uncomfortable talking to him why didn't you..” he internally punches himself for being so blind and not being able to see by all your movements how uncomfortable you were just breathing the same air as your ex.

he was too blinded by his jealousy to realize his poor baby was scared. he mumbled a curse before apologizing.

“i’m sorry baby i didn’t realize he was making you uncomfortable i should've done something..” his eyes wander away from you.

“ i was just jealous..” he admits

“but issei.. you’re all i want.” you say kissing his cheek and he smiles gracefully. 

“am i-i all you want sei?”

“ duh pretty baby. everything  i want and need.”

matsukawas is so short i’m so sorry ahhhh but i hope u all enjoyed <3

[infinitecrime]

I feel like I should make a post detailing the Sebastian Stan drama because I see a whoooole lot of bad takes and misinformation and blatant lies going around. I’ve been on tumblr for nearly a decade at this point and this is genuinely one of the scariest and most out of control situations I have seen.

A quick summary for anyone who hasn’t been following: Last week, Seb was pictured with a women. Many assumed this was his girlfriend but this has not been confirmed. Fans began combing through her life and social media to find something incriminating. I feel like this is important, that the hatred came first, and the reason came after. They found a photo of the girl, from 2 years ago. I will include it for transparency (she is on the left): she is at an ‘Asian night’ party/club night, wearing a kimono. 

It’s insensitive to use culture as a costume, and to lump all the diverse and distinct Asian cultures together into one party theme, decorated with pound shop Chinese lanterns. It is cultural appropriation. A number of Asian people were understandably upset by this photo and her actions. 

But let me be very clear: These are not his actions. He was not at the party, he did not wear the kimono, he did not post or like the photo, he did not endorse, condone or defend the actions in any way. We have never seen them together before, so presumably this is 2 years before they met. He does not follow her or the friend that posted it 2 years ago on Instagram. There is no reasonable expectation that he ever would have seen this photo. He almost certainly did not know it existed.

He cannot apologise or seek redemption for someone else actions. He cannot set a precedent where he is responsible for everything everyone who comes within 20ft of him did, years before they even met. It is completely insane to expect him to do a full background check on everyone he makes out with, or to expect him and all his acquaintances to be ideologically pure, not be ignorant about anything and never make a mistake.

Some people seemed to realise that he cannot be held responsible for other people’s actions, so they invented something to pin blame on him: he defended her! I searched high and low for his statement defending her. He did not make one. Instead, he allegedly blocked a handful of people who spammed his comments with demands for apologies. At least one of these blocks has been outed as photoshop. If the others are real, we don’t know if it was him or his PR team. We don’t know if their innocent public comment alerting him to an issue was accompanied by vile death threats in his DM’s. Regardless, he is within his rights to protect his mental health by blocking people who harass him about something that is, frankly, none of his business. Blocking is not defending her.

I often hear: cancel culture is not real, it’s simply facing the consequences of your actions. So lets do an experiment where we outline the actions and consequences. If you were involved in the vile hashtags and threats made against him, ask yourself: Are these reasonable, proportional and deserved? Do I have the authority to distribute these consequences? Am I making the world a better place - or a worse one? Is my moral high ground getting a little shaky? 

Action: 

Kissed a girl who wore a kimono 2 years before they met. Allegedly (!!) blocked a few people who harassed him about it despite it being nothing to do with him.

Consequences:

Doxxed, pictures of his apartment and his address leaked online. He will almost certainly have to move from his HOME.

Intense death threats and suicide baiting, including #RIPSebastianStan trending, which his family may have seen and actually thought he had died, photoshopped articles and memorial pictures that say he died

Actual danger to his physical safety through the release of his home address

Emails sent to his newly signed agency and employers to get him FIRED

Severe damage to his reputation including news articles with his name and ‘racist post’ in the title, that do not make it clear it was not his post!!

Most likely a severe hit to his mental health, which he has said before he struggles with, particularly from all the KILL YOUR SELF CLOWN messages

If he was with the girl - well, I doubt he is now, so the possible destruction of his relationship, instead of her getting a chance to learn, educate herself, grow and be better.

I am genuinely concerned for his mental health - situations like this before have resulted in suicide (Caroline Flack springs to mind). His physical safety is also in danger. For the actions of someone else, years before they met. Please, stop this. Please see that you are making the world so, so much worse, and you could actually kill someone through this. Please exit the twitter echo chamber and think maturely and critically about whether your response is proportional, reasonable and necessary. Please see that he is a stranger to you, who is paid to do a job, and we have no more right to demand things from him or make him face consequences than we do our dentists or the cashier at the local shop. Please log off and go outside for a while.

[craptsukii]

genshin boys and terms of endearment they'd use

a/n: this is my first time writing headcanons and ngl i found them quite difficult to format :( i’m liking this style for now, but things might change later on teehee anyway, lemon cake update next week, i promise!

♡༚࿐ 🇩‌🇮‌🇱‌🇺‌🇨‌

let’s get something out of the way first

diluc is not a jerk

sure, he might have tsundere tendencies but he’s definitely not as cold as people make him seem

in my opinion anyway

i like to call him a classy, but also a very private, softie

i can totally see him as someone who’d use terms such as darling, love, doll

a major factor here is the time and place

in public, he tries to seem more indifferent and will most likely refer to you by your name

however, in a more private setting, he has no inhibitions and actually prefers using nicknames!

I feel like diluc would want to really reassure their partner he truly cares about them, but in a direct yet indirect way

and calling you sweet things seems to get the message across.

listen to this while reading!

If only time could pass faster. Who knew waiting could be such an agonising activity? Such a simple but repetitive thing. Waiting for your cake to finish baking, waiting for the morning to arrive and even waiting for your lover to come home turned out to be much more of a challenge. It wasn’t unusual for Diluc to spend hours on end at Angel’s Share, but it was rather odd of him to break his promises.

A sad smile took over your features, remembering last night. Remembering his words, so sweet and benign, promising to dedicate you all of him and his time. His crimson red eyes, full of love and admiration for the person he held so dearly to his heart. His voice, so demure and nothing but a soft whisper, as if raising it would ruin the moment. The moment he shared with you in a little dark corner of Mondstadt, away from curious eyes and sharp ears. The moment he so desperately wanted to hold onto. Yet, the darknight hero was nowhere to be found.

By the time he finally arrived, your eyes were already closing. It was a gloved hand that pulled you out of your somnolent state. Yet again those same red eyes were looking into yours with the same devotion, if not stronger than the night he made his promise.

“Forgive me, love,” he pleaded in a shushed tone, “Kaeya came in and started causing a commotion and I couldn’t just leave.” he continued, his thumb brushing over your cheek delicately.

Too tired to say anything, you placed your hand over his, silently asking him to join you in bed. You had all the time in the world to discuss tomorrow... Hopefully. After discarding his black coat on one of the chairs and taking off his shoes, Diluc plopped in your shared bed, not even bothering to change into something more comfortable. Soon his arms were around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest. His smell reminded you of grapes and it completely enveloped you as you nestled into him.

“If only I could turn back time…” Diluc murmured to himself, kissing the top of your head. “Nothing will come in between us and our time together tomorrow. I promise you, darling.”

Turns out that, in the end, he does keep his promises.

