#youre proving our point and its embarrassing

[yifftwiceplz]

man we already said it was a joke hours ago youre just making yourself look dumb at this point chill out

[naughtyjjk]

just a massage (pt. 2)

characters: nanami x fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, massage, sexual tension, dirty talk, fingering, masturbation, a bit of exhibitionism/voyeurism notes: if you haven't already, make sure to read part 1 here first!

it’s been a week and nanami hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you. it’s terrible for him mentally, for his day-to-day living in general. every time he closes his eyes, you’re there in his mind. you with your naked body and perfect curves and smooth skin… the way you were so vocal and reactive to his touches…

he’s thought about you more than he’d ever admit, especially at night, after a long day of work, when he’s finally able to take off his clothes and lie down in bed and wrap a hand around his aching cock. yes, he’s jerked off to the thought of you—multiple times. he can’t seem to stop, addicted to the fantasy that he conjures. and it’s bad, it’s so bad of him, but he’s also never come so hard before and you make him irrationally horny.

today, nanami gets to the massage parlor and opens up his schedule. that’s when he sees your name there, a session booked for 1:30 pm. he blinks, wondering if it’s a dream. it’s not. he moves through the whole morning on autopilot, speaking politely to clients who are not you. they’re all irrelevant and he’s both looking forward to and dreading the time of your appointment.

he promised that he wouldn’t repeat what happened last time. it had been far to inappropriate, far too unprofessional, and he could easily get fired if anyone found out. but… his cock has other ideas. he doesn’t know if he would be able to hold back once he sees you again, in person, there to tempt him with your hot, sexy body. at the same time, a part of him wants to find out how far he can push you, test the limits to see how much you’re able to endure. it had been obvious that you were into it just as much as he was last time.

inhaling, nanami looks at the clock. it shouldn’t be long now before you get here. he has to tame his thoughts so that he doesn’t get himself all worked up over nothing.

but fuck, he wants you. he wants you so fucking bad.

.

“you booked a longer session this time,” nanami greets you as you walk into the room. he’s shirtless again, of course. at this point, you can probably guess that it’s a deliberate choice, as if he’s testing your resolve from the very start. like last time, the only piece of clothing he has on is a pair of shorts that barely does anything to hide what he’s packing down there.

you divert your eyes before you end up staring for too long. everything about the massage parlor looks exactly the same as it had when you visited last week, with its white walls and minimalistic decorations and the different bottles of oils all lined up on the counter which, as nanami has proved previously, can be used for more than their intended purposes. but there is something that changed, though, and you sense it as soon as you see nanami.

“well,” you reply eventually, “we left off with some unfinished business.”

there’s no beating around the bush anymore. neither of you bother to keep up pretenses this time because it’s inevitable where this will lead. and this is something you both clearly want. you know that you’re not the only one who had been looking forward to today, that nanami wants it just as much as you.

“right. but you know,” nanami drawls, “last time, while you were in the changeroom after our session, i think i heard some… noises. any idea what that could be?”

flushing, you feel your entire body heating up with embarrassment. you curse yourself for not being quieter at the time and you clear throat, glancing away. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“hm.” nanami looks at you unconvinced. he takes a step closer. “it couldn’t have been that you were doing anything naughty in there, right?”

“o-of course not,” you say, hating how guilty you sound.

thankfully, nanami doesn’t press you any further. “good. i mean, no one else heard you… but it would’ve been bad if someone did.” he grabs a few of the items from the counter and walks over to the bed. “now, where would you like me to massage this time?”

sitting back, you make a vague gesture. “just—continue where we left off. same as before.”

nanami raises an eyebrow. “come on, now. let’s be a bit more honest,” he says, pausing to lick his lips. “we both know what you’re really here for.”

“everywhere,” you blurt out, arousal hitting you without warning. “my whole body… the front this time, too. make me feel good.”

eyes darkening with desire, nanami nods, pleased with your answer. “much better. we’ll start with you lying down on the bed again.”

you position yourself the same as last time, on your stomach with your face down and legs spreading apart instinctively. you hear nanami chuckle at your eagerness.

soon, oil is poured over your back, warm hands spreading it all over. your muscles relax at once and you’re reminded of how skilled nanami is. along your spine, he applies pressure to his palms, drawing out soft sounds from you. nanami runs his hands parallel, gliding them down all the way to your legs, then back up again, and repeating the process until heat starts to coil inside you.

after a moment, nanami asks, with just a hint of amusement in his voice, “what are you thinking about?”

“nothing,” you mumble. a lie, obviously. there’s only one thing that could be occupying your mind while nanami is touching you like this, rubbing your body sensually, and that’s—

“hm.” nanami says. “want to know what i’m thinking about?”

“wh-what?”

“how much i want to fuck you.” nanami’s voice is low and he uses both hands to squeeze your ass over the towel. in response, you moan, arousal hitting you hard. “how horny you make me. i've been thinking about it since our last session…”

breath hitching, you feel a rush of heat spreading throughout your body like wildfire, a wetness starting to soak your pussy. it’s no secret that you’ve been imagining the same scenario for the past few days, every second that you’ve been apart.

“how long has it been since you’ve had sex, darling?”

“ah—i don’t know. weeks, maybe,” you say, exhaling. you’re losing himself to the sensation of nanami’s hands as he moves them again, this time drawing circles on your inner thighs. “months.”

skirting along the edge of the towel, nanami’s fingers slip under just for a second to brush against your ass. “and how are you feeling? pent up from all those months without relief?”

“y-yeah.” you swallow hard. you’ve been more on edge than you’d like to admit, more irritable in general the longer you go without getting laid. sometimes, you’ll be flooded with dirty thoughts at the most inappropriate times, often waking up to wet dreams and an ache in your pussy to be filled.

“mm, and do you miss it? having sex?” nanami’s hot breath is right by your ear, a low whisper when he asks, “getting fucked?”

shuddering, you can’t help but moan softly. “yes.”

“it’s not enough to satisfy the craving by yourself, is it? it’s been so long…” nanami murmurs. “you want someone there with you, someone to touch you, someone to make you feel good.”

“kento… oh…”

last time, this was the point in the massage when he had stopped. but nanami shows no signs of slowing down, and even when his hands lift from your body, he makes sure that you know he’s not done yet.

“don’t worry, i’ll take good care of you today,” nanami tells you, and you’re hit with another wave of arousal. “now, turn around for me.”

you do as you’re told, flipping over on the bed to lie on your back, facing up at the ceiling. your heart hammers away in your chest as nanami eyes you up and down. you expect him to start working down from your shoulders, but he seems to have other plans when his hands move directly to untie the towel around your waist.

“w-wait, i—”

pausing, nanami glances at you, a smirk on his face. “what’s wrong? are you embarrassed that you’re wet already?” he slides the towel lower just a little. “have you forgotten how you were begging for it last time?”

nanami doesn’t wait for you to reply before unwrapping the towel all the way. like this, you can’t hide your desire anymore. and you’re more than aware of how wet you’ve gotten, pussy dripping and soaking the bed. you see nanami’s gaze flicker down, pausing in his actions to admire your body. you feel so exposed like this, naked on the bed while presenting yourself to him, and the tension between you grows thicker by the second. it’s all so arousing.

taking the bottle of oil, nanami holds it over you and pours out the liquid directly so that it leaves a trail from your chest all the way to your stomach. you can’t help but flinch slightly, feeling it tickle as it drips. a few drops fall directly onto your pussy, causing it to throb, and your breath hitches as you bite back a moan. nanami licks his lips and then his hands are on you again.

first, he runs a single finger down the center of your body, between your breasts, over your stomach, stopping just before touching your pussy, above your clit. the process is slow. slow and sensual. spreading the rest of the oil evenly across your skin, nanami takes his time in feeling you all over, making the anticipation build and build inside you.

next, your breasts are the main area of focus as he draws large circles on both sides, dipping near your armpits, along the underside, and trailing back up the center. slowly, the circles get smaller with each round, closing in on your nipples. but as soon as he’s about to come into contact with those hardened nubs, nanami retreats and starts all over again. he does it three more times—large circles spiraling closer, closer, closer. tracing just around it. caressing the sides. and you always think that this time, this time, he’s going to finally reach your nipples.

he never does. you groan, frustrated. it’s the first time you’ve experienced something like this; the first time you’ve ever wanted your nipples to be touched so badly. the worst part is that it’s really getting to you, turned on from barely anything. your pussy begs for attention, leaking more of your arousal as you mentally curse nanami for being such a fucking tease.

at that moment, nanami leans in so that his mouth is hovering just above one of your breasts and your heart pounds at the possibility of what’s to come. but all he does is blow against it gently and chuckle. 

“your nipples are so hard…” his tongue pokes out, swirling it in the air just above your skin, exactly like how he would if he were to suck and lick at the sensitive nub. he holds your gaze but never makes contact with his tongue. still, you can feel the phantom sensations there, and you want so badly for him to take you in his mouth. “want me to touch you?”

god, yes. you let out a whine. all of this teasing is going straight to your pussy, so wet with desire. but nanami’s mouth retreats and he goes back to using his hands, circling your breasts with his fingers.

when you don’t think that you could take it anymore, you feel it—a single finger brushing across both your nipples, just grazing them, the lightest of touches. you’re so turned on at this point, the anticipation having built up inside you, that you gasp, squirming on the spot as you try to adjust to the sudden, unexpected jolt of pleasure.

“ah—”

“look at you. so sensitive, so riled up from barely anything,” nanami says, waiting for you to regain your composure.

it’s not your fault. nanami made sure that your body would be extra responsive by taking it slow, making you crave it, and one barely-there touch is hardly enough to satisfy you. but that’s all you get for a while as nanami repeats his actions with the sole mission of making the experience as agonizing as possible for you.

eventually, when you least expect it, the pattern changes. nanami flattens his hands over your nipples and rubs them, going from palms to fingertips, the oil adding a delicious glide to every movement. he grabs both your breasts and fondles them, massages them. cupping them with his palms and squeezing with his large hands.

“ohh…” you moan, arching into the touch. soon, nanami switches to grasping your nipples between his fingers, pinching the delicate nubs with the perfect amount of pressure, and it sends a rush of sensation throughout your body. you whimper. “fuck, k-kento…”

“does it turn you on when i play with your nipples?” nanami asks, hyperattentive, watching every reaction that your body makes. “such a naughty girl.”

fuck, it’s only your second session here but nanami has already figured out your body’s weaknesses, all of your most sensitive areas, the erogenous zones, and how to take you apart. you shouldn’t be falling for every one of nanami’s tricks. you shouldn’t be this easy. but you gave up control the moment you laid down on this bed, and nanami just seems to have that effect on you.

having gotten the reaction he wanted, nanami moves on. he had spent so long playing with your nipples that you almost forgot the feeling of those tantalizing hands on the rest of his body. but you’re quickly reminded when he travels down to your stomach, your lower abdomen, purposely avoiding your pussy and going straight to your legs.

it’s the assault on your inner thighs that eventually ruins you. because nanami is running his hands up your thighs, stopping right at your pelvis, and doing it over and over and over—repeatedly, for what seems like forever. occasionally, his fingertips will brush against the outside of your folds, but the touch is fleeting and never goes any further than that, only serving to taunt you.

you groan, wishing nanami would just get on with it. when you express this, you only get an amused chuckle in response.

“so impatient. and you’re all wet for me already…” nanami says, those words making you even more aroused. “that’s it, let your body crave it. i would love to eat you out and taste you on my tongue.”

you certainly wouldn’t complain if he did just that. but nanami only spreads your legs and runs a finger past your pussy, spreading your wetness there. he circles your clit once, and you moan. then he goes further down until he finds your entrance but doesn’t push inside. he continues to do that—playing with you, teasing you, turning you into a writhing mess on the bed.

oh, you want him so bad. you’ve never wanted a man this fucking bad before. your body is burning, the need and desire growing exponentially by the second.

“there are so many things i want to do to you.” nanami swallows, looking like he wants to devour you but is doing everything he can to hold himself back. “but i’ll keep it simple for today. you look like you won’t be able to last much longer, anyway.”

without warning, nanami slides his hand back up to your clit, pinching it between two fingers, slick with oil. your entire body jolts as you feel pressure being applied there, a choked out moan escaping your lips. nanami rolls the pads of his fingers around the sensitive nub and you throb at his touch, breathing significantly harder now.

it had already been overwhelming before, but now your whole body burns��with pleasure, with desire—wild and untamed. heat sears through you, fast, hot, making you somewhat delirious. you lose control of yourself as you buck up and circle your hips, trying to feel more of it.

“remember, this is still a massage,” nanami says, voice low, and you’re not sure who he’s trying to fool. he pinches you again, the perfect amount of pressure, and you arch off the bed with a whimper. “all i’m doing is giving you a massage…”

his hand flattens and he rubs your clit up and down, then in circles, slow at first and gradually increasing in speed. there’s no pattern to his movements; nanami is completely unpredictable, leaving you guessing, never allowing you to adjust to the sensation at any given moment. all you can do is lie there and take it, at his mercy, chasing after whatever he’s willing to give you. but you can’t exactly complain, though, not when it feels this fucking good.

“k-kento—” you cry out as all your nerves ignite at once, tingles of pleasure spreading all throughout your body.

“is this how you touched yourself in the changeroom last time?” the pace quickens, nanami drawing tight circles around your clit. “did you imagine that i was the one touching you? getting you closer and closer?”

moaning, you try to reply but your head is swimming with pleasure and it’s infinitely more arousing now that nanami is really here, playing with your pussy. it’s not just a fantasy anymore.

and then—it hits you fast, hard, entirely by surprise. one minute nanami is changing up his rhythm and the next, you find yourself bucking into the air uncontrollably, moaning loud and needy, and fuck, you’re—oh god, you’re going to come, you’re going to come—

“not yet, baby,” nanami says, voice low and stern. a command. his hand immediately withdraws from your body, keeping you right on the edge but never tipping over, and instead moves to hold your hips in place as you convulse on the bed, helpless to ride it out as your orgasm ebbs away. your pussy throbs and throbs, aching, dripping with your wetness. you’re left painfully unsatisfied. fuck, it’s not fair.

chest heaving, you whimper, having been denied your release. your whole body is on fire, and you’re so fucking turned on. you need to come. you need to come so fucking bad.

“kento,” you plead, willing to do anything to get his hands back on you. if this gets drawn out any longer, you’re not sure if you’ll survive. “kento, please—i’m—i can’t—please—”

almost idly, nanami trails a hand around the outside of your pussy, keeping his touch gentle like he has all the time in the world. it’s only a single finger grazing against you, but your hips flinch, moaning at the feeling of it. “do you really want it to end that quickly? i would love to see how desperate you can get. it won’t take much more for you to come, will it?”

you’re trembling and your pussy throbs every time nanami makes contact with it. you’re still unbelievably close to the edge despite calming down a bit now, and you’re sure that all it’ll take is a bit more stimulation from nanami before you reach your climax.

“can you—oh,” you start, words dissolving into a moan as nanami touches you again, fingers prodding at your entrance this time. it takes deliberate effort for you to gather your thoughts and finish the sentence, but you’ve become shameless, too aroused and horny to maintain any sense of dignity. “c-can you fuck me instead? i wanna—hah—wanna come on your cock.”

“mm, tempting. really tempting. but i don’t think so,” nanami tells you. his fingers latch onto your clit again, circling around it faster than before, and it’s so fucking good, so distracting that you’re barely able to hang on to his words. “i won’t fuck you today. i want to get you really desperate for it, let the tension build up until it makes you lose control. and when i finally give you what you want—tomorrow, or the next day, or even a week from now—i’ll break you apart slowly and leave you writhing under me. think of how good it’ll feel to finally have my cock in you after all this time, hard and aching inside you, filling up that tight little pussy.”

whimpering, you’re not even able to formulate a reply. that has to be the hottest proposal you’ve ever heard, like nanami has somehow figured out all of your dirtiest fantasies and is making them a reality. your mind is clouded with an arousal so strong that you’re struggling to process everything. but nanami isn’t even done yet.

“eventually, if i fuck you… when i fuck you, i’m going to take you apart slowly and push you to your limits until you show me just how badly you need it. you’ll be shaking under me, begging to have my cock in you. god, darling, i’ve wanted to ruin you since our first session together.”

you moan brokenly, hips thrusting wildly on the bed in response to his words. holy shit. nanami knows exactly how to get you all worked up. what’s worse is that every word he says is a cruel reminder that his cock isn’t inside you, isn’t fucking you, isn’t even out of those tight, tight pants yet.

“hah—fuck, your cock—n-need your cock—”

“i’ll give you something just as good.” nanami is watching you intensely, taking in the way your body responds. he bends your legs, hands sliding almost innocently across your entrance. “i can massage your insides. how does that sound?”

it sounds incredibly fucking hot, that’s what. and suddenly, you’ve never desired anything so badly before. “y-yeah—ngh, please—”

“spread your legs for me, baby,” nanami tell you. doing as you’re told, you follow his guidance to expose your pussy even more, aroused and horny beyond belief. “good girl. you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

a finger runs along the outside of your pussy, slick with oil, and you choke out a moan, lifting your hips to try and feel more of it. thankfully, it goes in soon enough, not wasting any time, and nanami sinks a finger into you, the slick oil helping to ease his length inside. you let out a startled gasp as he goes deeper and deeper, past the first and second knuckle, all the way until his whole finger has been swallowed up.

once he’s all the way in, nanami groans at the tightness that envelopes him, the way you clam down as if refusing to let him go. but he starts pulling back out, inch by inch, and you’re helpless to it; all you can do is moan at how good it feels. he pumps it in and out a few times almost experimentally, taking in how quickly you’re falling apart on the bed before him.

“you can imagine that it’s my cock fucking you if that helps,” nanami whispers in your ear and the suggestion has you whimpering. “but of course, my cock is bigger than this. think you can take another?”

“Y-yes—ah—yes, yes, more—”

“look at me,” nanami says, waiting until you turn your head before adding a second digit, stretching you open. you gasp, panting as soon as he starts to thrust into you properly. “see how hard i am because of you? my cock feels like it’s going to burst out of these pants.”

and it’s true; your gaze falls on nanami’s bulge, so hot and obscene within the confines of his pants. the fabric shifts every time it twitches, pulsing like it’s trying to break out, wet and damp where the tip is. nanami’s free hand moves to touch himself, hips rolling into his palms, giving himself some relief for the very first time.

god, you swallow. you would do anything to have him pull out his cock already.

but nanami’s only goal seems to be to get you as worked up as possible, bringing you right to the edge with his dirty words. “mm, yeah. think about how fucking good it’ll feel to have my cock throbbing inside you. thrusting into your tight little pussy, nice and deep.”

his fingers curl, sending an unexpected jolt through your entire body. you cry out, back arching off the bed, head thrown back as an intense wave of pleasure overtakes you. “a-ah—! shit, kento—o-oh my god—”

grinning, nanami makes sure to aim for the same place again. “is this the spot? does it feel good here?”

“hah—fuck—y-yeah, good—hng, so fucking good—”

nanami hums, but the next few thrusts he makes purposely avoids your g-spot. each one is shallower than the last and you can’t help but squirm as you get increasingly frustrated, until he pulls out altogether.

“that’s a good look on you. it seriously turns me on to see how desperate you are now,” nanami says, licking his lips. his eyes are dark and full of desire as he takes in the sight of you, running his hands along your thighs and watching your pussy throb. “it’s almost a shame we have to end things here today.”

you take a few seconds to process what he’s saying, and once you do, all you can think is, no, no. not again. you didn’t get to come yet. you need more, need your release, need those fingers back in you. need to—

“th-that’s it?” you ask in disbelief when it becomes clear that nanami isn’t going to continue. the towel is wrapped around you once again. your pussy aches in protest at how abruptly things ended, still dripping and dripping and dripping with unresolved arousal.

fuck. you refuse to let nanami leave him like this again; you’re determined to get a better outcome, unlike last time when you had to get yourself off in the changeroom. you’ll break down and beg if you have to. you want to come on nanami’s cock, on nanami’s fingers, and you know that nanami wants it, too. but whenever it seems that he’s about to go further, he always stops, right when you’re most anticipating it.

it’s especially frustrating because he’s gotten you all worked up, so fucking horny that you can hardly even think straight, but it never goes far enough for you to be fully satisfied. you’re kept on the brink of release, never allowed to come. it’s so cruel. it only works to turn you on more, to an unbearable degree.

but nanami doesn’t even acknowledge it. he only looks at you innocently. “our time is up for today,” he says, then leans in close, voice lowering to a whisper. “did you really think that i would let you come so easily? you’ve been a very naughty girl.”

fuck, that shouldn’t sound as hot and sexy as it does. it definitely shouldn’t be making you even more turned on.

“i—” shit, you think. you glance down at nanami’s very obvious erection, the desire he clearly has, too. i want your cock—want you to fuck me. but it’s clear that he doesn’t plan on going any further today, so you only manage to stammer out, “i don’t think i can go out like this.”

because you’re in arguably a worse state than nanami. despite the towel doing the bare minimum of hiding your arousal, your legs are still trembling slightly and the wetness between your legs isn’t going away.

“ah.” nanami’s eyes flicker down as he licks his lips. “you’re right, we can’t have you leaving like that. why don’t you take care of yourself now?”

you stare at him. when nanami only meets your gaze expectantly, you ask, “you mean… right here?”

