#i hate the ultra rich

[q1mblrrd]

It's so funny to me that in my head I preach about peace and love and how we should all get alone but when people don't fucking understand that all it takes is a little cooperation my heartfelt knee jerk response is so just fucking hurt them. Like oh okay you wanna make things harder for everyone else? GOD DON'T PISS ME OFF

[v7n5]

Me if I spend even one more second thinking about Howard crossdressing (I am at my limit)

[limblesstar]

Ulysses And The Sirens / Dolce & Gabbana Alta Sartoria Autumn/Winter 2019 Couture

[dallasoverdueessay]

love being a permanent resident in the united states right now /s

[strawbuddy-luv]

Trans Tim off handedly mentioning random things that just confuse people more and more because he never told them he was trans (only Bruce and Alfred know)

Tim: "For the mission I'm thinking I'll go undercover, but it'll take some work to hide the bruises I got earlier. They're everywhere"

Dick: "Oh I think Steph is free right now!"

Tim: "...Ok?"

Dick: "Don't worry I'm sure she'll help you out with this! "

Tim: "That's awesome but I don't think I'll need help. I know how to use makeup."

Dick: "Really-? Ohhh, yeah your public image is like, way more public than ours. That must be tiring, having to hide the bruises all the time."

Tim: "Well yeah but I knew how to use makeup before that. For like, galas as a kid and stuff"

Dick: "...yeah..."

-----

Steph: -Complaining about a man- "And then he said "Oh you should smile more" like "you look like you don't want to be here" like what- what the fuck-??? Maybe I fucking don't dude."

Tim: "Oh yeah I hate when they do that. Like you've spent the entire time bitching about the consistency of snails, I can close my mouth for a few seconds."

Steph: "..."

Tim: "...What-?"

Steph: "Well- I mean yeah but- you know I have to deal with it like...way more, and it's just a bit weird that like, you as a guy are, I dunno, trying to relate? I mean you don't have to deal with it litreally everyday"

Tim: "Well yeah not anymore, but, you know...I still did."

Steph: :...What-"

-----

Tim: -Resting against one of the rooftop ledges-

Jason: "Woah, I can't believe it, Red Robin, slacking. What would Bruce do if he saw this!"

Tim: "Fuck off, it's just period cramps." -Jumps off the edge of the building-

Jason: "Yeah whatever Timblina...

Your fucking what-"

-----

Bruce: "And for this mission, we'll be needing someone for the Caroline disguise, but we already know who that is so-"

Dick: "Wait does Steph actually know how to fight in heels-??"

Bruce: "...N-"

Steph: "Yeah Bruce, I mean, you could at least actually ask me before volunteering me to go fight crime in that dress."

Bruce: "You-"

Jason: "I mean no offense, but literally who else would do it? Cass isn't here right now and I don't think any of us are willing to get a boob job for the mission"

Bruce: "No one's getting a boob job-"

Steph: "Yeah! This is bat tech, Bruce probably has ultra realistic titties in everyone's color and size! Jason you wouldn't even need an attachment."

Jason: "I don't think Caroline Hills has fifty gun shot wounds and muscles the size of most those guys heads."

Steph: "Yeah bu-"

Bruce: "None of that will be necessary because none of you" -Pointing at the right side of the table- "Will be going. No one at this table will be needing any prosthetics...Or boob jobs."

Steph: "...Ok but who the fuck is going then-"

Bruce: "Tim."

The entire table: "..."

Steph: "Tim are you really willing to put on boobs for this-"

Dick: "I don't think that's the best idea-"

Jason: "You just said no prosthetics- Oh this'll be fucking rich"

Tim: "...

I...wouldn't need a boob job?? Or prosthetics?"

Jason: "Timbo, that dress is a pretty low cut, and, no offense, your training hasn't given you that many enhancements."

Tim: "...Thank you for the binding compliment?"

Dick: "The what-"

Tim: "Guys I- I already have boobs-"

The Table: "..."

Steph: "WHAT-"

Dick: "You do-?!"

Jason: "Bruce if you made Tim get boobs for some weird mission-"

Tim: "What- No! No one made me get boobs??? Besides, I don't know, biology I guess??? Genetics maybe???"

Dick: "...I'm extremely confused"

Steph: "WHO GAVE YOU BOOBS-???"

Tim: "I'm not really sure seeing as I was born with them"

Dick: "...

OHHHHHH-"

Steph: "What- is this like a birth defect or something???"

Dick: "Tim- Tim I think you're just gonna have to-"

Tim: "I'm trans."

Jason: "...That's-

Yeah

Ok yeah no that- that explains...a lot."

Steph: "..." -Head in hands- "I am such a fucking idiot"

[holybibly]

𝔗𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔭𝔢𝔱 | Mingi x reader

Pairing: Professor Mingi x cam girl | student reader Summary: You hated Professor Song Mingi wholeheartedly. He was young, successful, too handsome to benefit himself, and сonfident as the devil himself. The living embodiment of all your red flags - 10 out of 10 on the "rich, narcissist, idiot" list. At the same time, Song Mingi was the sexiest, most gorgeous man you'd ever seen. But what will you do when Professor Song discovers your dirty little secret? And that he might be too interested in giving you a private lesson in good manners? Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, University!AU, Sex Work!AU, Non-idol!AU, sugar daddy, student х teacher, forbidden relationships, cam girl. Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI Word count: 10.3 k Warnings: Unprotected sex, stomach bulge, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, face fucking, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, masturbation, humiliation, blow jobs, rough oral, power play, spanking, orgasm delay, sex toys (dildo, sex machine), sex work and more. net: @cultofdionysusnet A|N: This ff has been in my drafts for a very long time and was supposed to be a really sweet "gift" for my bunnies. But for various reasons, it didn't turn out the way I had planned, and I'm personally not entirely happy with what I've written. But I tried too hard, so I'm posting it. I hope that the bunnies will be pleased with the amount of debauchery and lust that I am about to offer you.

Bunnies, Professor Song is waiting for you in the lecture hall.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity

The real life of a student is not always as fun and glamorous as it might seem at first glance. If you think university life is an endless whirlwind of parties and passionate romances, then I'm sorry to disappoint you. Student life is nothing more than tonnes of homework, endless stress, and litres of coffee, which you probably drink on an empty stomach because you've been up all night studying for the next 'ultra-important' lesson, and of course impossibly annoying and boring professors who seem to be just waiting for the moment to ruin your life. So when there was an announcement at the beginning of the new term that your group would have a new French literature professor, you were completely oblivious. Your previous professor had been a boring, retired man with an unhealthy obsession with young female students and cigarettes who always left his classroom reeking of tobacco, so you didn't expect much from another 'amazing' professor. But, God, you were wrong. Professor Song Mingi was maybe, just maybe, the most handsome and attractive man you had ever seen in your life. With his elegant and chiselled features, he could definitely pass for a haute couture model. His body was an art form in itself and the hottest topic of discussion in the entire university, not only among the crowd of blushing girls in love but also among the female faculty members. 

The way his perfectly pressed classic shirts fit his broad-shouldered, muscular body and the tight, expensive fabric of his pants tightened over his thick, juicy thighs, outlining every muscle, could leave no one indifferent, and even you gave in to the temptation of checking his Instagram profile, especially on lonely evenings. In your defence, you weren't the only one who started fondling herself when thinking of Professor Song Mingi. After all, how could you resist when the man was literally a walking list of the categories on Pornhub? But while Professor Song was a wet dream come to life, he was also the biggest jerk you've ever met. And there were more than a few of them. He was 10 out of 10 on your red flag list: arrogant, narcissistic, annoying, and impossibly self-centred. The world seemed to revolve around him as he looked down on everyone from his lofty perch. 

Seriously, every time you thought he couldn't be more handsome and sexy, Mingi would rush out to prove otherwise, driving everyone around him crazy, but in the process, you found even more horrible traits that both excited you and made you hate him with all your heart. 

And it seemed that you weren't the only one to feel hatred and resentment, as Professor Song, for reasons unknown to you, decided to make your life a living hell, infuriating you with his every word and action. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't live up to Mingi's high standards, and you always ended up at the very bottom of his class. In all seriousness, the man treated you as if he had the proverbial stick in his arse 24 hours a day. But God, that arse, if you had the chance, you would have loved to sink your teeth into it. It was juicy and firm, and it just created an irresistible urge to hold it in your palms and pull his body closer as Professor Song fucked you hard into the mattress. All in all, if Mingi had been able to hold his lectures standing with his back to the students all the time, as a good student, you would have wanted a seat in the front row, but hell, that was a pipe dream because Professor Song Mingi found a new way to drive you to hysteria every time. 

It was really fucked up; you were rewriting your report for the third time, and it looked like you were going to keep on doing it for an indefinite amount of time. It didn't matter to Professor Song that everyone who read your report praised what you said and thought or that you spent a lot of time writing it, sacrificing sleep and nerve cells. But it seemed that nothing could live up to Mingi's standards, which no mortal could ever hope to reach—except for himself, of course. 

"Your report lacks depth and understanding of the subject; I'm afraid you weren't paying enough attention while I lectured, Y/N. Did you have more important things to do than listen? Your report is not very good for a student in the third year. I am going to have to ask you to make significant changes; otherwise, you will not be able to pass in my class. Don't let me down this time, or I'll have to take even more serious measures against you."

As if all you ever thought about was being a good girl for him, slobbering all over him, and giving him obedient nods. He can go fuck himself. You hated Song Mingi so much. 

French literature was always the first class of the day on a Friday, and it was absolutely terrible. After listening to Professor Song lecture for two hours in his deep, pornographic voice, you usually spend the rest of the day looking grumpy and depressed. And to top it all off, Mingi decided to wear one of his most stunning black designer classic shirts today, in which he unbuttoned a few buttons so that everyone around him could admire his stunningly smooth skin, which you wanted to lick. You swear that this man is a true spawn of hell, sent to earth to be your tormentor and sexual frustration. Needless to say, as well as he ruining your mood, your panties were hopelessly ruined by the sticky juices that tickled your labia whenever you moved. 

"Good, at least this day is finally over."  You mutter tiredly to yourself as you enter the dormitory that you share with your best friend, who you can't seem to see anywhere at the moment, which is understandable since it's Friday.

Shit, it's Friday; how could you forget it? Damned Professor Song Mingi. You forgot you were supposed to be streaming tonight because you were so caught up in the whole situation. 

You hadn't planned to do this all along. It was just a one-time thing to pay off some debts, but money is a real drug that you get addicted to too quickly. But it wasn't just the money; it was the attention. The huge amount of attention you got from your followers was so sweet and exciting that it was impossible to refuse. So, like most other poor girls, it was no surprise that you got sucked into sex work and webcamming too quickly. It was good money that paid your way through university and your way of life without much thought for the future. You received thousands of comments from people who were desperate to fuck that pretty pink cunt of yours, as they had always told you, or to do many other lewd and horrible things to you. You weren't ashamed to admit that you had always been an attention whore, and their words and praise made you want more. It gave you confidence in your body and gave you immense power over those on the other side of the screen, just because of your well-groomed little cunt.

With an excited smile on your face, you walk to your room and remember the package that was delivered to you this morning. A very special gift that you are hoping will be the highlight of this evening's stream. You give a slight squeak as you see a beautiful black box made of heavy, expensive cardboard sitting in the middle of your bed, with a small envelope on top of it. You pick it up, sit down on the bed, and bite your plump lower lip in anticipation. The envelope looks like it came from one of those books of gothic literature that you love so much. It's as black as the box it came in, with a blood-red wax seal in the middle.

As you carefully remove the seal, revealing the small note inside, your whole body subconsciously warms.

"I hope this will make you think of me, doll." Le Maître 

The white ink on the black matte paper looks too formal, and you're a little disappointed that the note isn't handwritten. But just to be on the safe side, there's no hint as to who the mysterious sender of the parcel might be. After all, for your own safety, you had to accept the parcel under a made-up pseudonym. 

Le Maître. You practically squealed like a schoolgirl when this user first appeared in your paid private chatroom after one of your streams. There were a few other people there, but Le Maître was different; he was regal and bossy to you despite the fact that he paid to jerk off on your body. He was your number one viewer, attending every stream, sending you huge amounts of money, and complimenting and praising you. By now, you can definitely see that you've developed an unhealthy obsession with praise ever since the first time he referred to you as his "good girl."

Just a few days ago, he sent you a text message saying that he wanted to do something special for you—a little gift in celebration of the fact that your account now has over 25,000 subscribers. The gorgeous gift box on your lap is a special gift, and you have an inkling of what's inside the decadent scarlet corrugated paper. You impatiently rifle through the layers of wrapping paper and gasp when you see what you have received—a little sex machine. As you inspect the shiny, erotic pleasure device, you notice a small piece of paper attached to the sturdy, mechanical body of the machine.  "A special gift for my angel, who already has more than 25,000 subscriptions. You are such a sweet girl. Please use it in your next stream so your Maître can see it. P.S. I have a controller, Dolly."

You swallow loudly, feeling a nervous shiver run through your body and heat build in the pit of your stomach; you're sure your pussy is already wet with a strangely arousing anticipation, juices dripping down the quivering folds onto your lace panties. Fuck, he's really going to fuck you, thanks to this sex machine. Your attention will be drawn to the large dildo that is attached to the mechanism. It's thick and long, with lots of veins running down the shaft, mimicking the swollen veins on a real cock. It's cold and textured to the touch, and you can imagine how shiny and smooth it will be when your cum runs down it. You squeeze your thighs together in excitement, looking forward to using it tonight and putting on a show for your audience that they won't forget for a very long time. You put your 'gift' to one side and get out of bed to get ready for your weekly stream. 