♡༚࿐ 🇽‌🇮‌🇦‌🇴‌

listen to this while reading!

my very polite baby

like sure, he’s straightforward

but he be treating everyone with respect

you might be wondering why that matters

well that's because i think xiao would see it as a little rude to not refer to someone important to him by their name

names play a major part in xiao’s past

with rex lapis re-naming him after taking him under his wing and such

so, in my opinion, xiao finds calling out your name way more meaningful than nicknames

although if he were to use one it would probably be dear

it’s short and he can still address you as “dear (name)”

it does sound quite formal at times though

Moments like this were rare. Usually, sleep doesn’t concern your lover in the slightest, as it rarely comes to him. Although you couldn’t help but admit how much you loved it when he did come and sleep. Cuddled up next to you was the vigilant yaksha, the well known protector of Liyue. And dare you say, it was truly a divine sight. In the wash of the morning light, his face took the appearance of an old photograph, so nostalgic, so at peace. Slowly, one of your hands brushed past his face, placing the few rebel aquamarine strands that were cascading down his cheek behind his ear. For a moment, you find yourself in perfect silence, Xiao’s soft breaths being the only sounds that could be discerned. Without realising, you started softly rubbing his back, your heart leaping at the content purr that followed shortly after.

It was almost impossible to put into words the joy this brought you. Although it was such a simple, mundane thing, seeing Xiao so at ease was by far your favourite memory with him. The more you studied his features the more your sight fell upon his lips. The sudden urge to kiss him overwhelmed you, wanting nothing more than to cherish and show your lover the affection he deserves.

If only the sudden chirping of birds didn’t scare you, barely a few inches away from his face.

Curse those birds and their awful timing! And so, you backed away, laughing to yourself in self-consciousness, thankful that no one was aware of your little mishap.

Or so you thought.

You felt your face get warmer the moment you saw Xiao looking at you, drowsiness still coating his eyes. Yet again, for another short moment, no sound could be heard.

“____ my dear” he said, his voice deep and hoarse, snaking his arms around you as he brought you closer to him, “if you won’t do it, I will.” it was then the flush across his cheeks became apparent to you. Shame you didn’t have time to savour it, his lips immediately finding yours in a sweet, dream like kiss.

Moments like this were truly worth treasuring.

♡༚࿐ 🇨‌🇭‌🇮‌🇱‌🇩‌🇪‌

in contrast with xiao, childe loves calling you cute nicknames

in fact, he barely uses your name!

sometimes he likes to tease you and pretend he forgot your actual name

of course that’s not true,he could never do such a thing

I can totally see him use pet names such as comrade, girlie, cutie, shawty, sweetness, princess/prince, baby

ok i know shawty is kind of random, but i think he’d use kind of ironically?

I think he’d also use big sister/brother just to tease you, even if you’re younger than him

he heard teucer refer to you as such one time and it honestly melted his heart a little bit

as a side note, seeing his siblings get along you makes him genuinely happy.

listen to this while reading!

Spring was such a beautiful time. Especially in Liyue. Especially on a date with the one and only Childe, eleventh of the Fatui harbingers. For someone with such a fearsome title and reputation, it wowed you to no end just how charming, just plain adorable, Tartaglia can be. Albeit, it was only your second date, it was expected of him to at least try to be nice.

And on time.

As you waited, under that beautiful sky, a hue so gentle between cloud and baby blue, you watched each bird upon wing. It was one of those spring days with a kiss of coldness that somehow heightened the warm rays of the sun. You paused to admire the flowers, to sense their aromas, to be in the moment with their transient beauty.

“Lovely, aren’t they?” asked Childe from behind you, a shy, perhaps slightly embarrassed, smile painted on his lips. “Sorry I’m late, I really overestimated my juniors’ capabilities and I had to step in.” he continued, gingerly taking hold of your hand, kissing the back of it.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his gentlemanly antics, although you enjoyed them nonetheless. “Don’t worry about it, you’re here now.” you reassured him, as you took a hold of his hand, already leading him towards nowhere in particular.

Another thing you liked about him. Things were so casual, so easy-going. One might call this date nothing but a hangout, but not every date has to be a luxurious five star dinner or a fancy show. Sometimes just a simple walk along the Liyue port was enough. Enough for you to get to know Childe, enough for you to like him even more.

Suddenly, Tartaglia was in front of you, his hands lightly taking hold of your face.

“Hold on cutie, there’s something on your face,” he answered your silent question, seeing as you looked a little confused. The next thing you knew, his lips descended upon yours. It was a sudden but very much welcomed kiss. A kiss that unfortunately ended just as abruptly, “it was me.”

♡༚࿐ 🇿‌🇭‌🇴‌🇳‌🇬‌🇱‌🇮‌

favourite peepaw

also prefers using your name rather than nicknames

but he’s not completely against them

he finds them quite nice actually

and he actually enjoys being referred by one!

like imagine going for a stroll with him and all of a sudden you go "darling, look!"

he'd look so content oh my lord

in my opinion anyway

he’d usually call you honey, my beloved or even my one and only!

you could be doing the simplest of things like reading with him under a tree

and he'd go "you're my one and only love"

no, he isn’t aware of how cheesy it sounds.

listen to this while reading!

Who knew the God of contracts could be such a romantic? Usually, Zhongli wasn’t a big fan of fancy, elaborate dates. He’d usually say something along the lines that “spending time with you was enough for him to feel like the richest man in the world”, which he technically was even without your presence. But, quite frankly, it was because he lacked the funds to do so that he didn’t pamper you every moment of the day.

So when you found yourself face to face with an array of different foods, meticulously prepared and arranged on a soft picnic blanket, you couldn’t help but wonder —

“Why the sudden change?” you asked, sitting down on the plush cover, to which Zhongli only chuckled.

“Am I not allowed to change my mind?” he replied in a teasing tone, flopping next to you.

“Oh, you are more than welcome to do so,” you winked, pouring some tea for both of you. It smelled like chamomile, “I was just trying to say it’s a nice change.” you continued, taking a few sips of your tea.

Zhongli only hummed, content with your response. Sometimes, sitting in silence, all while eating delicious brunch foods and drinking sweet tea, was much more enjoyable than small talk.

And so, you spend the rest of the day with your lover, basking in the sunshine and each other’s company. In his embrace, there was something so right, something that felt right, smelt right. You let your body sag, your muscle become loose. In that embrace you felt your worries loose their keen sting and your optimism raise its head from the dirt.

“You’re so beautiful, my beloved,” he whispered, cupping your face and kissing you gently.

♡༚࿐ 🇰‌🇦‌🇪‌🇾‌🇦‌

avid user of nicknames

partially because he finds them cute

and partially because he loves teasing you

he’d use them in public and try to get a reaction out of you

like let’s say all of a sudden kaeya is back hugging you, pampering your neck with kisses

saying something like “what’s wrong, baby?”

he’d also use hot stuff, sweet cheeks, gorgeous, handsome, cutie pie, treasure

sometimes they’re really sweet, other times they’re really silly

side note, i feel like this one got a little out of hand sorry yall i lowkey can’t take kaeya seriously

listen to this while reading!

There was something so heavenly about a kiss in the rain, a tender moment that just wouldn’t wait. It was that burst of love that is expressed, not caring if the water soaked through to chill the skin. You felt yourself gasping for air as Kaeya’s lips left yours, doe like eyes searching for his. Behind that brilliant shade of blue sparkled a glacial attraction. So complex and mysterious, it was magnetic. It made you want him even more.