“yes. we pride ourselves on customer satisfaction, you know. i can’t let you go when you clearly still have… unfinished business.” nanami smirks, evidently smug for getting you to such a state. “and don’t mind me. there’s still some time before the next appointment, so i’ll just be cleaning up the room.”

and you can’t believe it. what nanami is essentially asking you to do is masturbate, get yourself off, while you’re being watched.

the idea of it is crazy. but it’s undeniably hot, too. so fucking hot.

a few steps away, nanami is busying himself with setting up the equipment, but it’s obvious that he never strays too far. he’s still paying attention, making sure to keep you in his peripheral vision, intent on not missing out on anything.

hesitantly, you unwrap the towel around your waist until you’re fully naked once more. you sigh and glance down at yourself. it’s almost embarrassing because it’s far too noticeable just how fucking horny you are, with the way your pussy is swollen and so, so wet, making a mess on the bed.

across the room, nanami’s movements have stopped. he’s openly staring at you now, taking in the sight of you greedily. there’s hunger in his gaze as he grips the counter next to him, transfixed on the way your pussy is fully exposed, practically begging for attention.

you make eye contact, and a charge of tension passes between you before nanami nods once. “go on. show me how you make yourself feel good.”

so, you get comfortable again on the bed, hyperaware that your every action is being watched. it makes you more excited than you’d ever admit as the shame and embarrassment and humiliation all mix together with intense arousal, clouding your mind. you run your hands over your own body, starting with your breasts, cupping them and teasing your hardened nipples. just like nanami did earlier. soft moans escape you, pleasure surging throughout as you turn your head to look at nanami with half-lidded eyes.

nanami remains silent, but his expression gives him away. there’s no mistake that this is turning him on too, and you swear that you see him twitching in his pants, the fabric shifting over his bulge. but still, he’s far too composed, and you want to break down his self-control, get him so worked up that he can’t resist coming over and fucking you anymore.

traveling down your chest, across the planes of his stomach, your hands come to a stop at your hips. you spread your legs, bending your knees so that your feet are planted flat on the bed, giving you easier access to your aching pussy.

you’ve waited long enough. the slow tease of nanami’s massage and the beyond erotic proposal of masturbating in front of him have all caught up to you and you can’t delay this any longer. trailing a hand down to your entrance, you push a finger inside and immediately moan at the feeling of being filled again.

“fuck… yes,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as you give yourself over to the sensation. you’ve only just touched himself, barely even started at all, but you’re already feeling it.

it’s hot and wet inside your pussy, the oil helping to loosen you up. you drag your finger, moving in and out of yourself, feeling how needy and pent-up you are as your hips roll slightly, growing impatient. you squeeze a second finger inside. moaning, you scissor them apart and pleasure floods through you.

and then you begin to thrust, going at a fairly slow pace. but still, it’s enough to have your thighs shaking, so fucking sensitive. you can feel yourself falling apart.

your fingers curl, angled just right, and your nerves come to life, firing jolts all the way up your spine. “o-oh—ngh, shit—kento—”

at the sound of nanami’s name slipping past your lips, mixed in with a moan, you hear the hitch of a breath to your side. opening your eyes again, you blink to clear your vision, and see that nanami has made his way over to the bed, standing right beside you. something about him being this close, watching over you with his cock hard and bulging in his pants, has your arousal spiking.

suddenly, you can’t stand the slow buildup anymore. your speed increases, thrusting into yourself faster before you even realize it, pushing as deep as you can go. the rush of pleasure is immediate, and your head falls back, breaths growing ragged. there’s a moan but this time it doesn’t come from you; nanami is the one who made the sound, low and strained. he looks like he’s at his limit just by being there as a bystander, watching you on display.

“fuck, that’s it,” nanami encourages you, fingers twitching like he wants to reach out and touch. replace your fingers with his own. “in and out, steady thrusts. just like that…”

receiving instructions from nanami only makes you more turned on. your hips lift off the bed involuntarily and you can’t help staring at the twitching erection in his pants. “ah, feels—feels so good—"

“i bet it does,” nanami says. “look at how much you’re getting off on this. you secretly like being watched, don’t you?”

“f-fuck,” you break off into a moan. the answer to his question is evident in the way you’re dripping from your pussy, walls clenching around your own fingers.

and nanami must notice it too because he tells you, “don’t forget about your clit, baby. i know you like it there.”

reaching down with your other hand, you circle around your sensitive clit, body jerking at the added stimulation. and this is going to be your undoing, you know, because you feel the familiar buildup of your orgasm reaching a peak inside you, the crescendo of something bigger. already, you feel like you could come at any moment.

on top of that, nanami is relentless. “good girl,” he murmurs. “faster now. get yourself real close for me.”

you obey because you have no choice, because nanami has always been the one in control here. it’s getting dangerous now as you finger yourself faster, drawing tight circles around your clit, whining at the pure pleasure that’s accumulating in your stomach, between your legs. and you’re squirming, unable to contain the sheer amount of arousal inside you.

“shit—hah—o-oh my god, fuck, fuck—” you moan brokenly. then you use all of your willpower to force yourself to stop, both hands pulling away. your hips buck up in the air desperately, but you don’t want to come yet. you look over at nanami, chest heaving, and plead, “i-i want you, kento…”

growling, nanami grips onto the side of the bed, fingers digging into it to physically restrain himself. you can see the way the muscles of his arms contract, so strong, so tense. holding himself back.

“trust me, i want to fuck you so damn bad,” nanami says, and his voice alone is enough to make you more aroused. “you have no idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you. if it weren’t for my next appointment, i would bend you over right here and have my way with you until you’re screaming.” he swallows, gaze dark and filled with desire. “but today, it’s enough for me to just watch your pleasure. so, be a good girl for me and use your fingers to fuck that pretty pussy of yours and get yourself off properly this time.”  

holy fuck. you’re throbbing hard just from those words alone, before you even touch yourself again. you can’t possibly resist; your hand moves automatically to do as you’re told, two fingers sinking into yourself again, pumping in and out with urgency. your other hand resumes its assault on your clit, gasping and moaning, overwhelmed.

there’s no buildup this time—you go fast and hard right away, too fucking turned on to make yourself wait any longer. beside you, nanami hums with approval, always watching.

“hah—hah—ah—yes, k-kento—kento—”

“god, you’re so fucking hot,” nanami says. “find your g-spot for me. come on, baby. i want to see you make yourself come.”

you cry out when you do exactly what nanami tells you, applying pressure to the most sensitive nerves inside you. your hips are thrusting wildly, out of control, and all of the stimulation combined is bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“oh fuck, o-oh fuck—” you choke out a moan, sounding wrecked. “i-i can’t—ngh, can’t take it anymore—i’m—hah—i’m gonna—”

nanami groans. “yeah, let it out. make yourself come.” his voice is strained, eyes transfixed on your body. “that’s it, such a good girl… make a mess of yourself and come for me.”

god. god. the dirty talk has your pussy throbbing, throbbing, clenching tight around your fingers, preparing for your release. you’re trembling, so close to being pushed past the limit. so fucking close. there’s no way you’ll last much longer now.

“hng—fuck—” once again, your eyes land on nanami’s cock in his pants, bulging out, stretching the fabric thin, and it’s the thought of his cock—touching it, sucking on it, fuck, having it inside you, stretching you open and filling you up—that eventually tips you over. you moan loud. “ah, c-coming—i’m coming—”

your release hits you less than a second later. you pump your fingers, curling to your g-spot, other hand rubbing your clit urgently, and that does it for you, back arching beautifully off the bed as your orgasm crashes through your body. your mouth falls open in a silent cry. it’s mind-numbing, absolutely filthy, pussy pulsing and pulsing. you ride out the pleasure in waves, panting, feeling like you might lose consciousness from how good it is.

in you half-delirious state, slowly coming down from your orgasm, you look up at nanami. you’re both impressed and extremely frustrated at his level of self-control. throughout the entire session, he never touched himself even once, despite the fact that you know he must be aching for it, so hard that it has to be painful. and he’s gotten no relief at all, his cock still locked away in the confines of his pants this whole time, occasionally twitching and throbbing without any stimulation.

maybe it’s because the timing just didn’t work out for the two of you. maybe nanami really does have to prepare for his next client. but if your positions were reversed and you happened to be the one watching nanami masturbate, such an erotic and filthy sight at your place of work, you has no doubt that you would’ve succumbed long ago.

you wonder, what would it take for nanami to finally give in? this is the second time that you’ve had to get off using your own hands at the massage parlor. and you just came, which felt good, incredible, but you’re still left somewhat unsatisfied because what you really wants is for nanami to fuck you already.

getting up from the bed, you brush a hand against the bulge between nanami’s legs. nothing more than a graze of your fingers. but that alone is enough to make him gasp, swallowing back the moan rising in his throat.

you asks, “can you really go back to work like this?”

nanami swats your hand away, cursing. he shuts his eyes to even out his breathing before settling his gaze on you again. “fuck, are you still that horny?”

grinning, you lick your lips. “if i say that i am, will you finally fuck me?”

nanami sucks in a breath, glancing over at the clock. “you really should go now. i wasn’t lying when i said that the next client will be here any minute.”

it’s not exactly the answer you were looking for, but you know when to accept your loss and drop the subject. for now, at least.

“i’ll go for today, but you’ve teased me twice already,” you say. then you lean forward, whispering into his ear, “next time i come, i won’t be leaving until i get what i want.”

.

part 3 will be the last part! also tumblr has been buggy recently and won’t let me tag some people... i’m sorry if your name is here but you didn’t get a notification :(

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian @l0rdgeosupport3rr @minni-creations @fos-tis-zois @the-reas0n-is-y0u @cantfeelherface @rxmbzzz @lysaray @zelzablues @str4wbrrycandy @that-goth-bisexual @simping4u @iminlovewqr0w @sharks31 @pseudowho @jisoonunn @outkasti @anathemaspeaks @fushigur0slut4 @barryatsumu @d0nk3y-k0ng @shasaaa15 @wil10wthetree @maskedpacific @genshingeeksworld @itsnotmelo

(comment to be added!)

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi I want a platonic Catnap x fem!reader here. Simply put, it's up to the hour of joy, and the like, reader is Catnap's caretaker, she takes care of him, and makes sure that everything is normal with him, the reader is antisocial, cold, and a very big workaholic who can go without sleep for a very long time, for this reason she was made Catnap's caretaker, she is only friends with Catnap, Dogday, and his caretaker (she). So, the bosses decided to hold an event where smiling critters and their caretakers would spend time together, let's say, strengthening the team, so, as we already know, reader is antisocial, just like Catnap, so they, like true introverts, avoid such things at all costs, but this is useless, since they are found by Dogday and his caretaker, they are both brought (dragged) to the event site, so our antisocial and introverted couple is there, they are all there undergoing tests, trust tests, team problem solving, and all sorts of other things nonsense (and also, reader and Catnap work well as a team), then everyone comes to what nicknames caretakers and smiling critters call each other, the turn comes to reader and Catnap, reader answers first, she is very embarrassed, because up to this point she never called Catnap by this nickname, only in her mind, finally, she reluctantly and embarrassedly says that she calls him ... "Lave" (short for lavender), she calls him that because she likes lavender and its smell is calming, and puts her to sleep, we skip the minute where reader was teased about this (more precisely, caretaker of Dogday, what a good friend), now it’s Catnap’s turn, although reader doesn’t show it, but she has a reserved interest, because she is also interested in what the nickname is Catnap came up with a name for her, to be honest, she expected Catnap not to respond, or that he didn't come up with a nickname for her, but ... no one expected what he said

***Messiah***

... And that's it, nothing more, everyone fell silent after such a bomb from Catnap, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changed to ... creepy, quickly ending the event, everyone went either to work or home, reader does not ask Catnap why he gave her this is a nickname, because she knows that he will not answer, or he answers, but gives a very strange and vague answer, that reader does not understand this, reader experiences many different feelings about this, from bewilderment to flattery, because she did not know, that Catnap sees her like this, so it's nice, although still terribly strange ... The reason why Catnap calls out to reader is something you can come up with yourself

Bonus, I had to come up with an alternative, and now Catnap is calling reader little owl, and sorry that it turned out so long, thanks in advance for writing 💜

"I know you're bored, but we're almost done with these tests. And then we can go back to our peace and quiet."

"..hmm.."

"Yeah..I get it, too." Looking up at the lanky purple feline, you just huffed. Your behind was growing numb from sitting in the cheap plastic chair for hours, but you unfortunately had to stay here.

Your fellow caretakers--plus the Bigger Body Smiling Critters--were all gathered in a circle, chatting away with their assigned "buddy".

Today, the higher-ups of Playcare decided to create this little "friendship event" for all of you to participate in. It was just to evaluate how well you were connecting with the Critters via a series of "tests", with Bubba and his caretaker being the ones to lead you into each activity.

Teamwork was the primary theme......and involved a bunch of crap that felt like a waste of your time.

You've been Catnap's handler since say one, and you two always saw eye-to-eye, constantly working together and ensuring he was in the best possible condition while caring for the children. Neither of you believed you had to be evaluated to prove that.

That being said..you're 99% certain this little "event" was created specifically to torment you.

Neither of you were the most sociable, and you didn't see anything wrong with that. Although in recent months you've gotten some notations for your "recent behavior"--such as not smiling at a child who somehow got into your office during your lunch and Catnap making them cry when he tried escorting them out.

They couldn't exactly write-up toys, so anything "bad" he did ended up being put on your record.

It was stupid.

Working at Playtime Co. wasn't the same as working at Disney, so you weren't going to keep a smile glued to your face and act happy-go-lucky 24/7.

Too bad Catnap didn't have to worry about that.

The only reason you agreed to partake in the event was not only the threat of a pay cut...but mainly because you were friends with Dogday's handler, and you liked him, too, so you did it for them.

What neither you nor Catnap liked, however, was being put in between Kickin and Hoppy--who would yap to each other nonstop, tempting him more and more to use some red smoke.

Or when Crafty accidentally spilled pain on Catnap's canvas during the mini-art contest between the Critters.

Or when Picky became frightened after he said pork was his favorite food (and the first thing he's said since the event began), staring directly at her. You got marked down a point simply for "encouraging" him to use dark humor in a "lighthearted" activity.

Well..damned if you do, damned if you don't.

Whether you get Catnap to speak or not..it gets you in trouble.

"Alright, friends! Our last activity is called the "Nickname Game"." Bubba looked at the clipboard in his hands, before passing it to his handler. "This one's real simple so nobody can win or lose. All you have to do is go around and share what you'd call each other instead of your usual names! For instance, my caretaker's nickname is "Einstein"...and he calls me..."

"Smarty-Pants." The doctor beside him answered dryly.

"Smarty-Pants! See? It's real easy!" He grinned, before his eyes went to you and Catnap. "Alright you two. You're up first!"

'God why--' Your face burned a little as the others stared at you, patiently waiting.

Honest to god..you've never called Catnap anything else aside from his own name. But you didn't wanna get another point marked down for saying nothing..

"I uh..."

""I uhhh"? That doesn't sound like a good nickname!" Kickin laughed, only to be shushed by his caretaker, pouting. "Whaaaat? I'm only kiddin'-"

"Does it count if I never said the nickname out loud?"

"I...suppose it can count." Bubba spoke up, now intrigued as he leaned in closer (as did his fellow Critters). "Go on."

As embarrassed as you felt right now, you eventually found the courage to speak up.

"In my mind, I sometimes call Catnap "Lave"." You looked to the feline, seeing his ears perk up in interest, his gaze landing on yours. "The reason is probably a no-brainer but..it's short for lavender, and I've always loved that scent. It's calm and helps me sleep when I'm off work. Even when I get stressed out here with paperwork and br...restless children, Catnap helps me stay calm. So...I'll make it my mission to call him that more often."

There was a pause..

Before a small chorus of "awhs" rang from the other Critters...and you felt like shrinking back into your seat and disappearing, wishing you kept your mouth shut.

Yet at the same time..it felt nice to actually participate and share something wholesome with your coworkers.

Catnap didn't respond to your words, although you could tell he looked quite flattered by the nickname you've wanted to give him. The corners of his mouth seemed to stretch a little, and it didn't go unnoticed by Dogday.

"Awh shucks, that's a really nice nickname, [y/n]." He chuckled.

"Yeah..and I think that's the most I've ever seen 'em smile." His handler remarked--to which you coughed into your fist on instinct to hide it, your face burning.

"That is." Bubba spoke up, before sending Catnap a pointed look. "It's your turn now. Do you have a nickname for [y/n], Catnap?"

"............"

As expected, he didn't speak, bearing such a distant look to his eyes...and though he was off in another world.

While it didn't seem like it, you were actually eager to discover whether he had a nickname for you. Maybe he, too, thought of one and never verbally shared it with his fellow toys.

Yet the longer he stayed quiet, the more you could see the other Critters fidget and talk amongst themselves. Your coworkers were looking a bit annoyed, too, with Bubba's handler getting ready to give you another point off just for this.

Right as their pen hit their paper, however-

"Messiah."

The room became dead silent.

Suddenly every noise ceased to exist, from Hoppy's thumping foot or Kickin's laughter.

It became a heavy and uncomfortable silence.

You, the Critters, and the other caretakers could only stare at Catnap in bewilderment and confusion. There were no lights in his eyes, which concerned you quite a lot..as that was a sign of great stress.

"That's....an interesting one, Catnap." Bubba finally spoke after what felt like an eternity. "Care to share why?"

".........."

"Bubba..what does "messiah" mean?" Bobby raised her hand, looking completely clueless. "I-I don't think he's willing to elaborate."

"It's a...um...." The elephant sounded rather unsure of himself, which stunned his fellow toys considering he was the "know-it-all" of the group. "..sorry, that's...actually a new word to me-"

"And one you shouldn't be concerned about." His handler interrupted, which was very much unlike them. From the tone of their voice, and from the way they looked at you..they were very much irate and definitely had questions for you once this was over.

You wish you had some reasoning for why Catnap would call you that of all things, but...you simply didn't.

He shouldn't even know a word like that exists.

Before you could say anything to defend him or yourself, they decided to shift their focus back on the rest of the group, sighing heavily.

"Let's finish this activity so we can be done. Dogday, you're up."

............

"....another stupid write up."

"Hm..?"

"I'm in trouble because you nicknamed me "Messiah"." Putting the slip down on your desk, you shook your head and paced around the place, eventually looking to Catnap. He was lazily playing with a yarnball atop a tunnel. "They're accusing me of "feeding inappropriate ideals" to you and think I'm forcing my religion on you...which is completely false!"

"........."

"I don't know where you learned that word, Lave, but it wasn't from me. I know that for sure." You sat down, rubbing your hands over your face and wondering how you're gonna fight these blatant accusations.

Of course, when you began working with the Smiling Critters, there were a few rules put into place to ensure they stayed true to their innocent and childlike cartoon personalities--among them being to never mention anything regarding religion, wars, crimes, or death whatsoever.

Nothing that could make them question their own existence and morals, nor the world beyond the factory.

You kept all of those things outside of your work, so you couldn't even begin to think how Catnap could possibly know what a "messiah" was.

Did he know the implications that held?

Or did he hear it in passing and take a liking to it without knowing its actual definition?

Regardless, you were impressed he was able to come up with a nickname for you at all during the event today. So you were planning to just let it go, knowing you couldn't make him tell you why he called you that.

You two may be close, but he's still ever-reserved..so you doubt he'd even answer you even if you asked-

"The Prototype will save us..but until then, He sends you to guide me. Watch over me in my mission."

You blinked, putting your hands down and turning around in to face the large feline, who now lost interest in the ball and stared at you directly. His claws dug into the polyester fabric of the play tunnel, the lights in his eyes gone once again.

'There he goes, talking about this "prototype" thing again..' You thought.

It was noted that he would frequently mention this unknown entity during past interviews with the scientists, and you were to discourage him from doing so, although you decided to keep quiet and let him speak.

Here he was, actually talking without being prompted to do so..and they wanted you to shut him up?

No way.

"He is God..but what is God without His prophet? His messiah?" He purred, tail hanging off the tunnel as he tilted his head, outstretching a hand to you. "You are the one. The only one.."

"I'm the only one who...?" You cautiously asked, waiting for him to elaborate. "I feel like there's more to that statement."

Yet all you received was silence.

"Lave?"

".....you remind me of owls, too..night owls. So...I may call you "Little Owl" around the others.."

You blinked, his change of tune being most surprising.

"Ah..sure. I do like that nickname, too, thank you." You nodded, watching him go back to playing with the yarnball like nothing happened.

Like he didn't just say something overly religious and cryptic.

"For the record...maybe they would've felt better hearing "Little Owl" at the event today."

He responded with a humming noise, and you knew that meant "I'm done talking today". So you went back to finishing up your paperwork, knowing you'll have to send him to Home Sweet Home soon as it was getting late.

Although you didn't outwardly show it, you weren't sure whether to be concerned or flattered by him equating you to a savior and speaking about you and the Prototype in the same sentence.

No matter how or where he learned that word, it's clear that he thought of you when he first discovered the meaning of it...so he held it dear to him.

You'll let this slide and allow him to call you that in private.

Only because it made him happy.

[notsosweetchan]

PAIRING: seungmin x Reader

WARNINGS: smut, sexual language

Minors do not interact

Hell week

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Frat puppy ੈ✩‧₊˚

As the newly initiated pledge into his fraternity, Seungmin nervously agreed to participate in hell week. The ritual was legendary for its brutality and humiliation, but he was determined to prove his worth.

Among the many traditions, there was one that stood out – the leash and collar routine. It involved each new pledge being paired with a sorority girl who would have complete control over them for an entire week. They would have to wear a leash and collar like a puppy, with a tag that read 'Frat Puppy' attached. And their duty would be to obey every command of their partner, no matter how degrading or humiliating it might be.

Seungmin waited anxiously as the names of the chosen sorority girls were called out one by one. His heart pounded in his chest as he saw a familiar face among them - Y/N, a sassy and stunning senior member of the sorority, arched an eyebrow at Seungmin as he was led towards her by the president of their fraternity.

She stood tall with a smirk on her lips, admiring the tense expression on his face. Her legs took her to the front of the room where she held out a collar and leash expectantly. He swallowed hard, looking down at the shiny metal accessories in her hand before slowly reaching out and taking them from her.