"Hello, bunnies! Are you ready for this evening?" You chirp, your voice sweet and luscious with a slightly childish, innocent tone, as you shyly rub the strap of your sheer lace lingerie. "Tonight I'm going to show you something different from my usual show; as you all know, by now I've reached 25,000 followers." You fidget slightly on the bed, twirling a strand of your long hair around your finger. You purse your lips, knowing that the shimmering lip gloss makes your mouth look just fuckable. 

The mini-sex machine is standing on a pouffe out of the camera's view, and you take a deep breath to calm your excitement before you lean closer to the camera so that everyone can see your face and how plump and juicy your tits look in that bra. Luckily, this site doesn't allow screenshots and will quickly ban any user who dares to do so; otherwise, you could be in big trouble. 

"You're all so nice to me; you deserve to enjoy my face. Today,  I'd like to be a little closer to you. Don't I look especially pretty today?" 

One by one, the comments come in, and you giggle at everyone's excitement. 

"Goddamn, you're beautiful." "I want to cum on that pretty face of yours, baby."  "Your face is making me so horny, sweetie." "These lips are made to suck cock." "You're so pretty; are you going to be an obedient kitty for Daddy?"

We all have our own dirty little secret that we carefully hide, and it happened that the secret of the seemingly arrogant and fastidious Professor Song Mingi was that his regular nightly routine involved watching livestreams of pretty webcam girls with small, tight pussies. A man has needs; sue him for that, and being so busy with work and surrounded by a crowd of hormonal, giggling university students every day, he doesn't have the time or energy to find a connection. And Mingi doubted that anyone could satisfy his sexual appetite. He had always been overly demanding in everything he did, and sex was no exception. Mingi wanted to find a perfect little doll who he could fuck and spoil as much as he wanted; he needed a sweet mouth and free access to a tiny pussy, and in return, he would be happy to give the cute doll his black credit card.

One evening, he found one who immediately caught his attention, and not just because of her pretty, juicy tits and doll-like, shiny mouth, while he was browsing through the numerous profiles of various girls. You were so adorable and innocent-looking, but completely slutty. It was an instant match made in heaven for Mingi. Imagine his surprise when he saw you the first day he started working at the university. You were his student, his sweet little student, the girl he had shameless fantasies about all the time. He thought that he should feel disgusted with himself, or at least ashamed, but to be honest, Mingi didn't care; your cunt was pink and tight, and that was enough to make him forget all sense of decency.

Mingi doesn't know how he feels about it, but the way his cock gets hard just at the sight of you means he'll be getting his money's worth and enjoying the show. His classic black shirt is unbuttoned, revealing his embossed abs and golden, luscious skin dripping with sweat. He unzips his trousers and pulls out his big, throbbing cock, which jerks at the sight of you in the slutty lingerie you have bought with his money. He hisses softly, biting his plump lower lip, his eyes fixed on the cleft between your tits. Mingi desperately wants to fuck your breasts.

"Someone very special has sent me a beautiful gift, my darlings, and I am definitely going to make use of it today." Your cheeks are burning from all the lewd comments, but it is only turning you on more and more, making your pussy even wetter and more needy.

You sit down on the bed, bend down until you can't see the chatter, and pull the ottoman between your legs to the edge of the bed. The sound of the incoming tips becomes loud and constant as soon as the erotic device appears in the frame.

Mingi slowly strokes his thick, veiny member with his hand, clutching the small sex machine controller in his other large hand. He can't help but wonder what it would be like to be the one to destroy your pretty pussy with his cock. His dark eyes bore into yours as he bit down hard on his lower lip and used the pad of his thumb to circle the already-leaking red head of his cock. If only he were able to fuck you right now.

You take a bottle of vanilla lube and smear it on the dildo, moaning loudly as you run your hand from the base to the head several times, tracing the ridges with your fingers to simulate veins, imagining that this is the dick of a certain professor. God, you hate and adore Professor Song at the same time; he is the star of all your most depraved and vulgar fantasies, which is why you always cum so hard and profusely. Fortunately, when you collapse during your orgasm, you have enough control over your mouth to keep from moaning his name.

With your other hand, you pull your pretty panties aside and run your fingers through your wet folds, spreading them slightly and showing off your wetness.

"Fuck, your pussy is so nice." "You've played with yourself before; you're already so wet." "Give me a lick of your pussy, angel."

The comments go on and on, as do the messages about the tips while you are gently massaging your pussy. You close your eyes, bite your lip and let out a soft moan as the pad of your middle finger makes contact with your sensitive clit.

"Damn it, I wish I could have your fingers playing with my pussy right now," you whine. Your free hand pulls down your bra straps, exposing your breasts to the camera, your nipples hardening with growing pleasure. You take the nipple between your fingers and gently twist and pull at it. Your pussy is leaking, the transparent, viscous mucus enveloping your fingers, making them shiny and smooth, and running down your milky thighs, leaving a wet, cold trail.

You imagine Professor Song's long fingers penetrating you, stretching your tight hole, and preparing you for the insertion of his dick into your pussy. Mingi has breathtakingly beautiful hands—wide palms, thick, long fingers, always adorned with rings and bracelets. Fuck, just to feel those rings inside you, pressing against the silky hot walls of your pussy, you would do anything. You circle your fingers around the wet, quivering edge of your hole before you slip two fingers inside, your soft walls tightening around them in an instant. Your other hand stops playing with your nipples and reaches out for the toy that is about to fuck you to death.

Your breathing becomes uneven, your chest rising and falling with your moans and gasps. Your fingers run over the silky walls of your pussy a couple of times before you start to fuck yourself to death at a fast and furious pace. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you stick out your tongue and let it drip onto your naked tits.

You know the effect you have on your audience; they love seeing someone so sweet and angelic looking like a slutty whore, and to get more praise and tips, you pull your fingers out of your cunt and slap your pussy with them. The loud signal of the incoming tip is echoed by the wet, disgusting sound of your hand touching your skin.

"Oh daddy, I want your cock so bad; my pussy is throbbing for you," you say. You hold your fingers up to the camera to show how wet they are with your slick. "I'm such a sweet Daddy; I want you to eat me up. I promise I'll come on your tongue like a good girl." You put your fingers in your mouth; you lick them, suck them, and slurp around them. The moans you make sound more like whimpering than something soft and melodic.

On the other side of the screen, Mingi is moaning in a guttural way as he leans back in the big leather chair in his home office, squeezing and massaging his balls as he enjoys the wet slurping sounds that you are making. His cock is pressed against his hard belly, the viscous pre-cum dripping from the head of it and flowing between the reliefs of his abs. His eyes roll back in his head as he imagines fucking your cunt with his nimble fingers, stretching your tight little hole in preparation for his hard fucking. You will be moaning loudly and writhing as your juices flood his hand and run down his sinewy forearm.

You get on your knees on the bed and adjust the toy so that it's right in front of your dripping hole, holding your knickers so that they don't block the view of your pussy. You are already looking so messed up. A long string of mucus is coming out of your hole, straight onto the toy, and the strokes are coming in at a crazy rate. You look straight into the camera with your big innocent eyes; your lips are pouting sweetly. Mingi hisses at this, grabs his dick, and squeezes it several times. The fingers of his other hand are flicking the switch on the controller of the sex machine.

"Please, sir, I've been such a good girl for you. Are you going to fuck me now?" You are licking your lips with the tip of your tongue, and you are lowering your pussy down onto the artificial dick. The silicone is cold and smooth, and the contrast in temperature between it and your hot pussy makes you moan loudly and for a long time.

Mingi growls, the desire coursing through him as he hears the respectful title that falls from your plump lips, in the same way that you address him as "Sir" in class when you turn up for his lecture, and it drives him mad. He turns the dial, and the car comes to life and begins to move. Your eyes lose their focus, and your mouth falls open as the toy begins to move inside of you. Your fingers spread your labia, and you show the audience how the dildo is slowly stretching your tight little hole. The size of the toy is huge, despite the artificial penis being cold and lifeless, but that doesn't change the fact that it is tearing you apart. Your legs tremble as you try to maintain a stable position on the bed. Your toes curl as you begin to play with your swollen, sensitive clit, stimulating yourself further and causing more of the sticky, slippery fluid to gush out of you.

Mingi watched intently through the screen as you writhed and moaned; the toy was finally buried completely inside you, and he could see its impressive size causing your belly to bulge. Damn it! He can bet his bottom dollar that the silicone head of the dick is in direct contact with your cervix. When he sees how greedily your cunt swallows the toy, his predatory dark eyes flash, and he swallows noisily. You can take his cock like a good girl, and he'll see to it that it happens soon. Even though this toy is much bigger than any you've fucked your cunt with in previous streams, Mingi doesn't give you time to get used to its size. But he knows that in reality, you are an absolute slut who lives for the cock and that you can easily take anything that is given to you.

The sex machine picks up speed, and you scream loudly as you feel the fake veins on the dildo drag along the walls of your body with every mechanical movement—your hands cupping and massaging your breasts, your fingers pinching your swollen nipples. The pleasure coursing through your veins, your moans growing louder by the minute, and your head falling back. Your thoughts turn to Professor Song, of course.

God, that man—the way your body has reacted to him has been completely abnormal. Professor Song Mingi is an absolute asshole, and all he does is bully you and ruin your grades. But fuck, you wanted it so much—to destroy your pussy with his dick. You hate every part of his gorgeous appearance—that stupid long hair, a weird shade of orange that looks damn good on him, those sharp fox eyes that always look at you with judgement. There's such disgust and contempt in his eyes; it's like he's saying, "You're a worthless whore," and God, you really want him to address you like that, especially in that porn voice that makes your pussy leak.

Under your fingers, what will his hair feel like? Will it be as soft to the touch as it is to the eye? What will his eyes be like? Will they be filled with unbridled hunger as his long, slick tongue flicks across your clit? Will his deep voice vibrate against your skin as he moans softly and tastes you in his mouth? Will his big, rough hands be gripping your hips, digging their fingers into the soft flesh until you're bruised and scratched, holding you still as he buries his face in your cunt as if he couldn't live without it for a single day? All these vivid erotic images flash through your brain, the constant beeping of the donors just background noise as you imagine your professor's deep, velvety voice commanding you to cum.

"Wish you could fuck me now. Oh fuck! Please, sir, fuck your pretty little doll properly." You moan loudly as the speed of the sex machine increases, all the words blending together. The whirring sound of the machine synchronises with the rapid beating of your heart as the silicone cock thrusts into you, lewd squelching fills the room, and your moans and cries become longer and more pitiful, like a cat in heat, as your orgasm begins to build rapidly.

"Oh sir, I'm thinking about the way your dick is sliding between my legs. Is it as thick and as big as this toy? Are you going to feed your doll with your cum?"

There are few things in this world that can make Professor Song Mingi lose his balance, but the sight of his cute little student fucking her dripping, plump cunt with the toy he has given her is definitely the one thing that makes his jaw drop. You are fucking beautiful, a real doll that Mingi would like to sit on a velvet cushion in his house and admire like a work of art. He knows you're about to come—your cheeks are flushed, your lips are parted in a perfect orgasmic "oh,"  your trembling little hand reaches for your clit to rub the throbbing bundle of nerves and bring you to the desired climax, and your eyes are so closed you can hardly see.

Mingi's hand glides a little faster over his dick; it's slippery and shiny with the sperm that leaks out of it. At the same pace as you rub your aching clit, Mingi makes sharp, quick circles with his palm around his cock.

"Fuck!" Mingi growls as he grips the arm of the chair and pushes his hips into his hand, the massive bracelets around his wrist clanking as his hand comes down hard on his cock. As the sex machine fucks you hard and fast at top speed, the controller is forgotten on the table next to his laptop. Your piercing moans are music to his ears, and the way your thighs subtly tremble shows the immense pleasure he is indirectly giving you. Your head is thrown back, exposing your neck, and your hips roll on the toy, the juices from your vagina running down your ass and soaking the sheets beneath you, your juicy, plump tits bouncing with the movement of the sex machine.

"Sir, Daddy, please! Can I cum for you? Please let me come for you! I've been such a good girl for you!" You are shaking all over, your orgasm is growing stronger with each passing second, and you know that it is going to be amazing. The palm of your hand is slapping your pussy again, and the sounds of tipping over are coming with renewed force. What fucking perverts!

When he realises the effect he is having on you without even touching you, a tingle runs down Mingi's spine. He has complete control over your orgasm, and you will do whatever he wants without him interfering in your real life.

"Come for me, my doll." His voice is dark and deep, despite the force with which he fucks his hand, the leather chair creaking from the powerful thrusts of his thick, meaty thighs. As if you can hear him, you pinch your clit sharply and squeal deafeningly, your body shaking in small convulsions as you cum on a toy you imagine is Professor Song's dick. The walls of your pussy contract as you try to hold the fake cock inside you as you ride out your orgasm.

Mingi cum right after you, moaning gutturally, his eyes rolling back in his head as streams of cum spray onto his thighs and abs, his mind clouded by the orgasm, and he completely forgets that he hasn't turned off the toy that continues to mercilessly stuff your cunt. His attention is drawn back to you when he hears you squealing pitifully, the tears rolling down your face and smearing your make-up, and Mingi finds himself thinking that he would like to see the same look on your face when his dick is deep down in your throat.

"Oh my God, s-sir, turn it off! Please, I can't... Oh, bloody hell! Sir, I beg you..." You scream, the tears streaming freely down your face as the sex machine continues to fill your pussy with cock like there is no tomorrow, your hands gripping the sheets as the sensory overload washes over your body like a tidal wave.

Mingi looks at you with hunger and animal lust as he watches the toy abuse your used, dripping cunt. Of course, he could turn it off if he wanted to, but he doesn't because he knows that you could just lie back on the bed and put an end to your supposed agony, but you don't want to.