Upon seeing your dazed state Kaeya smiled, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. His hands found yours. “Let’s get you of here before you catch a cold.” he said, leading you down the streets of Mondstadt. It was the middle of August, and you got caught in nothing more than a summer rain. You weren’t even cold, but alas you let it slide, enjoying seeing Kaeya worry about you, even if it wasn’t as serious as he made it seem.

There is something about a rain-washed pathway that invites playful feet, that says each new step will be rewarded with a splash. And soon, you found yourself splashing around, making the most out of this accidental rain shower.

The moment you finally reached your home, Kaeya wasted no time, his arms already wrapped around you in a tight embrace. Yet again, a gasp escaped your mouth, Kaeya’s cold lips leaving goosebumps behind each carefully placed kiss on your neck.

“You know what’s the best way to get warmed up, treasure?” he asked, his hands ghosting over your hips.

You shook your head softly, awaiting his answer.

“A good old dance party!” he exclaimed, spinning you around as he started humming a cheerful. “Nothing gets the blood going like a little movement!” it was obvious he found great pleasure in seeing your more than confused, if not disappointed, expression. Still, he paid you no mind and continued dancing with you all while singing a cheery melody.

It was quite save to assume there was never a boring moment with this man.

♡༚࿐ 🇦‌🇱‌🇧‌🇪‌🇩‌🇴‌

my favourite elevator boy

doesn’t love nicknames but doesn’t hate them either

i see him as an action speak louder than words guy

and although he’s aware that, as his partner, you know that

he still feels sorry for not being as vocal as other people when it comes to talking about his emotions??

so cute terms like these are a simple way he can show his appreciation for you

for some reason, i think he would really like using diminutives??

he’d call you things like little star

or baby or lovebug

i think it really matches his vibe ngl

listen to this while reading!

The breeze blew warm announcing the coming of summer's hottest days. The aroma of the tall grasses were an intoxicating perfume and the starry night above was a painting more sublime than any man could create. The clarity above became reflected in your mind.

Being with Albedo meant putting up with the unholy amount of hours he’d spend on whatever research he’d be conducting at the time. And luckily for you, his next big discovery involved the stars. On the black sky above you, there were a multitude of stars and there were lighter patches, clusters of faint and bold light, the constellations altered according to the time of year. These were the same stars that greeted the ancients, the same ones that would be there in millions of years.

As you enjoyed your little midnight snack, your gaze fell upon the chief alchemist. His eyes were fixated on the landscape above him, utterly fascinated by the world’s mystic beauty. Seeing him so consumed by his studies made your heart feel warm. It was adorable to see him like this.

Your sudden yawn made both you look at each other. Albedo’s gaze was filled with compassion, and perhaps a little remorse for making you come with him so late in the night just to stare blankly at the sky.

But you knew this wasn’t such a trivial thing.

You pet the spot next to you, silently asking him to sit down with you, to which he immediately obliged. As his head found its place on your shoulder a little sad smile made its appearance on his face.

“Sorry for making you come here with me, baby.” he said, his hand drawing patterns along your thigh. “I know this isn’t your idea of quality time.”

“Any time spent with you is quality time, silly.” you giggled, kissing the top of his head. “And besides, who doesn’t enjoy a little bit of stargazing?”

♡༚࿐ 🇻‌🇪‌🇳‌🇹‌🇮‌

ok now for venti

i feel like with him the tone he uses is very important??

i mean this also applies to the rest of the guys

but for venti even more so

he could simply refer to you by your name and it would still feel all special and bubbly

nonetheless, he loves using pet names!

i mean as a bard, he can come up with poems and such on a whim ( flashback to the signora moment :) )

so his nicknames for you always have a certain meaning or funny story behind them

oh, you love pumpkins or had an unfortunate accident involving one? now he calls you pumpkin all the time

he’d also call you things like sunshine because to him you bring so much joy and you warm his heart just like the sun.

with that being said, good luck to those pulling for him! <3

listen to this while reading!

“There you go! You’re really good at this!” Venti complimented you, observing in great detail the way your fingers touched the strings of his lyre.

Judging by the curious stares and even odd looks you’d get from time to time, that wasn’t really the case. What was supposed to be a simple walk around the city turned out to be a full concert. Although Venti couldn’t find it in his heart to tell you, who asked him so eagerly just a few moments ago if he could teach how to play a song, just how… Poor was your attempt.

A relieved sigh could be heard the moment your fingers left the strings, although Venti’s reassuring smile never left his face. “Don’t let a few strangers discourage you! Even the greatest geniuses had to start somewhere!”

“Are you saying I’m a genius?” you asked teasingly with a raised eyebrow, laughing at his flustered face.

“Let’s not go that far…” he murmured, winking cheekily.

“And here I was, thinking I could wow you with my insane musical skills…” you whined sarcastically, handing him his lyre as you continued your stroll. It was then Venti stopped in his tracks. Upon his face, shock was written all over, his expression soon turning sympathetic. For a moment, he left you alone, diving into the crowd of people, only to return to you with a single cecilia flower. Its fragrance was sweet and fresh and its color a perfect white. Shortly after, he gently placed it behind your ear, smiling to himself while looking at you.

“You don’t need fancy tricks to win over what you already have,” Venti said, kissing your cheek lightly. A cheerful tune could be heard across the street, Venti’s soft melody attracting a lot of attention, “I’m all yours, sunshine.” he said loud enough for more than a few people to hear.

He has such a way with words, doesn’t he?

[inkykeiji]

HOW TO DOWNLOAD CHATPLOTS!

how to download it on ios: 

go to chatplots.inkyclari.com

tap the share icon (on safari: the little square with the upwards arrow, in the middle of the bottom of the screen, next to the bookmarks option; on chrome: the little square with the upwards arrow at the end of the address bar)

scroll down and select ’add to home screen’

you’re done! 

how to download it on android: 

go to chatplots.inkyclari.com

on chrome, press the three dots in the upper righthand corner

click ’install app’

you’re done!

currently, chatplots works best on a mobile device, so we encourage you to use it in a mobile browser or download it to your device as a web app following the instructions above!

more information + faq!

WHAT IS CHATPLOTS?

chatplots is a simulation game where you can enter into various situations with specific characters and 'message' them. each chat will have multiple choices for the player to choose and at least two endings. your choices and behaviour throughout the chat will influence how the character reacts and responds to you, and will ultimately determine which ending you get! it is essentially like a playable oneshot! chatplots IS NOT AI. it is a game that was written by me and developed by my boyfriend. each conversation was painstakingly crafted by me; it is all my writing, and it will always be completely and entirely written by me.

HOW DOES IT WORK?

chatplots can be downloaded as a web app on your home screen if you'd prefer to have it on your phone! (this is the option i personally recommend hehe) but chatplots can also be played on any device in any mobile or desktop browser, accessible through this link: https://chatplots.inkyclari.com.

here's how it'll all go down once the chat is open:

the character will send a message (or several messages)

the response button (the button with the little paper airplane) will begin pulsing when you can respond back to him

pressing the button will open up all of your available response options. you can then choose which one to send back to him.

this will continue until you reach the end of the game. the response button will begin pulsing with your ending, which is a piece of prose 700-900 words long for paid chats. the paid chats take about 10-15 minutes to play though once. the free chats take anywhere between 1-5 minutes to play through, and have no ending pieces of prose.

notes:

the character will refer to you by name. the name you input at the start of the game will be the name he uses, though this name can be changed at any time in the settings (the little gear in the bottom left corner!). also! check out the settings while he's still typing for a cute lil surprise ehehe c:

the character will behave like a real human throughout the duration of the chat. he takes a moment to read your message before he responds, and the time it takes him to type out a response is akin to that of a real person—meaning if his response is longer, he will take longer to type it than a response that is only a word or two.