The coolness of the metal against his palm sent shivers down his spine as he slipped them around his neck, clicking them into place with a metallic clink. It felt strange - weighty and restrictive on his skin.

"Good boy," Y/N purred, running her fingers through his hair as she tied the tag around his neck that read 'Frat Puppy’.

As Seungmin took his first step forward with the leash in her hand, Y/N's smirk grew wider. She led him out of the room and into the bustling hallway, her heels clicking against the floor in perfect rhythm with his shuffling steps.

His heart thudded in his chest like a drum, each beat echoing through his body as people stopped to stare and point at him - the new Frat Puppy. The sound of their laughter only served to heighten his embarrassment, but he refused to let it show. Instead, he kept his head held high and focused on keeping pace with Y/N's strides.

Seungmin could feel everyone's eyes on him as they entered the party, the shiny collar and leash drawing even more attention than he already had from his new outfit. The atmosphere was thick with excitement, sweat, and alcohol.

Y/N weaved through the throng of bodies with ease, her grip on the leash never slackening for a moment. She led him past groups of girls giggling and pointing at him, their heels clicking against the floor in harmony with each other. He couldn't help but look down at his own black dress shoes that felt awkwardly large compared to his usual sneakers, making every step an effort.

The leash pulled at his neck slightly as she guided him further into the crowd, his heart beating faster with each passing second. Finally, they arrived at a table where two of her sorority sisters sat giggling and sipping drinks.

The sisters looked up in surprise, their eyes widening when they saw him approaching with the sassy sorority girl guiding him. Seungmin felt his heart race as he bent over slightly, presenting his neck to them. One of the girls gasped and clapped her hands together excitedly as she examined the collar around his neck before running her fingers over it playfully.

"Wow, look at that," she cooed, "Our little puppy is all dressed up for us." She giggled and reached out to give him a gentle pat on the head before leaning down to whisper something into Y/N's ear. Her face lit up with delight before she turned back to Seungmin with a wicked grin. "It looks like your first task is to entertain us, puppy," she purred, her voice dripping with innuendo.

Y/N tugged on the leash, pulling him closer. Seungmin's cheeks flushed a deep red as he knelt down in front of them, unsure what was expected of him. The music thrummed through the room, drowning out the onlookers' whispers and laughter, but not quite enough to quell his embarrassment.

With a soft giggle, Y/N took a seat at the table and patted the space next to her, signaling for Seungmin to follow suit. He hesitantly lowered himself onto his hands and knees beside her, feeling incredibly exposed with his leash and collar on full display. One of the sisters leaned down to whisper in his ear, her warm breath tickling his skin.

"You're such a good boy," she purred, running her fingers through his hair gently before reaching over to tease him by grabbing the leash. She pulled it slightly, forcing him closer to her.

"We're going to have so much fun with you tonight," she said with a wink before letting go of the leash and returning to her drink. Seungmin trembled slightly under her touch, unable to believe what was happening but also oddly aroused by the attention. The scent of alcohol and perfume filled the air around him as they continued to chat away, completely oblivious to his presence.

Y/N casually sipped her drink, her eyes never leaving Seungmin's. "You look thirsty, puppy," she purred, holding out her glass of water. He lapped up the cool liquid gratefully, the humiliation of his position forgotten momentarily in favor of quenching his thirst.

As the night wore on, Seungmin found himself fetching drinks, snacks, and even becoming a makeshift footrest for the sorority sisters. The leash around his neck felt like a constant reminder of his newfound position as their pet.

Seungmin, still dressed in his leather collar with a leash attached, felt like the center of attention as he was led by Y/N through the crowded fraternity house. His heart pounded in his chest, his face flushed red from both embarrassment and excitement.

The air was thick with the smell of sweat, beer, and indulgence as he was pulled from room to room, his eyes taking in the various sights and sounds.

The music pulsed through the house, providing a rhythm to their movement as they navigated between groups of people laughing and dancing. In one room, he caught sight of a group of guys playing beer pong while others shouted encouragement from the sidelines; in another, couples making out against walls or disappearing into dark corners for more intimate activities.

As they kept walking, Seungmin's mind began to drift, lost in the haze of humiliation and arousal that had taken hold of him. His focus was brought back by a tug on the leash, snapping him back to reality.

Y/N had led him to an empty room of the house, away from the rowdiness of the party. The dim lighting cast flickering shadows on the walls, creating an intimate atmosphere. Seungmin shuddered involuntarily as Y/N pulled him closer, their bodies now mere inches apart.

"You've been a very good puppy tonight," she cooed, her voice low and seductive. "I think it's time for your reward."

With that, Y/N reached down and grabbed the back of Seungmin's collar, leading him across the room towards a large, comfortable-looking bed. Seungmin's heart raced as the realization of what was about to happen washed over him. The room spun slightly, and he found himself struggling to maintain his balance.

Y/N gently pushed him down onto the bed, her hands tracing tantalizing patterns along his back and arms. Seungmin's breath caught in his throat as she leant down to kiss him, their lips melding together in a passionate exchange that left him breathless.

As she kissed him, Y/N's fingers began to explore his body, caressing his chest and stomach before delving lower to cup his groin. Seungmin moaned softly as her fingers wrapped around him, her touch sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his veins.

He writhed beneath her, his hips bucking involuntarily as she continued her ministrations. Y/N purred with satisfaction, her nails lightly raking his skin through the fabric of his dress pants.

Seungmin arched his back, baring his neck to her as she trailed kisses down his jawline and collarbone. Her warm mouth on his skin sent shivers down his spine, and he couldn't help but whimper with need.

Y/N smirked against his skin, her teeth grazing his sensitive flesh. "It seems like someone is enjoying their new role as a Frat Puppy," she purred, her voice dripping with innuendo.

Seungmin could only moan in response, lost in the haze of desire and submission that had taken hold of him. He was hers to command, hers to use as she saw fit. The realization sent a thrill through him, one that only served to heighten his arousal.

With a swift move, Y/N unzipped his pants, freeing him from their confines. Seungmin gasped as her hand wrapped around him, stroking him firmly and skillfully. He bucked into her touch, his hips jerking involuntarily as pleasure coursed through every nerve ending.

"You're so hard for me, aren't you, puppy?" she purred into his ear, her voice filled with satisfaction. Seungmin groaned in response, too far gone in the throes of ecstasy to form coherent words.

Y/N continued to stroke him, her touch firm and demanding,her fingers danced over his skin, tracing patterns that sent shivers down his spine. The leash around his neck felt like a noose, holding him in place for her pleasure. His heart thudded against his chest as she leaned down to kiss him again, their lips locking in a heated exchange that left him panting.

Her hand wrapped around him tighter, stroking up and down slowly at first before picking up speed. A soft moan escaped Seungmin's throat as he arched into the sensation, pushing his hips forward to meet her touch. Y/N purred at the response, the sound vibrating against his skin with each stroke of her hand.

The taste of alcohol mingled with the metallic tang of his arousal on her tongue as she teased him with light kisses along his jawline and neck. Her teeth grazed his sensitive flesh, sending shivers down his spine. He whimpered in need, desperate for more as the pressure built inside him, Seungmin closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the sensations she was causing within him.

The smell of sweat and alcohol filled the air, mixing with the breathy sounds of their shared excitement. The music from the party drifted in through the open door, providing a rhythmic background to their intimate encounter.

With a sudden move, Y/N knelt between his legs and took him into her mouth, sucking hard on his length. Seungmin cried out, his back arching off the bed in pleasure as she took control. Her tongue swirled around him expertly, driving him closer and closer to the edge without mercy.

Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he gripped the sheets beneath him, trying to hold onto some semblance of control.

That's it, puppy," she purred, looking up at him with a wicked grin. "Let go for me." Seungmin's world came crashing down around him as he erupted into her waiting mouth, his seed spilling onto her eager tongue.

Y/N swallowed each drop, her eyes locked with his the entire time. He collapsed back onto the bed, spent and trembling from the intensity of his orgasm. Y/N stood up, undressing herself and straddling him.

"Now, it's my turn," she purred, grinding her drenched pussy against his spent cock. Seungmin groaned, already hardening again at the sight of her naked body above him.

Y/N impaled herself on him, sheathing him to the hilt in one swift motion. Seungmin's eyes rolled back in his head as she began to ride him, her hips moving in a primal rhythm that matched the beat of the music outside. His hands gripped her hips, urging her on as she bounced up and down on his still-hard length.

"Oh, yes," she gasped, throwing her head back as she moved faster and faster. "Fuck me, puppy. Fuck me like the good boy you are." Spurred on by her words, Seungmin thrust up into her tight heat, their bodies colliding with a wet slap that echoed in the dimly lit room.

Y/N's nails raked down his chest, as she neared her peak."I... I'm going to...," she panted, her voice ragged with pleasure. Seungmin wrapped his arms around her waist, his fingers digging into her hips as he drove her even harder, desperate to help her reach the edge.

With a final grunt, Y/N came apart in his arms, her pussy clenching around him like a vice grip as she climaxed. Her walls milked him relentlessly, sending him over the edge once more. He spilled himself deep within her, their moans of pleasure mingling together in the quiet room.

As their breathing slowed, Y/N collapsed atop him, her head resting on his shoulder as they both tried to catch their breath. The room spun around them, the aftermath of their passionate encounter leaving them both breathless and spent.

"Well," she said, gasping for air. "I'd say your initiation as a Frat Puppy went... unleashed."

Minors do not interact

[alyrasturnz]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 MATTHEW STURNIOLO

✮ — writers choice

𖦹 — angst

౨ৎ — fluff

ఌ︎ — smut

﹒⌗﹒ SERIES

cowboy like me // incomplete -coming soon-

(1) ┊: dancing is a dangerous game.

(2) ┊: hey, california.

(3) ┊: let's turn your night around.

(4) ┊: you can't just run around with cowboys!

(5) ┊: as long as i'm with you.

(6) ┊: with your boots beneath my bed.

(7) ┊: you're the first.

(8) ┊: can't we stay like this forever?

(9) ┊: fuck, california

(10) ┊: fuck california

(11) ┊: you're a cowboy like me

folklore love triangle // complete

(1) ┊: august

(2) ┊: cardigan

(3) ┊: betty

﹒⌗﹒ ONESHOTS

| 𖦹 | peter ;; part 1 // part 2

— matt and the reader reach a poignant decision to part ways, with matt assuring her that he will return once the tumult of their lives subsides. despite his promise, the reader's hope wanes with each fleeting second, her heart heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

| ౨ৎ | its nice to have a friend

— in a world suffused with intricate and multifarious expressions of love, the bond between matt and the reader remains serene, intuitive, and profoundly fulfilling.

| 𖦹 | anything (concept)

— what transpires when the inexorable specter of death ultimately cleaves their bond, severing the threads of their shared existence and casting them into the unknown realms beyond mortal comprehension?

| 𖦹 | the other side of the door

— once again, matt remained ensnared at work, sidestepping their plans. this was not an isolated incident—he had done it innumerable times before, each occurrence eroding y/n's patience. at last, she reached her breaking point. overwhelmed by his neglect, she stormed out, ending things in a surge of frustration. deep down, she yearned for him to chase after her, to prove that she truly mattered to him.

| ఌ︎ | false god

— y/n and matt sustain the guise of friendship while clandestinely engaging in intimate encounters. they gratify their desires without the encumbrance of commitment, though beneath the veneer, they surreptitiously yearn to claim each other as their own.

| 𖦹 | illicit affairs

— In a secret love affair, matt, a famous figure, fears his fans' wrath. he hides y/n to protect her from potential scorn, but this secrecy leaves y/n feeling unwanted and ashamed, as if matt is embarrassed to acknowledge her as his girlfriend.

| ఌ︎ | guilty as sin

— when your thoughts begin to unfurl scandalous imaginings about your best friend, an inescapable and profound sense of guilt, as weighty and all-consuming as the burden of sin, inexorably envelops the soul.

| ✮ , ౨ৎ | there’s your answer

— you harbored some doubts about you and matt stepping into the roles of parents, but matt consistently demonstrates through his actions and unwavering dedication that he is not only prepared but deeply committed to embracing this new journey with you.

| ౨ৎ | the perfect pair

— their relationship is like a harmonious duet, each act of support and love blending perfectly to form an ideal pair. he is her steadfast audience, cheering her on from the sidelines, while she, with her enchanting voice, sings their shared dreams into existence.

| 𖦹 | i miss you, i'm sorry

— in the midst of a heated argument, matt and y/n recklessly cast aside their relationship as though it meant nothing. it was only through the silence of separation and the ache of missing each other that they realized the true worth of what they had abandoned.

| 𖦹 | sad beautiful tragic

— as the relentless hands of time weave their intricate tapestry and the miles stretch like an endless horizon, the bond between matt and y/n finds itself tested by the cruel dance of distance and destiny. the once vibrant threads of their connection now strain under the weight of separation, each moment apart a silent echo of longing. yet, within this vast expanse, their hearts continue to beat in unison, whispering promises of a reunion that defies the very fabric of time and space, a testament to a love that endures against all odds.

| ౨ৎ | our song

— in the twilight of their youth, a couple's journey down a serpentine country road becomes a reflective odyssey through the annals of their shared history. their romance, an intricate tapestry of clandestine meetings and whispered affections, unfolds like a symphony of enduring love. through vivid recollections and poignant vignettes, they come to understand that their bond is not ephemeral but an everlasting melody, resonating through the trials of time and the silence of unspoken words.

| 𖦹 , ౨ৎ | shadows of the past

— amidst the fervor of a heated argument, an ostensibly trivial gesture from matt catalyzes a dramatic and heartrending resurgence of y/n's deeply buried childhood trauma, unraveling layers of pain and vulnerability that lay dormant beneath the surface of her stoic facade.

| ౨ৎ | timeless

— loving each other within the confines of a single lifetime feels achingly brief, so they solemnly vow to seek one another in the tapestry of their future incarnations, pledging that their souls will recognize and reunite in every subsequent existence.

| ఌ︎ | teachers pet

— when y/n is teetering on the edge of failure, an overwhelming sense of urgency envelops her. this desperation propels her to seek assistance with such fervor and intensity that it borders on frantic, as she grasps for any means to secure her success.

| 𖦹 , ౨ৎ | the bolter

— y/n and matt had a whirlwind romance, the kind that sweeps you off your feet and leaves you breathless. their love was intense and passionate, burning bright and fast. but y/n, overwhelmed by the intensity and perhaps fearing the vulnerability that comes with such deep emotions, chose to leave. she left matt heartbroken, not because she didn't care, but because she was afraid of the depth of her feelings and what they might mean for her future. this fear drove her to run away, leaving matt to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart. their love, though powerful, was fleeting, like a comet that blazes across the sky and then disappears into the darkness.

| 𖦹 | tolerate it

— y/n finds the weight of motherhood unbearable in solitude. with matt perpetually absent, a profound loneliness engulfs her, leaving her feeling isolated and overwhelmed by the responsibilities that she must shoulder alone.

| ✮ , 𖦹 , ౨ৎ | all too well

— despite her strongest desires to forget, y/n was continually haunted by the vivid memories, each detail sharply imprinted in her mind. the echoes of past moments resonated through her thoughts, refusing to diminish and instead becoming clearer with each passing day. every look, every word, every feeling was remembered all too clearly, weaving an inescapable tapestry of recollections that tied her to the past.

| 𖦹 | 1 step forward, 3 steps back

— in the tumultuous world of matt and y/n, nothing is ever straightforward. matt is a storm, one moment calm and the next a whirlwind of emotions. his unpredictable nature turns their relationship into a relentless rollercoaster ride, where every step forward is met with three steps back. y/n finds herself in a constant state of uncertainty, never knowing which version of matt she'll encounter each day. their connection is a dance on the edge of a knife, both exhilarating and exhausting, filled with moments of intense passion and heartbreaking silence.

| ౨ৎ | you are in love

— how many dawns and dusks must y/n experience, how many exchanged smiles and hushed conversations must unfold, before she traverses the complex labyrinth of her heart and realizes that she is deeply and unconditionally in love with matt?

| ఌ︎ | playing dangerous

— y/n has to substantiate to matt that she's a good girl in one way… or another.

| 𖦹 | ꒰ bigger than the whole sky ꒱ ⌗headcannons ⌗oneshot

— in the maze of his sorrow, matt feels lost, unable to steer through the turbulent waters of grief without you as his guiding light. each day, he wanders through a haze of memories, where every part of his world is shadowed by your absence. the simplest tasks become monumental, as your presence once gave them meaning. without you, he is like a wanderer in a desert, longing for the oasis of your companionship, yet knowing it is an unreachable mirage.

| 𖦹 , ౨ৎ | stay stay stay

— matt and y/n became ensnared in a fervent dispute, prompting matt to exit in a tumultuous manner, leaving their emotions in a state of upheaval. as the hours gradually passed, y/n found herself in solitude, engrossed in profound contemplation. she discerned that, despite the altercation, her paramount desire was to remain united with matt, recognizing that their love was an enduring force, resilient enough to withstand any discord.

| ౨ৎ | cardigan

— in the moments when insecurity about your scars cast a shadow over your heart, matt revealed to you that your scars were not mere blemishes but the testament of a lifelong battle, each one a chapter in your story of resilience. he helped you see that these marks were not symbols of shame but emblems of your enduring strength and unyielding spirit.

| ౨ৎ | devotion in distress

— matt refused to let a mere sickness stand in the way of what was meant to be your special night. with a resolve as steadfast as the mountains, he cast aside any thoughts of weakness, determined that no ailment would tarnish the moments you had both eagerly anticipated.

| ✮ , 𖦹 | cherry waves

— in a chilling tale of obsession and regret, a small town is haunted by the legacy of ghost face, a masked figure whose reign of terror left scars both seen and unseen. amidst the shadows, y/n discovers the hidden wounds of those she thought she knew, unraveling a web of secrets and lies. as the past and present collide, the boundaries between victim and villain blur, leading to a final confrontation where the true face of fear is revealed.

| 𖦹 | too clingy?

— when matt falters and, in a moment of weakness, channels all his pent-up anger towards you, the weight of his mistake hangs heavy in the air. his frustration, like a storm, lashes out, leaving emotional wreckage in its wake. each harsh word and sharp glance becomes a painful reminder of the vulnerability that underlies human imperfection.

| 𖦹 , ౨ৎ | fractured echoes

— matt had an excruciatingly difficult day, plagued by stress and numerous setbacks. regrettably, upon returning home, he vented his accumulated frustration on y/n. his words were acerbic, and his demeanor was uncharacteristically aloof, leaving y/n feeling deeply wounded and bewildered.

| ౨ৎ | just a little longer

— y/n finds herself torn between her plans with friends and the irresistible allure of staying in with matt. as the morning sun filters through the curtains, matt's gentle pleas for a few more moments of cuddling create a tender conflict. y/n must navigate the delicate balance between her social commitments and the comforting embrace of her beloved, ultimately discovering that sometimes, the simplest moments hold the greatest significance.

| 𖦹 , ౨ৎ | this is me trying

— y/n struggles silently with a heavy heart. unable to open up to matt, y/n pens a poignant suicide note, a final cry for help. unbeknownst to y/n, matt stumbles upon the note, unraveling the depth of y/n's hidden pain. as the weight of the discovery settles, matt is determined to bridge the chasm of silence and offer the support y/n desperately needs.

| 𖦹 | shattered dreams

— the bond between a mother and her child is a force of nature, unyielding and profound. yet, the anguish that engulfs a mother upon losing her child is an abyss of sorrow, a pain that defies the very essence of strength.

| ౨ৎ , ఌ︎ | his princess

— y/n's delicate softness and effortless grace have an almost magical ability to draw out a tender, vulnerable side in matt, a side he keeps hidden from the rest of the world. he finds her femininity not just enchanting, but profoundly captivating, often going to great lengths to ensure she feels cherished and adored, as if her presence alone brings light into his life.

| ౨ৎ , 𖦹 | how can you love someone like me?

— two souls clash with raw emotion. y/n, weighed down by past scars and self-doubt, questions their worthiness of love. matt sees beyond the flaws, recognizing the true beauty within.

| 𖦹 | anything

— in a poignant tale of love and loss, matt cradles y/n in his arms during her final moments, his heart shattering as life slips away from her. consumed by grief, he attends her wake, where memories of their time together flood his mind, and he grapples with the profound emptiness left behind. this story delves into the depths of sorrow and the enduring bond of love, even in the face of death.

| 𖦹 , ౨ৎ | hits different

— y/n and matt have had a rollercoaster of a relationship, characterized by cyclical separations and reunions. after an extended period of y/n engaging in a series of dates, endeavoring to extricate herself from the lingering affections for matt, she realizes that no one compares to matt. despite the myriad of challenges and emotional vicissitudes, their bond remains indomitable.

| ౨ৎ | spare me the embarrassment

— when matt comes home stressed, you instinctively know just what he needs. you recognize the subtle tension in his shoulders and the weariness in his eyes, and you prepare to envelop him in a cocoon of understanding and care. or maybe something else..

| ౨ৎ | eighteen

— matt proposes to y/n at the very spot where he first confessed his love for her when they were both 18. the place holds a special significance in their hearts, making the moment even more poignant and memorable. as he slips the ring onto her finger, memories of their youthful love flood back, intertwining with the promise of their future together.

| ౨ৎ | did i wake you?

— in the quiet hours of the night, matt's voice breaks through the stillness, waking y/n from slumber. as y/n stirs, they realize that matt is deeply engrossed in an intense fortnite session with his brothers. seeking comfort, y/n gently coaxes matt away from the screen and into a warm embrace.

| ౨ৎ | matt, he's ten!