He gives you a devilish grin and licks his lips as he watches the fat tears roll down your flushed cheeks as you beg him to make it stop. Your whole body glistens with a subtle sheen of sweat, and as Mingi has watched your body countless times, he knows every reaction of yours—you will cum for him; he is sure of it.

"Oh god, damn, damn! I'm going to cum again, Daddy." You let out another loud squeal, your back arching as you come for the second time that night, and this time a clear stream of liquid shoots out of your pussy, soaking the sheets even more. The tipping sounds are louder than they were before, and if there was an audience in your room, they would definitely enjoy watching you squirt over and over again. Damn, you really put on a show for them that they won't forget in a hurry.

Mingi smiles with satisfaction and strokes his cock once more, this time prolonging his pleasure with lazy strokes as he watches you whimpering and twitching with the overwhelming pleasure of your orgasm. He is kind enough to put an end to your torment by picking up the controller unit from the table and turning off the sex machine. The loud mechanical whirring ceases as the toy stops fucking you. You slowly rise from your seat, the thick dildo sliding out of your pussy—glossy and wet with your essence. You whimper quietly, still too sensitive, your chest heaving with heavy, ragged breaths. The next thing you do is make Mingi sink teeth into his lower lip until it starts to bleed.

"Let me clean you, Daddy; you have been so good to me today. My cunt feels so warm and full." Your pretty, plump lips wrap around the fake cock's head, smacking sweetly before shoving the larger half of the toy into your mouth, sucking and licking with your tongue like a real cock. After tasting the juices running down the length of the silicone, you close your eyes and moan.

Your brain forms images of how you would do this to Mingi, choking on his cock, swallowing it to the base, tickling his balls with the tip of your tongue; sucking him like a good girl, licking every swollen vein along its huge velvety length, and you know Professor Song has a big, thick dick. You think about how he will grab your hips, slap your butt cheeks hard, and penetrate your needy, horny cunt with one hard thrust until his balls are slapping against your ass. Fuck, you really want Professor Song to destroy you, and this desire almost overshadows the hatred you feel for this man.

Snap back to reality, and you're practically crawling over to your laptop with innocent, tear-stained eyes before pulling the toy out of your mouth with a wet pop and smiling brightly at the camera as if you hadn't just been ruined by a silicone dick. Your mouth is shiny and wet from a mixture of saliva, sticky pink lip gloss, and your juices.

"Fuck, that was so hot."

"I'd like you to splash on my cock as well, honey."

"Wow, baby, I didn't know you could do that. Will you squirt on my face if I pay you?"

"I want to cum in your cunt so bad, sweet cheeks, daddy must keep you full and pretty with his cum."

"You're so fucking beautiful, angel, I'll jerk off on your face every night."

"That was your best stream ever, princess."

All these comments are making you giggle. Men are really just horny animals; show them a nice pussy and they will be at your feet.

You spend some time interacting with the public, reading comments, and showing off your new toys and lingerie that you bought with the money you made from streaming. The cursor hovers over the bright red button, and before you press it to end the broadcast, you look straight into the camera, first slowly licking your lips, then slightly tilting your head to the side with the sweetest expression on your cute little face. It may seem that you are talking to all the viewers, but in fact you are talking to just one man, Le Maître.

"I hope you have enjoyed today's show, sir, and that you have had a lot of fun. But I really want you to use your real dick to make me cum and squirt so hard. I really, really want you to fuck me in real life, Daddy." You kissed and winked at everyone, and you finally finished your show.

Mingi couldn't sleep at all that night; after the show, he jerked off two or three more times, even using an artificial pussy, imagining he was fucking you instead of a cold silicone toy. He came so much that his cum was everywhere, even landing on his luxurious diamond-encrusted Rolex.

In contrast to your restless, overheated professor, you fell asleep almost immediately—tired and satisfied—from an amazing orgasm and from a huge amount of money that fell into your bank account after the stream had ended. Of course, your Le Maître was the biggest donor of all.

Next Friday

"I expect all of you to take this course more seriously and to have your homework done by Monday. From next week, there will be three more lectures on French literature in your course, so don't be a disappointment to me. The class is dismissed."

You sigh heavily, already anticipating the torment the extra pairings with Professor Song will bring you. Fuck, you hate him so much, but the sight of his thighs in those tight trousers should be illegal. That's a real crime against humanity. You gather your things and hope to get out of the stuffy lecture hall, which now always has the smell of pure sex—Professor Song's perfume. If you didn't know any better, you'd be thinking that the man was literally bathing in an aphrodisiac, because it's just not real to smell like that. You never thought you'd be turned on by someone else's perfume, but here we are, drooling on the floor at the incredibly sexy scent that Professor Song Mingi wears like a second skin. Sometimes you wonder: Does the bitch know how attractive he is? But he does, and he uses it to his advantage, judging by that smug, arrogant grin that always sits on those plump, sensual lips. 

You are just about to leave when you hear his deep, husky voice calling out your name. Oh no, not now. 

"I'd like to talk to you about your performance, Y/N." Mingi begins to speak slowly, stretching out the letters and putting emphasis on the last word. There is definitely a certain ambiguity in all this, which you can't quite make out. "What can you tell me about it?" He walks around his desk, leans his gorgeous butt against it, and crosses his arms over his chest. His poor shirt buttons try harder than the devil on a good day.

You tilt your head to the side in confusion and walk down the stairs, authematic, to be closer to him. Why is he asking you that now? Damn, he always finds the perfect time to throw you off balance. Your heart races, and you try to ground yourself, thinking about what an idiot he is and what strange things could be going on in that beautiful head of his. You struggled to read him; his stunning model face always had this arrogant royal expression that completely failed to convey his true feelings, so every time you talked to him, it was like playing with a big cat. 

"I think I'm all right, Sir. Why are you asking?" You stammer slightly, but when you hear Mingi's deep moaning, all your mental scolding about your nervousness quickly fades away. You stare at him with your eyes wide open in an attempt to comprehend what the hell is going on. Your eyes focus on Professor Song. The way your narcissistic jerk of a professor shamelessly adjusts his trousers, which now show a very noticeable bulge in his crotch.

Before you know it, you're standing right in front of him, and your nervousness has returned with a vengeance. He's even more handsome up close—classic glasses perched on the bridge of his perfect nose, his long fingers reaching up to remove them and place them on the table. He stares at you with his dark fox eyes, towering over your petite frame, as he carefully pulls the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows, revealing the massive bracelets around his wrists and the bulging veins on his forearms. God, does he have any idea of the effect this has on you? Too afraid to look him in the eye, you cast a glance at the small cross around his neck.

"Yes, you're doing very well. Too well, actually, aren't you, Y/N?" As his thumb runs down your soft cheek, tracing the outline of your mouth lower until he slides it between your parted lips, you almost gasp and feel like you're going to faint. You don't hear anything but your heart pounding in your ears. It feels like it's about to burst out of your chest. You stare at him helplessly as he presses the pad of his finger against your tongue, stroking it lightly. A devilish grin appears on his plump lips, replacing his usual bitchy expression with something more sinister and dangerous. "Such a beautiful little dolly, aren't you? So skilled with your fingers, so good with that pretty little doll mouth of yours, and you definitely know how to serve that little cunt of yours perfectly." Mingi whispers as he leans closer to you, his other hand reaching under your skirt and squeezing your bare bottom. Fuck, you definitely shouldn't have worn a thong today. "I'm sure you're playing with your sweet bottom, too, bunny." He continues to rub his thumb over your tongue for a few more moments, while his other hand gives your arse a hard massage that makes you squeal with pleasure. You're quite sure that the skin on your bottom is already red from his aggressive touch. As soon as Mingi stops touching you and pulls his hands away from you, crossing them over his broad chest, the situation comes back to you.

You are watching his every move, breathing heavily, letting your eyes glide over every pulsing vein on his forearms, and praying to God that you will have enough strength not to lean over and run the tip of your tongue over them. 

"P-Professor, I don't have a clue what you're talkin' about."

"Oh, darling, don't play innocent; you have a very clear idea of what I'm talking about. I'm really glad you found a good use for the gift I gave you last night, my angel." Professor Song's voice is a velvety whisper, and considering how quiet it is in the lecture theatre, he might as well have shouted, the meaning of his words ringing loudly in your ears. He's like a predator, slowly circling around you, the soles of his designer shoes clicking on the parquet floor. Your feet feel as if they are glued to the floor, and you don't know what to do. When you try to speak again, your voice sounds broken, and you are on the verge of tears. 

"Will there be a report against me, Professor Song? Or what? You haven't got any hard evidence that it's me." You say it with conviction, and hope springs, but unfortunately, it dies as soon as Mingi opens his mouth.

"That may be true, my dear. But you wouldn't want such terrible accusations to be made against you, would you? Mingi taunts you; his deep voice suddenly comes very close to your ear. You feel so unprotected in his presence, so tiny in comparison to his huge, tall body. Why does this man have to be so bloody big?

"They'll never know it was me who found your profile on the porn site; I could easily pass it off as an anonymous tip." You catch your breath as you feel his rough, hot hand slide under your skirt and up your thigh. Mingi smiles at your reaction and leans in closer to you, biting the lobe of your ear. "Besides, this is going to get rumoured around the university. People will be tempted to do a check on your account—people you know, people you might be close to." He goes on, the heat of his breath making you shiver. 

His broad palm grips your mound in a possessive way, the heat from your pretty pussy causing his cock to twitch in his trousers. You try to stifle a shameful moan, but the sound escapes you, and you unconsciously lean forward, pressing your breasts against him. Mingi wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body as he does so. Oh shit, your head is spinning from the smell of his perfume so close, and on top of everything else, you're ashamed to admit it, but your pussy is terribly wet, and you're pretty sure Professor Song can feel your wetness in the palm of his hand. 

"It may be illegal to screenshot, and your streamers will disappear, but what about the pictures and videos you've posted? Of course, everyone will be able to see your sexy little body all over the place. And don't you dare argue about it. You always look like a thirsty slut, wearing those tiny skirts and shoving your tits in everyone's face. You are a worthless little bitch." Professor Song hisses and presses the palm of his hand harder against your pussy, and you want to rub it against it so badly that it's almost pathetic.

Your tongue doesn't turn into an object; it's as if it were glued to the roof of your mouth. Mingi was right; you've always dressed rather provocatively, and it's never bothered you, but it seemed to bother him. 

"Either way, your name will still be in tatters, and my reputation will be perfect and clean, as it should be. I'm a respected professor with a model student. I'm not someone who watches a cam-girl stream every Friday night and watches how she stuffs a fake cock into her luscious little cunt." Wiping away a tear that has accidentally escaped your eye, Mingi's thumb runs down your cheek. Your vision is blurred by the tears, and the dark, lustful eyes of Professor Song are the only thing you can see clearly.

"Please tell me... What can I do to stop you from saying anything about me?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, and your words are a useless string of letters. Mingi's eyes flash angrily at your whimpering plea.

"Ah angel, you sound even better in real life when you're begging." Mingi moans as his middle finger slowly rubs the folds of your folds through your panties, which are more like a tiny piece of lace and do very little to cover the plumpness of your cunt. You whimper softly as you lean back against his shoulder. You've always been easy to arouse, and the wet sound you make when Mingi's fingers tease your pussy makes it clear that you're absolutely flowing for him right now. You can be sure that as soon as he pulls your panties off to the side, your viscous slime will be dripping freely out of your hole and onto the polished parquet floor. "I think you know very well what it is I want from you. I pay you good money all the time; don't you think I deserve the real thing, my doll?" You let out a loud whimper as his big hand pressed down hard on your shoulder. "On your knees, little one; don't keep your sir waiting."

As you kneel before your professor, facing the growing bulge in his trousers, your lower lip trembles. Professor Song is leaning against the desk, his hands on either side of his body, gazing up at you from under the lashes of his eyes. Your trembling hands are fumbling with his belt, and the sound of the metal echoes through the empty room.

"Oh, now you're embarrassin' yourself, darlin'? Where's that slutty bitch who was squirting all over yesterday because she let her pussy get stretched by a big dildo?" Mingi says it arrogantly, tilting his head to the side and tapping his fingers on his desk in disappointment. You flinch at his words like a slap in the face, but don't bother to reply as you pull down his trousers and underwear, the sight of his thick, wiry cock making your mouth dry as you try to swallow the lump in your throat. Like everything else about Professor Song, his cock is amazing—a drop of pre-ejaculate glistening on the flushed head, a thick vein swollen and throbbing just waiting for you to run your soft tongue over it, and its size—he's got a huge cock with a massive girth that you can barely wrap your palm around. Mingi wraps his hand around the cock, his thumb smearing the wetness over the head before he brings it to your lips and runs his whole length over it, leaving a wet sheen, and slaps your mouth a couple of times. 

"Open your mouth, dolly."

Mingi's other hand tangles in your hair, pulling hard on the long strands as you obediently open your mouth for him. His thick cock enters your mouth slowly, your jaw tensing as you try to get used to the size of it. You choke as the blunt head of his cock hits the back of your throat and the balls rest against the side of your chin. Mingi's thumb caressed your tear-stained cheek, and he cooed sweetly as he watched you gurgle around his cock, drool bubbling at the corners of your lips and dripping down your chin. His cock is hot and heavy in your mouth, the veins stretching across the sensitive, velvety skin. Professor Song doesn't give you enough time to get used to the size of his cock and pulls your head back until the only thing left in your mouth is his head.

"Don't you think you should lick me before I fuck you in the mouth, doll? You were very eloquent about wanting me to do it yesterday." You obediently run your tongue around the head of his cock, feeling more pre-cum pouring from his slit onto your tongue. It has a sweetly bitter taste, and you think that it is very suitable for Mingi. "Well done." Professor Song hisses at you before he pushes his cock all the way back into your mouth. You gasp as your hands fly to his strong, muscular thighs in an attempt to push him away as his hips thrust sharply forward, mindlessly using your mouth as his personal cock sleeve. The thick length of it presses down on your throat, and the bulge of his cock is perfectly visible against the back of your neck with each powerful thrust. 