THINGS TO KEEP IN MIND:

this is a beta, which means it is not the finished product.

FOR THE TOUYA-NII CHAT: the chat you are playing is technically only half of what the full chat would be; you are only playing one route with a few different branches and two variations of the same single ending. (in other words, there are several different ways to reach the same ending, and each branch has slight variations).

FOR ANY OF THE SHORTER DEMO CHATS: the chat you are playing is merely meant to be a demo of what the game entails; like a sample of what you can expect from future paid chats! these chats have short, simple stories with 2-3 different ‘routes’ and no ending pieces of prose.

a full chat would have at least two separate routes within the same scenario/setting, and at least two different endings.

we encourage you to play through the chat several times to discover which choices yield which results, and to explore all the character has to say!

WILL OTHER CHARACTERS BE ADDED IN THE FUTURE?

yes, of course! any of my iterations of ANY character (bnha, bsd, and tokrev) has the potential to be added to the game in the future. i am also open to taking suggests and prompts from you all for future chat scenarios!

HOW MUCH WILL THE FULL GAME COST?

chats will either be sold on an individual basis, where you can buy each chat separately for $4-$6 USD depending on the length, complexity, number of endings, etc OR through a monthly subscription of $7 USD, enabling you to have continual access to the entire catalogue of chats as it grows, with the minimum number chats being released at least two per month. both options will be offered in the full version of the game.

[sbnslver]

Why’d You Do It?

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female! Reader

Warnings: Angst

A/N: First story! Hope you guys can enjoy :) credit to the gif maker and sorry for any mistakes.

Word Count: 1.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Dr. Stephen Strange never thought he’d find himself in this sort of predicament. All he was really looking for was an old ancient magic book that he’d thought you had. He didn’t think you’d mind if he used a portal to go into your room seeing as though you weren’t home and he desperately needed the book. It was an in and out mission plain and simple.

He located your desk, messy and a perfect representation of who you are. He was looking through the books and as he picked up the last one he saw an envelope with his name on it and hearts drawn all over it. Right away he recognized your handwriting and without a second thought he ripped it open.

Almost instantly he knew it was a love letter and he wanted to put it back, he really did but he just couldn’t put it down once he began reading.

Dear Stephen, 

Oh dear, how do I even start… you Stephen Strange are a horrible, narcissistic, big air-head… and I love you. God why do I love you? You are nothing like the man I imagined myself with. The man I always thought I would love would be sweet, caring, and anything but self-centered. But you, you are the complete opposite and the worst part is, I would change absolutely nothing about you. You’re perfect and I love you. I haven’t told anyone but I think Wong is suspicious of me because he said I “stare longingly” at you in the library. Ridiculous. Of course I don’t think I could ever tell you this because I don’t think you feel the same way. What a cliché that is too. I’m just so full of love for you and it sucks that I have to keep it to myself-

A sudden noise of something falling broke him out of his trance. Quickly he whipped around, letter seemingly glued to his hand. You were there at your bedroom door standing there in utter horror looking directly and the piece of paper in his hand. Your mouth was gaping and yet no words could leave past your lips. Quickly springing into action you rip the letter out of his hands.

“How could you? What are you doing here? Why did you do this?” you asked all at once.

Stephen looked at you with a blank stare. He was speechless.

“(Y/N) I-” 

“Save it” you said, cutting him off and glaring at the ground below. “You know it’s one thing to be in my home without letting me know and it’s another to go through my personal belongings” you were angry and the tone of your voice clearly sent the message. “I don’t even want to hear your excuse”

“I was only looking for a book when I stumbled across the letter and I saw that it was addressed to me.” He said ignoring your warning glare. “I understand that it’s yours but it was going to me at some point anyway right?” He was trying to look you in the eyes but you were avoiding his stare. Frown prominent on your face.

“This is still so wrong. I didn’t give the letter to you, you practically just stole it from me” you said, voice unwavering. “I have always thought so highly of you Stephen and the letter proves that, but this is just unforgivable. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to tell you yet, I was enjoying whatever thing was happening between us.”

“(Y/N) it’s just a letter and none of this matters now because I love you too.” Stephen had looked at you expectantly, waiting for the words to come back to him.

“I’m not sure what I feel for you anymore.” You were looking at him like he was a stranger. You were shocked never would you think he would be so quick to disregard your feelings.  “How can you stand there and tell me none of this matters. It does matter, it matters to me”

“Didn’t you hear me? I love you (Y/N).” Stephen was growing tired of your rambling, to him none of this should matter because you felt the same for each other and the journey to get there shouldn’t matter because the end result would be the same. You both loved each other and that’s all that mattered.

“Right now Stephen I really don’t want to hear it. What I want is for you to leave and not the way you came, I want you to leave through the front door.” You couldn’t look him in the eye afraid that you’d give in much too soon. He stood there for a few seconds until he gave up and sighed. Just before he walked out of  her room you muttered…

“I don’t even know if I can trust you anymore” in a voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough to stop him in his tracks.

He looked back at you hoping that you would spare him a glance, but you wouldn’t budge. He continued his path down the stairs and out the front door into the cold night.

 After he was long gone you finally sat down on the edge of your bed staring at the letter reading it and after each word that was processed your face burned more and more. 

“I imagine laying next to you in bed at night and just seeing you at peace, asleep.”

“How could you ever love someone like me?”

“How could I ever be lucky enough to love someone like you?”

You were just embarrassed now. You didn’t know how much he read but looking back at this now you sound like you’re obsessed with him. 

Overwhelmed with what happened just minutes earlier you let the tears stream down your face and lays down in your bed, going to sleep to let the feelings of today fall off.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Back at the sanctum, Stephen goes back into the library and finds Wong sitting in a chair reading the very book he spent the better half of his day searching for. 

“You’re giving me a strange look. What is it?” Wong asked flatly.

“I’m not entirely sure myself” Stephen said looking puzzled. “I think I need time to think about what happened.”

“I have no idea what you’re on about but good luck.” Wong resumed his reading as if Stephen never entered the room at all.

Stephen walked back out the library and stood at the entrance of the sanctum just thinking about everything. Maybe he was wrong but he just didn’t grasp what the big deal was because he loves you.

Groaning and rubbing his face he goes up to bed to sleep on it and hopefully tomorrow you’d be up for talking. He lays in bed staring up at the ceiling for what seems like hours until he doesn’t realize he falls asleep.