— matt and y/n settle in for their usual evening chat, sharing the highlights and lowlights of their day. as y/n recounts a charming encounter with a boy she met in the park, who, despite being just ten years old, had the wisdom and charm of someone much older, matt's curiosity quickly turns into jealousy. unable to mask his feelings, matt's expressions shift from interest to a stubborn mix of jealousy and embarrassment.

| ౨ৎ | baby fever

— matt's overwhelming desire to start a family becomes the central theme. his baby fever has been a constant, gentle pressure, a dream he's nurtured for what feels like forever.

| 𖦹 , ౨ৎ | i'm listening.

— as y/n screams and yells, pouring out her frustrations and fears, matt listens with a quiet strength. his calm presence contrasts sharply with y/n's fiery outburst, creating a dynamic tension. despite the chaos, matt's gentle words and unwavering patience begin to soothe the tempest within y/n, guiding her back to a place of understanding and connection.

| ౨ৎ | velvet ring

— matt harbors a deep love for y/n, a love that is both genuine and unwavering. yet, he is not alone in his affections; countless others vie for her attention, each trying to capture a piece of her heart.

| ౨ৎ | tired of your bullshit

— matt, blindfolded and immersed in a game of deaf, blind, and mute, mistakenly believes he's yelling at nick. in reality, y/n stands silently nearby, stifling laughter as she mischievously pushes his limits. each tease and silent provocation only fuels matt's frustration, making him even more mad.

| 𖦹 , ౨ৎ | but daddy i love him!

— in the heart of an opulent estate, y/n lives a life of privilege as the daughter of a revered pastor. her days are filled with the expectations and responsibilities that come with her family's wealth and reputation. however, her world takes a tumultuous turn when she crosses paths with matt, a rebellious soul with a penchant for danger. despite her father's vehement disapproval and stern warnings, y/n finds herself irresistibly drawn to matt.

| ఌ︎ | somethin' new

— when y/n thought they were going to make love, matt surprised her by gently guiding her into cockwarming instead. as he pulled her close, y/n felt a wave of unexpected intimacy wash over her.

﹒⌗﹒ HEADCANONS

| ౨ৎ | so highschool ⌗nerd!reader ⌗nerd!matt

— high school sweethearts, they embody the perfect equilibrium of intellect and physical prowess. their union seamlessly blends the sharpness of mind with the strength of body, creating a harmonious balance that is both enviable and rare.

| 𖦹 | ꒰ bigger than the whole sky ꒱ ⌗headcannons ⌗oneshot

— in the maze of his sorrow, matt feels lost, unable to steer through the turbulent waters of grief without you as his guiding light. each day, he wanders through a haze of memories, where every part of his world is shadowed by your absence. the simplest tasks become monumental, as your presence once gave them meaning. without you, he is like a wanderer in a desert, longing for the oasis of your companionship, yet knowing it is an unreachable mirage.

| ౨ৎ | in the wake of tempests

— after a stormy argument leaves y/n feeling adrift, matt steps in with a calming presence. in the wake of tempests, he becomes the anchor, offering solace and understanding as they navigate the turbulent waters of their emotions.

| ౨ৎ | i know places

— in the bustling, glamorous world of high society, matt and y/n's love affair is a carefully guarded secret. their relationship, hidden from the public eye, is filled with stolen moments and passionate encounters that set their hearts ablaze.

| ౨ৎ | reflections of a distorted mirror

— when matt gently reminds you that your true value extends far beyond the visage you see in the mirror, encompassing more than the digits displayed on the scale or the food you consume. he reassures you that your essence is woven from the threads of your kindness, intelligence, and the unique qualities that make you who you are, far surpassing any superficial measure

| ౨ৎ | swiftie?

— matt starts off indifferent to taylor swift, but soon finds himself embracing her music for the sake of his girlfriend

| ౨ৎ , ఌ︎ | his princess

— y/n's delicate softness and effortless grace have an almost magical ability to draw out a tender, vulnerable side in matt, a side he keeps hidden from the rest of the world. he finds her femininity not just enchanting, but profoundly captivating, often going to great lengths to ensure she feels cherished and adored, as if her presence alone brings light into his life.

| ౨ৎ | tangled in your bedsheets

— from the gentle way he plays with your hair to the firm yet loving embrace that makes you feel utterly safe, each scenario captures the essence of true affection. whether he's whispering sweet nothings, tracing patterns on your back, or pulling you back into bed for a few more minutes of warmth, matt's love is a comforting constant that you never want to let go of.

| ౨ৎ | silent affections

— matt is a man of few words but deep emotions. he finds solace in the quiet moments, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the soft glow of morning light. his world changes when he meets you, a lively soul whose voice brings color to his serene life. together, you navigate the delicate dance of love, where matt's silent gestures speak volumes, and your animated stories breathe life into his quiet existence.

| ౨ৎ | friends

— matt and y/n are best friends, their bond forged in the fires of shared laughter and silent understanding. they are both insanely in love with each other, though neither dares to voice their feelings. their hearts dance around the truth, each convinced that the other sees them only as a friend.

| ౨ৎ | my bookworm

— matt rarely finds solace in the written word, preferring the tangible world around him. y/n, on the other hand, is a dreamer, her heart and mind forever lost in the pages of books, where every story is a new adventure

[projectcaramel]

Obey Me! Random Headcanon #5

The brothers' kissing styles ig:

Lucifer

This man makes up for his reluctance to kiss you in public by doubling up in private. Kisses you frequently all over the place, and I do mean all over the place.

His favorite place tends to be your neck, which he also has a habit of biting despite his preferences for privacy.

"If someone sees the marks I left on you... Well, you know what'll happen tonight, don't you?"

Mammon

Naturally, The Great Mammon likes showing off that you're his partner, but he's usually too embarrassed to do anything more than a quick peck on the lips. That said, stressful situations (like you being in danger) make him less shy.

His favorite place is the tip of your nose, which he also likes to boop.

"Boooop. Boop. Hehe, are ya annoyed? No, no, no, wait, please I didn't mean ta make ya mad for real!"

Leviathan

Our poor otaku is the only one usually can't initiate kissing you first unless he's in one of his incredibly jealous and possessive swings. In which case, he'll attack you with kisses.

His favorite place to kiss happens to be your lips because they're just as soft as he always imagined.

"U-U-Uh, hm, yeah I was... Thinking about doing that since... I um... Nevermind! Let's play Super M*rio Bros!"

Satan

In front of anyone else, Satan will kiss your hand because he likes acting like a gentleman. In front of Lucifer, however, Satan has a habit of passionately making out with you like he's trying to prove a point.

His favorite place to kiss is your temple because it reminds him of when you read detective stories with him on his lap.

"So she was the culprit; you were right, MC. You're a veritable Sherlock, and I'm your ignorant Watson."

Asmodeus

The avatar of lust kisses you as a greeting, usually on the cheek because he doesn't want to ruin your lipstick. If he really missed you though, he doesn't care and just fixes your makeup for you later.

His favorite place to kiss also happens to be your cheek since yours are so cute.

"They're so cute, that's how I'll tag the Devilgram photo! Oh, wait, let's take another picture with me in the background so you really shine!"

Beelzebub

Kisses you the most often at mealtimes, usually because sharing food with you is when he's at his happiest.

His favorite place to kiss is usually the corner of your lip since he often gets away with saying you had food there (regardless of its actual presence).

"...okay, I'm sorry for lying; there was no chocolate that time. But it was true that I couldn't help myself, okay?"

Belphegor

This brat kisses you both in your dreams and and when he's asleep, and he kisses whatever part of you happens to be in front of his head. Arm? Yep. Foot? Yep. Collar? Yep.

His favorite place is at the corner of your eyes because he thinks your eyes are like galaxies, though he'll never tell you that and just says he likes the taste of your tears.

"Mmnnn? Don't wake me to ask something so stupid... Your eyes are... mn... hmm... zzz..."

-- It's been done many times, but I love these anyway. No, this blog is not quite dead yet. --

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Fighting junk fees is "woke"

“Populism” isn’t intrinsically left or right. The distinction between the two is often obscured by jargon, but there’s a simple litmus test (courtesy of Steven Brust): “ask what’s more important: human rights, or property rights. If they say ‘property rights are human rights,’ they’re on the right.”

Which is to say, both the left and the right can be populist, but the populist left seeks to improve peoples’ lives, no matter what that takes, while the populist right is only willing to make the world better when that doesn’t interfere with the interests of property owners.

This is how you get the Libertarian Party of New Hampshire equating publicly produced, free insulin with forcing enslaved Black people to pick cotton in the fields:

https://newrepublic.com/post/174485/libertarian-party-suggests-former-black-lawmaker-pick-crops-free

For right populists, the property rights of pharma giants are human rights, so anything that interferes with those rights is equivalent to any other human rights violation.

This is not only wrong, but it’s also a huge vulnerability in the right populist mindset. It’s a button that, when pushed, produces a reliable and reflexive outrage.

This is essential for the creation, maintenance and expansion of plutocracy. In a plutocracy, a small minority owns most of the property (we live in a plutocracy). By definition, plutocracy isn’t popular, since it’s a system that benefits a small minority at everyone else’s expense. In its natural state, plutocracy is only popular with its winners, and not the vast majority of losers it creates.

So plutocrats need to find ways to get turkeys to vote for Christmas. One important trick is to convince us all that the system is fair, guided by an invisible hand that performs mystic passes over our heads at birth and locates the very best of us and elevates us to the apex of the social pyramid.

But there’s a problem with this: plutocracy is self-sustaining. The story that we’re all just “temporarily embarrassed millionaires” who can rise to the top with hard work and smarts falls flat in the face of the reality that nearly everyone at the top was born there. If the system selects rulers based on merit, and if everyone the system selects was born rich, then the rich must have some genetic trait that makes them destined to rule.

This is why plutocracy always turns into aristocracy: the idea that some people are suited to rule because they have “good blood.” Eugenics is, above all, a way to excuse inequality. Fitness to rule is determined primarily by whose orifice you emerge from, and only secondarily by any obvious competence or skill.

So right wing footsoldiers are mired in a terrible and shameful swamp of self-loathing. By definition, their lack of wealth and power is their own fault, and not merely their fault, but the fault of their genes. Being on the bottom is proof that you deserve to be there. Your failure to rise proves that you don’t deserve to rise.

No wonder the right is so irony-poisoned. Remember 2020, when gun-nuts got “revenge” on gun safety scolds by photographing themselves pointing loaded guns at their own penises? The participants insisted that they were just trolling, and they were…by pointing loaded guns at their dicks:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/28/holographic-nano-layer-catalyser/#musketfuckers

Plutocrats understand that there are limits to irony, and that at a certain point, irony poisoning becomes so acute that your rank-and-file literally start blowing their balls off. To relieve the pressure, plutes scapegoat other people based on their gender, sexual orientation, race, or nationality.

This provides an important resolution to the cognitive dissonance of meritocracy. The reason you’re doing so badly isn’t that you lack merit, it’s that affirmative action has elevated unworthy people to the positions that you deserve. You are a temporarily embarrassed millionaire — but the riches you deserve have been snaffled up by welfare queens and DEI consultants.

Cruelty isn’t the point of culture war bullshit: the point is power. Cruelty is merely the tactic:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/09/turkeys-voting-for-christmas/#culture-wars

Culture war bullshit is a very reliable way to get turkeys to vote for Christmas. Take the campaign against junk fees, which have ticketmastered every part of your life with “fees” for things like “paying your rent by check” and “not paying your rent by check”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/30/military-industrial-park-service/#booz-allen

There is no broad constituency for junk fees. Scam artists (including scam artists in the C-suites of Fortune 100 companies) love them, sure, but junk fees make everyone else furious.

What’s a plutocrat to do? Well, it turns out that culture war bullshit can make right wingers point (metaphorical) guns at their own junk — all plutocrats need to do is put the word out that getting rid of junk fees is “woke” and low-information right-wing thumbsuckers will demand the right to be charged junk fees.

Here’s an example: one especially pernicious form of junk fee is the “swipe fees” that credit-card companies charge merchants. In an increasingly cashless age, these companies — dominated by the Visa/Mastercard duopoly — have figured out how to scrape 3–5% out of every single retail transaction in the entire fucking economy.

Every merchant you patronize has to charge more — or reduce quality, or both — in order to pay this Danegeld to two of the largest, most profitable companies in the world. Visa/Mastercard have hiked their fees by 40 percent since the pandemic’s start. Forty. Fucking. Percent. Tell me again how greedflation isn’t real?

A bipartisan legislative coalition, led by Senator Dick Durbin (D-IL) and Senator Roger Marshall (R-KS) have proposed the Credit Card Competition Act (CCCA), which will force competition into credit-card routing, putting pressure on the Visa/Mastercard duopoly:

https://www.congress.gov/bill/118th-congress/senate-bill/1838/text?s=1&r=3

This should be a no-brainer, but plute spin-doctors have plenty of no-brains to fill up with culture war bullshit. Writing in The American Prospect, Luke Goldstein unpacks an astroturf campaign to save the endangered swipe fee from woke competition advocates:

https://prospect.org/power/2023-08-04-wall-street-culture-war-swipe-fee-reform/

Now, this campaign isn’t particularly sophisticated. It goes like this: Target is a big business that runs a lot of transactions through Visa/Mastercard, so it stands to benefit from competition in payment routing. And Target did a mean woke by selling Pride merch, which makes them groomers. So by fighting swipe fees, Congress is giving woke groomers a government bailout!

It’s literally that stupid. It’s being pushed by a dark money group based in Kansas, which is targeting Senator Marshall’s constituents with mailers that warns voters they’ll “lose their credit card points” because he’s thrown his lot in with “liberal politicians”:

https://punchbowl.news/caf-marshall-mailer-kansas/

The fliers also warn that competition could result in “your financial data could be processed by partners of the Chinese Communist Party” (the bill bans foreign companies from routing transactions, and bans China UnionPay by name).

The fliers are anonymous. The only ghoul shameless enough to put his name on the campaign is Grover Norquist, whose Americans for Tax Reform tells its Christmas-voting-turkeys to “side with consumers, not woke retailers.”

The dark money org pushing this line have placed op-eds in newspapers across red states, comparing transaction routing competition to your kids’ data being snaffled up by Tiktok:

https://www.theflstandard.com/senators-rubio-and-scott-must-protect-the-personal-financial-data-of-floridians/

This nonsense was peddled by League of Southeastern Credit Unions president Samantha Beeler, whose org has spent $20,000 fighting the CCCA, claiming that a “cheaper” system would be “less secure”:

https://disclosurespreview.house.gov/ld/ldxmlrelease/2023/Q2/301493985.xml

But that’s small potatoes. Millions are being spent, right now, lobbying against CCCA — $5m from the American Bankers’ Association, $2m from the Credit Union National Association, another $400k from Mastercard.

For these rentiers, corrupting our government with millions is a stellar bargain if it lets them continue to collect rent every time we spend money. And millions of people who’ll end up paying that will demand the right to do so, provided they’re told that they’re fighting “woke capitalism” and China.

I'm kickstarting the audiobook for "The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation," a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and bring back the old, good internet. It's a DRM-free book, which means Audible won't carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

[Image ID: A mechanical credit card imprinter (AKA 'zipzap') emblazoned with a US flag Punisher logo. It is imprinting a blank credit-card slip with a red Visa card bearing the GOP logo. It sits on a weathered wooden plank table, stained a dark brown.]

[jadeazora]

Thanks to my friend @clairvoyantxatu for alerting me to this!

The scary season is once again upon us—from its carved ornamental gourds to acts of grand theft candy by roaming gangs of elaborately disguised children. But before you set out that ceramic Gengar candy bowl or place your Phantump figure in its place of honor on the mantel, maybe it’s time to rethink our Halloween heroes.

For years, we’ve elevated Ghost-type Pokémon to the role of Halloween royalty. Before we fall into a haunted cemetery-sized rut, it may be time to crown new Halloween terrors. And who better to reign over this season of terror than Pokémon directly inspired by the dragons that have haunted real-life humanity for thousands of years?

Now that we’ve agreed it’s time for a more measured and mature approach to identifying the heroes of this year’s Pokéween—and if you didn’t agree, feel free to vent your opinions to your friendly neighborhood apparition—let’s consider the possibilities. The colorful and robust Pokémon canon offers an embarrassment of choice. If psychological mayhem is your jam, there is certainly an argument to be made for unleashing Mr. Mime on the collective consciousness and just accepting that there will be no more Pokémon Sleep for anyone ever again.

Which brings us to the obvious solution: Dragon-type Pokémon. The timing is perfect. It’s the Year of the Dragon, and dragons are hotter than Charizard’s Flamethrower. (But contrary to its appearance, Charizard is not, in fact, a Dragon-type Pokémon, although Mega Charizard X can proudly make the claim.) As we’ve already established, dragons have a fearsome reputation that spans millennia, so we know they’re scary. And to prove that point, we came with receipts (or scary Pokédex entries, which is pretty much the same thing):

(As my own personal aside, casual reminder that Mega Salamence is known to bisect its own Trainer from time to time, leading to the nickname of the blood-soaked crescent, when you put together its two Dex entries from Sun and Moon. Honestly my favorite Dex entry because it's just so edgy it wraps back around to being funny.)

Sure, a Gengar materializing from the floor for a jump scare is a classic. But compared to Dragalge sinking entire ships, leaving only silence and mystery in their wake, or Sliggoo instinctively liquifying even its friends, these pranks seem like child’s play.

[evilfrogcereal29]

ANOTHER NIKTO X READER I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THESE SPECIFIC SCENARIOS JUST COME TO MIND DJDHSKS

this is made with a fem!reader in mind, I try to write everything kind of GN, so sorry, but gender is kind of important for this specific piece cause reader's mistaken for a man and doesn't correct anyone to hide their identity

Tw: drinking, swearing, google translated russian, probably a bit ooc Nikto, I make him a lil softer than he probably is.

Nikto x Disguised(?)!fem!reader

- "You're pretty small for a guy"

- you were more than used to that sentence by now, and you never once saught to correct or challenge anyone on it. Who cared? There where more important things than whats in your pants, and it was better that everyone thought you you a man anways.

- You were very private about your identity, you had friends and family back home you didn't want getting wrapped up in this shit. You've seen how petty people can be for just a little bit of revenge.

- you wore a full suit of gear that masked your feminine form, including a helmet with a built in voice changer. (You sounded similar to that of a metro-cop from half-life 2, but with way more clarity)

- You didn't even push the man narrative, everyone just naturally started using he & him for you, unaware of your past or who you really were.

- You were, for the most part, one of the guys. Your file even stated you as male. A serious oversight by the higher-ups.

- So then why was Nikto currently pointing a gun amd looking at a woman in *your* armor?

- *Funny timeskip that i added here because I thought it'd be a bit confusing jumping between these two bullet points*

- You often frequented the showers late at night, it was the only time you could wash yourself uninterrupted by others prying eyes.

- You never realized how often you and Nikto barely evaded seeing eachother. You’d finish, disappear from the showers back to your room, and Nikto would come in, with the same idea of a late shower as you within a few minutes to as soon as 30 seconds after you departed.

- Tonight though, maybe by fate, you both got the idea at the same time, unfortunately for Nikto, you walked just a little faster.

- Nikto almost immediately turned around when he heard the water running, there was no point. Yet there was also frustration, and an overwhelming urge to confront whoever it was. Who the hell was showering at this hour?! He’s never had this problem before, who was deciding to give him problems tonight?

- He cracked the door open, head peeping inside, his eyes widen big at you- whoever you were- in his fellow solider's suit.

- Now it should've occured to someone as intelligent as Nikto that this *was* his fellow solider, but he had known you for a while, and had never suspected anything before, he would've known if you weren't anyone you said you are...right? Had you truely bested Nikto?

- He pulled out his gun right as you seemed to notice him, letting out a yelp. You were a confident 'man' on the battlefield, but now, you were red in the face, caught in a web of lies you didn't even mean to string.

- *Timeskip from earlier ends here :3 there will be more timeskips tho because my ADHD ass LOVES giving context*

- "ублюдок, ты кто? Where is our teammate? What did you do to him?" He growled, cocking his gun and aiming it right at the girl's head.

- Your eyes are wide, as big as half-dollars, and threw your hands up into the air.

- "Nikto its me! Its me!" You plead. Only receiving a sneer and angry grunt

- "You think I'm a stupid man, маленькая девочка?!" He yelled, stepping closer, finger twitching on the trigger, his bloodlust rising.

- The running water is the only thing breaking the terrifying tension in the room, you're mind is racing, how do you get this killer off your back. You needed to prove who you were. Think! Think!

- "Please don't shoot- let me prove it, I can prove it's me Nikto. I-..." You feel your cheeks heating up, god this was fucking embarrassing, and Mr. Emotionless here is the last person you wanted to slip up with. Even if you did prove yourself, he might kill you just because he felt a little angry that you didn't tell him personally. You gulp at that thought.

- Nikto grins under his mask, amused, truely, his gun lowers a bit.

- "Go on." He muses, "tell me something only HE would know." He smirks, thinking about how he's going to lay your body in the shower and watch the blood seep down the drain.

- *Time skip backwards again here, cause I love me some backstory :3*

- Your mind races. You and Nikto weren't 'friends' per se, but you had a past, you had met him right around when he had come out of rehabilitation after his sickening torture. He was worse back then, he would snap on teammates. He snapped on you, pinning you to the wall once, eyes dilated and filled with a primal kind of rage, he pressed down on your neck.

- "Мы сломаем твои кости, как стекло, маленький муравей."

- You had picked up some Russian from being around him and other fluent operators, knowing a decent amount, and in that moment you knew just enough to fear for your life.

- Thankfully Minotaur was in the area, and while he enjoyed watching a good scuffle bewteen two soldiers, he knew very well that this one would end with you dead, breaking up you two with very careful wording and while staying a very far away distance from the still ravenous, blood-thirsty Nikto.