"I have been waiting for such a long time to fuck that slutty mouth. Darling, I can see that you have nothing more to say to me, do you? That's how it's supposed to be; whores don't get to talk." Mingi lets out a deep moan and throws her head back as she pushes you down on his cock. Your saliva mixes with his pre-cum and sticky lip gloss, coating the length of thickly dick, making it shiny and smooth so it slides easily over your tongue and deeper into your throat. As you reflexively try to swallow, your jaw aches, your lips stretch around the thick circumference, and the walls of your throat contract. Never in your life have you sucked such a big, long cock, yet here you are, fulfilling the role of a pretty sex toy for your professor to enjoy. At least, unlike some lifeless silicone, no matter how expensive, your cunt and mouth are warm and moist. 

As he mercilessly fucks you in the mouth, Professor Song is not shy about his volume, emitting hoarse, prolonged moans and growls. Anyone could walk into the lecture hall at any moment and see your compromising position, but for some reason it turns you on. Maybe you really are a slut, although as long as you get paid enough, you don't mind being one, especially when Mingi is the one scolding you daily until you pass out. 

"Fuck, I'll cum." Mingi gasps as he wraps both of his large arms around your head, trying to hold it in place. You moan around his cock, the vibrations making Professor Song growl ducky as he presses harder into your slluty mouth and your grip on his hips tightens, your nails digging into the juicy flesh, leaving vicious marks, but Mingy doesn't give a shit; you could rip his skin off if he keeps fucking you like a personal doll. His dark, foxy eyes find yours, his beautiful, plump lips are slightly parted, and his balls are clenched, slapping you on the chin. Now you don't even know what to call him. If you thought Song Mingi looked like a wet dream before, then now he's sex itself. 

"Damn, damn, damn, doll!" He moans loudly, jerking his hips as his sperm pours into your mouth. As you forcefully swallow the viscous liquid that seems to have no end, your prolonged whimper is distorted. There's so much of his cum that some of it seeps through the corners of your mouth. He continues to slowly fuck your mouth. "Don't waste it, slut." He says it in a threatening voice, and you whimper at the venom in his tone. Mingi uses his long fingers to push his cum between your lips and roughly wipes the wet mess around your mouth. All of his rings are covered in a thin layer of cum and saliva, but you think it's hot.

You blink twice, catch your breath, and the next thing you know, your knees are no longer touching the cold floor, and your face, wet with tears and sperm, is pressed against Professor Song's spotless, cold desk; he has thrown you on the desk like a fucking doll. Fucking hell, that wasn't supposed to turn you on, but God, this man is just driving you crazy. You're too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice that Mingi has lifted your skirt, exposing your wet thong to his gaze. The cold air in the audience causes your hole to clench in reflex and the liquid to squirt out. 

You have to clench your fist to keep from squealing as the tight, expensive leather of his belt lands on your bottom with a loud crack. Oh my God, he has just hit you with his belt. Oh shit. Mingi doesn't let you recover; he holds your head against the table with one hand while he slaps your bottom again with the other. The sting of the contact between your soft flesh and the belt makes you squirm and writhe. 

"You just sucking my cock, and you're already so wet? You really are a slut. Aren't you?" He smirks as he leans down and sinks his teeth into the flushed skin of your arse before giving you another good spanking. You whimper as Mingi pulls your thong down your trembling legs, long strands of your own slime tugging at the insignificant piece of fabric as he does so. He pushes your buttocks apart so that your plump, flowing pussy is exposed to his hungry eyes.

Mingi picks up your leg, which is bent at the knee, and puts it down on the table. You whimper and grab hold of the edge of the table, embarrassed at how open you are to him at this moment. To be honest, it's the most disgusting feeling—you're embarrassed, but at the same time, you want him to do even more disgusting and humiliating things with you. Professor Song crouches down in front of you and spits into your cunt before licking a long, sloppy strip between your folds. Mingi uses his fingers to push your folds apart and then slides the tip of his tongue into your tight hole, tracing the edge of it. 

"Oh, God, sir..." As Mingi eagerly licks your cunt, avoiding your throbbing clit, you let out a long moan and arch your hips towards his tongue. He pulls back abruptly, his heavy hand coming down on your bruised arse to spank you hard before you can get the stimulation you need. 

"Did I tell you you could move, huh? You impatient bitch." You whimper at his reproachful tone. You scratch the wood with your fingernails as he spanks you again. "A good student answers the question, Dolly." Mingi hisses, mixing the scalding pain with the pleasure of the spanking, as his hand touches your bottom again.  "N-no, sir! You didn't tell me to move! I'm so sorry."

"That's right, doll, but I have a feeling the games are over for today." Professor Song says as he finally gets up to his full height and puts his arm around your neck.

Breathing heavily and hoarsely, Mingi feels the heat emanating from you as he guides his thick cock into your little hole. You let out a loud breath and wonder if his cock will feel like the toy he has given you. Probably not; however much you like it, nothing compares to the warmth and throbbing of a real cock, especially Song Mingi's cock.  You squirm as you feel the head of his cock pass slowly between your muscles, a soft howl escaping from your lips. The dildo you used yesterday is nothing compared to Mingi's dick; it feels bigger and thicker, the swollen veins of his cock stretching deliciously along your silky, trembling walls. The urge to hold him inside you is almost irresistible, and you can't help but clench around him. Fuck, and here you thought Mingi couldn't be more slutty and godlike, and you were wondering if his cock had been given special attention during his creation? You let out a loud moan, your tongue flicking out of your mouth, and right now you definitely fit the definition of 'well fucked'. Drops of sweat roll down Mingi's neck, disappearing beneath the fabric of his unbuttoned shirt, exposing his hot golden skin and sculpted breasts. Heavy breathing replaces what he's saying, and you feel partly grateful for that. When he finally enters you at the base, the head of his cock touching your cervix and his forehead pressing against your shoulder, you both moan loudly.

"S-Sir, y-you're too big."

Ignoring your whimpering, Mingi grabs you by the hips and immediately sets a brutal but rhythmic pace with you. The objects on his desk shake and fall, shattering on the parquet floor as he fucks you, pressing your body against the desk with the full weight of his body. The fabric rubbing against your hardened nipples sends a pleasant tingle down your spine and makes you shiver from the added stimulation. Your moans grow louder and louder, your cheeks burning, and you can hear his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he thrusts your tight pussy back and forth along the length of his throbbing cock. The humiliation of pouring cream around Professor Song's cock brings tears to your eyes, but at the same time, you come to an almost orgasmic pleasure as he slaps your arse again. The sting stings like a bitch, but it feels fucking unbelievably good.

"That's it, goddamn it. I've been thinking about fucking that tight little cunt for ages. You really are the perfect doll to fuck."

It all makes you dizzy, and you moan "sir" and "daddy" as your pussy sucks him up greedily. You're getting so excited; you don't want to admit it, but you can't help yourself. You can't get enough of Mingi's cock. It feels so good inside you. 

"That's my good little girl. You're definitely worth what I've paid for you." Mingi growls in your ear as he pushes harder and harder into your used cunt. He presses down hard on your neck, pinning you to the table, not letting you move, and fucking you relentlessly, his hips moving hard and fast as he takes complete control of your body. Your orgasm starts to form, an intoxicating sensation of rapture coursing through your veins like lava. 

"Sir, please! Harder!" You need to cum so badly that you beg him to go harder.

Mingi's eyes were narrow—dark and cruel—and his muscles were quivering and tense from your pathetic begging. He's a professor, and professors always want the best for their students, especially the ones they like best.

"Look at you, begging for my cock like a good little bitch," he says. He accentuates the last word with a strong thrust and plunges so deep into your cunt that you can almost feel the head of his cock entering your cervix. A mixture of incoherent words and intermittent moans escape your lips. Your head falls forward as Professor Song releases your neck to grab your thighs again, leaving more bruises on them. 

"Will you cum for me, bitch?" He leans down to your ear and nibbles on your lobe, the slapping of your skin and squishing of your pussy echoing through the empty hall.

"Hell yeah! I'm going to cum for you! I'm going to cum for you, Daddy; I'm going to cum on your cock!" You scream, the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter, and Professor Song fucks your flowing cunt faster and harder.

"Then cum, bunny." He growls, his hips losing their rhythm and jerking, his cock throbbing as thick, hot jets of cum coat the walls of your cunt. He moans your name quietly while your voice is barely audible—a weak, panting whisper, 'Mingi'. Both of your bodies are slowly at rest, revelling in the haze of your orgasms. Soft cries and whimpers escape from your lips, and you shudder as you feel your mixed juices pour out of you, staining the floor that was once so clean. You collapse helplessly on the table, your body going limp, a puddle of saliva pooling under your cheek, and your breathing heavy as you try to clear your mind.

Mingi moans. He bites his plump lip as he comes out of you. You whimper, squirming awkwardly as more cum pours from your pussy. You turn back to look at Professor Song, and your eyes almost pop out of your head as you see him pressing your panties to his nose and moaning loudly and satisfied. He smirks at you vulgarly, licks his lips, and wipes his cock with your underwear before tucking his dick into his trousers, the zip jangling loudly. He dismissively tosses your thong aside and presses against you again, pinning you between the desk and his big muscular body, his hot breath touching your earlobe, before whispering in his deep porn voice.

"Don't think that this is just a one-time thing, doll. I have paid for you, and now you belong to me. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes, Professor Song. I understand you perfectly."

"That's good. You're a real teacher's pet. On Monday evening, I will be expecting you for an extra lesson. Don't you dare disappoint me, doll." He slaps your butt once more before he pulls himself away completely and walks out of the classroom. 

Oh, this is really fucked up. 

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Antitrust defies politics’ law of gravity

I'm in the home stretch of my 24-city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in LONDON NEXT TUESDAY (July 1) with TRASHFUTURE'S RILEY QUINN and then a big finish in MANCHESTER NEXT WEDNESDAY (July 2).

In 2014, I read a political science paper that nearly convinced me to quit my lifelong career as an activist: "Testing Theories of American Politics: Elites, Interest Groups, and Average Citizens," published in Perspectives on Politics:

https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/perspectives-on-politics/article/testing-theories-of-american-politics-elites-interest-groups-and-average-citizens/62327F513959D0A304D4893B382B992B

The paper's authors are Martin Gilens, a UCLA professor of Public Policy; and Northwestern's Benjamin Page, a professor of Decision Making. Gilens and Page studied a representative sample of 1,779 policy issues, analyzing the effect that the preferences of different groups of people had on the outcome. They wanted to find out what drove policy: money, or popularity?

It's money. It's totally, utterly money. When billionaires want something, it literally doesn't matter how much the rest of us hate it, they're gonna get their way. When billionaires hate something, it doesn't matter how popular it is with the rest of us, we're not gonna get it. As Gilens and Page put it:

economic elites and organized groups representing business interests have substantial independent impacts on U.S. government policy, while average citizens and mass-based interest groups have little or no independent influence.

I know the cynics out there are hollering "no duh" at their computers right now, but bear with me here. Gilens and Page's research shows that you and I have no voice in policy outcomes. Based on these findings, the only way we can change society is to try and woo oligarchs so they champion our cause. This reduces democracy to a competition to see who can pour the most honey into a plutocrat's ear. Mass mobilizations – millions of people in the streets – only matter to the extent that they bring a tear to a billionaire's eye.

This just shattered me. I've been haunted by it ever since. I've tried some tactical gambits based on this data, but honestly, I don't want to improve the world by swaying the ultra-rich. Mostly, I've spent the decade since I read the Gilens/Page paper working on mass mobilizations and mass opionion-influencing. I reasoned (or maybe rationalized) that while oligarchs were running the nation now, that was subject to change, and that was a change that I was sure wouldn't come from America's plutocrats committing mass class-suicide.

Then, something incredible happened. All this decade, a tide of antitrust vigor has swept the planet. The EU has passed big, muscular tech competition laws like the Digital Markets Act and the Digital Services Act, and has by God enforced them, and have patched the enforcement weaknesses in the GDPR. EU member-states – France, Germany, Spain – have passed their own big, ambitious national laws that go further than DSA/DMA. Even Ireland – a country that deliberately prostrated itself to US Big Tech – is getting in on the act, with the country's Social Media Czar railing against the "enshittification" of tech:

https://www.independent.ie/business/technology/chairman-of-irish-social-media-regulator-says-europe-should-not-be-seduced-by-mario-draghis-claims/a526530600.html

Not just the EU, of course. Australia and Canada have taken some big swings at Big Tech, and Canada is pressing ahead with its digital services tax of 3% for onshore earnings of tech companies with more than CAD20m in annual turnover, despite the fact that Trump has promised to end all trade talks with Canada in retaliation:

https://financialpost.com/technology/canadas-digital-services-tax-g7

Antitrust fever has swept both of the world's superpowers. Under Trump I, the DOJ and FTC brought key cases against Facebook and Google, and then Biden's antitrust enforcers went to town on all forms of monopoly, carrying on the Trump cases and reviving some of the law's most elegant weapons from a more civilized age, like the Robinson-Patman Act:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2025/01/ftc-sues-pepsico-rigging-soft-drink-competition

Admittedly, Trump's FTC and DOJ have carried on some of Biden's work, even as they've killed some of the Biden era's most important cases, and made a general Trumpian mockery of the idea that antitrust law is a tool for economic justice:

https://economicpopulist.substack.com/p/weekly-rewind-62725

Trump killing antitrust law is normal. That's what politics have been like for this whole century, and it's what politics are like in every other domain: billionaires get their way on climate, on labor, on whatever bullshit they get into their fool fucking heads:

https://www.usatoday.com/story/entertainment/celebrities/2025/06/27/jeff-bezos-lauren-sanchez-married-wedding-venice/84349820007/

But it's a mistake to think that Trump killed antitrust enforcement in the USA out of a special conservative deference to millionaires and enthusiasm for corrosive and predatory monopolies. In the UK, four consecutive Conservative Prime Ministers presided over the best competition law enforcement in British history – and it was Labour's Keir Starmer who fired the head of the UK Competition and Markets Authority and replaced him with the ex-head of Amazon UK:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/22/autocrats-of-trade/#dingo-babysitter

It is completely normal for both "progressive" and "conservative" parties to wield the entire apparatus of state to the benefit of powerful monopolists. The antitrust enforcement – in the US, the UK, the EU, Australia, Germany, France and Spain – are totally aberrant. And it's not just in these countries where political science's law of gravity reversed itself: there've been giant, brutal antitrust cases in Japan and South Korea, and China has passed aggressive tech antitrust laws that strike directly at the giant Chinese tech companies that Cold War 2.0 creeps insist are just branches of the Chinese Communist Party:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/07/backstabbed/#big-data-backstabbing

This is fucking wild.