[lovenona]

ON THE SACRED BONDS OF BROTHERHOOD.

synopsis; choso may be their beloved frat brother, but he’ll always be your brother first. (for the frat au collab.) 

pairing; frat boy! choso x f! reader

contains; stepcest, dubcon (reader is under the influence but having a good time), extensive descriptions of knife play and blood play, marking (choso carves his name into you), oral (f! receiving), borderline yandere/possessive choso (he loves you A Lot), choso goes from mean to Soft, consumption and romanticization of drugs and alcohol, (1) use of ‘angel’, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, this is essentially all foreplay and ends before the fucking because i got tired, minors do not interact or perish

word count; 6.5k

the yard outside is clean, well-kept. there’s talk that the house’s landlord is a retired gardener who receives great joy from keeping up the hydrangeas and peonies along the sidewalk. it’s certainly award-winning, that front yard, with its colorful blossoms and plush bees circling the mailbox. 

they’re so lucky, students bemoan on their way to and from class. i can’t believe the frat boys get to live there. i bet they don’t even know how lucky they are.

it’s a seemingly kind house from the outside – recently renovated with navy blue paint and white trimming, a large front porch and a few inviting windows. the place that omega lambda now calls home is, simply put, a dream. it sits just a few minutes from campus and it tells the street proudly, fondly, that there is no better place to be than here.

it’s true, in some respects, that omega lambda likes to see themselves as above the sweat and grime of their fellow frat brothers. they don’t spend their weekends “fucking and drinking” and tracking dirt across the carpet like animals. their fun is calm, refined: to be invited to a night with omega lambda means a night of smoke curling into the air, of gossip over olive-colored couches, of pills under tongues, of ease and relaxation.

it’s slower than the others, they say in the back of monday morning lectures, but no less extreme, no matter what those boys try and tell you.

i think i was tripping for days, the girl from psychology 101 boasted. whatever the fuck yuuji gets is strong. 

such stories amaze you: and even as you stand on the sidewalk outside the perfect blue house, petunias curling inward with the evening breeze, you cannot believe they are real. it’s hard to imagine the face of your beloved stepbrother tied to these antics. it’s hard to imagine that the boy who used to come home every winter and summer with bloodshot eyes and a beat-up skateboard also swore a loyal, unbreakable oath of brotherhood to a band of boys you’ve never met. 

it’s hard to imagine that your own stepbrother, choso, the one who taught you how to ride a bike and how to apply eyeliner and how to kiss without teeth, quite literally runs what has been dubbed the chillest fraternity on campus.

but yet, here you are, new to university, fresh-faced and eager, cowering outside the door of the omega lambda residence. your favorite skirt hovers around your thighs and you tug at the collar of your shirt, fiddle with the charm of the necklace choso gave you for your birthday a few years ago. 

he’d invited you here almost immediately after learning that you and your roommate had tried your hand at partying with beta pi epsilon. naoya is trash, choso’s fervent texts read the next morning. absolute dick – don’t trust him. come hang out with us instead. he’d attached the address of the blue house along with a reminder to have a snack and take some medicine for your godforsaken hangover. 

the message had taken you a little by surprise. choso’s always been sweet to you – doting, even, if you wanted a better word for it – but you hadn’t been sure how he’d handle attending the same university. your other friends all complain that they’d rather die than see their families; twins separate after orientation, brothers and sisters look the other way if they pass each other in the quad. you feared choso would be the same, that the omnipotent attention he gave you at home would completely dissipate the moment you moved into your dorm.

but his text reaffirms you, if anything. and although your roommate had opted to be wined and dined by the boy from calculus this evening, you don’t mind attending alone. her absence from your side only means you will be able to see your stepbrother without a distraction.

the music buzzes through the door as you knock and wring your fingers on the doorstep. should you just walk in? should you text choso and wait for him to fetch you? the ins-and-outs of frat etiquette cloud your mind until the door swings open and you’re met, face-to-face, with a young pink-haired man dangling a blunt from one hand and his phone, opened to his spotify playlist, from the other.

“hi,” you say, words foreign in your throat. “choso invited me?”

“oh, cool,” itadori yuuji says, shrugging his shoulders like he never would have questioned it. “come on in. you can put your shoes over there.” 

while omega lambda is not packed from wall to wall as your night at beta pi epsilon had been, the various couches propped against the walls and surrounding the living room coffee table are nearly packed to the brim with the frat brothers and their guests. the air, hazy with smoke and desire and drinking, shifts and swirls as it curls around purple LED lights before fogging up the windows and disappearing up the stairs. it is warm here, easy, like dropping into the depths of a pleasurable dream.

“there’s drinks in the kitchen,” yuuji is saying, voice thick with his high, “and we’ve got some other stuff on the table, although you’ll have to pay yuuta for those–” 

yuuji’s narration is cut off as a familiar figure crashes into yours, sweeping you into a hug so tight you fear your bones will snap from the pressure. choso smells like the cologne you bought him for his birthday, like fresh laundry and comfort; you breathe him in, deeply, and let yourself relax into the soft cotton of his black t-shirt.

“glad you could make it,” choso mumbles into your skin. he draws back slightly, drinks you in, your little skirt and your dainty socks that he’s always been partial to. he looks from you to yuuji, still vibing to the side with his playlist, and his eyes crinkle in what must be mirth.

“it’s good to see you,” you say. 

“you saw me at lunch with mom last week.” choso smiles, the black line across his nose crinkling when his eyes light up. 

“you get what i mean.” you tap his shoulder, lightly, as emphasis. the anxiety dissolves; it’s you, and him, like it’s always been. it’s your stepbrother choso who watches your shadow and wraps you up to keep the rest of the world at bay. 

but the tender moment is broken when someone, a tall blonde girl with the aura of a lioness, calls out to choso to ask him for assistance. he looks at you, a bit forlorn, before telling yuuji to help you get settled in and making his way to the other end of the living room.

“yes, this way!” yuuji grabs your arm and drags you across the floor like you’ve known each other forever. “i make some fucking good drinks if i do say so myself.” 

which, consequently enough, is how you find yourself losing your mind within the walls of omega lambda. 

it’s not that you’re a virgin to the world of cocktails and lime and pills: it’s that you’re too sweet to know when to stop. it’s hard to tell yuuji no more, thanks when his face is so bright, when he and the strange, blue-haired frat brother mahito are asking you to try this and try that and to let us know what you think. 

so you let yourself sway through the house, from couch to couch, listening to this mahito boy tell you about his latest philosophy courses as he dances cold fingers across your shoulders, listening to yuuji explain the very serious business of pulling an all-nighter without coffee, watching the LED lights shift from purple to blue and back again.

(you’re not sure where choso is. perhaps, in your altered state, he’s sitting just across from you and you don’t even know it. but you don’t mind, because his brothers get along with you just as well. you don’t mind, because you’re too drunk or too high to know any better.) 

“and how are you doing?” a dark-haired man slides into the empty couch space next to you. arms littered with various tattoos and dark hair pulled back into a casual half-bun, he could have been your beloved choso had he not exuded such finesse, such arrogance, which choso could never be capable of doing.

“i’m alright,” you say, but you’re more than alright. the room is so warm and your brain is so fuzzy that you might melt into the couch if someone looked away for even a minute. “i don’t think we’ve met before? i’m choso’s stepsister.” 

he simpers, a humid thing, one that coils around your eyelids and sets your insides alight. “ah! i’ve heard a lot about you. it’s nice to meet you.” he holds out a manicured hand; black nail polish glimmers in the dim light. “geto. i’m one of choso’s frat brothers.” 

his handshake might take your soul with it. his hands are smooth, refined. you swear he can feel your quickening pulse as you introduce yourself. he watches you like you might be the only person in the room, like you might be the sweetest thing to have ever crossed the threshold. and filled with rum and liqueur and confidence you take it, gladly, because you’re young and the thought of university still puts stars in your eyes. 