- Surprisingly, you didn't completely avoid him after that, not like you could, the allegiance seemed to love put you two on the same team. Something about the variety of both your skillsets.

- It was true, you had to admit. You and Nikto worked very professionally on the field, quick and easy kills, communicating everything with head & hand gestures instead of talking. It was preferable for the both of you. And always ended with success. So maybe thats why you always ended up near eachother. Still, you always tried to give the Psychotic man the benefit of the doubt. Knowing the story of his past, as told to you by Rodion, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of empathy for the broken man.

- It eventually built up to you having a very personal moment with Nikto.

- You were on a long-term mission, you'd been deployed in Yakutsk, Russia. Yes, one of the coldest fucking places in the entire country. Reaching nearly unalivable conditions- In your opinion- but of course Nikto never complained, he liked the cold after all.

- You had shacked up in an abandoned home on the outskirts of the city for the night. You laid on the one of the dirty mattresses left there by the old tenants, whoever they were.

- You shivered and shook like a rabid animal. Unable to sleep from how cold you were. Even in your full body of armor, it wasn't doing enough. You had those crap emergency blankets but even they, and the addition of the thin poo-stained mattress beneath you, didn't help with the very persistent cold that seemed to seep in through every crack of the home possible.

- You can only assume Nikto is fast asleep, at least, until you hear a soft humming, one that turns into soft singing, its gruff, and deep, but as you continue to listen, you find it rather soothing.

- "Здравствуйте, девочки Здравствуйте, мальчики Смотрите на меня в окно...." He sang, tapping his foot to a beat in his head. It seemed there *were* moments where nikto wasn't being mentally tortured by his own mind. Instead, filled with a melody from childhood.

- You rolled over and saw Nikto sitting criss-cross on the other mattress, his mask was slightly lifted up, but it was too dark to make out anything but the outline of his chin, and there was something in his hand, a bottle of Vodka.

- Now that you found weird, Nikto usually wasn't one to live up to the stereotype, in fact, he barely drank at all. Sure, he did drink lots in his youth, and still did a few lines of coke or toked off the occasional blunt when the offer somehow came up, but he was sworn off alcohol for the most part, especially vodka or anything strong, it gave him extremely awful headaches, he was hangovers bitch.

- You finally sat up after a few minutes, alerting him to your presence, his singing ceased and he pulled his mask back down over his mouth quickly, shooting you a dangerous glare.

- you frowned through your helmet that you kept on, blinking tired, dissapointed eyes at him.

- "Don't stop, I didn't know you could sing like that Nikto... Or that you drank-"

- "Господи, заткнись, сука. ты ничего обо мне не знаешь" he said defensively, you couldn't recognize every word but you recognized every swear, flinching at his vile language, but recognizing the slight slur in his words. A sign of inebriation.

- "Nikto...? You're drunk?" You try to ask, but he follows it up with a quick and defiant 'no' and more swearing. You let him, knowing better than you argue with the bullish man. Let him stop seeing red, than you could keep talking.

- "So.. what about tonight made you finally want to drink, I thought you liked the cold?" You ask, tilting your head.

- "I'm not drinking cause I'm sad." He corrected you coldly, setting the bottle down beside him, "The opposite actually."

- Nikto was...happy drinking? You didn't think normal people did that, but than again Nikto wasn't normal so- you supposed it made sense.

- "Whats the occasion?" You ask after a moment of consideration, and now that you thought about it, it was a bit rude, let the man be happy. occasion or not.

- "Everything is... Quiet tonight. I think we're just happy to be somewhere that feels like home." he says, tapping the side of his head.

- You're happy for him. He deserves moments like these. You find yourself scooting closer, settling down beside him when he doesn't shoo you away.

- "Tell me about your home, Nikto." You ask politely, taking him by surpise, catching him in a moment of vulnerability in his nostalgia and drunk-ness. The usual softness in your real voice, even with the voice changer, was present.

- He goes on to describe his early life to you, albiet, in bit and pieces, it's obvious he's holding back, relinquishing some details while stating others blantly. He also just doesn't remember much. Everything from birth to 5 years old is a blur for him. He just remembers his older brother and mom, and a vague outline of a father figure, but he left before Nikto's 6th birthday, Nikto can't remember his face or the sound of his voice anymore.

- He pointed out the song he was singing earlier, he listened to it often when he was a younger man. It reminded him of his mother and brother, of sitting at the dinnertable eating warm meals as a family whenever they scrounged up enough money to have the luxury of doing so. The laughter and love they shared, even if things around them were lackluster.

- He details early life in the military, his becoming of a spy and his... Eventual Downfall and capture.

- "One job, I got messy... I wasn't looking where I was going I..." He trailed off. He stopped telling his story and you reached a hand out, resting a hand on his shoulder.

- "Its okay. I get it. You don't need to tell me anymore if it hurts." You reassure, seeing the way he tenses under your pitiful touches.

- "I deserved it." He tried to continue, but you interupted him

- "None of that now. Just shut up and think about the now." You scold, noticing the wide eyes stare Nikto gives you.

- No one has ever told him to shut up before. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks underneath his mask, thank god he was wearing one.

- "Sorry." He muttered, and now you both sat there a bit stunned and quiet. The moment you were experiencing together left the both of your heart's racing, wondering a million things about the other.

- You because you had never seen such a soft, apologetic side of Nikto before, a man with no regrets, no empathy. He seemed so... Human?

- And Nikto because he couldn't believed he was being so soft and apologetic with someone. He always had his walls up. His mental fortress guarded with maximum security at all times. But you caught him when the Vodka- 3/4th a bottle of it that he found stashed in a drawer somewhere in the shack- had him weak, and you didn't take advantage of him. Didn't judge or even really cast much pity towards him. He didn't like being pitied. Fucking hated it actually. But here you were, rubbing his shoulder, which wasn't exactly an *unwelcomed* gesture, and sitting in silence with him. The voices were at bay tonight. Right now. It was just him, or whatever was left of Andre.

- "I used to walk 4 miles to school every morning in the freezing cold, and almost got hit by a pickup truck and stolen by a pack of wolves doing it." He suddenly blurted out, the previously warm vibes of the room returning as Nikto casted the past out of his mind. You were right. He was being too emotional, he should focus on the now.

- And right now, the booze brought him back to fonder memories, ones of childhood mischief and near death experiences.

- You looked at him with wide eyes and couldn't help the burst of laughter that followed, something that Nikto didn't find insulting, in fact, he was smiling too, underneath that mask.

- "You think that's funny, just wait til I tell you where I got my first tattoo..." He chuckled with his thick, russian accent.

- You and Nikto shared stories all night. And never once did Nikto question it, like when you told him you took ballet, or when you ripped your prom dress, or even when you told him about your first boyfriend. He shrugged it off. He wasnt exactly as straight as a board either. And the military exposed him to people from all walks of life.

- Of course, Nikto still thought you were a *man* at this point. A very effeminate acting man, but a man none the less.

- *Time skip ends here SORRY IF U HATED THAT SJSHSK*

- But now Nikto's world was flipped on it's head, as you combed through your mind, you find yourself going back to that silly song he sang. Trying to recall the words.

- "Здравствуйте.... дев-вочки.." you started, cringing at your poor pronouncations of the words and shrilly little singing voice.

- Nikto's eyes widen in recognition, all former sneers and snickers long gone. He wasn't joking anymore, and it seemed you weren't either.

- "Здравствуйте, мальчики..." You continued, your cheeks growing impossibly red, "С-Cмотрите на меня в окно.."

- "That's enough. Stop. Stop it." Nikto demanded, aiming his gun right at you again, "how do you know that? That night?"

- "Cause it's me Nikto! I'm a girl!" You exclaimed, getting annoyed yourself. You practically just performed for the bastard, and now he was still trying to shoot you, just like you figured.

- There was a moment of silence. And Nikto stood there, as if needing to process everything that just happened.

- "Put on the helmet." He demands. And you don't defy him, placing your helmet on, the change in your voice is like night and day,

- "I didn't think it mattered this much, I'm sorry." You said genuinely. Your voice deepened to it usual state, confirming your indentity.

- There a few more moments of silence before Nikto coughs, grabbing your attention. He straightens himself. Lowering his gun and putting the safety back on. There's a sense of embarrassment in his movements, he's tense, and avoiding your eye contact.

- "It...it doesn't matter. We'll just shower tomorrow morning." He says and hurries off. Another vulnerable moment with you, what was wrong with him?! He hated himself right now. For having never realized, and for having threatened you.

- Nikto did hold you in high regards, not that he would ever tell you or another soul. He respected your dedication to the work, and after that night in the cabin, a mutual but unspoken trust was formed bewteen the two of you. You never had a moment like it afterwards. Well. Until now.

- You don't dare go after Nikto in that moment, but you want to. It's late, and if you woke everyone else up and made them aware of the situation, only god knows what would happen. So you shower and head off to bed, replaying senarios in your mind, planning what you'd say to Nikto first thing in the morning.

- Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you see it, he beat you to it.

- You were still sleeping when a heavy-handed Knock came to your door, sending you scurrying out of bed for your gear. You reach for your helmet until you hear the voice on the other side.

- "Hey... Its Nikto...let us in, please." He says, his voice gruff and demanding as usual but theres something else there....Pleading? Hoping?

- You freeze, fiddling with your helmet before deciding its not worth it. You quickly move to open the door, making sure noone else is around before ushering Nikto in.

- He takes a moment to look you up and down. You're not wearing any gear now. Just some plaid pajama pants and a white tanktop.

- He sighs, shaking any stray thoughts from his head. "We should talk. About last night." He finally states, and you agree with a simple nod, motioning for him to sit next to you on your bed.

- It feels like last time, except the cards have been flipped, this time, it was your secrets that were being spilled, and Nikto had the questions.

- "Why?" He asked flatly, "why hide your gender?"

- "Why hide your face?" You fire back, rolling your eyes at him like it was obvious, "for privacy, same reason as you, as Krueger. We don't want anyone knowing what we look like, our identities" you said, using another member of the allegiance, Sebastian Krueger, as an example.

- Nikto's eyes dart down in thought, and he nods, "I see."

- Theres more silence, it seems that was a recurring theme between you two, long bouts of silence. Never once did either of you try to force conversation. It came naturally.

- Nikto really appreciated that about you in this moment. It allowed him to get his thoughts straight, arguing with the voices for a bit before he opens his mouth again.

- "No one has to know." He says, like its that simple, and stands up. He starts for the door and you move to follow, a hand on his bicep.

- "Nikto wait- that's it?" You ask, confused, but what did you really expect? Nikto wasn't the type to gossip. If information needed to be gathered and brought back his superiors, he would. But that wasn't what he was asked to do.

- "да, that's it." He said standing the in the doorway with finality.

- He shut the door behind him with a click and you stood there dumbfounded. Did any of that really just happen, or was all of this one big dream you were about to wake from?

- You pinched yourself with a winced and cursed under your breathe. This was reality. Could you really trust Nikto with this secret? Without blackmail? Without shame?

- Apparently, yes. As you would come to find out. In fact, you soon realize that this whole incident only made you and Nikto somehow closer.

- In battles, during tight situations, he was always there. Freeing you from the enemies grasp, carrying you with a bullet wound in your back. He was your personal guard.

- He wasn't being more protective just cause he knew you're a girl, he knew you were deadly. He's seen what you're capable off. No. You come to learn Nikto does this as a display of affection. Subtlety showing his appreciation for keeping his secrets, and in return, he keeps your's, and keeps you alive as well.

- After one particularly long mission, you're walking alongside each other, covered in dirt and grime, heading to the showers as the sun set and everyone heads for bed.

- You two showered together now, of course, broken up by thin curtains. It was a bit intimate, but it was an easier agreement than an already insomnia ridden-Nikto getting up at ungodly hours of the morning to shower.

- As you're walking together you nudge him gently, "good work today. You still fight well for a guy your age." You tease. Nikto knew full well you were hiding a shit eating grin under than helmet of yours, grimacing at you.

- "Yeah, good work to you too... For a girl." He says back venomously, earning him a playful punch.

- "Bastard! Don't be so loud about that!" You scold while whisper-yelling, but Nikto can still hear the smile in your voice. And knows its in jest.

- "It would be a shame if the others knew what a pretty little woman you really were."

- "It would be a shame if the others knew about the smiley face tattoed on your buttcheek."

- Both of your faces are red and concealing mischievous grins. This was you and Nikto's relationship now. Learnings eachothers secrets, and using them to pick on eachother. Playful banter.

- Everyone around base notices what you two are doing...just FUCK already you two... Damn. The tension is killing everyone.

- You and Nikto will probably end up together after a while more of this, its inevitable. You're just unjudgemental enough to deal with his freak, while also being one of the only solider's on base willing to put up with his terrifying, intimidating aura for long periods of time!

- Nikto always kind of liked you, as a man, and even now as a woman. And sharing your secrets only solidified that attraction in his mind. You were his милый, and he would keep you and your secrets safe for as long as he lived.

AHHHH HOLY FUCKING SHIT SORRY IF THE END FEELS RUSHED I TRIED TO CONCLUDE THIS LONG ASS STORY, I DIDN'T REALIZE HOW MUCH YAP I HAD IN ME😳

The song Nikto was humming is Кино - Алюминиевые огурцы, and was inspired by a comment on my post about Russian and Austrian musc left by @weepingmagazinesandwich and once I heard that song I knew I had to use it in a writing piece its just so sweet. The two playlists were made btw I just never publicly posted them (also cause Nikto's list is chronically short, and Krueger's playlist is already almost hours long) so- idk if y'all want those posted but lmk👍 I hope you enjoyed this- whatever you'd call it. Idk what to call the reader in this. Disguised!reader sounds so silly.

I have a sfw agere krueger drabble comin out soon, and I just started writing big chunks of the hubby!gromsko x reader hcs.

[guywrestlingaddiction]

Double Team (brief) Triumph: Stinger v Cage Thunder & Lightning Rod (bgeast.com)

We all love an underdog story, but I think deep down what we truly love is a story where our stunningly gorgeous underdog thinks he out muscles two supervillains, only to get humiliated in the end.

Stinger v Cage Thunder & Lightning Rod (bgeast.com)

SPOILER ALERT: I highly recommend viewing this match in its entirety before reading this post.  

The Backstory

Our hero enters the ring sporting the optimism of a champ with a simple demand - he will take both villains on but wants to ensure that just one bad guy in the ring at a time.  Yeah, good luck buddy with your opponents fighting fair and all.  

Ladies and gentlemen, our strapping, lean hero versus two muscled heels.

And it's a fair(ish) fight at first with only one villain in the ring at a time.  Frankly, there doesn't even seem to be a reason to fight dirty when you're two badass villains against one hero.  

Stretch out our hero and show off that ripped torso.

Cage Thunder checking to make sure those abs aren't painted on.  Yup they are rock solid, at least for now that is. 

But sooner rather than later they both cheat and gang up on our hero, and why do they cheat? Say it with me now, simply because they can!

The Double Team

A double team on its own would be bad enough but now our hero is unmasked and is robbed of his dignity.  Reese's red, flushed face simply cannot contain the pain and embarrassment he feels.

Not content with mere victory, our villains need to humiliate the young Stinger/Reese.  Holds are applied longer than they need to and that smooth body is manhandled more than necessary, all of this to prove a point; they do it simply because they can.  

The Triumph

Despite overwhelming odds, our hero overcomes his opponents not through skill or strength but by exploiting their major flaw - their hubris.  You see, Reese has been studying them and knows these guys want him bad, so bad in fact they'll let their guard down at an opportune moment...

I mean look at the chest on Reese, they man may be lithe but he's got some power behind him. 

Our hero celebrates his impossible victory against two legendary heels, but no sooner does he proclaim that good has overcome evil when trouble starts brewing underfoot.  You see our hero has his own flaws and is equally susceptible to hubris as the poor guy gets cocky while tasting his triumph. 

Reese: How do you like that? Two on one and I still kicked both of your ass'?!

It should come as no surprise that in the end, little Reese Wells aka the Stinger, could not hold back both supervillains.  One supervillain is tough enough but two is impossible, especially not when both were enraged with defeat.  With the 'official' match over, Cage Thunder and Lightning Rod unleash their full heel mode, all over poor Reese. 

And with that the match is over.  Now I'm sure we all like to think of ourselves as good and just, but our bad guys know us better than that. They know exactly where our true emotions stand and knew that this ending is what we really wanted all along. 

[paperultra]

le festin.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3,842 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use, toxic family [A/N: yes this is partially inspired by ratatouille. inspiration comes from many places and i am not one to question it. happy new year <3]

cingulomania (noun): a strong desire to hold a person in your arms nemesism (noun): frustration, anger or aggression directed inward, toward oneself and one's way of living

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

“Murfus.”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Get me more darts.”

Murfus wrings his hands, glancing between you and the wall a few feet away. “I … I’m afraid I can’t get you more darts,” he replies tentatively, “on account of us being out at sea, Miss.”

“Then fetch the ones I’ve already thrown,” you snap, pointing at said darts. “Idiot.”

“Of course. So sorry, Miss.”

He scampers over to the wall and hurriedly pulls each dart out of it, rushing back to you with sweat on his brow. You snatch them out of his white-gloved palms.

Pinching the blue dart between your fingers, you hold it up to your eye and aim. With a sharp snap of your wrist, the dart flies forward and into the paper tacked onto the wood panel.

Murfus winces.

Crumpled, smudged, and pitted with pin-sized holes, one would have a hard time reading the article on the wall. But you know what it says. You’ve memorized its structure, can land a dart onto each line mentioning that damned restaurant by name. And you do.

“Murfus.”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Read the menu to me again.”

“Of course, Miss.” You hear the crinkle of paper and the sound of him clearing his throat. “The appetizers are as follows …”

You only half-listen as the man continues, the other half occupied by the wall in front of you and the starting paragraph steadily being destroyed by your hand. Your tongue draws across your teeth.

“In all our years as food critics, scouring the East Blue for any semblance of palatable cuisine in a region brimming with endless possibilities, no other restaurant has come as close to unlocking the flavor of the seas as the Baratie.”

—

You had, by all accounts, a privileged upbringing.

The Nouveau Blue Guide is not royalty, nobility, or military – but it is an empire in its own right, a name that’s afforded you many opportunities and comforts since you were young: a fine education, luxurious business trips, a roof over your head and plenty of food to eat. Your family’s reputation as food critics, built by your great-grandfather and painstakingly maintained up to this very day, is unmatched in the East Blue.

Such is your birthright. A birthright that, despite your toil and travels and countless, countless hours spent writing reviews, your parents say you do not deserve.

“You call this an article?” Your mother brandishes the draft you’d submitted in hopes of some constructive criticism, her voice climbing high. “It’s a mess!”

“I haven’t polished it up yet –”

“There’s nothing worth polishing. Frankly, it’s embarrassing that a child of mine has written something like this.” She passes the article over to your father. “Darling, throw this away. I’m already stressed as it is.”

Your father takes it. Gives it a cursory once-over. Your tentative anticipation dissolves in the pit of your stomach when he sighs, shaking his head at you. “You’re not cut out for this career, dear,” he tells you, folding your article in half and then quarters and dropping it into the bin by your mother’s desk. “Claudie is already taking over the Guide. Your time is better spent improving your etiquette.”

You breathe in. Keep your hands relaxed, square your shoulders. Nod obediently with clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

You know that your family means well. They want you to live a successful life, find a successful spouse, and raise successful children. They don’t want you to waste your time because your time is valuable.

Well, today, you’re going to prove that you are not wasting anything.

“We’re ready to disembark, Miss.”

“Good.”

Standing up, you put on your gloves and hat, picking your notebook and pen up from the table before walking with Murfus down to the dock.

He accompanies you to the entrance of the Baratie, then falls back so you may walk in alone. The maître d’hôtel welcomes you and promptly gets you seated at a booth on the ground floor, not too close to the stairs to distract you from the ambience of the restaurant and not too close to the kitchen to hear the ruckus of the cooks.

In the brief space of time before your waiter arrives, you take everything in. Dim, cozy lighting. High ceiling. Few windows. Sitting in the Baratie is like sitting in the belly of a whale. Perhaps you can make a point about it being a bit too enclosed, but given that its main customers are seafarers looking for reprieve from the elements, you don’t think many would find that damning.

You make a few half-hearted but detailed notes.

“Hello, madam.” A voice from above interrupts your writing.

You look up, irritated.

The waiter before you is a handsome man, blond-haired and broad-shouldered. He flashes you a charming smile upon meeting your eyes as he sets a plate of bread rolls down, standing close enough that you can smell cigarette smoke mixed with spices and just the barest remnants of cologne.

You recognize him immediately.

“My name is Sanji, and I have the immense pleasure of being your waiter this evening. Shall we start with drinks?”

Stifling your confusion with a sneer, you place your pen down.

“Is the Baratie so short-staffed that they have their sous chef waiting tables?”

Sanji’s smile freezes for just a moment. He seems to recover quickly, though, shaking his head and chuckling at your query.

“I’m flattered you recognize me!” he replies. “No, I occasionally wait tables when the owner requests it, that’s all.”

You do not buy it.

“Then, Sanji, I will have a glass of Ithürzburger Stein to start,” you say.

He nods. “Excellent choice. I will get that for you straight away.”

His eyes dart shamelessly to your open notebook before settling back on your face. To your utter surprise and dismay, he winks at you before heading off.

Your cheeks warm without warning.

Nobody, let alone a waiter (even if he really is the sous chef), has ever winked at you before. They had the good sense not to. It’s incredibly crude, and surely, you’re more offended than anything else – handsome or not, such behavior deserves a scathing call-out –

But … what if you’re overthinking things? What if it isn’t a big deal because it doesn’t affect the quality of the food? Your parents always take context into consideration – the Baratie is beloved for its rough-and-tumble personality under the guise of upscale dining, so perhaps this is part of the experience. He may not have even winked at you at all.