This is water flowing uphill.

This is pigs flying.

This is hell freezing over.

There is no billionaire constituency for antimonopoly work. Oligarchs aren't funneling dark money to trustbuster orgs. Antimonopoly work strikes at the beating heart of the system that creates and sustains billionaires.

This is a political outcome that the people want, and that billionaires hate, and billionaires are losing.

How is this happening? Why is this happening? I don't know, exactly. I suspect that some of this is related to Stein's Law: "anything that can't go on forever eventually stops." Monopolists corrupt our political system, maim and impoverish workers, gouge their customers on enshittified, overpriced garbage. They are an existential threat to the survival of the human species.

The system is so broken and the mainstream of politics endlessly gaslights us, telling us that corrupt and degraded institutions are either just fine ("America Was Always Great" -H. Clinton) or need to be destroyed, rather than redeemed ("Delete CFPB" -E. Musk). People know that the system only caters to the whims of billionaires and tells the rest of us to eat shit. They hate the fucking system.

Over and over again, we've seen outbreaks of furious, joyous, uncompromising leftist activism: Occupy, Bernie 2016, Bernie 2020, George Floyd, the Women's March, No Kings, Climate Strikes, on and on. Over and over, liberal "centrists" have joined with the right to crush these movements.

Meanwhile, the right has only moved from strength to strength by offering a libidinal, furious promise of root-and-branch change. The only team that's promising radical change is the right. Parties like UK Labour and the Democrats offer austerity and genocide with slightly more polite aesthetics ("[If I'm elected], fundamentally nothing will change" -J. Biden).

I think that centrist suppression of the left has pushed 90 percent of the energy for major change into right wing nihilist movements, but the anti-corporate, anti-monopolist energy has not dissipated. It's formed a kind of invisible political wind that has filled the sails of these antimonopoly projects all over the world.

But anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. Zohran Mamdani just won the NYC Democratic mayoral primary election. That wasn't supposed to happen. The worst people on Earth showered the hereditary King of New York with so much money it was coming out of his fucking pores and he still ate shit. Guys who've got so much money they were able to get Columbia University to collude in shipping its students off to gulags for having the temerity to oppose genocide tried to do it to Mamdani and we kicked their teeth in.

The world is organized around the whims of billionaires, but it doesn't have to be. Most of us are not esoteric authoritarian freaks pining for a CEO of America who'll track us all using mandatory Fitbits and assign us jobs based on an AI's estimation of our cranial geometry. Those ideas are not popular. Now, it's true that this century has been defined by extremely unpopular ideas winning the day. But anything that can't go on eventually stops.

Sure, they smeared Jeremy Corbyn and replaced him with Austeritybot 3000, and Labour is collapsing as a result, and if an election were called today, Nigel Farage would sweep the board, assuming the PM's seat ahead of a Ba'ath Party style majority.

But on today's Trashfuture podcast, I learned about the leadership contest for the Green Party, in which genuinely progressive candidate, Zack Polanski, is running:

https://backzack.com/

Labour has walked away from voters. The Tories are in chaos. The Libdems permanently discredited themselves in the coalition government. The youthquake that buoyed up Corbyn was driven by a desperate hunger for change. The party grandees that purged Labour of everyone who wanted a better country have created a massive constituency that's up for grabs.

I'm desperate for change, too. I've joined the Greens, and I'll be voting for Polanski in the leadership race:

https://join.greenparty.org.uk/join-us/

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/2025/06/28/mamdani/#trustbusting

Image: Frank Vincentz (modified) https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Geeste_-_Biener_Stra%C3%9Fe_-_Speicherbecken_-_Drachenfest_38_ies.jpg

Petri Krohn https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Chrysler_building-_top.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

[anghraine]

It's always been intriguing to me that, even when Elizabeth hates Darcy and thinks he's genuinely a monstrous, predatory human being, she does not ever perceive him as sexually predatory. In fact, literally no one in the novel suggests or believes he is sexually dangerous at any point. There's not the slightest hint of that as a factor in the rumors surrounding him, even though eighteenth-century fiction writers very often linked masculine villainy to a possibility of sexual predation in the subtext or just text*. Austen herself does this over and over when it comes to the true villains of her novels.

Even as a supposed villain, though, Darcy is broadly understood to be predatory and callous towards men who are weaker than him in status, power, and personality—with no real hint of sexual threat about it at all (certainly none towards women). Darcy's "villainy" is overwhelmingly about abusing his socioeconomic power over other men, like Wickham and Bingley. This can have secondhand effects on women's lives, but as collateral damage. Nobody thinks he's targeting women.

In addition, Elizabeth's interpretations of Darcy in the first half of the book tend to involve associating him with relatively prestigious women by contrast to the men in his life (he's seen as extremely dissimilar from his male friends and, as a villain, from his father). So Elizabeth understands Darcy-as-villain not in terms of the popular, often very sexualized images of masculine villainy at the time, but in terms of rich women she personally despises like Caroline Bingley and Lady Catherine de Bourgh (and even Georgiana Darcy; Elizabeth assumes a lot about Georgiana in service of her hatred of Darcy before ever meeting her).

The only people in Elizabeth's own community who side with Darcy at this time are, interestingly, both women, and likely the highest-status unmarried women in her community: Charlotte Lucas and Jane Bennet. Both have some temperamental affinities with Darcy, and while it's not clear if he recognizes this, he quietly approves of them without even knowing they've been sticking up for him behind the scenes.

This concept of Darcy-as-villain is not just Elizabeth's, either. Darcy is never seen by anyone as a sexual threat no matter how "bad" he's supposed to be. No one is concerned about any danger he might pose to their daughters or sisters. Kitty is afraid of him, but because she's easily intimidated rather than any sense of actual peril. Even another man, Mr Bennet, seems genuinely surprised to discover late in the novel that Darcy experiences attraction to anything other than his own ego.

I was thinking about this because of how often the concept of Darcy as an anti-hero before Elizabeth "fixes him" seems caught up in a hypermasculine, sexually dangerous, bad boy image of him that even people who actively hate him in the novel never subscribe to or remotely imply. Wickham doesn't suggest anything of the kind, Elizabeth doesn't, the various gossips of Meryton don't, Mr Bennet and the Gardiners don't, nobody does. If anything, he's perceived as cold and sexless.

Wickham in particular defines Darcy's villainy in opposition to the patriarchal ideal his father represented. Wickham's version of their history works to link Darcy to Lady Anne, Lady Catherine (primarily), and Georgiana rather than any kind of masculine sexuality. This version of Darcy is a villain who colludes with unsympathetic high-status women to harm men of less power than themselves, but villain!Darcy poses no direct threat to women of any kind.

It's always seemed to me that there's a very strong tendency among fans and academics to frame Darcy as this ultra-gendered figure with some kind of sexual menace going on, textually or subtextually. He's so often understood entirely in terms of masculinity and sexual desire, with his flaws closely tied to both (whether those flaws are his real ones, exaggerated, or entirely manufactured). Yet that doesn't seem to be his vibe to other characters in the story. There's a level at which he does not register to other characters as highly masculine in his affiliations, highly sexual, or in general as at all unsafe** to be around, even when they think he's a monster. And I kind of feel like this makes the revelations of his actual decency all along and his full-on heroism later easier to accept in the end.

------------

*The incompetently awful villain(?) in Sanditon, for instance, imagines himself another Lovelace (a reference to the famous rapist-villain of Samuel Richardson's Clarissa). Evelina's sheltered education and lack of protectors makes her vulnerable to sexual exploitation in Frances Burney's Evelina, though she ultimately manages to avoid it. There's frequently an element of sexual predation in Gothic novels even of very different kinds (e.g. Ann Radcliffe's The Mysteries of Udolpho and Matthew Lewis's The Monk both lean into this, in their wildly dissimilar styles). William Godwin's novel Caleb Williams, a book mostly about the destructive evils of class hierarchies and landowning classes specifically, depicts the mutual obsession of the genteel villain Falkland and working class hero Caleb in notoriously homoerotic terms (Godwin himself added a preface in 1832 saying, "Falkland was my Bluebeard, who had perpetrated atrocious crimes ... Caleb Williams was the wife"). This list could go on for a very long time.

**Darcy is also not usually perceived by other characters as a particularly sexual, highly masculine person in a safe way, either, even once his true character is known. Elizabeth emphasizes the resilience of Darcy's love for her more than the passionate intensity they both evidently feel; in the later book, she does sometimes makes assumptions about his true feelings or intentions based on his gender, but these assumptions are pretty much invariably shown to be wrong. In general the cast is completely oblivious to the attraction he does feel; even Charlotte, who wonders about something in that quarter, ends up doubting her own suspicions and wonders if he's just very absent-minded.

The novel emphasizes that he is physically attractive, but it goes to pains to distinguish this from Wickham's sex appeal or the charisma of a Bingley or Fitzwilliam. Mr Bennet (as mentioned above) seems to have assumed Darcy is functionally asexual, insofar as he has a concept of that. Most of the fandom-beloved moments in which Darcy is framed as highly sexual, or where he himself is sexualized for the audience, are very significantly changed in adaptation or just invented altogether for the adaptations they appear in. Darcy watching Elizabeth after his bath in the 1995 is invented for that version, him snapping at Elizabeth in their debates out of UST is a persistent change from his smiling banter with her in the book, the fencing to purge his feelings is invented, the pond swim/wet shirt is invented. In the 2005 P&P, the instant reaction to Elizabeth is invented, the hand flex of repressed passion is invented, the Netherfield Ball dance as anything but an exercise in mutual frustration is invented, the near-kiss after the proposal in invented, etc. And in those as well, he's never presented as sexually predatory, not even as a "villain."

[vandme12]

ronin x horror gamer mc with an unhinged sense of humour in their videos who also screams easily... perchance..

TITLE ; MY BOYFRIEND EXPOSED MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL TO A SERVER FULL OF KILLERS, AND I’M CRYING IN THE CLUB 💀😭 (NOT CLICKBAIT) (I HATE HIM)

Summary :So, boom. I’ve been a horror YouTuber for YEARS, right? Millions of subs, unhinged commentary, screaming at pixels—y’all know the vibes. My boyfriend? A literal serial killer. (Don’t ask. It’s a long story.) I thought I was slick, keeping my channel a secret… but NAH, this man hacked my shit and EXPOSED ME to a dark web server full of murderers. Now they’re watching my videos, roasting me in real time, and I’m rethinking my life choices. Pray for me. 🙃💀

The relationship was… insane. And that was exactly why you liked it.

Ronin, Devil’s Butcher, the man who spent his free time painting the streets red and making sure certain people wouldn’t see another sunrise, had somehow fallen for you—the screaming, unhinged horror YouTuber who couldn’t even keep a straight face when chased by a PNG jumpscare.

It was chaos, but it worked.

You weren’t like him. You didn’t kill. You didn’t crave the thrill of it. But you understood him, in a way that made him pause. In a way that made him obsessed. You listened, you made him laugh, you gave advice when he didn’t even ask for it. You weren’t scared of him—not really. Not enough to make him bored.

You were a saint, in his words. Rotten to the core, but a saint nonetheless.

And that? That was fascinating.

Right now, you were on a video call, the glow of your monitor casting sharp shadows on your face as you leaned forward, chin resting on your palm. The Slaughterhouse server, his little serial killer-exclusive hideout on the dark web, was buzzing with activity. Your username was still a mystery to him, because you were a menace and refused to give him your YouTube handle.

“Why the fuck is your camera quality so good?” Ronin drawled, tilting his head. His devilish grin stretched wide, all sharp teeth and chaotic energy barely contained behind lazy amusement.

“You like it?” You batted your lashes. “It’s a 4K Ultra HD ‘You Suck at Stealth’ Experience.”

Ronin chuckled, low and rich. “Yeah? That why I hear you screaming in surround sound?”

Your face burned. “Shut up.”

“No, no, I’m serious,” he continued, eyes glinting with sadistic amusement. “I got into the server earlier, and guess what I find? Some random clip of you absolutely losing your shit in a horror game. I mean—flailing, screeching, actual banshee-level wailing.”

You deadpanned. “Oh, cool. You found the documentary of my suffering.”

He sighed dramatically. “And here I thought you were fearless.”

“Oh, no, babe.” You grinned. “I’m a coward with a loud mouth. There’s a difference.”

Ronin barked out a laugh. “Yeah? And what’s stopping me from tracking you down and seeing this horror for myself?”

You clicked your tongue. “Please. If you find out where I live, the scariest thing you’ll see is my sleep schedule.”

“Oooh, threats.” He leaned in, eyes narrowing. “You sure you should be teasing the Devil, sweetheart?”