“so what are you studying?” geto is saying, prying you apart, picking through your history. he’s in his final year and you’re in your first and he knows all there is to know while you still have nothing. you latch onto him because he gets it, because he’s handsome, because you’re silly and desperate and drunk. somewhere along the way your thighs touch and his hand greets your shoulder and you think that you finally made it into his lap because mahito complained that the couch was too full. 

geto smells like expensive cologne. you smell vaguely of lemons and shampoo. yuuji jokes with you from across the table and you like it, the way these brothers’ eyes fall on you. 

so you spiral, further and further, into a daze you cannot escape from. you barely react to geto’s firm hand snaking up your bare thigh because you are too busy trying yuuji’s latest creation and asking mahito for more of whatever he gave you. it’s fun, it’s weightless; you feel beautiful, supreme, like the kind of college girl you’re supposed to be. you’re desirable, cute. you’re the girl to be in love with, the one who sets the scene.

those rumors were right. the party is certainly slower than the other frats you’ve visited, with more emphasis on sitting and vibing than on dancing and drinking games, but no less extreme. you’re so far out of your brain that you wonder briefly if it will ever be possible to come back down. maybe you’ll be her, on monday morning, the girl who’s still tripping.

“you know,” geto is saying, his breath eerily close to your pulse, a moment away from pressing a kiss to your cheek, your neck, “you should stop by more often.” 

“yeah?” you hope you sound sexier than you are. “i’d love to–”

“excuse me,” choso’s voice cuts through your lazy fantasy like the sharp fall of a guillotine. “i’d prefer if you didn’t hit on my sister, geto.” 

geto’s laugh reverberates against your back, your ears. his grip on you lightens immediately, and whatever words he’d saved for you die away. “i’m not,” he says, but his voice is too easy to be honest. “just keeping her company. right, sweetheart?”

you’re finding it hard to see straight. caught in this game of cat and mouse you find you can do nothing but sit lamely in geto’s lap and watch choso’s favorite necklace reflect the purple light. it’s only after a revolution around the sun you realize you haven’t spoken, that you’ve done nothing but hover, a lot of drunk and a little high and a little nervous, between one man and the other. you mumble a yes in affirmation but it’s clear from the tension that choso doesn’t believe it. 

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” choso sighs. “come on, then. you’ve had enough for one night.” familiar arms lift you off the couch and you stumble, much like a baby gazelle, into the safety of choso’s chest. the room spins with the sudden change; you cling to him like a lifeline as you abandon the party to head upstairs. 

of course, bedazzled out of your mind, you do not question when choso leads you to the end of the hallway and over the threshold of his bedroom. it feels expected in a way, safe, as if the party had always been meaning to end here. as if there was no other place you should be.

“so?” choso asks, casually, shutting the door behind him with a damning click. “did you enjoy being a little whore with my brothers?”

his words take a long moment to settle in your ears. you’re caught in the swirl of euphoria in your brain, the black t-shirts scattered across the floor, the small houseplant you once bought him seated on the windowsill. it warms your heart to see it there, after all this time.

“well?” choso demands your attention. he takes your jaw in his hand and lifts your eyes to meet his gaze. his silver rings, imposing and cool on slender fingers, burn into your heated flesh like embers. his eyes swim with distaste and you know it’s your fault, somehow, but when the walls tilt and your rationality fogs over, you can’t quite pinpoint why.

“i–” your words catch in your throat. it’s clear, from the darkness in his eyes, from the way his nails dig into the soft flesh of your jawline, that anything you say to defend yourself will be futile. it’s choso’s world, you’ve always known, and even now, you’re merely living in it. 

“i invite my sister to see me, because i miss her,” choso’s words nestle themselves deep into your bloodstream, settling amongst the brandy and wine, “and she chooses to spend the night bending over for my brothers. how do you think that makes me feel?” 

it’s a look you know: a look that has haunted you for hours and days, a look that you know better than any other. it’s the look that guides the hand between your legs at night and the look you recreate in your mind’s eye when your vibrator just isn’t enough. you’re crumbling already, like sand beneath his touch.

“i’m sorry,” you say to him, but the words are soft and whispered things, shy beneath the weight of your own guilt and disappointment. “i didn’t mean to–” 

“no,” choso admonishes. he steps closer, guiding you backwards until his bedsheets brush the backs of your knees. “of course you didn’t. you’re still too dumb to know what you’re doing.” his voice, evenly condescending, hardly matches the gentle brush of his fingers as he moves to cup your cheeks. you close your eyes against it, savoring the shivers he sends across you body with every heartbeat, every movement. “still need your big brother to keep you in check.” 

you do not respond: he does not intend for you too. instead choso presses you back until you fall onto his bed, crawling over you to cage your body beneath him like a predator and its prey. your brain falters with the sudden movement, with the lateness of the hour and the depravity of your position, but you can do nothing but look at him with your helpless doe-eyes while something saccharine pools in your belly. 

“look at you,” choso says. “high out of your damn mind. good thing i caught you when i did. who knows what would have happened.” 

you believe him, you do, especially when choso dips his head to kiss you and demands your subservience. his tongue licks the aftermath of your cocktails from your lips and claims the expanse of your mouth, your teeth, your sanity. you let him take you, body and soul, even when you’re clamoring for air and freedom. there is no safety but choso’s lips, flavored with his cinnamon chapstick, no sacred home but the warmth of his mouth. 

“there’s my girl,” choso breathes, nose brushing against yours as he pulls back for air. “going to be good for me now? going to make it up to your big brother?” 

he doesn’t wait for a response; fingers dance along the silk of your blouse as he undoes each button, one by one, letting his fingers dip slyly against the newly exposed expanse of your collarbone and your chest and your stomach. you make no move to stop him, caught somewhere between choso’s aura and reality and time. 

(and maybe in another life you would have stopped him. maybe in another life you would have been ashamed. but it’s choso, your sworn protector and god among men, and you would be a fool to try and stop the one who knows best. he is safety, protection. who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t taken you away when he did.) 

“is this new?” choso asks, studying the curve of your bra as he rests against your hips. “who are you trying to impress?” 

it’s thin lavender lace, choso’s favorite. your face warms at the observation and you turn your head away, nestling among the sheets, as if you could escape choso’s eyes: but his fingers still trace the material and you can still hear him breathing and you know he will never look away. 

“i just got it,” you answer, humbled and mildly humiliated and certainly a little fucked up. the words are slow and imprecise as you stumble over your own tongue. “i wanted to…treat myself.” 

choso’s exploratory hands move from your bra to the waistband of your skirt. “could’ve just asked me,” he says earnestly, intently. “i would’ve gotten it for you.” 

your affirmative hum is lost when choso mindfully pulls your skirt down your legs and discards it somewhere in the shadows of the room. he says nothing of it, of the thin fabric or the way it flattered you just right. perhaps he is jealous of it. perhaps he does not want to remember the way his brothers looked at you when you wore it, the way geto’s hands caressed the places no other man should go.

“they match, i see,” choso gestures towards your underwear. terrified and knowing and aware that you’re growing damper with each passing minute, you press your thighs together. “they’re cute.” 

“t-thank you,” you whisper. “i… i got them for you. your favorite color.” 

he smiles, a precious and glorious thing, a smile that causes flowers to grow and birds to sing. you electrify at the sight of it, blissful only when he is. 