“Tch.”

You release the tablecloth from your grip, grabbing a bread roll instead and sinking your teeth into it. It’s light, sweet, and perfect. You chew quickly and swallow hard.

The sous chef comes back soon after, your requested bottle of wine in one hand and a polished glass in the other.

“Your Ithürzburger Stein, madam,” he says, opening the bottle and pouring you a glass with practiced ease.

He watches intently as you pick the glass up and bring it to your lips. The aroma reaches your nose, and it takes an immense effort not to wrinkle it as you take a sip. You’ve never particularly liked alcohol. This one is sour and dry.

“It’s alright,” you say, wishing you could rinse the taste out with juice. “I’m ready to order my appetizers and entrées.”

“Of course.”

You rattle off a few items, having memorized the menu after listening to Murfus read it so many times. For the appetizers, wakame salad with sesame-ginger dressing, Sea King croquettes, and grilled plums with goat cheese. For the entrees, Sambasian crab-stuffed salmon with roasted potatoes and chickpea stew. They’re nothing particularly unique or outstanding, but you feel that they are worth evaluating.

Sanji takes your order and leaves you with another dazzling smile, and you make the excuse of drinking more of the wine to avoid it. Maybe you will be a better writer drunk than sober.

Probably not.

Alone once again, you occupy yourself by exploring different ways to describe the wine, the bread, and the atmosphere. When you tire of that, you eavesdrop on the booth next to yours. It seems to be occupied by a group of marines, each attempting to one-up the others in the world’s shortest dick-measuring contest. You tire of that much more quickly.

When your appetizers arrive, you’re examining the arrangement of the silverware and the quality of their polish.

“Is the table set to your liking?” Sanji asks while lining up the plates. He takes more time doing so than is necessary, in your opinion.

“How it’s set doesn’t matter as much as whether it’s clean and accessible,” you reply, eyeing the croquettes with interest. “Tell me, where do you get your Sea King meat?”

“The Gourmet Hunter Guild supplies us with most of the rarer meats we serve here. The Sea King meat in your croquettes was just delivered this morning, so I’d say you’re quite lucky, madam.”

“What species is it?”

“Baron of the Tides.”

“Barons of the Tides tend to have a strong taste and tough flesh. Not many people are fond of it.”

Sanji’s eye glints as he rests a hand on the table, leaning in. “You know your food,” he says. “I expected no less from the Nouveau Blue Guide, and yet I’m still impressed.”

“It must not take much to impress you, then.”

“It takes a lot, actually.” He winks at you, and this time, you’re sure of it – and it’s strange because you don’t feel leered at, not at all, and your cheeks warm yet again. “Regarding the meat, no matter what it is, a good chef can make anything into a delicious meal. You won’t be disappointed.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Of course, madam. You’re the expert, after all.”

You are glad when he finally leaves, if only because you have no idea what to make of him. It’s difficult to tell if he’s being patronizing, and you can usually tell.

You sweep your gaze over your appetizers and take a deep breath.

Starting with the wakame salad, you inspect its presentation – a round pile of rich green seaweed in a smooth black bowl – and take a small portion to chew on.

The seaweed strikes a perfect balance between tender and firm, and the seasoning is perfect.

Fine. Whatever.

Next, the grilled plums with goat cheese. You take one bite; the creamy earthiness of the cheese complements the tender sweetness of the plums, and the caramelization is obnoxiously fantastic. You eat an entire half to make sure.

It looks like your last hope for this round is the Sea King croquettes.

Plucking one up with your fingers, you cut your teeth through the crispy, golden breading. The meaty interior strikes your tongue and your intake of breath is sudden, your free hand curling into a tight fist underneath the table.

It tastes good.

All three of them are really good.

This is horrible.

When Sanji drops off your entrées, you hardly realize that he’s there, too engrossed in the scent and the sight and the taste of the food.

“I hope the appetizers were to your liking?”

Sanji somehow gets the hint when you stab your fork into the Sambasian crab-stuffed salmon. He clears his throat and leaves you to your own devices.

You eat, and with each bite, your frustration mounts.

The Sambasian crab-stuffed salmon is flaky and succulent, the potatoes roasted to crisp skin and creamy flesh. The chickpea stew sits hot in your mouth and fills your nose with a parade of fragrant spices. It tastes amazing soaked into the bread rolls. Nothing is undercooked, or overcooked, or sloppily presented. Everything is just right. Just perfect.

You spend what feels like hours in the mouth of the booth, tasting, writing, crossing out, agonizing. The sounds of the Baratie die out until all you can hear is the scratching of pen against paper and your own breathing and pulse.

No, no, no, no.

It’s … it’s impossible. Any complaint you have is simply an expression of your own personal preferences, and your personal preferences don’t mean shit.

Your writing utensil is nearly buckling under the pressure by the time Sanji comes around for the nth time, and you’re just about ready to skewer him with it along with whoever else has the luck to wander too close.

“Are you interested in dessert, madam?”

“Of course I am,” you grit out.

All you’re met with is that damned smile of his. “Wonderful. Here’s our dessert menu.” He holds it out and you snatch it from him. “Someone with such a sweet face deserves something just as sweet.”

You snap the menu shut.

“Surprise me.”

Sanji blinks while you glare up at him, handing the menu back.

“… Pardon, madam?”

“I want the famed sous chef of the Baratie to prepare a dessert for me,” you say evenly. “I don’t care what it is or how long it takes. Surprise me.”

“I … of course.” He straightens up, the most serious you’ve ever seen him this entire evening. “Whatever you want.”

—

You wait.

The sous chef returns, not even an hour later, with a white ceramic bowl in hand and none other than the owner of the Baratie stomping after him.

“Your dessert, madam,” Sanji says, though a bit hurriedly. “Rice pudding with mango –”

He’s interrupted by Zeff, who grabs him by the back of his collar much like one would do to an errant cat. You raise your eyebrows, watching Sanji’s expression immediately wrinkle into one of annoyance.

“Little eggplant, you stop and listen when I’m talking to you.”

“Are you serious, old man? I’m in the middle of –”

“I told you that you’re off the line. No customer can change that, no matter who they are.” Zeff casts you a wayward glance and frowns before dragging Sanji back towards the kitchen. “We’re gonna have a little chat, you and me.”

Despite his bitter protesting, Sanji leaves your table with Zeff, and you’re left with your final course and the curious eyes of several diners.

“What are you looking at?” you bark at them, and they quickly go back to their meals.

You look down at your dessert. There’s a sprinkling of cinnamon on the surface, and it’s crowned with bright, paper-thin slices of mango, but rice pudding is so … simple. You’re almost insulted. But you are also surprised, and that is what you asked for.

Scooping up a bit of the pudding, you place it into your mouth, closing your eyes.

Two seconds later, you slam your spoon onto the table and stand up.

You can feel the sturdiness of the kitchen’s doors when you fling them open, your gaze immediately falling upon a mop of blond hair in the corner.

Heading straight towards him, you seize the front of Sanji’s well-pressed shirt and drag his face close to yours.

“What did you put in it?!”

Your shriek explodes through the noise of the kitchen staff. Sanji stares at you with wide eyes and oddly reddening cheeks.

“In the pudding?” he asks, bewildered. “Not much, really. Glutinous rice, coconut milk, salt –”

“Goddammit.” You shove him away and dig your nails into the back of your neck, chest and throat tightening. You can feel your breaths beginning to quicken and your eyes starting to sting. “Shit. Shit.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa”—Sanji puts a hand on your shoulder and it burns—“sweetheart, what’s wrong –”

“Where does that back door lead to?”

“Er, a dock? We take smoke breaks –”

“Excuse me.”

Shaking him off and pushing past him, you head straight to the door, open it, and close it behind you.

And then you scream.

Gods, you’re fucking ruined. You’re a fucking failure. Your parents were right, Claudie was right, you can’t do this and you could never do this and now you’re at the back of the East Blue’s only five-fucking-star restaurant having an emotional breakdown over eating food.

You scream until your voice breaks, until you’re left kneeling and gasping for breath on the filthy, wet dock.

You cough. Cinnamon lingers in the back of your throat, and you start crying.

Behind you, the door creaks open.

"[Y/n]?"

“Please don’t let my family hear about this,” you burst out without even turning to look at Sanji. “I’ll pay whatever amount you want.”

“Nobody’s going to be saying anything.” You feel him approaching, and then he drops down to sit next to you. “However, I’m very concerned about you. What’s got you so upset?”

“Why do you care?”

“A lovely lady such as yourself shouldn’t have to suffer alone.”

“Oh, please.” You hug your knees to your chest. But Sanji doesn’t leave, and after a few minutes, the words fall unbidden from your mouth, having nowhere else to go. “… I wasn’t assigned to come here.”

“Hm?”

“My family”—you swallow the lump in your throat—“they don’t know I’m here. I came here to write a review on the Baratie and get a … get a star taken away.”

Gods. That sounds so fucking stupid now. What is wrong with you?

“You did?” Sanji sounds baffled. “How come?”

A wet laugh crawls out between your teeth. “You’re the only restaurant my parents have ever given five stars to, you know that, right? So I figured – I-I figured if I could find out something wrong with the Baratie, they’d realize how good I can be at this job. I’m good at finding flaws. I’m good at details. This should’ve been … I should’ve found something.” You glare down at your lap. “But I couldn’t. Not even in the stupid dessert you made.”

“Oh.” A moment of silence occurs in which you can practically hear him gather his thoughts. “… I suppose I can take that as a compliment,” he says slowly, crossing his legs. “But is that really how you see food? Something to find fault in?”

“It’s something to evaluate. I’m a critic. It’s what I’ve always wanted to be.”

“But do you enjoy it?”

You frown, sniffling. Your brow furrows.

You want to tell him that it’s a stupid question. Why would you need to enjoy food? It’s work. You feel accomplished after finding the right words for a dish’s unique flavor, feel determined when you comb through the items on a menu. You feel delighted when you find something wrong with it.

But you …

“No,” you realize. “I … don’t.”

“I see. Well, I’m not one to tell you how to think,” Sanji says, “but as a cook, I believe that food’s one of the pleasures and privileges of being alive. As a critic, why deny yourself of its full potential?”

“I … I don’t know,” you whisper.

And the thought occurs to you, like a bottle that had been floating out at sea for years finally washing ashore, that you hate what your life has become.

“I don’t know.”

You can’t help it. You let out a loud sob, your head hanging down and bumping against Sanji’s arm. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap you in a tight hug.

It’s the first hug you’ve had in a very, very long time.

“I’m so sick of this,” you croak, face hot with shame and humiliation. “I’ll never be good enough for them. Ever.”

“They don’t deserve you.”

“But they’re my family.”

He rests his chin on your head. “A family who hurts you this much isn’t much of a family at all,” he murmurs.

His words are like a hot knife to the throat. What follows is cold, awful, bitter relief.

You force your eyes shut. Your arms tighten desperately around him, and you curl up, a pathetic excuse of a person in a crumpled heap on a dirty dock.

So this is you, you think. A purposeless silver spoon, miserable and starved for affection, clinging to a complete stranger outside the best restaurant in the East Blue.

It feels better to lay everything bare, actually.

“I can’t go back,” you tell him hoarsely.

“We won’t let anything get out.”

“The staff won’t, but you can’t do anything about the customers.” Reluctantly, you pull away, taking a deep breath and wiping your eyes. Clarity comes with it, hard and heavy. “But you know what? I don’t care anymore. I quit.”

“Quit?”

“Yeah.”

Reaching up, you close your hand around the small family crest resting just below your collarbone. You hesitate for just a moment, then tug sharply, and the thin chain around your neck snaps. Beads of gold glint in the sunlight as you look at it.

Yeah. Fuck it.

Winding your arm up, you fling the necklace as far as you can into the dark sea. It barely makes a splash as it hits the surface and disappears from sight.

“Good throw,” Sanji compliments.

“Thank you.”

He grins at you crookedly, and you finally return it, the last of your tears squeezing out from the motion and dripping down your cheeks.

Gentle fingers touch your chin. You let Sanji turn your face towards him, and the corner of his mouth tilts up as he takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes the rest of the wetness from your cheeks and nose.

“There,” he says once he’s finished. “Now I can see your pretty face better.”

(You wonder how the world ever produced someone so kind.)

“I’m sorry, Sanji,” you say, “for being such an ass to you earlier.”

“Please don’t worry about it. It was my pleasure to serve you.”

“No, really. I grabbed you. I’ve never done anything like that before, and I feel awful about it.”

“I really didn’t –”

“Please,” you plead.

Sanji bites his lip, holding your gaze for a moment, then sighs. “All right. If it’ll make you feel better, I accept your apology,” he acquiesces. His expression softens. “And if you really have nowhere to go,” he offers more quietly, “the Baratie will gladly welcome you.”

Your lungs feel a bit emptier than usual.

“Thank you,” you somehow manage to say. “I’ll consider your offer.”

Your sudden formality seems to amuse him. He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, consider it? Anything I can do to sweeten the deal?”

His voice dips at the end, a sort of low and raspy thing, and you learn that it is much, much worse than being winked at.

You swallow and turn your head away. “T-Tell me the rest of the ingredients for your rice pudding,” you mutter.

“Join the Baratie and I’ll show you how to make it.”

“What? You’re turning it around on me.”

Sanji merely laughs in response, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Despite your embarrassment, you eventually find yourself chuckling along, and the sounds bloom together, so different yet so complementary. It’s nice, laughing with someone. You enjoy it.

Perhaps this is what food is supposed to bring, you think, this same, small, strange moment of peace and satisfaction.

You hope so.

[scorpioaqua]

fireside | bbrae week '24 | day 1: camping

rating: T word count: 4,232 summary: Raven and Gar take their favorite kiddos on a special camping trip, but the greatest surprise of all won't be revealed until nightfall. find it on AO3 | @bbraeweek24

_

��Dibs on the biggest bedroom!” Melvin shouted as she leapt out of the rental car, dashing towards the lakefront cabin at a frightening speed.

“Not fair!” Timmy bellowed, hot on her trail.

Teether (who had long since abandoned that particular nickname in favor of the simpler and more stately “T”) hung back with Gar and Raven, the former unloading the car, the latter looking after her rambunctious wards with a look of pure consternation.

“There are only two bedrooms, and it should be obvious which one is for the grownups!” she called after them. Then, realizing they had already wrestled their way into the cabin and were no longer listening, she sighed and turned to T. “Keep your siblings in line, will you?”

T, now a cherubic eight-year-old, smiled brightly at Raven before darting away into the cabin. Raven turned to help Gar with unloading the car before something occurred to her and she turned to shout an additional instruction: “And that does not require biting.”

Gar gave a low chuckle as he passed his wife a bag, which she accepted begrudgingly.

“Let the kids have some fun, won’t you?” he teased her.

“What do you call taking them on a surprise camping trip?” she retorted, inspecting the contents of the bag.

“Exactly. I wish you would let loose a little.”

“If that’s an innuendo, it will be harder to achieve if they steal the double bed,” she said absently. “Shit.”

“Oh, no, whatever will we do if we have to share a twin bed? How could we possibly get our bodies that close�� ”

“Gar, stop, I’m serious,” she snapped. “Where’s the envelope?”

“Relax.” He set the cooler he was holding down and peered into the bag with her. “It’s definitely here. You checked like ten times before we left, and five more times at every rest stop.”

Raven was quickly working herself into a panic, pawing through the bag with abandon. She sank to her knees and began removing her belongings, tossing them aside carelessly.

“Rae, breathe—”

“It’s not here, Gar.” The bag was empty, its contents — clothes, snacks, phone chargers — scattered around her on the ground. She looked up at her husband, her eyes wide with concern. “It’s not in here!”

Gar sank down to meet her, lifting up pajamas and underwear like the elusive envelope might be hiding underneath.

“Did you check your jacket?” he asked her.

Raven began frantically grappling around for said jacket when Gar laid a hand on her shoulder, gently redirecting her attention.

“Babe. You’re wearing it.”

Too frazzled to feel embarrassed, Raven quickly reached into the inside pocket of her leather jacket — and visibly relaxed when she felt the familiar shape of the manila envelope.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Yeah. Yes, it’s here.”

“Told you,” Gar said, playfully tapping her nose. He surveyed the damage around them. “You made a mess.”

She collected and replaced the discarded items telekinetically, trying her best to slow her heart rate. Gar frowned at her, concerned.

“Rae, let’s tell them now.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “What?”

“Yeah. Let’s rip the band-aid off.”

“No,” she said sternly. “We have a plan. Let’s just stick to it.”

“You have a plan,” he corrected her. “I have a sneaking suspicion that you won’t be able to relax until we tell them.”

Raven rose to her feet, slinging the now-repacked bag over her shoulder. “Your suspicion may prove correct, but nevertheless…”

He smiled fondly at her. “You really want this to go perfectly, don’t you?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, Garfield — I want to fail miserably. I want everyone to end this trip sobbing and preferably hospitalized.”

 “Point taken.” Gar hoisted the last few luggage items out of the trunk and waggled his brows at Raven. “Now let’s go inside, shall we?”

__

The cabin had been Raven’s idea. Gar had suggested the camping trip, and Raven had obliged, but insisted that the trip must be “outdoor optional”.

Meaning, of course, that she was free to excuse herself from any activity she deemed too loud or wet or rambunctious, and tuck away with a book in the comfort of the air conditioning.

Gar had called her a princess, but the rental she had selected was modest and comfortable, so he didn’t give her too much grief in the end. Raven, for her part, was just relieved to see that the cabin matched the online photos, right down to the cozy, quilted four-poster bed…which was currently occupied by a gangly blonde teenager.

“What did I say, young lady?” Raven nudged Melvin’s foot. “This is not your room.”

Melvin, in all of her fourteen-year-old, gum-chewing, box-dye-streaked-hair glory, ignored her, scrolling absently on her phone.

“Mel.”

“There’s no freaking service here,” Mel finally lamented.

Raven snorted. “Because I’m sure you‘re accustomed to such high-speed internet at the monastery.”

“No, I’m not, duh.” Melvin sat up, face twisted into a theatrical pout. “Which is why I was hoping this vacation would be different.”

Raven reached out to stroke Mel’s hair. “If you’re unhappy with the locale, you are welcome to book your own flight home.”

Mel yawned and leaned into Raven’s caress. “No, no. I’m sorry for being ungrateful.”

Raven smiled, a real smile such as only her favorite kids could elicit from her. She pinched Mel’s cheek playfully. 

“Up,” she told her. “Go help Gar unpack the cooler.”

“Why me?” Mel grumbled.

“You’re the oldest,” Raven said simply, shooing her along.

“Technically you’re the oldest.” Then, in response to Raven’s glare: “Fine. I’m going.”

In her absence, Raven sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. She fingered the edge of the envelope in her pocket, suddenly overcome by something like stage fright. Maybe she was making a mistake — a very expensive one. She shook the thought from her mind, shedding her jacket and stowing the envelope away in the drawer of her nightstand.

Just then, T poked his head through the door, blue eyes shining up at her from behind a halo of golden curls.

“BB said to tell you he’ll need help with the fire,” he said slowly and deliberately, as if rehearsed.

Raven groaned. “Already?” she said. “Don’t you guys want to take a nap first?”

“No, we want s’mores,” T replied matter-of-factly.

Raven smirked. “I can’t imagine who put that idea in your head. Come on, let’s go.” She took T’s hand and led him back into the common area, where Gar was knelt in front of the fridge. He and Mel had, apparently, formed a sort of assembly line; Melvin was retrieving juice pouches and lunch meat from inside the cooler, and Gar was on stocking duty, loading them into the fridge.

“Garfield Logan,” Raven said from behind him.

Without turning around, Gar answered her: “Raven Logan.”

“What’s all this I hear about dessert before dinner?”

“Now where would you have heard a thing like that?” Gar turned to see T looking at him guiltily, still clinging to Raven’s hand. He sighed disapprovingly. “C’mon, dude. The plan was to not tell her what the fire was for until after we’d lit it already.”

“Sorry,” T murmured.

Gar smiled. “It’s okay, buddy. Why don’t we make some sandwiches? Then after that we can play outside for a bit till it’s dark enough to start on s’mores.”

T’s face lit up, and he leapt forward to encircle Gar in a hug.

“Heh, guess he likes that idea,” Gar said to Raven.

Raven watched Gar’s hand stroking T’s hair, saw how T clung to him and Mel reached over him to put some more food away and Timmy tackled him while he was distracted by T’s hug, and then the four of them – all of them, all at once – devolved into a whirlwind of playfighting and giggles, and she had to swallow against the lump in her throat, blink back the unbidden tears in her eyes. She was scared. Tonight was going to be extraordinarily daunting, no matter the outcome. Even after all the progress she’d made – opening herself up more willingly to friendships and new experiences and marriage – still nothing was scarier than loving something this much. She was reminded of this daily.

And especially now.

“Okay, okay,” she said, grabbing Timmy by his shirt collar and catching Mel around the waist. T she nudged gently aside with her foot so she could make pointed eye contact with Gar. “Save the roughhousing for outside, please. I did request some peace and quiet on this trip.”

“That’s true,” Gar said, dusting himself off. “She did. I was there.” He stood up, reopening the fridge to examine its offerings. “Okay, so, sandwich time. And if any of you pick something with meat in it, I’m kicking you out.”

__

After lunch, Gar had suggested a small hike on a beginner-level trail. The trailhead was actually on the property, but Raven had declined nonetheless, insisting she was going to hang back to “get things ready”.

“You mean to get yourself ready,” Gar said, arching a brow.

Raven’s only response was a frustrated sigh. “Here,” she said. “Take your comm.” She tossed it to him, and he caught it with ease.

“For what?”

“For emergencies,” she insisted.

He tucked it into his pocket, then took her by the elbow. “Come here.” He pulled her flush against him, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Everything’s gonna be okay, Rae. I promise.”