“Ronin, babe.” You mimicked his tone. “I literally watched you stab a man on a livestream last week. What’s a little teasing gonna do?”

His grin widened.

Oh, he liked that.

“God, you really are a little menace,” he mused, tilting his head. “I should punish you for keeping secrets, y’know. What kind of lover doesn’t tell their beloved their little YouTube identity?”

You huffed. “One that enjoys making you suffer.”

He laughed again, full-bodied, delighted. “You’re lucky I like suffering.”

“I’m not telling you my YouTube name,” you said, grinning as you leaned back in your chair. “Figure it out yourself, Detective.”

Ronin hummed, amused. “Oh? Now that sounds like a challenge.”

“Oh, I got a real challenge for you.” You wagged a finger at the screen. “How about you put your money where your blood-stained mouth is and play a horror game with me?”

His eyes sparked with interest. “You wanna play with the Devil, sweetheart?”

“Only if you can handle it.” You smirked. “We’re playing Death by Daylight.”

Ronin’s smile stretched slow and sharp, his voice a velvet purr. “Oh, you are a little menace.”

You grabbed your headset and console, cackling as you loaded up the game. The moment the match started, you were fine—laughing, cracking jokes, and doing your best to not be absolute garbage at surviving.

Until.

Until Ronin was the Hunter.

And you? You were one of the unlucky little Survivors.

It started off fun. You ran around, trying to fix generators, dodging traps, bullying NPCs with flashlight spam. But then? Oh, then. He started chasing you.

You turned a corner and—BOOM!

“OH MY FUCKING GOD—” You shrieked, throwing your controller. “WHAT THE FUCK?! NO—NOPE—”

Ronin’s deep, sadistic laughter filled your headset.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he crooned, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Where ya runnin’?”

You SPRINTED. FULL SPEED.

“WHY ARE YOU SO FAST?! WHAT THE FUCK—”

“You’re screaming a lot,” Ronin said, chasing you effortlessly. “Scared?”

“NO, I’M JUST PRACTICING FOR WHEN I EVENTUALLY DIE!”

He cackled. “Oh, baby, you’re making this too fun.”

You threw a pallet down. He smashed through it like a goddamn movie villain.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ronin sang, voice pure menace. “You think you can hide from the Devil?”

You DOVE into a locker. Immediate regret.

Silence.

You held your breath.

The locker door creaked open.

“Peek-a-boo.”

“FUCKING—”

You flailed so hard your headset almost flew off. “STOP! STOP! I HAVE A FAMILY—”

“No, you don’t,” Ronin deadpanned. “I checked.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Mm. Shouldn’t have let me in the server, sweetheart.” He grabbed you—instant down.

Your soul left your body.

Ronin chuckled, dark and low, dragging your poor, helpless character to the hook.

“Well, well,” he purred. “Looks like the Devil wins.”

You groaned, dramatically slumping in your chair. “Bro, you are the worst.”

“I know,” he said smoothly. “And you love it.”

…Fucking hell, you did.

“Ohhh, you’re fucked now.” You grinned, cracking your knuckles as the second match loaded up.

Ronin chuckled, the sound low and amused. “Oh? That so, sweetheart?”

“Damn right. I’m the hunter now.” You leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Time to see how fast you can run, Devil.”

The match started. You spawned in, weapon in hand, heart pounding with the thrill of the hunt. The tables had turned.

Ronin was a Survivor.

And you? You were about to make him scream.

You stalked the map, watching for movement, bloodlust thrumming in your veins. Then, you saw him.

Ronin, crouched near a generator, totally unaware.

You licked your lips.

“Ohhh, what do we have here?”

His head snapped up. You charged.

“OH—FUCK ME—”

Ronin bolted.

“COME HERE, YOU LITTLE BITCH!”

He cackled, dodging around a tree. “Damn, sweetheart, I didn’t know you were this bloodthirsty.”

You launched after him, voice pitching into insanity. “OH, I’M COMING FOR THAT ASS.”

He barely dodged your swing. “You say that like I’m supposed to be scared.”

“You should be, because I’m about to shove this weapon so far up your—”

“WHOA, WHOA—” Ronin wheezed with laughter, vaulting over a window.

You sprinted after him. “YOU CAN’T OUTRUN ME, DEVIL—I’VE BEEN TRAINING FOR THIS SINCE I LEARNED TO CRAWL.”

Ronin howled with laughter. “You’re outta your goddamn mind—”

“Oh, YOU THINK?!” You lunged, barely missing him. “I AM UNHINGED! I AM THE NIGHT!”

Ronin snorted. “You’re a fucking gremlin.”

“I’M YOUR GREMLIN, NOW HOLD STILL AND LET ME KILL YOU.”

He darted through a cabin, knocking over obstacles. “Gotta catch me first, sweetheart.”

“OH, I WILL. AND WHEN I DO, I’M GONNA—”

CRASH.

You slammed into a door.

Silence.

Ronin lost it.

“NO FUCKING WAY—DID YOU JUST—”

You groaned, voice muffled. “I AM SO TIRED OF THIS BULLSHIT.”

His laughter echoed through your headset, genuine, unrestrained. “Sweetheart, I think you just killed yourself harder than I ever could.”

“I swear to GOD, RONIN—”

“Oh, you sound mad,” he teased. “You okay? Need me to call the cops?”

“BITCH, YOU’RE A SERIAL KILLER—”

He chuckled darkly. “Exactly. So, why didn’t you call them?”

You froze.

“…What.”

“You had so many opportunities.”

The game continued around you, but you didn’t move. The hairs on your arms stood up.

Ronin’s voice was low, dangerous, smug. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Your heart skipped. He was playing. He had to be. Right?

Your mouth opened. Closed. Then—

“…Man, shut your ass up and get back here so I can murder you.”

This was bullshit.

Ronin was built different. He was fucking carrying this match like he was speedrunning it for world records, and you were seething. Every time you got close—**every damn time—**he’d pull some stupid anime protagonist bullshit dodge and sprint off like the wind was whispering cheats into his ear.

And the worst part? He was laughing.

Laughing his whole ass off while you fumbled around like a drunk toddler with a knife.

“Nah, nah—ain’t no way, sweetheart!” Ronin wheezed, dodging another swing with the smoothness of someone who was quite literally used to running for his life.

Your controller creaked in your grip. “I HOPE YOUR PILLOW IS ALWAYS WARM AS FUCK.”

“WHAT?!” He cackled.

“YEAH, YOU HEARD ME, YOU SLIPPERY LITTLE BITCH.” You lunged again—missed. “I HOPE EVERY TIME YOU PUT YOUR SOCKS ON, THEY’RE JUST A LITTLE BIT DAMP.”

Ronin stumbled from laughing too hard. “SWEETHEART—”

“NAH, SHUT YOUR MURDEROUS ASS UP. I HOPE EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU TAKE A SHOWER, YOU FORGET TO BRING A TOWEL.”

He vaulted over another fucking window.

You saw red.

“I HOPE YOUR FAVORITE SHOW GETS CANCELLED ON A CLIFFHANGER, YOU PIECE OF SHIT—”

Ronin was gasping, struggling to run through his unhinged laughter. “WHY ARE YOU—WHEEZING—LIKE THIS?”

“I HOPE EVERY TIME YOU GET COMFORTABLE, SOMEONE CALLS YOUR NAME FROM THE OTHER ROOM.”

“OH MY GOD—”

You sprinted after him, rage fueling your every move. “I HOPE EVERY TIME YOU HEAR MUSIC, IT’S A LOOP OF A SONG THAT NEVER HITS THE CHORUS.”

“YOU ARE EVIL.”

You SWUNG. Missed. Again.

Ronin yelped, still running. “YOU CAN’T TOUCH ME—I AM SPEED.”

“SPEED THESE NUTS, MOTHERFUCKER.”

Ronin straight-up tripped from laughing so hard, scrambling back up just before you could land a hit.

“Nah, nah, you need to be locked up, sweetheart.”

“SAYS THE SERIAL KILLER!”

Ronin screeched around a corner. “AND I’M STILL FASTER THAN YOU—”

You swung—nothing but air.

“I HOPE YOUR FAVORITE HOODIE ALWAYS HAS A LOOSE THREAD THAT TICKLES YOUR ARM LIKE A FUCKING SPIDER.”

He CHOKED. “SWEETHEART—”

“NAH, I’M NOT DONE!” You saw him fixing another generator. “I HOPE EVERY TIME YOU HAVE TO PEE REALLY BADLY, SOMEONE STARTS A CONVERSATION WITH YOU. AND IT’S WEIRDLY PERSONAL.”

Ronin folded over laughing, missing his skill check. “I CAN’T—”

You whiffed a hit AGAIN.

“I HOPE EVERY TIME YOU WAKE UP, IT’S THREE MINUTES BEFORE YOUR ALARM.”

Ronin ran for his life. “YOU ARE A MENACE—”

You were foam-at-the-mouth feral. “I HOPE EVERY TIME YOU’RE ABOUT TO WIN IN A GAME, YOUR CONTROLLER DIES.”

“STOP—”

“NO, RUNNING MAN, YOU GON’ LISTEN!”

Ronin fucking fell.

You raised your weapon, triumphant.

Until—

BEFORE YOU COULD HIT HIM, THE MATCH ENDED.

You stared.

He stared.

Ronin busted out laughing so hard, he wheezed. “NAAAH, AIN’T NO WAY!”

You threw your controller.

“I HOPE YOUR DOORDASH DRIVER STEALS YOUR FOOD, YOU BITCH.”

"YOU SLIPPERY MOTHERFUCKER."

Ronin was still laughing, his voice smooth and unbothered, like he hadn’t just bullied you into oblivion.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he drawled. “You got a lotta words for someone who just lost.”

“JIMMY-ASS MAN. STUPID-ASS MAN. FUCKING BALD-HEADED MOTHERFUCKER.”

“I got hair.”

“NOT AFTER I’M DONE WITH YOU.”

Ronin just chuckled, his tone pure, wicked amusement. “Mm. Keep talking, baby. You cursing my name like this is doing something for me.”

Your brain short-circuited.

“FUCK YOU!”

“Oh?” His voice dropped. “That an invitation?”

You froze.

“…Die.”

He laughed, deep and satisfied. “Awww, don’t be shy now.”

You glared at the screen, fuming. “Hope your phone charger only works at a specific angle.”

“I already kill people for fun, sweetheart, you think that’s gonna bother me?”

“Hope every time you try to watch a video, it buffers at the best part.”

He clicked his tongue. “Now you’re just making me stronger.”

You slumped back, defeated. “I hate you.”

“Nah, you love me.”

You did not respond to that.

Instead, you huffed and started typing something on your keyboard. Ronin noticed.

“…What’re you doing?”

You kept typing. “None of your business.”

“Uh-huh.” His tone turned smug. “You forgot I can hack, sweetheart?”

You paused.

He chuckled. “If you’ve connected your YouTube account to this PC… I’ll find it.”

“…You are a menace.”

“And you’re a coward.”

You flipped him off through the screen.

Ronin just grinned. “Not down for a challenge, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s late. I gotta sleep.”

“Awww, you tuckin’ yourself in like a good little thing?”

“Shut the fuck up, dude.” You turned away from the screen, not looking at him.

Silence stretched for just a moment.

Then, softer than before, you glanced back—just a little.

“…Good night, Ronin.”

For the first time tonight, Ronin hesitated.

Something in his usual cocky expression shifted, just barely.

He stared at you, like he was caught off guard. Like he wasn’t expecting that.

Then, just as quick, his lips curled into something smaller. Less devilish.

“…Good night, sweetheart.”

Ronin leaned back in his chair, fingers idly tapping against his keyboard. His dark eyes gleamed as he smirked at the screen.

“…Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. “Let’s see what you’re hiding.”

A few quick keystrokes. A lazy flick of his wrist. And there it was.

Your YouTube channel.

Ronin grinned, low and sharp. “Found you.”

But he didn’t click on it. Not yet.

No, he was patient. He liked the chase. Liked watching people squirm.

Instead, an idea slithered into his mind—something cruel. Something fun.

He wasn’t just gonna see it.

Everyone was.

Ronin’s fingers danced over his keyboard, tapping in silent rhythm. It took almost no effort. A few lines of code. A little redirection.

And suddenly?

Your channel was shared with the entire Slaughterhouse server.

A chat full of killers, freaks, and monsters.

Your secret little safe space? Exposed.

Ronin laughed, low and wicked. “This is gonna be fun.”

And the best part?

You weren’t even online to stop him.

The Slaughterhouse server was quiet—for now.

Everyone had logged in, settled into their usual chaotic energy, waiting for Ronin to start up his usual unhinged antics. But tonight, it seemed Ronin was in a different mood.

He stared at his screen, grinning like a devil, his fingers still hovering above the keys. The server's usual gang was online: Angelic, the femme fatale with a YouTube empire of her own; Misaki, the quirky hitman who never had a quiet moment; V, the cold vigilante who kept a rigid moral code; Vince, the nostalgic slasher; Felicite, the retired killer now pretending to be a normal university student; Luca, the surfer who somehow found himself in the world of murder; and Ai Hua, the ever-distant enigma.

Ronin didn’t waste any time. He quickly typed into the chat:

“Guess what I found, my darlings... Y/N’s YouTube channel.”

Angel immediately pinged. @angelicc

"Oh no..." Angelic's message was short, but it had that tone—the one that said she knew exactly what kind of hell Ronin was about to unleash.

The other members started popping up, one after another, curiosity piqued.

V (K9): “...What? Are you serious?”

Ronin leaned back, watching the chaos unfold. He loved seeing everyone scramble. “Aiooo… look at this.” He dropped the link into the chat for everyone to see.

@angelicc: “Wait, wait, wait—this can’t be real.”

(LUCAA) “WHAT?! They have millions of subscribers? This is—this is insane. What’s their content? That’s... SO COOL!”