“i’d hope so,” choso says, “because i don’t think i could take it if this was meant for someone else.” 

he reaches over to the nightstand while his words claw through you. choso smells like cinnamon and safety and pleasure; your heartbeat quickens as his t-shirt brushes against you, as your world collapses into nothing but choso’s profile, his butterfly hair-clips and his glowing skin and his power. 

when choso settles back over you, resting against your thighs until you think you might die of it, something silver and shiny rests in his palm. you’d recognize it even if your eyes were closed, if the room were so dark that you couldn’t see if you tried. a searing and insatiable sensation lodges itself in your veins; it is fear personified, it is anticipation of a behavior you cannot even name. 

choso twirls his beloved switchblade deftly between his well-manicured fingertips. it reflects the low-light of the room. it calls out to you, the beautiful and dangerous thing, a siren’s song that promises both your misery and your fortune. choso’s face is relaxed, serene, as the envy and the fury seemingly melts away from him and leaves only a disinterested vessel behind. 

he lets you study it, lets you study him, and you know he’s pleased when he can feel your thighs tense, when you try so damn hard not to let choso know just how affected you really are. he shifts, grinding gently against your pelvis as he moves, causing you to bite your lip in a desperate attempt to surpress the gentlest of moans. 

“well,” choso says, disregarding the state he’s slowly working you into. he shifts down your body and runs a lackluster hand across the lacy expanse of your underwear. shivers pierce your navel, silver rings poison your skin. it’s all you can do to watch him, his heartless eyes and his casual form, as his thumb prods at the place where you underwear crosses your hip. “let’s get these off. i’d hate to have anyone else see you in them.” 

you feel the blade before you see it. cold, unfriendly, it rests against the gentle skin of your hip, a killer ready to take a life. a humiliatingly choked whine is out of your mouth before you can swallow it; your gasp reverberates throughout the room, the sound of one who knows they’ve lost a fight. 

“choso–” you breathe, but you don’t know quite what it is you’re asking him for. 

he doesn’t answer immediately, opting instead to tease you further with the blade as he presses it against you until goosebumps rise in chorus. your fingers curl in on themselves, desperate for purchase, while fear and longing hum everywhere in your being. 

“don’t worry,” choso says. “i’ll buy you more. now be good and stay still.” 

you want to writhe, to lash out and squirm beneath the intensity of the moment, but you fear choso’s disappointment more than you crave such release. your big brother choso has never been afraid to hurt you: to pierce the skin where it hurts, to draw blood where he means it. if you move, the blade will move with you. you know this as you know every scar choso has left behind. 

it’s agonizing, this pace. choso’s tongue peeks out from between his teeth as he works with the ease of a great master. it’s like watching paint dry, like waiting for grass to grow or continents to shift. he cuts away at the expensive lingerie you bought just last weekend like he has all the time in the world, like he does not care if the sun rises and you are still crying beneath him.

(and he does it, you know, because you’ve never been one to be patient.) 

“choso,” you whine, drawing his name out, long and frustrated, as if in song. “go faster.” your legs twitch in protest and the blade comes ever closer. 

“no.” choso does not even spare the kindness to look at you, his beloved little sister. “stop whining.” 

the rest of your complaints lodge in your throat. you fear disobeying him, so you grip the comforter like a lifeline, exasperated tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as the blade cuts through your clothes and ghosts across the bare skin beneath. it’s embarrassing, really, the way you can feel yourself becoming more and more desperate the further choso drifts away from you, the more he refuses to indulge. 

you wonder if he can sense the arousal on you, feel it, smell it, even, like you’re nothing but his own little plaything in heat. 

after an eternity, the blade finally cuts through your panties with a satisfying rip. the torn fabric sits pitifully against your hips, a reminder of your own subservience, until choso peels it away from you with enough condescension to move you to tears. the cool air of the room hits your thighs, your cunt, like a ghost who’s taken up residence beside you. 

blissfully unaware of your feelings, choso studies the remains of your ruined underwear, the thin fabric and the obvious stain of your arousal. locking eyes with you, he bring it to his nose for a brief and pleasurable inhale before he discards it somewhere on the other side of the room.

“there we are,” he says, as if he hadn’t just smelled yourself in front of you. “now no one will ever know about it but me.”

“choso,” you whimper, hot. it’s a gift and a humiliation to be beneath him like this, to shake with need and yet to be denied it, to ask for something, for anything, in a voice so unabashedly loud that anyone who passes by the door might hear it.

he ignores you, again, and turns his attention to your bra as it flutters against your fervent chest. you watch with wide eyes as the blade comes closer, closer, dancing against your ribcage and sending ice into your lungs until it slices through the front of your bra, down the center of your chest, like the thin fabric was made of nothing but water. 

“get rid of this,” he says; you listen. with quick and quivering fingertips you shimmy your way out of the delicate material and toss it over the side of the bed faster than the speed of sound. choso, pleased with your obedience, intently traces the curve of your breasts, thumbing your nipples until you find yourself arching into his touch. 

(choso, you mumble, eyes falling shut at the feeling. still, as always, he does not listen. he draws his hands away.) 

it kills you, the way choso’s eyes possess you, own you, dictate the movement in your bloodstream. it’s akin to being pulled along on marionette strings, a puppet of choso’s own design, made to dance for him and him alone. 

it’s the prize he deserves, your big brother, to own you and protect you, body and soul.

it’s that very intensity which moves you to misty tears, which causes your hands to fly out to meet him against your better judgement. choso lets you pleasure yourself for a moment with the texture of his t-shirt and the outline of his shoulders before brushing your hands away like unnecessary flies. 

“did you whore yourself out like this when you went to naoya’s?” choso prods. the patronization lies beneath feigned and genuine curiosity. there are no inflections, no signs of anger. this is how your big brother gets you, every time: it’s the neglect, the disinterest, that breeds your guilt. “are you really so easy for every boy that comes your way?” 

you shake your head and wish you could bury yourself further into the bedsheets. no, never. try as you might the first-year college boys here just haven’t been enough, the older ones too preoccupied with better cunts to look your way. 

“just because those guys are my brothers,” choso continues, shifting further and further down your body, spreading your legs until he can fit himself comfortably between them, “doesn’t mean i have to share everything with them.” 

“i’m sorry, choso,” you try again, “i’m sorry. i don’t want anyone else–” 

“that’s right,” choso interrupts. “you don’t need anyone else. no one is ever going to love you the way i do.” 

the way your big brother does, his eyes say, but he doesn’t have to voice it. you already know. it’s true that no one knows you better than choso does. no one understands your limits and your desires the way your brother has for as long as you’ve known him. no one knows how to caress you when you cry, how to run their tongue across your lips to silence you when you’re too eager. it’s always choso. it’s always been choso; but sometimes you’re just too much of a fool to see it. 

the blade, cool and demanding, presses against the soft flesh of your thigh, just below the hip. you twitch in surprise at the sensation and curl your toes to quell the ache in your cunt. it’s slick, weeping; you can feel it, the arousal, as it pools and pools and drips quietly onto the comforter. 

“choso, what are you–” you ask, breathily, pitifully, but choso’s quick glare reduces you into obedient silence. 

he licks the cinnamon chapstick on his lips. a stray hair falls across his eyes and kisses the dark line across his nose. he is love and danger, a cocktail of possession and surrender. “i think,” choso says, the words slow and thoughtful, “you need a reminder of who loves you the most.” 

a strangled cry escapes your lips when the blade pierces your skin just enough to draw blood. the sting travels up through your spine and fogs up your senses, causes your cunt to weep in horrible anticipation. it hurts, it does, the first cut, but still you find yourself waiting for more of it, more, in terror and lust and love. 

“choso–” you cry, a misty tear escaping out of the corner of your eye, but the call is met by another stroke, longer this time, drawn out, until your knuckles clutch the bedsheets so tensely they might as well turn to stone. 