She leaned into the embrace, gnawing at her lip. “I hope so.”

“It will be,” he said firmly. “What are you so worried about?”

She closed her eyes, trying to center herself as she confessed, “I’m worried they won’t…like it.”

“How could they not?” Gar laughed incredulously. “They’d have to be crazy. I mean, they are pretty crazy, but in like, an unmedicated ADHD child way. Not in a we hate Raven way.”

She tensed at this, and he pulled back, examining her closed off expression.

“Whoa, hey,” he said consolingly. “I was just joking. That’s what’s eating at you, isn’t it?” He tucked one hand under her chin and tilted her face up so her gaze met his. Her eyes were watery. “You think if they don’t choose this, it means they’re not choosing you.”

“I guess,” she whispered.

Gar frowned, cupping her face gently. “Raven, even if they did turn down the idea – which they won’t – it wouldn’t have anything to do with you. I mean, you’re fantastic. They love you. They really do. And I know that they–”

“Are you coming or what?” Melvin demanded, barging into their bedroom. She paused, took stock of the situation, then pronounced, “Oh. Ew.”

“What?” Timmy appeared behind her, repositioning a baseball cap he’d donned for the occasion.

“They’re making out,” Mel said drily.

“We are not making out,” Raven said. “Is that what you’re wearing? The ticks are going to have a field day.”

Mel tugged self-consciously at her denim shorts. “They’re cute.”

“They’re not hiking gear,” Raven chided her. “But whatever – that’s your call.”

“I’ll change,” Mel grumbled, heading for the kids’ room.

“Are you ready yet?” Timmy demanded of Gar.

“I was born ready, kiddo,” he answered, squeezing Raven’s hand one last time before following behind an anxious Timmy. He stopped just at the threshold, turning back to look at his wife. “Hey – you’re gonna do so great, love. I promise.”

She nodded, unconvinced, then gave him a weak smile. “Keep them alive, please.”

“Any other requests?”

“Yeah,” she said, smirking. “Keep yourself alive, too. Preferably.”

“As you wish, milady,” he said before exiting.

When Gar and the kids left for their hike, Raven spent some time pacing anxiously around the cabin before ultimately deciding to take advantage of the waterfall shower – an amenity which she noted was comically out of place with the rest of the decor. She scrubbed her skin raw, lather-rinse-repeated a total of three times, and nearly passed out from the heat before she dried off and put on a cozy t-shirt and sweats. From there, she tried reading – even toyed with the idea of setting up the hammock Gar had brought along for this very reason – but ultimately found herself unable to focus on anything but her own nerves. So – meditation it was.

This was how Gar found her upon their return, sitting (or, rather, hovering) on the back deck, her legs crossed and eyes closed in her signature meditative pose. He knew better than to startle her when she was in this state, so he quickly corralled the children indoors.

Raven had been so deep in meditation that she hadn’t even noticed their return, and, when she finally did crack an eye open, she saw that the sun was nearly completely set. She headed inside and, finding no evidence of Gar or the kids in the common areas, wandered farther into the corridor until she came to the kids’ shared bathroom, where all four of them were crowded inside.

Timmy and T were helping each other to apply aloe to their burned skin. Gar was sat on the closed toilet, Mel at his feet, scrolling on her phone as he…braided her hair?

“Um,” Raven said eloquently.

Gar looked up beaming, and Raven noticed the little hair elastic dangling from his exposed fang. “Hiya, Rae.”

“What…are you doing?” she asked. None of the kids had yet acknowledged her presence, so it wasn’t out of the question that she might be dreaming.

“Just gettin’ these monkeys freshened up before s’mores time,” he said, waggling his brows at her.

“And you’re…braiding her hair?” she said quizzically. “Since when is that a thing you do?”

“Look, we both lived with Kori for a very long time,” Gar said by way of explanation, reaching up to retrieve the hair elastic from his teeth and tie off the braid. Raven examined the hairstyle properly for the first time then, her eyes narrowing – then widening in disbelief.

“And it’s a French braid, even? Who are you?”

“The man of your dreams?”

“Barf,” Mel put in, standing up and checking out her new hairdo in the mirror. “Thanks, Gar. Looks good.”

“Okay done!” T announced, holding up hands still sticky with aloe.

“Not quite, buddy,” Gar said cheerfully. “Let’s get those hands washed and then we can all head outside.”

“Can you help me with the fire?” Mel said, and it took an additional, “Hello?” before Raven realized she was talking to her.

“What? Oh, uh, sure.” She stepped aside to let Mel by, still watching Gar with a slightly incredulous expression. He was juggling helping T wash his hands and listening to a story about some favorite anime or another of Timmy’s when he caught her staring.

“What?” he mouthed.

She shook her head, smiling slightly. “You’re good at this,” she said.

“God, I hope so,” he said, and she turned to rejoin Melvin in the backyard.

They got the fire started quickly, much to Raven’s chagrin. She was really hoping she’d have more time to stall, but as Gar traipsed down to the firepit giving T a piggyback ride, Timmy beside him, arms laden with s’mores ingredients, the fluttering in her stomach told her there was no turning back.

They settled in, Melvin and Raven with blankets on their laps to shield against the cool of the early-autumn evening, the boys (Gar included) roasting their marshmallows as messily as they could manage. They told scary stories until T started crying, and then they told funny stories until Mel got embarrassed at one of the stories Timmy chose to tell, and then they traded fond memories (including numerous tales of Melvin’s now-retired "imaginary" friend Bobby) until the fire started flickering more weakly and Gar and Raven locked eyes across the fire and his gaze said Now.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” Raven said as she rose from her seat. T yawned from his spot next to Gar, but Mel and Timmy were too engrossed in a debate about who would win in a fight between Starfire and Superman to fully notice her departure.

She found herself in the master bedroom, staring down into the drawer containing that fateful envelope. Not for the first time that day, she considered backing out. But then she thought of the first time she met those kids, how they didn’t have anyone and they could all – even the youngest of them – sort of intuit that even she didn’t want to be there with them, and she thought of how she defended them, protected them, gave them a place to be.

And she picked up the envelope.

She tucked it into her jacket again as she made her way back to the firepit, resuming her seat quietly and ceremoniously enough that the others seemed to sense a shift in the air. They watched her attentively, as if waiting for her to speak.

So she did.

“I have…a confession to make,” she began tentatively, scanning their faces before continuing. They wore mostly puzzled expressions, with the notable exception of Gar, whose expression was tender and encouraging. She exhaled through her nose and pushed onward. “I – we – didn’t just bring you here for a vacation.”

Mel arched a brow. “What do you mean?”

Raven made eye contact with her, speaking clearly and directly. “We want to ask you something. All of you.” She looked then at Timmy and T in turn, and they watched her with round eyes as if anticipating bad news.

“Is this a work thing?” Mel asked skeptically, looking back and forth between Raven and Gar.

“A work thing?” Gar asked.

“Yeah, like, are you putting us to work? As Titans?”

Raven and Gar exchanged a look, and he shrugged. She cleared her throat and continued.

“Sort of, I guess,” she replied, her hands folded in her lap. “That is, if you want. But that’s not really our main question.”

There was a long pause, during which Timmy interjected, “Come on, you’re killing me. What’s the surprise?” T fidgeted nervously next to his brother, his eyes trained on Gar.

Raven steeled herself before continuing, deciding it was better not to stall any longer. It would only create agony for everyone involved.

“We’ve all become very close these past seven years,” Raven began. “And I – I was never a kids person, you know? Certainly not when I first met you. But you changed all of that. You mean so much to me – to us. Gar and I look forward to these rare moments we get to spend extended time with you, and it…well, to be frank, it sucks to have you living so far away.” She stopped, letting all of this sink in.

“Are you, like, breaking up with us?” Mel asked. Raven could tell her tone was meant to be teasing, but she heard the tremor underneath, the telltale sign of something else threatening to break through.

“No,” Gar said firmly.

“No, quite the opposite,” Raven echoed. Before she could talk herself out of it, she reached into her jacket pocket and retrieved the manila envelope. She stared at it for a moment before opening it and counting, like a compulsion, the three individual papers inside. She looked up at the children again. “I’m going to hand each of you something. Please keep it face down until I tell you, so you all find out what’s on the other side at the same time. Deal?”

“Deal,” they all murmured in unison. Shakily, she distributed the papers, watching as Melvin, Timmy, and T each dutifully laid their own papers face down on their laps.

She looked to Gar once more, found that he was already watching her. She smiled as well as she could manage, and he did the same. He’d been the one keeping her afloat through this whole thing, and now she could see the apprehension coloring his features as well. Last chance to back out, she thought in his direction, though she knew he couldn’t hear her. But, in that way that only Garfield had, he seemed to understand – and he nodded, once, signaling her to continue.

“Okay,” she said timidly. “Go ahead and turn them over.”

They all obliged, and Raven found her leg bouncing against her will, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears. She didn’t know which child to observe – found that her heart was torn between the three of them – so she focused instead on Gar’s hands, on how he was channeling his own anxiety into wringing them in his lap, and she kept her eyes fixed there for what felt like an eternity but was probably only a handful of seconds, until she heard Mel.

“Are you serious?”

Raven looked up. Mel was holding the paper to her chest, frozen in place, her brow furrowed as she searched Raven’s face for answers.

“Yes,” Raven said weakly. “We’re serious. But only if you want to. It’s your choice. We would never expect you to–”

But she didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence, because Mel had cleared the space between them, still clutching the paper like a lifeline, and thrown her arms around Raven in the span of seconds.

“Yes,” she cried, her face buried in Raven’s neck, her tears staining her skin. “Yes.”

Raven choked back a sob of her own, closing her eyes as she returned Mel’s embrace. Her relief was indescribable, her joy unsurpassable.

“What does it mean?” she heard T ask, and she opened her eyes to see him leaning over to his brother.

“It’s…” Timmy looked up, seemingly uncertain of how to proceed. Or perhaps, like his sister, he just needed the confirmation. He seemed to find it in Gar’s teary-eyed smile, and he turned back to his little brother, pointing to the page in front of him. “It’s adoption paperwork, T. They’re asking us if…if we want them to be our family.”

“But…” T seemed more confused than ever, and a pregnant silence hung over the group as he processed this information. Mel stopped hugging Raven long enough to watch her brothers’ expressions, her head resting on Raven’s shoulder. Finally, T continued, “Aren’t you already our family?”

Raven laughed – really laughed – and took Mel’s hand as she responded.

“Yes. We are. But this…it just makes it official.”

“Official?” T asked, looking to Gar.

“Yeah, buddy,” Gar said, his voice cracking despite himself. “These forms are so we can…we can show the people in charge that you’re really our kids. For real.”

“And,” Raven added, giving Melvin’s hand a gentle squeeze, “it means no more monastery.”

“Really?” Timmy piped up.

“Really,” Raven said. Then she cleared her throat, adjusting her posture. “I know…I know that’s a big change. I mean, the monastery has been your…your home for all intents and purposes for the better part of a decade now.”

“No,” Mel interjected, sitting upright and looking at Raven and Gar in turn. “No, the monastery is just some place where we laid our heads at night.” She looked Raven in the eyes as she delivered her next words, with almost the most conviction Raven had ever seen from the girl. “Wherever you guys are? That’s our home.”

Raven’s lip quivered, and she heard Gar sniffle. She knew that if she looked at her husband right now, she’d fall apart entirely. So instead, she brought Mel into another hug, holding her somehow more tightly than before.

“Wow,” Timmy said after a moment. “That was…that was…really corny, Melvin.”

“Timmy,” Gar chastised, but Raven could hear the smile in his voice.

“What? It was.”

“Well,” Gar said, rising from his place across from Raven with a grunt, “I think this calls for celebration, wouldn’t you guys agree?”

Raven narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What did you do?” she demanded of her husband.

“Relax, Rae,” he said, then waved T over and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

T grinned. “Really? Wow, firecrack–”

Gar clamped a hand over his mouth. “Shhhh!”

“No,” Raven snapped, glaring at him as she stood up. “Absolutely not.”

“Kids, go check my bag in the bedroom,” he said, ignoring Raven’s protestations. The kids didn’t have to be told twice, and they darted away and into the cabin once again, whooping and hollering with newfound excitement.

Raven was still staring daggers at Gar, her arms folded across her torso. Gar smiled innocently, approaching his wife with what he hoped was a convincingly contrite expression.

“Baby,” he cooed. “Angel. Love of my life.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his forehead against hers.

“You are the worst,” she muttered, but she didn’t push him away.

“Hmm,” he murmured, nuzzling against her. “And yet, you picked me.”

“Starting to regret my judgment that day,” Raven teased, finally relenting and kissing him. He kissed her back softly, and when she pulled away to look at him, he was staring at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. “What are you thinking about?” she asked him.

He smirked, digging his fingertips into her waist as he leaned in to kiss her again. “Thinking about making a fourth child soon,” he purred as he captured her lips in another, deeper kiss.

She scoffed, but her indignation was short lived. She laughed against his lips, and she found she wasn’t even worried about the firecrackers or the sunburns or the long drive home. She wanted this, all of this, all of these little mundane problems. And she wanted them with him.

[bringbacktim]

Reaction video (deleted scenes)-jschlatt

This was meant as a celebration for me getting 500 likes ( which is crazy thank you guys sm) but it took me so long to write it that I've now reached 1000 and have to think of something really good ( and smutty ) for that

This is all the embarrassing moments that didn't make the cut for the first imagine , basically reaction video (from the vault)

Warnings:mention of sex tape, swearing, making out , innuendos, god knows what else

Not edited or proofread

Wc:3k words

After seeing the positive reaction their fans had towards the YouTube video y/n and her boyfriend Jschlatt posted, which was just them embarrassing themselves the entire video , they decided to make a part two after finding out the same channel had made another embarrassing moments compilation

"We're back again and ready to embarrass ourselves" y/n said introducing the video

"And out our sex lives" schlatt added knowing they need to stop acting so unprofessional in front of cameras

Embarrassing moment #1

The first one was captured via Charlie's Instagram story at some fancy restaurant ted had invited : schlatt , y/n , and charlie to while they were in LA filming

"Before we even got there we were scolded by Ted to not do anything inappropriate because it was a fancy restaurant , he even made us sit opposite each other" she laughed remembering how Ted was like a concerned parent

"I just want to say before this clip plays , I had no part in this" schlatt said trying to clear his name

This moment was less of a continuous clip and more of a few intagram stories that consisted of just silly photographs of the tiny portions of food or Ted and Charlie doing some stupid joke

There was nothing really out of the ordinary or inappropriate and Ted was thanking the God's above . It was probably due to the fact that Y/n was typing away on her phone and schlatt was deep in conversation, but he was thankful nonetheless

"You've retyped that message a hundred times , what can you not figure out what to say" he asked trying not to be nosy but just wanted to help her

"Anything I say just sounds too needy" she said hoping he didn't get the sexual aspect she was hinting at

"Are you seriously sexting right now"he said with a shake of his head and a sigh

"Would you rather me do it in person" she said as he made a face that said 'good call'

"You and schlatt are the nastiest people I know , how do you sound "too needy"" he said using quotation marks to prove his point

"I'm not even going to bother showing you because it'll end up somewhere online" she half joked as she finally figured out what she wanted to text schlatt as ted turned to talk to him

The text was simple but also got the point across, but it also got in the frame for Charlie's video for barely two seconds as he did a quick sweep of the table , however the fans were quick to spot the 'quickie in the bathroom?' text appear on his screen , but Schlatt was too deep in conversation to hear his phone ping

"Right now? You pigs" Charlie said after putting his phone down , this catching Jschlatt's attention

"What are you talking about man" he said used to having that insult towards him and his sexual antics , but he hadn't done anything

"You might want to check your phone" Charlie said as schlatt checked his phone stood up and said "uh I'll be back in like 10 minutes" checking his watch as he waited for his girlfriend to also stand up

"Can't take them anywhere" Ted laughed recording them giggling and walking away as a punishment

"That wasn't as bad as I remembered , I mean that is a pretty tame text" he said looking at his girlfriend for her agreement

"I can tell Its going to go downhill from here" she said playing the next clip

Embarrassing moment #2

"If you don't want to be that crazy then you'll do ATM-ing , where you take the dick and slide it between the buttcheeks until you come and that's not sex, but it's like an ATM card" Qtcinderella explained to the group

"Okay so you can slide the card but you can't insert the chip" schlatt replied half serious half laughing

"The smirk on your face is so evident , you smug bastard" y/n said turning to her boyfriend as he put his hands up in surrender " ATM-ing  is not as fun as it sounds , I don't recommend"

"Care to elaborate on that" ted laughs turning his head to his left at lightning speed

"I felt like I was acting out sausage party" she replied cringing at the memory

"The thought is better than reality sad to say " Schlatt said getting closer to the microphone and basically whispering

Embarrasing moment #3

This one came from a stream he was doing and he found some beef jerky in the kitchen when he took a snack break, but it turned out to be disgusting

"I can't even apologise for this one , I stand by it"

"My guest appearance was everyone's favourite part let's be honest" his girlfriend said knowing his fans love her

"Chat don't ever try organic grass fed beef jerky , tastes like actual ass" he had to hold back a gag at how gross it was

"The broad must of bought it , I would never had gone for organic" chat went wild over the mention of you

"I hope they see this clip of me and shut the fucking company down" schlatt said walking to the other side of the room to get the trash can to show him throwing it away

As he holds it up to the camera for the dramatic effect it is evidently clear that there is a used condom very clearly sat in the bottom of the trash can next to a wrapper of some kind , after throwing away the beef jerky he saw chat going crazy about whatever was in the garbage

"Guys what are you going crazy over in chat" he said scrolling through the comments like an idiot instead of just looking in the object in his hand

Y/n was confused why her phone was blowing up with notifications from her fans saying to go see what schlatt was doing or to join his live, so she obviously did worried about whether he had just revealed something private or hurt himself

Joining his live to see him staring off into space clearly remembering him fucking her over the desk the night before in that short skirt he loved

"The way you stop in your fucking tracks trash can still in view just reliving it with no shame"

"It was a good night, can you blame me" he shrugged his shoulders

Calling his phone didn't snap him out of it , so she stormed into his office mortified that however many people could see what was in the garbage

Waving a hand in front of his face and taking it out of his hands seemed to do the trick as he blushed and started laughing

"You can't blame me , you wore that skirt last night knowing how it would end" he said forgetting they weren't the only two people on earth but also not caring

"Why do you think I keep wearing it" she laughed "didn't think it would distract you so much though"

"Can't wait for the photos and clips to circle the internet later" he said sitting back down in his chair as she said goodbye and left

" I don't know how you didn't get banned for that" his girlfriend questioned as he shrugged and chuckled

"They sent me a very stern email"

Embarrassing moment #4

This moment was captured via CCTV outside Ted's house , but he posted it to his Instagram story cause he thought it was funny (he was a little drunk)

Ted had invited Y/n and Schlatt over for dinner kind of like a double date , but also just to catch up

"You better not embarrass us tonight"  his girlfriend scolded him as they walked up to the door of Ted's house and she knocked on the door

"When have I ever not been on my best behaviour" he feigned innocence

"You do it every time we do anything, no one would even be phased if our tape got leaked" she joked

"You have to stop joking about that for my sanity"

"If you cared that much about it getting leaked you wouldn't keep it under no protection" Y/n said knocking again " what is taking Ted so long , I'm getting bored"

"I know a way we can pass the time" schlatt said trying to hold in his laugh at how cliche it was

"If I kiss you , promise me you'll never speak like that again" she said leaning in and closing the gap between them

Obviously, things got heated pretty quickly (it is them afterall) . So when the Nivison boy did eventually make it to the door , he was greeted with the sight of his good friend Jschlatt making out with his girlfriend with a very prominent hand on her behind

He awkwardly cleared his throat as they stepped apart

"Nice of you to finally let us in" schlatt joked walking past him and into the house

"Almost got dicked down in your driveway to pass the time" Y/n followed up

"You guys would've done it either way , just don't keep me up tonight" he warned before closing the door

"He actually kept us awake that night , but fortunately for him I didn't video it and post it on the internet" Y/n remarked

"Why did we pick careers with cameras everywhere" schlatt questioned with a confused face

Embarrassing moment #5

This one happened once again on stream , he was sat at his desk reacting to some compilation of something someone made him . Truth be told the only thing he could focus on was the feeling of his girlfriends mouth around his cock under the desk

Sure it was an adventurous thing to do and would most likely get them caught, but schlatt couldn't care less these reaction videos were getting boring and he needed something to stay focused

"This one is the most embarrassing, people still make fun of us for this" Y/n said hiding her head in her hands

"It was fun at the time, but oh my God do people not shut up about it" her boyfriend agreed lightly chuckling

Anytime he let a groan or any noise slip out he would try to cover it up by acting like he was reacting to the video and adding some comment onto it . All was well until she tried a new technique that almost made him blow a load in zero point two seconds , as she attempted to do it again by getting closer to him so she could get more of him in her mouth , but overestimated how much room there was between her head and the desk resulting in her losing her grip on the carpet and lunging forward resulting in a rather loud gag due to the acoustics of the wooden desk she was under

"Ow" she said pushing his chair back and her head peaking out just enough for the camera to see which obviously everyone saw and went mad for

He just pushed her head back under until he put his 'be back soon' screen up and checked if she was okay

"I didn't even want to go on Twitter for days after this , the one time this guy isn't screaming at the top of his lungs" y/n said pointing at him

"The acoustics of the desk didn't help with how loud the gag was either"  he added

Embarrassing moment #6

This one happened at Sneegsnag's wedding and was captured by Ted and uploaded to Instagram (he was past tipsy at this point)

"I can tell by that suit we're at Sneegsnag's wedding, but which moment is going to play is the question" y/n said hoping it was the tamer one

"I'm gonna guess the Ted one" jschlatt said making it into a game

As it was the Ted clip, he showed up on screen slurring some words into the camera before turning the camera around to pan across the entire room

He heard the slow songs starting to play and questioned why Y/n and Schlatt the most in love couple he knew weren't on the dance floor right now , so like any drunk wedding guest he stomped over to them phone still in hand and asked"why are you guys not dancing?"