Misaki, the ever-energetic hitman, followed up almost immediately.

@hitmeuppp: “I CAN’T EVEN—YOU'RE TELLING ME Y/N’S A HORROR GAMER YOUTUBER??! PMG, I NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING. WHAT'S THE CHANNEL NAME?!”

Ronin grinned, watching them all react. His fingers danced across the keys, typing out a response.

“Oh, just a little horror gamer channel,” he replied, his words dripping with mock sweetness. “But I don’t think Y/N would want anyone to know about it.”

He didn’t give them the full name—he wasn’t that kind to them.

Luca (LUCA_IS_SO_COOL): “WTF, bro, I thought they were just some random writer— THEY’RE A YOUTUBER??”

Everyone’s reactions were flying through the chat, a mix of disbelief and curiosity. Everyone except for Ronin, who sat back and savored the moment.

“Y/N is a YouTuber.” He said it again, just to let the weight of it sink in. “But don’t worry, I’m not giving away the channel name just yet. Let’s keep things fun, huh?”

V (K9): “You’re seriously going to hold it over us like that?”

Ronin laughed, leaning into the drama. “What can I say? I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. But I will tell you this… Y/N’s channel is pretty damn cool.”

Felicite (RetiredKiller): “Wait, is this the Y/N I think it is?”

@hitmeuppp: “You mean the one with the killer humor and scream-worthy reactions?”

“Bingo,” Ronin said, eyes glinting with satisfaction.

But the excitement didn’t stop there. Ronin could feel the hunger growing in the chat. Everyone wanted more.

@angelicc: “...If we’re all spilling secrets, then tell me, Ronin. Why is Y/N so special to you?”

The room went silent for a moment, and Ronin couldn’t help but chuckle at the underlying question. Oh, they were getting too close.

V (K9): "Don't."

The chat stuttered to a halt.

Ronin, lounging in his chair, cocked an eyebrow. "Damn, K9, you sound serious."

V (K9): "I am serious. Don’t reveal their channel. It’s a safety risk."

Angel, usually the first to tease, kept quiet. Felicite, too. Even Misaki, who had been all caps screaming just a second ago, paused.

But Ronin?

Ronin grinned.

"Aww, V, you care."

V (K9): "No, I care about reckless decisions."

Luca chimed in, "V, c'mon, it’s not like we’re about to dox them or some shit."

V (K9): "Doesn’t matter. Their online presence is a vulnerability. The moment someone outside this server recognizes them, they're a target. And that means complications."

Silence.

Then—

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Ronin waved it off like it was nothing. "Good thing we’re not telling anyone, then."

V (K9): "...Then drop it."

Ronin chuckled. "Nah."

A new notification popped up.

Ronin started a voice call.

Ronin (goreboy): "Alright, bitches. We’re watching one of their videos. Get in VC."

V (K9): "...Ronin."

"Relax, dad," Ronin cooed mockingly. "No one outside this server is seeing shit. It’s just us. And I, for one, wanna see what my darling's been up to."

Hitmeuppp joined immediately. "FUCK YEAH, SCREEN SHARE IT."

Angel sighed, but she joined, too. "I swear to god, if it’s cringey—"

Felicite: "I mean, now I’m curious."

Luca: "Bro, this is actually wild. Are we really about to watch Y/N’s content?"

V didn't move.

"...V?" Ronin drawled. "You gonna join us, or you gonna sit there and sulk like a divorced dad on Christmas?"

V exhaled slowly. Then, finally, he joined.

V (K9): "If this backfires, I’ll kill you myself."

Ronin grinned. "Wouldn’t be the first to try."

Then, with a click, he started the video.

The voice chat buzzed with anticipation.

Ronin leaned back in his chair, watching the others filter into the call. He could already feel the tension from V’s judgmental ass, but he didn’t care. He had the upper hand, and he was going to savor this.

His fingers hovered over the mouse before he clicked play.

The YouTube title flashed on screen, big and bold:

"OUTLAST BUT IF I SCREAM, I OWE MY SOUL TO THE DEVIL (AND I AM BROKE)"

Ronin hit play.

The video opened with your voice—and chaos immediately followed.

"Alright, fuckers. Welcome back. Today, we’re playing Outlast, aka ‘Let’s Run For Our Fucking Lives: The Game.’ The rules? If I scream, I sell my soul. Which is fine, ‘cause let’s be real—I was never making it to heaven anyway."

The moment you appeared on screen, Misaki wheeze-laughed.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD—"

Luca was next. "Nah, why do they talk like this?!"

Angel let out a sharp snort. “This is actually insane.”

V just sighed. "Ugh."

Felicite, arms crossed, hummed. "I like their sense of humor."

Ronin?

Ronin was grinning ear to ear.

"Alright, let’s go. If you don’t know what Outlast is, congrats—you live a blessed life. Basically, I’m playing as a dumbass journalist with the survival instincts of a wet paper bag, sneaking into an abandoned asylum where everyone wants to murder me. So, y’know. A Tuesday."

Luca choked. "WHY TUESDAY?"

Misaki was dying. "Nah, I need to be best friends with them immediately."

Ronin leaned in, eyes gleaming with pure, devilish amusement. "Oh, it gets better."

The video continued.

The game dropped you in a dark hallway. Flickering lights. Creepy-ass atmosphere. Something skittered past in the shadows.

You paused.

"...Nah."

Then you turned around and walked the other way.

Angel burst out laughing. "SAME THO."

"Nope. Not today. I already know how this goes—first jumpscare happens, I shit myself, and y’all in the comments act surprised like we haven’t been through this a thousand times. Not this time, Satan. Not this time."

Ronin grinned. "They’re so dramatic."

V didn’t even blink. "They’re a coward."

"Fine. I guess I have to go forward. But if I get jumpscared, I’m taking someone with me. You hear that, God? If I die, I’m bringing company."

"—OH SHIT—"

Something lunged from the darkness.

You screamed.

Loudly.

Misaki cackled. “OH MY GOD—"

Luca was crying. "BRO, THEY SOUND LIKE A DYING GOAT."

Angel was wheezing. "I CAN'T."

Ronin? Ronin was laughing his ass off.

V, deadpan as always, just muttered, “Pathetic.”

The game continued.

You ran. And ran. And ran.

"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR—WHY IS IT LOCKED—WHO DESIGNED THIS FUCKING ASYLUM—"

"If I get caught I’m suing someone’s ghost."

"PLEASE—I AM JUST A LITTLE person—"

Felicite actually smirked. "Y/N’s unhinged."

"I hate this. I hate everything. I am so close to throwing my controller. If a jumpscare happens, I am not responsible for my actions."

"—OH YOU BIG BITCH—"

A monster appeared out of nowhere. Right in your face.

You shrieked.

"I HOPE YOUR PILLOW IS ALWAYS WARM ON BOTH SIDES."

Luca gasped. "OH, NAH, THAT’S EVIL."

"I HOPE EVERY TIME YOU PUT ON SOCKS, THEY’RE JUST A LITTLE DAMP."

Angel was crying. "STOP."

"I HOPE YOUR PHONE CHARGER ONLY WORKS WHEN IT’S AT A SPECIFIC ANGLE—"

"—AND YOUR HEADPHONES ALWAYS TANGLE—"

"—AND EVERY TIME YOU POUR CEREAL, YOU RUN OUT OF MILK—"

Misaki collapsed. "FUCKING STOP—"

Even Ronin was gripping his stomach.

"Sweetheart," he chuckled, "you’re a fucking menace."

But the game wasn’t done with you.

Another monster appeared.

Your screams intensified.

"NO. NOPE. NO SIR. I AM A GOOD PERSON—"

"I pay my taxes—"

"I tip my baristas—"

"I DON’T DESERVE THIS—"

"IF I DIE, I’M HAUNTING EVERYONE—"

V sighed heavily. "This is ridiculous."

Ronin just smirked. "What, V? Not a fan?"

V, voice completely flat: "I hate them."

Misaki wheezed. "V, my guy, I have never heard you sound this pissed."

Ronin let out a dark chuckle. "Oh, but we’re not done yet."

The video hit its peak.

"Alright, final chase sequence—LET’S GO, BITCHES—"

"—FUCKING RUN—"

"IF I DIE, I AM TAKING THIS GAME WITH ME TO HELL—"

"THE ONLY THING I FEAR IS GOD AND MY INTERNET CONNECTION DROPPING—"

"OH MY FUCKING—"

Game Over.

You died.

Silence.

Then—

"Welp. I hope everyone watching this stubs their toe at least once today."

The server exploded.

Luca: "FUCKING TOXIC."

Misaki: "THIS WAS THE BEST VIDEO OF MY LIFE."

Angel: "Y/N’S HUMOR IS SO FUCKED UP I LOVE IT."

Felicite: "They are… interesting."

V, exhaling through his nose: "This was a mistake."

Ronin?

Ronin was grinning like the devil himself.

Ronin was already clicking away, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

The next video title appeared, and the moment everyone read it, the laughter started all over again.

"PLAYING P.T. BUT THE DEMON IS SIMPING FOR ME (AND YES, IT'S A FETISH NOW)"

Ronin: "Get ready, kids."

The video opened with you on screen again, but this time, you were in a creepy hallway, staring down a flickering light, the atmosphere ominously quiet. The game, P.T., was known for its unnerving tension, but of course, you were having the time of your life.

"Alright, welcome back, everyone, to me screaming for my life in yet another horror game. Today we’re playing P.T., and I’m so fucking ready to die, I can already feel my heart giving up."

Luca's voice popped up. "P.T.? P.T.?! I love that one."

Misaki’s voice followed, filled with mock enthusiasm. "Oooh, scary."

V muted himself. He was done. Too much.

But it didn’t stop Ronin from grinning even harder. "Shut up, all of you. Just watch."

The tension in the game was already crushing, the haunted house creeping around every corner, but you weren’t letting it get to you. You weren’t going to let it drag you down.

"Okay, so—what’s the plan? Find the baby head in the wall and, like… fight a ghost or some shit? Oh, I hope it’s not the weird demon. I already hate the way it stares at me."

Misaki could barely speak through their laughter. "HOLY SHIT, WHAT DO YOU MEAN—"

Luca, too, was dying. "NAH, THEY'RE JUST TALKING ABOUT IT LIKE IT’S NO BIG DEAL."

Ronin laughed, watching the chaos unfold. You had them hooked, just like last time.

Then you started walking down the hallway. And just like that, everything started to go wrong.

Out of nowhere, a dark figure appeared at the far end of the hallway.

"What the FUCK—"

The lights flickered, casting long shadows, and you could hear the unsettling sounds of footsteps getting closer, getting heavier. The demon was near.

"Oh, hell no. NOT TODAY. NOPE. NOT DEALING WITH THIS SHIT AGAIN."

You turned and ran—straight into the demon.

The loud, gurgling scream of the ghost filled the speakers as it lunged at you. But instead of a jump-scare scream, you immediately started—laughing.

"HOLY SHIT, I HATE THIS GAME—BUT YOU KNOW WHAT? I KIND OF LIKE THE ATTENTION, YOU KNOW? IS THIS A SIMP MOVE, DEMON? YOU WANT MY SOUL? YOU GONNA GET IT ON A DISCOUNT?"

The VC erupted in chaos.

Misaki was laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe. "WHAT THE FUCK—NO WAY, DID THEY JUST—"

Luca, still holding back his giggles, managed to gasp out, "THE DEMON—IS SIMPING—"

Even Angel was wheezing, face buried in her hands. "THE DEVIL IS SIMPING—FOR MY DARLING—"

Meanwhile, V was still muted. But you could tell he was shaking his head. He couldn’t even deal.

Ronin, on the other hand, was grinning ear to ear. "Oh, sweetheart, you’re a fucking menace. Keep going."

The video had already cut to a new section, showing you attempting to solve the puzzle in the game, all while completely losing your mind.

"Alright, let’s figure out how to—OH GOD, THE WALL IS BREATHE—WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS GAME, THIS SHIT IS SO WRONG—"

"AM I GONNA DIE, OR DO I GET THE BAD ENDING WHERE THE DEMON KEEPS ASKING FOR MY TWITTER HANDLE AND THEN DMS ME AT 2 AM ASKING IF I WANT TO ‘CHILL’??? LIKE, WHAT EVEN IS THIS—"

Luca was practically rolling on the floor. "BRO, Y/N’S GOT THE DEMON AT 2 AM IN THE DMs. WHAT THE FUCK?"

Angel snorted. "IMAGINE A DEMON ASKING FOR YOUR TWITTER HANDLE—"

Meanwhile, Ronin was cackling, clearly loving every moment of it. "Oh, I swear, I have never seen someone so obsessed with making everything worse. And I love it."

The tension in the game was escalating, but you weren’t having any of it.

The demon’s voice came through the speakers again, calling you, taunting you.

"Oh, you want me to come closer? Yeah? Come give me a kiss, you sick fuck."

The demon stopped right in front of you, its twisted face smirking.

You immediately shouted, "FUCK OFF, I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS FLIRTING."

Misaki, completely unhinged, screamed, "BRUHHHH—THEY’RE TALKING TO THE DEMON LIKE IT’S NOTHING."

Luca almost couldn't contain himself. "SOMEONE GET THEM A TINDER ACCOUNT."

Ronin snickered, shaking his head. "You know, if they just let the demon have its way, we’d probably be done with the game by now."

But you weren’t backing down. No way.

You turned toward the door, and the puzzle had finally clicked. You solved the issue.

"Alright, fuck this shit. I’m out. I beat it, I solved the goddamn mystery, and I’m gonna go cry in a corner like the rest of us would."

The video ended abruptly with you standing in front of the door. Then came the outro, as usual.