“stay still,” choso admonishes amidst the burn of it. “you’ll hurt yourself.” 

as if you were the one in control. but you listen, obediently as always, and the alcohol from earlier combined with the need in your chest mixes together until your body is as taut as a desperate wire, until you no longer have control of yourself or your limbs. the knife cuts easily, choso’s hands as steady and precise as ever. you can feel the blood dripping onto his sheets like a series of hot tears.

it’s too much, all at once. it is a fire which destroys you, which renders every coherent thought into ash and causes you to sob nothing but drawn-out cries and pleads of choso’s name into the dark bedroom. he has you just where he wants you: pliant, dumb, obedient. if he asked you to fetch him a star, you would have asked him which one he needed.

choso’s tongue darts between his teeth as a steady hand continues its masterpiece. you sob unabashedly in reply with every stroke, with every flex of his fingers as he works his blade against your tender skin. and yet, as the pain grows, so does your need for something, for anything, for release; with every aching minute your cunt grows hotter and lonelier and emptier between your thighs. 

you crave something, anything, choso, perhaps even more than you wish for air.

“there you go,” choso says, just as you release another cry so piercing there’s no way even yuuji wouldn’t have heard it. “all done.” 

you sit up on your elbows to peer down at the masterpiece below your hip. smeared with blood, aching and raw from the blade, the word CHOSO spreads across your upper thigh in an uneven but heartfelt script. it makes you dizzy, this marking, this sign that no one owns you better than your sacred brother does. you wonder if it will leave a scar, if it will heal; and even more so, you wonder if choso will merely rewrite it, again and again, until every cell in your body knows that you are nothing without him.

you say nothing; a whine escapes your lips as your eyes flit from the mark to choso’s eyes, dark and possessive, as he looks back at you.

“you like it?” he asks, once again the sweet thing, the doting one.

“yes,” you whisper back, never one to lie to your perfect big brother. 

but you cannot hide the insatiability. choso notices the way your thighs twitch from the intensity, the way your cunt drools and your eyebrows furrow because you cannot relieve this ache on your own. you’re helpless, entirely at his mercy. choso tilts his head with a soft and unreadable simper at the sight.

“you’re really worked up, huh?” he pretends your distress is not blatantly obvious. he twirls the bloodstained knife between his fingertips for a moment before bringing the flat edge of the blade against his lips in a somber kiss. “this little thing’s got you down bad, i see.” he flashes the switchblade at you like a diamond. you watch, entranced, as choso slides his tongue across the metal until any traces of your blood disappear into his mouth. 

your belly’s on fire. the switchblade shines with choso’s spit and he smiles, your blood on his tongue, while he prods your legs apart, further, until you’re entirely open for him with nothing to hide. you whine lowly as choso’s eyes flicker between your eyes, dazed and helpless, and the slick on the bedsheets. 

“choso,” you repeat. “please, help me.” your eyes are wide and your voice is small and you crumble beneath the weight of your own needing, of your own body working of its own volition, of the high that collapses all over you. 

perhaps it’s the way you call for him, your big brother, in your time of need. perhaps it’s the way choso can never really deny you, even when he feigns disappointment or rage or neglect. he’s bound to you, your protector, and you can see in the way his eyes soften ever so slightly that choso will not deny you this request.

“sure thing, angel. let me clean this up for you.” choso’s voice is generous as he bows his face towards your hips with the reverence of one before the altar. he leaves no room for your answer. an eager tongue swipes across your thigh and laps at the blood which pools there. his movements are indulgent, refined, as he holds your legs open with intimidating palms and drinks you in like medicine.

“choso–” you gasp, unable to look away. his eyes flit back to meet yours in reply but he continues his ministrations, slow, teasing, as he ignores your cunt entirely and licks at the fresh wound until it’s finally, sacredly, clean. your newly beloved CHOSO glimmers with his spit when he pulls away. he smiles at you then, praying over your hips, lips stained red with your blood, with your being. 

“i may be their brother,” choso gestures towards the door, to the party which must still rage below, “but i’m your brother first, and now you’ll never forget it.”  

the words are followed by his tongue on your inner thigh, fervent this time, as he travels downwards, downwards from his name on your leg until his nose is a breath away from your clit. you thrust your hips towards him impatiently and he accepts it, gratefully, burying his face deep into your cunt like he’s searching for gold. choso lavishes your clit with plump lips and an eager tongue, drawing the bud into his mouth and kissing it until you cry, until your legs tremble as they ensnare him in your garden.

“choso–” you’re crying, voice transcendent throughout the frat house, his favorite song. there’s a tongue prodding against your hole and a silver ring on your clit and you lose yourself within it, within choso’s breath on your folds and the fire which erupts into chaos. 

when it comes to pleasing you, choso does not require air. he refuses to resurface as his tongue explores every inch, as he laps away at you with the passionate abandon only an older brother can provide. what you need, he needs, and what you desire most, choso is always willing to provide. he holds you steady as he works so you cannot escape him. he forces you into stillness as he abuses every sacred inch of your cunt, as he works you into a frenzy with his fingers and his tongue until you can think of nothing but wanting to cum. 

and then, then, at the precipice of pleasure, choso pulls away. you pause as you catch your breath, heartbeat like an earthquake, and recollect your shock. why has he stopped? where has he gone? you’re about to sit up, to feign sobriety, to demand what the matter is, when something cool and smooth presses against your clit.

choso’s cheek rests against your inner thigh as he presses the flat edge of the switchblade against your cunt. it’s cold and dangerous and sublime and you cannot help but think of the way it could ruin you, that if you shifted or choso wanted it everything could end here, now, forever. and it is this fear, coupled with the coolness of the blade suffocating your clit, with the alcohol in your bloodstream, that sends you into a place from which you may never return. 

the orgasm is as violent as a hurricane. the moment you tense and begin to quake with a strangled sob choso replaces the blade with his tongue and rides you through it, coating his lips with your cum and swallowing the vibrations and heightening the sensation until you are tortured by it, by the sting of pleasure and overstimulation and want. 

(“that’s it,” you think he says into your skin, but your ears ring too loudly to know. “cum for me, just like that.”) 

it takes some time for the waves to recede and for your body to become still again. with a head comprised of of jelly and limbs made of water you lie still, panting, as choso nonchalantly licks your slick from the switchblade with a hum and gingerly sets it back down on his dresser. you watch as he slides the belt out of his jeans and tosses it into the dark room, as he hovers above you like an angel and its lover. 

“better now?” he asks against your parted lips. you nod. he kisses you, deeply, a kiss made of iron and cum and blood, tongue swiping across your teeth before he draws the air from your lungs. your vision swims when he plants a kiss on the tip of your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, between your eyebrows. he plants his love until there is nowhere left untouched, until you are buzzing with the security only your brother choso can give you. 

“yeah,” you mumble back to him, content, satisfied. even the sting of his name on your body is a pleasantry now. 

“good.” choso wipes the perspiration from your brow. his jeans scratch against your pelvis, and it is only then that you finally register his cock, hard and eager, waiting patiently for its turn. it is only then that you realize choso’s lesson is not yet over, that your brother’s desperate need has only begun. 

“now,” he purrs, gently, lovingly, “can you show me how much you love me?”

(as always, forever, you do. you show him your love, endlessly, even when the party ends and the house falls eerily silent. you show choso everything, all of it, loyally, just as he asks, with an only you, choso, and a no one else loves me like you.

because although choso offers his love to the brothers downstairs, he will always, forever, be your brother first, til death do you part.)