"Big guy won't dance with me" his friend replied sulking

"C'mon man , don't be that guy" ted said pulling a face at his friend

"I'll dance if you and shae do" schlatt bargained

As ted looked at his friend y/n who was already looking at him with what can only be described as a pleasing look "fine" he said for the sake of his friend

"He could've stopped recording here and just made it look like a nice moment" Y/n pointed out knowing what was coming

"There's not a single nice moment of the three of us , or just the two of us" her boyfriend joked

Before they got to the dance floor where the photographer was most likely taking pictures , so she did what any good person would do and fixed his collar and smoothed out his shirt for him

"If I knew you'd be acting like my good housewife , I would've said yes to dancing the first time you asked" he laughed grabbing a handful of ass as she hid her face in his chest embarrassed about such a stupid joke being caught on camera . A joke that nonetheless was going to be labelled as offensive by people online

"People took that housewife joke and ran with it honestly" y/n said rolling her eyes

"Alot of people didn't realise that it was a harmless joke, this broad would make the worst housewife ever" he said trying to keep a serious face as he pressed play on the video

Embarrassing moment #7

This one was on an episode of chuckle sandwich , they were talking about how people who believe everything they see on the internet is true are idiots

"This one keeps me up at night , I apologise to whoever had to blur this part" she cringed hiding her head in her boyfriends shoulder as he attempted to soothe her by patting/rubbing the back of her head

"As soon as this happened, I begged everyone to let me edit that part of the video , I didn't want anyone else seeing it uncensored" Jschlatt said before pressing play , letting his possessive side shine through

"You're so possessive"

"How would you like it if I whipped out my cock for everyone to see " he turned towards her and asked as she agreed

"I keep getting DM's from fans asking if facts they see on social media are real or not , anyone else?" Ted asked the group

"No what the fuck type of fans do you have" schlatt laughed

"What facts do they want to know?"

Y/n asked

"I've never seen a single video on social media that had any true facts" charlie said

Schlatt muttered a 'true' in response to his friend, but was caught off guard by his girlfriend staring at him with an all knowing look from her square on screen "why are you staring at me like that" he said probably cutting off a conversation

"What about that tiktok you sent me the other day that said staring at boobs can make a man live longer, and you said it was "very true" his girlfriend called him out

"You guys can back me up here" he said leaning back in his seat and smirking

" I have to agree with schlatt on this one" Ted said standing up for his friend

"That's the first true fact I've heard that comes from social media" Charlie said contradicting his statement from earlier as they laughed

Schlatt heard a knock on his office door so went to open it thinking it was one of the cats , not expecting it to be his girlfriend

"What's wrong?" He said cat parent mode activating

"Is your camera off ?" She whispered

"What are you two doing in that doorway?" Ted said thinking it was probably sexual

"Hang on, I'll be back guys" schlatt said going to press the button that turned his camera off , but accidentally clicked the one that muted him

"Why are we always the ones being embarrassed, when is it anyone else's turn" Y/n said remembering how embarrassing this clip was

"Audio listeners love you to death , Y/n knocked on Schlatt's door and then he attempted to turn his camera off and failed, but he's across the room so won't hear us if we tell him"

What the trio (+tucker) didn't expect to happen next was for Y/n to pull the bottom of the shirt she was wearing upwards and flash everyone in that call . Charlie and Ted have never turned their head away from something so quickly and pretend to be doing something else

"This is just like when a sex scene comes on when you're watching a movie as a family and you gave to pretend to be interested in the carpet" charlie said trying to fill in the awkward pause

By the time Ted had told the audio listeners what just went down schlatt and Y/n were back in their respective squares on screen fully clothed

"You can wipe that smile off your face,we all just witnessed that" Ted said not bothering to beat around the bush

"Let me know when this gets edited" schlatt ended the conversation by saying

"When you said you censored my boobs out of the video I half expected a twin tower on each one" (don't tell me he wouldn't do that) she laughed as he hung his head in disappointment

"Why didn't I think of that , the powered by bitchdust bumper sticker seems stupid now"

After some more jokes and mean comments about their friends , they bid farewell to whoever would watch the video and made a pact to dial down the amount of embarrassing moments they produced

[secondhandsorrows]

Keys to Crafting Characters Readers Will Root For (w/ some examples)

As a writer and while making up this blog, I’m quite adamant that characters are just as important (if not more) as plot. In the grand scheme of things, an active, relatable, and engaging main character is crucial for a novel's success. But how exactly do we make a character all these things? There’s many ways, in fact. It is up to us as authors to keep track and manage the developmental arc of our protagonist: primarily, who they are on the inside, and how they grow or change / adapt to the situations or people around them. 

Here are some examples and tips to help you develop a compelling protagonist (or all kinds of characters). Keep in mind these tips are at their most basic, essential level (there’s just so much that can be explored in each one), so I hope to go further into each point sometime in the future. 

~`* They have clear goals and motivations.

First things first: you’d want to clearly define your character's goals and motivations — and the sooner, the better. Proper and well-set goals and motivations provide a sense of direction to the narrative. They should be specific, measurable, and achievable — or perhaps, not achievable, at least to its fullest extent. This would ultimately depend on the type of arc or ending you intend to write for your story, but there should at least be some main goal the character is vying for, and a motivation that dictates how much they want or need it. 

For example: An aspiring actress hoping to make it to the stage and audition for the lead role in her favorite play.  —> Why does she want to be an actress so badly? What does it mean to her to act in her favorite performance? What does she have to prove, to herself or others?

~`* They are flawed, yet relatable:

I’m sure you’ve all heard this before… but I’m still going to reiterate:

Your character should have relatable flaws that readers can sympathize with. It’s no secret that flaws make characters human and relatable. Flawed characters help us remember that nobody’s perfect, and that we’re not alone in our struggles and in our plights (stay back, Mary Sues!). These flaws can be anything, from fears, limitations, biases, misbeliefs, quirks, shortcomings, or behaviors. It’s useful two have at least two: a minor flaw and a major flaw, where the former affects only the only character and nothing else, and the latter hinders the character and affects the plot. 

For example: A highly-knowledgeable yet socially awkward and oblivious professor who can hold a bar of soap better than a conversation.  —> Does this flaw make him out to be charming or weird to others? How can his social-awkwardness affect the plot… does it hinder him from connecting to his students or colleagues? 

~`* They have unique talents or interests.

Sometimes I read a story, and personally I have a hard time connecting with a character if all they care about from beginning to end is what’s happening in the plot. It’s like they exist for the sole purpose of the plot, and are nothing but a shell to see through the events or its challenges. This is understandable, especially when it’s an action-packed story or thriller. 

Personally, I can’t help but wonder what its main character does for fun. What they’re like before the events of the novel. 

I think it can be useful your character skills or interests that set them apart. This not only makes them interesting, but can drive the plot in unexpected ways. *Bonus points if they have a particular skill or hobby that conflicts with the way they present themselves to others, or if they hide it well if they are embarrassed by it or afraid of getting judged. Essentially, this is all to clue-in on the reader to the character’s backstory, their personality. It helps them seem more individualistic, like humans with their own sets of interests or ideas that give them more complexity and uniqueness. This can also be useful in creating parallels or connections to your story’s themes or your character’s arc. 

For example: A brave warrior with an aptitude for gardening and flower arranging.  —> Seems random, right? But what if this warrior had workin in their relative’s flower shop, and has kept the skill alive in their days of battle to see pieces of beauty around them, hope from fear and danger? They might dig graves of their fallen friends and leave behind flowers in remembrance. Just an obscure  example, but see all the possibilities something like this can open up?

~`* They have deep, complex relationships.

Sometimes we can get a better idea of a character when we see them interact with the people around them. It’s like showing vs. telling, where we get a firsthand look at how the main character treats his family members, how he accepts or refuses help from those he’s close with, what he appreciates most about his significant other, how he feels about the annoying neighbor next door. Who’s the one person they most admire and never want to let down? Who’s the one person they despise with all their body and soul? Whether it's friends, family, enemies, or romantic entanglements, complex interactions and relationships add layers to your character and in how they showcase themselves to the world. 

For example: An excellent, compassionate therapist with a strained relationship with his own family member.  —> How does this character feel about this kind of relationship? Does it stem out of shared family troubles, or something deeper? Is there a glimmer of possibility the therapist might reconcile with this relative, or are they dashed because of mutual pride or distrust? 

~`* They often face moral dilemmas.

It’s time to get philosophical. Human nature is full of paradoxes and tough moral questions, and so characters with conflicting qualities can be intriguing and relatable. Introduce moral dilemmas and conflicting values that force your character to make tough choices and confront their conflicting values. Do they have a friend with conflicting beliefs that challenge their own? Are they forced to act a certain way because of external pressures? Are they forced to choose between saving one person while destroying another? 

No matter how serious this dilemma is, you can also add a moment of clarity or self-awareness for your character. This can be a turning point where they acknowledge and confront the conflict within themselves, thus becoming face-to-face with their internal crisis and how they decide to go from there. Do they weigh the pros and cons considerably, do they fumble because they’re hesitant, or do they embrace the new changes? 

Despite conflicting values, make sure your character's behavior is consistent with their established personality. Consistency helps maintain authenticity and keeps the character grounded. 

For example: A scientist torn between protecting humanity and the pressure of making a groundbreaking discovery.  —> How does making this discovery very important to this character? What do they stand to lose… what do they stand to gain? Are they at the risk of becoming something completely opposite of who they were at the beginning of the story, losing their sense of morality or forced to choose a side? 

~`* They show their quirks and habits.

Introduce quirks or habits that make your character memorable. These little details can make the character more relatable and interesting, because just like talents or hobbies, this can also give a clearer sense to the reader of what kind of personality the character has and what they’re like. Not to forget, it also helps them to stand out from other characters on the page, giving them a unique voice with their kind of dialogue, their behaviors, style, and mannerisms.  

For example: A scholar who can focus only if she’s chewing gum or wearing her lucky ring.  —> How might’ve this character started this habit or tradition? Does it actually work? Does it not work, but they still do it anyways because it’s comforting for them? Also, where did they get this quirk from?

~`* They have a backstory.

Most of what we’ve been discussing in this post already leaves some framework for the character’s backstory. It’s important to have a meaningful backstory in mind that influences the character's present actions and explains why they are they way that they are. This adds depth and helps readers understand their fears, desires, and motivations better; not shallow and two-dimensional as cardboard cut-outs. 

Sometimes we don’t get a backstory for our character right away. Backstories takes time to brainstorm and shape — let alone into a complex or compelling one — but its helpful to trust the process. What you can do if you’re still looking for the right one, is to ask yourself questions  on things that matter to you most. This pertains to your story’s themes and other main ideas you may like writing about, such as grief or family matters. It all boils down to who your character is (the present), and where it stemmed from (the past). If we take this a step further: does this backstory guide them or force them to make changes within themselves, thus leading to their changed self at the end of the novel/series (the future)?

For example: A woman with a fear of marriage because she’s seen firsthand its faults, including her own parents’. —> Is her parents’ divorce still something she’s struggling to come to terms with? Is her misbelief equating marriage to constant conflict? Does she have a secret desire to get married, yet it put off by its pressures? Does she make up for this fear by focusing on other matters? Will this fear later be disproven?

~`* They are often vulnerable. 

Every hero needs vulnerabilities. Imperfections. Weaknesses. We’ve talked about strengths and flaws before, but giving them that dent in their armor, any little opening someone or something might get through, leaves a reminder that no one, especially our hero, is invincible. Nobody’s perfect, after all (side-eyeing you, Mary Sues…). Make your characters messy: adding vulnerabilities helps makes them more authentic and genuine, opening up chances for them to learn and evolve as the story moves along. 

It can also add a layer of suspense to the story, especially in conflict and tension. How will the character handle someone breaking their walls down, or a bad experience threatening to make them crumble and fall back to old habits? How do they handle their insecurities? How well do they hide their fears, and will they ever admit them?

For example: An old woman with bad eyesight and lives alone can’t tell that the reluctant robber breaking into her home is not her grandson.  —> This is a fun little example that opens up many possibilities. Her bad eyesight is a physical vulnerability, and so is her soft spot for her supposed grandson. The robber notices this, and he too may have a soft spot for any old woman who treats him kindly. Does he use this to his advantage to rob the house, or does he humor her for a while?

I’d definitely like to expand on these tips sometime. If there’s anything you’d like to share or add, please do so! I’d love to hear y’alls thoughts. Hope this helped!

[dawnslight-aegis]

18. hackneyed (make-up)

“What are your plans for Starlight?” The question slipped out before Aymeric had the chance to think better of it, and he winced at the flat stare Estinien sent him in response.

They hadn’t known each other terribly long, and been tentative friends an even shorter period of time, but even so, Aymeric knew how sensitive the other man was to any even oblique mention of his family.

He cast about for a follow-up statement that wouldn’t sound completely trite, and settled on a peace offering: “My mother makes an excellent holiday roast, if you’d like to come by. Far better than anything we can afford on our pay, and I wouldn’t wish the Congregation’s idea of Starlight dinner on my worst enemy, much less a friend.”

A grunt was his only answer, and Aymeric sighed internally. He hadn’t expected much, honestly. The dragoon-in-training was recalcitrant on his best day, but he was also unfailingly loyal, and completely unconcerned with social status in a way that was incredibly refreshing. Aymeric liked him a great deal, even with his sour attitude – and if Estinien accepted the invitation, maybe it would stop his mother from fussing about him being lonely, which always inevitably led to her trying to persuade him to live at home rather than the barracks.

Aymeric had not had many friends in his youth, and truthfully, joining the Temple Knights had been as much an attempt to find somewhere to belong as a place to prove himself and serve his city. He had hoped that his fellow recruits would judge him on his own merits, but the highborn gave him a large berth for the same baseless reasons they always had, and most of the lowborn sneered at the idea of another noble son playing knight – especially one who was his father’s heir. Spending his nights in the comfort of his childhood home would only make that problem all the worse.

Most days he attempted to distance himself from his parentage – both the truth and the rumor – but no one, not even his detractors, could begrudge him going home for Starlight.

And so he was sitting at the dining table, regaling his father with only slightly embellished stories from his recent forays into the highlands, while his mother put the finishing touches on a meal she still insisted on cooking herself, when there was a dull thud against the heavy wood of the front door.

His father always dismissed their meager household staff to their own family homes for the holiday, so Aymeric rose and hurried to the door himself, trying not to be too hopeful. Perhaps it was merely a group of carolers, or a friar accepting alms for the children of the Brume.

Opening the door revealed a rather disgruntled young elezen man, hair released from its customary tail, and clad in linen shirt and calfskin trousers that looked nice, if a bit rumpled, and entirely unsuitable for the season. Aymeric stared at him in shock for a moment, before his face cracked into a wide grin. “Estinien! I did not think you were coming!”

His excitement was met with a glare. “Are you going to let me in or not? It’s bloody cold out here.”

Aymeric stepped aside just in time to avoid being pushed aside as Estinien shoved himself through the doorway without waiting for an answer.

“My apologies. What made you change your mind?”

Estinien folded his arms across his chest, thin mouth set in an irritated line that Aymeric was beginning to suspect was partially embarrassment. “I never said no. And you were right, what they serve at the barracks tastes like chocobo’s arse,” he declared loudly, and Aymeric could hear a soft snort of laughter from his father in the dining room.

As they walked towards the dining room, Aymeric murmured a quiet, “mind your language in front of my mother, please.”

Estinien’s ears turned a bit pink, and suddenly he went from looking like a man of two and twenty to a boy of fifteen. “I’m not a bloody imbecile, I know how to behave,” he hissed back, and Aymeric very politely did not point out the hypocrisy in his word choice.

As they entered the dining room, so did the Lady de Borel, heavy silver platter held in delicate hands that had begun to shake more often than they did not. Leaving Estinien to stand in the doorway, Aymeric darted over to his mother and took the platter from her, ignoring her protests as he did so.

“Well, who’s this, then?” asked his father, peering at Estinien over his spectacles, and Aymeric smothered a laugh at how uncomfortable the man looked. ‘Twas uncharitable of him to find amusement there, but the man looked as if he had stepped onto a battlefield filled with dragons, rather than a friend’s home with his elderly parents.

“Estinien Varlineau, ser,” he responded, awkwardly, shifting his weight as if unsure of his welcome. “Aymeric invited me.”

As Aymeric put down the heavy platter of food, he decided to throw the poor man a lifeline. “Father, you will remember that I mentioned a young dragoon who saved my life two moons ago? That was Estinien, who has since become a good friend of mine. As he is unable to return home for Starlight, I invited him to ours.”

His mother gasped and walked over to Estinien, taking his hands in her own. “Oh, of course! Thank you so much for looking after our boy. Come, sit.” She tugged him towards the table and Estinien followed, looking a bit overwhelmed as she ushered him to the seat next to Aymeric’s own. His father rose and pulled out her chair for her as she walked back around the table, sinking into it gratefully, and Aymeric squashed a twinge of worry for how unsteady she seemed.

Estinien sat as he was bid, casting a slightly bewildered glance in Aymeric’s direction as he carved the roast and deftly transferred it to plates. “That’s laying it on a bit thick, isn’t it? As I recall, it was you saving my damned fool hide. Twice.”

Aymeric shot him a warning look, then shook his head, face falling back into a pleasant mien. “Ah, but if you had not wounded that dragon as you did, it would not have fled the battlefield, and instead finished what it began with the rest of our company. Thus I owe you my life, and my thanks.”

Ducking his head and fidgeting, Estinien didn’t say much throughout the dinner, only speaking when spoken to (and without any more swearing, praise Halone), save to compliment the cooking, which made Aymeric’s mother glow with pride. They had scarcely finished eating when his parents excused themselves, his father gently guiding his mother up the stairs as she leaned on him in exhaustion.

Aymeric sighed. Clearly she had overtaxed herself today – ‘twas likely that this would be the last Starlight dinner she cooked herself.

Turning to his guest, he held up the half-empty bottle of wine, then refilled only his own glass when Estinien shook his head. “I am glad you came. They worry too much, and I think you being here eased that somewhat. Or at least made them less likely to openly fuss over me.”

A faraway look came over Estinien’s features, doubtless thinking of his own parents, and he shook his head. “Wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Fancy house aside, you actually live like people.”

“Glad I am to have disabused you of the notion that I am some spoiled little lordling, playing at war,” Aymeric responded, a faintly bitter twist to his words.

“Oh, have no doubt, I still think you’re spoiled. Just in a normal way, not the highborn brat way.” Estinien grinned and tossed back the last dregs of his wine as if it were a mug of ale.

Aymeric laughed and shook his head. “’Tis better than the alternative, I suppose.”

Wood scraped over stone as Estinien shoved his chair back. “I should be getting back, I’m sure they’ll have us doing drills in the morning.” He turned away as he stood, then paused, not looking back. “Thanks,” he muttered, then tromped towards the front door without another word.

Whether he meant for the invitation, or for the arrow to the eye of the dragon that nearly killed him, or for the offer of friendship, Aymeric didn’t rightly know, but it warmed his heart as surely as the wine did.

[blazehedgehog]

What are your thoughts on Elon Musk?

A man that is deeply out of touch with reality. He has the capacity to build things that are good and useful but his ego gets in the way and he has absolutely no perspective on how to get around it. He's grown up in a world where any problem his ego creates, he can throw money at it until it goes away.

Like a lot of the truly rich, he believes he isn't just wealthy, but part of an elite ruling class that can dictate how the rest of the world operates. That he deserves to control people he's never met and does not really understand.

And he keeps getting richer; a sign that he must be doing something right, right? Even when he fails, he fails upward, because the system is so rigged to provide safety nets and windfalls and cushion those who are already too rich to fail. Notch may have gone crazy and burned himself out on his money, but even he said that there gets to be a point where you have so much money you can't spend it fast enough. If its in a bank, it's always earning interest, and guys like Elon Musk earn more money just in interest payments alone than most of us will ever see in our entire lifetimes.

It's not just him, either. He comes from a legacy of spoiled brats who can throw funding at every whim they get and then pat themselves on the back for letting everyone else do all the trenches work.

I mean that was the first big turning point, right? Rescuing those kids from that cave. He proposed this big complicated submarine device and hired other folks to take care of it... and then some dude just swam in there and did it. Didn't make a big deal about it or anything. And Elon got super whiny and pissy because he couldn't have his flashy Tony Stark moment. A regular, normal guy quietly saved the day and didn't spend $30 million and several weeks in R&D. The ultimate ideas guy didn't have a good enough idea and it publicly humiliated him.

Sometimes having that kind of money is the key to success. And Musk has had his successes. But I feel like he's gotten so deep in trying to prove how smart he is that it keeps backfiring on him over, and over, and over again. He makes sky high promises, can't actually deliver, and it embarrasses him. It's the submarine problem on repeat.

On top of, y'know, being the boss from hell, an unsupportive and absentee father, a pill addict, and an all around bad person, apparently. And instead of admitting his faults, he just doubles down and tries to cover it up. Failure should not matter to him and yet it very visibly eats him up.

It's because he views himself as the one true king of the universe. His wealth proves that. And no matter how badly he messes up, he'll still have a cadre of tech bloggers slurping up news stories about his robots, or self-driving cars, or brain computer implants, no matter how much of it actually exists or actually works as intended.

Because if there's one thing money can buy in spades, it's the spotlight. And that makes it even easier to hate him. Nobody can make him log off but he can, does, and is currently making it our problem.