"Okay, that’s enough of this shit. I’m gonna go crawl into bed now. If you see a demon in your hallway tonight, tell it I’m busy. I’ve got too many fucking simps already. Bye."

The voice channel exploded.

Misaki: "OH MY GOD, THIS IS THE BEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN."

Luca: "BRO, THEY REALLY JUST TOLD A DEMON TO FUCK OFF LIKE IT WAS A TINDER DATE."

Angel: "I cannot with them."

V finally unmuted himself, his tone icy. "This is madness."

But even V, as deadpan as ever, couldn’t stop a tiny smirk from slipping onto his face. "…I’m actually impressed."

The laughter in the voice chat was so loud, even V muted himself, unable to hide the slight smirk that played at the corner of his lips. Misaki was practically on the floor at this point, Luca's voice wavering between choking on air and outright giggling. Angel had her mic muted to contain her cackles, and Felicite just kept shaking her head, trying to maintain some level of composure.

But Ronin?

Ronin was beaming, like a cat who'd just eaten the canary. He'd won, and he was going to relish every damn second of it. He wiped tears from his eyes, his laughter finally fading into a satisfied chuckle as he settled back into his chair.

"Y'know," he started, smirking into the mic, "this is exactly why I adore you, sweetheart. Your humor’s so fucking dark it gives me hope."

V unmuted himself just enough to add, his voice deadpan as usual, "I told you this was a bad idea."

Misaki cut in, barely able to breathe. "A bad idea? No, no, this is the best idea we've had in ages!"

Luca agreed, barely able to form words through his snickers. "I can't believe you went THERE with the toe-stubbing thing. That's psychotic."

Ronin grinned. "You guys ain't seen nothing yet."

Without another word, Ronin opened up another game.

This time, it was "The Haunting of Abaddon Manor."

The title screen was eerie—dark, sepia tones, a decrepit mansion surrounded by fog, the kind of game that oozed dread from the get-go.

Ronin clicked to begin the game, his fingers dancing across the keys as he casually glanced back at the chat, anticipating the reactions.

"Alright, alright, ladies and gents, we're about to enter Abaddon Manor. It's got everything: creepy ghosts, insane-asylum vibes, and the worst part? There's a demonic doll lurking somewhere. I don’t trust dolls, y’all. They definitely have something to hide."

Misaki: "I don't even trust dolls in real life, bro. Like, how does something so small, with no moving parts, look so evil?"

Luca: "I’m not even playing and I'm already scared."

Ronin chuckled darkly, adjusting his headset. "Well, buckle up. We’re about to do the demon doll dance, whether we like it or not."

He dove in, leading the way through the haunted manor. The atmosphere was thick, every creak and moan of the old house seeming to whisper threats into the air.

And then...

The first jumpscare hit.

"What the fuuu—"

Ronin screamed, his voice cracking slightly. But as soon as the horrifying shadow darted across the screen, he laughed. A long, maniacal laugh. "Goddamn, that one was actually pretty good."

Misaki lost it. "BRO! What are you, a fucking demon? Who laughs at their own fear?"

Luca was still half-laughing, half-terrified. "Why do I feel like I’m watching a horror movie with a psychopath?"

But it didn’t stop there.

No, Ronin was on a roll.

"Alright, alright. Now we’ve got some creepy whispers in the background. This place is a fucking nightmare, and I’m the only one who can survive it. Or die trying—whichever comes first."

The camera swung wildly, a door creaking open by itself, and then—the doll.

The doll, with its twisted porcelain face and sinister grin, appeared at the top of the staircase, watching Ronin's character move closer.

"OH SHIT," Ronin whispered, voice actually laced with genuine unease. "NOPE. NOT TODAY."

And then he started running, slamming doors behind him in a frantic attempt to escape the doll.

But then, as if taunting him, the doll’s laugh echoed through the house.

"I SEE YOU."

"AHHHHHHHH, FUCK OFF."

Ronin screamed again, but this time, the laughter that followed was relentless. He was losing his mind in the best way possible.

Meanwhile, in the voice chat...

Misaki, still trying to breathe, shouted, "Nuh-uh, fuck this! Ronin's so gone—"

Angel laughed uncontrollably. "Literally acting like a serial killer in the making."

V, deadpan as always, muttered, "Pathetic."

But just as Ronin went to explore a new room in the manor, something unexpected happened.

You joined the voice call.

You'd been quiet for a while, working on some of your own content, but now—now you were here.

The moment you entered, the others fell into an awkward silence. And then—

You heard it.

The familiar voice of Ronin, the man who had just shown you the depths of hell in his own twisted way, now speaking the very words you’d been dreading.

"Y/N—"

He chuckled darkly, the screen of his game flickering as he leaned back in his chair, still amused by the game, still completely unfazed. "I found your channel. Everyone is about to get a front-row seat."

Your blood ran cold.

"What the fuck did you say?"

Ronin's grin only grew, more sinister by the second. "I said, I found your channel, sweetheart. And I’m showing everyone. What, you think I wouldn’t share? It’s just too good. Too much fun."

"NOOOOOOO!"

You could feel your skin burn, a wave of absolute embarrassment hitting you like a freight train. "Ronin, what the FUCK, no!"

"Oh, it’s too late for that. You’re already famous now, darling. You’re mine. Ours."

You could hear the smirk in his voice as it oozed into every word.

The others?

They were laughing, but their laughter was mixed with a touch of shock.

Misaki was the first to shout. "NO WAY. BRO."

Luca’s voice was tinged with disbelief. "Y/N’S CHANNEL IS THE ONE WITH OVER TWO MILLION SUBSCRIBERS? THE FUCK—"

Angel snorted. "Holy shit, and I thought I had a good sense of humor."

Felicite raised an eyebrow. "No wonder you're so... unpredictable."

V, in his usual deadpan tone, simply said, "This was a mistake."

But Ronin was having the time of his life. His eyes sparkled with malicious glee as he leaned forward, eager to reveal every unhinged thing you'd ever said on your channel.

"Don’t worry, baby. This is just the beginning. You’re gonna love it."

You groaned, the shame creeping up your spine like an ice-cold knife. "Fuck you, Ronin!"

His only response was a laugh, deep and menacing. "Hell, sweetheart. You’re mine. We’re all gonna watch."

You sat there, staring at your screen in absolute betrayal, feeling your soul physically leave your body as Ronin continued grinning like the bastard he was.

You tried everything—leaving the voice chat, shutting off your mic, even throwing your headset across the room like a dramatic anime protagonist—but nothing could erase the unholy shame burning inside you.

Your channel. Your secret, your baby, the thing you had kept hidden from Ronin this entire time.

And he found it.

And worse, he was showing everyone.

"You—fucking—I— WHY."

Ronin chuckled, his voice oozing smugness. "What’s wrong, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?"

"Cat got my—!? YOU—!" You let out the most pitiful wail, genuine tears of mortification well up in your eyes. "You—YOU BULLIED ME. I’M BEING CYBERBULLIED IN REAL TIME."

Angel, being the only one with a heart in this godforsaken hellhole, immediately jumped in. "Aww, Y/N, honey, nooo, don’t cry," she cooed, mothering you instantly.

"HE EXPOSED ME, ANGEL!" you sniffled dramatically, clinging onto your last shred of dignity. "MY SECRET, MY FAME, MY HORROR GAMER LEGACY—RUINED."

Angel patted your metaphorical head. "I know, sweetie, I know. He’s an asshole. A MENACE."

Ronin gasped, placing a hand over his chest in fake offense. "Angel, babe, I’m standing right here."

"GOOD," you sobbed, "Fucking cry about it."

Misaki, of course, was no help. "Pffft—oh my god. I can’t tell if Y/N is actually crying or if this is the funniest breakdown I’ve ever witnessed."

Luca was also losing his mind, barely breathing between wheezes. "Bro, this is actual harassment. Call the cops. Oh wait, you can’t. We're all criminals."

Even Felicite, who was normally the reasonable one, was giggling into her mic. "Y/N, come on, you have to admit—this is hilarious."

"NO, IT’S NOT." you hiccupped, burying your face in your hands. "MY LIFE IS OVER. I CAN’T GO ON."

Angel continued rubbing your back (spiritually, since this was a voice chat). "There, there, sweetheart. Let it all out."

Ronin, meanwhile, was still laughing his ass off, but there was something else in his voice—something genuinely amused.

"Aw, come on, darlin’," he drawled, voice drenched in teasing affection. "You’re acting like I just leaked your government files or some shit."

"YOU MIGHT AS WELL HAVE!"

Another round of laughter erupted in the VC.

"Come on, look at the bright side," Ronin continued, his tone dripping with amusement. "Now I get to witness the absolute insanity you put your poor subscribers through."

Misaki gasped dramatically. "Wait, wait, hold up. You mean to tell me Y/N has been saying this level of bullshit on a public platform for literal years, and we’re just now finding out!?"

Luca snorted. "The fact that people are willingly subscribed to this brand of insanity is crazy to me."

"EXCUSE ME," you snapped, sniffling, gaining the tiniest bit of your spine back. "I have millions of subscribers who adore me, thank you very much. Unlike your asses, they support me."

Ronin grinned. "Oh, I support you, darling. I just like watching you suffer while I do it."

"FUCK YOU, RONIN."

"I mean, yeah, but I feel like this ain’t the time for that convo, sweetheart," he purred.

"I HATE YOU SO MUCH."

Ronin just laughed, the kind of laugh that made your stomach flip because it was so genuinely delighted. Like he was actually having the time of his life messing with you.

"You love me," he said, grinning.

Angel clicked her tongue. "No, Ronin. I love you. Y/N is currently plotting your murder."

You sniffed, still pouting like a kicked puppy. "I hope you fucking stub your toe on every corner you walk past."

Misaki burst out laughing. "OH MY GOD. THEY’RE STILL CURSING HIM OUT."

Ronin, completely unfazed, chuckled. "Mmm. Say that again, sweetheart. But slower."

"I HOPE YOUR KNEE SLAMS INTO EVERY TABLE EDGE IN EXISTENCE, YOU ASS."

Felicite wheezed. "Holy shit."

Luca choked. "Bro—they’re actually unhinged."

V, who had been silent the entire time, finally sighed.

"Are we done?" he asked, in the flattest tone possible.

[saintfelina]

alright alright you want something sweet i get it! what better way to usher in the new year than with something uplifting and delectable? it could be a sign of good things to come, it could be something comforting. but what exactly is a gourmand?

simply put, gourmands are scents reminiscent of food. normally based on desserts they'll have notes of sugar, vanilla, whipped cream, caramel, praline, cake, cotton candy, cookie, milk etc. they're normally based around desserts, it's like wearing a bakery. i get the urge! it brings back warm and fuzzy memories, or maybe you just want to smell good enough to eat.

nevertheless, if you absolutely have to smell tooth rottingly sweet in 2025, this is the way to go.

the gourmand to end all gourmands. this is like a hydrogen bomb of sugar and the foremother of all the other scents mentioned (except maybe fantasy). it's ultra potent rich caramel burnt sugar cotton candy. you'll love it or you'll hate it.

fantasy is often a girls first gourmand. and it's a staple in my own collection. it's a bright, almost zingy kiwi cupcake. super potent and i'll be honest one of my only compliment getters. it smells like girlishness in a bottle

petite gateau was inspired by parisian cafes and it fits that to a tea. a warm, buttery gourmand that's a smooth "lived in" kind of sweet reminescent of buttercream. it's like the sweetness of vanilla mixing in with the warmth of the oven radiating throughout your home.

viva la juicy sucre was once discontinued but due to fan response was brought back and it's surged to the top of many a "best gourmands" list. its a peachy, creamy gourmand that's very potent. signature scent worthy and it has that signature viva la juicy drydrown so if you're not a fan of that you won't like this.

sabrina carpenter has been taking the world by storm. but before her hit espresso, those tapped into the perfume game knew sweet tooth was where it's at. super affordable, its a fluffy, marshmallowy scent. perfectly straddling the line between girlish and sensual with its cashmere drydown.

kayali has recently hit the streets with boujee marshmallow and this (along with pistachio gelato) are master gourmands. this one is denser, sweeter and a lot more ultra feminine. it's almost a strawberry marshmallow milkshake. but because of how heavy it is, i recommend going very light with this one.

i know i said i'm not a fan od dupe house but lattafa is a rare case in that they both dupe and create original scents--often times in the same bottle. and this is one of them. said to be a dupe for the infamous bianco latte, this is truly a very beautiful scent on it's own right. rich, sweet and sensual it's almost like an expensive dessert in a bottle.

one of my top fragrances of 2024, pear gelato smells like a cool refreshing treat. the pear adds a lot of freshness, almost like the "ice" in ice cream. it lasts all day and actually gets me compliments. it's an almost photorealistic smell, reminding me of when your ice cream melts and seeps into the sticky waffle cone. perfect for spring/summer.

annabel's birthday cake is unique in that it smells like every aspect of a birthday party. the latex note smells like party balloons littering the floor of a party soaked in the scent of the freshly baked, just brought out cake lit up with candles.

[kaaaaaaarf]

So @moonysbookshelves is absolutely insane and created this incredible bind of the hatefuck series that has me on the fucking floor.

In the linked instagram post, she took a picture of the box/bind on the condom shelf in Shopper's Drug Mart, which aside from making me cackle, of course made me think of the scene in back when we were dinosaurs where wolfstar try to buy condoms. Since my mind was already blown wide, I decided to write a little extended version of that scene. This is for you, Rachel — you beautiful soul.

Snippit:

Eventually they do make their way to the condom aisle. Remus bends to pick up their usual box of Trojans, but Sirius stops him, noticing something unusual on the middle shelf. "Wait, what’s this huge box? I’ve never seen a condom package so big before.” “That’s what she said.” Sirius rolls his eyes, “Ha-ha, no, but actually. Do you think they’re on sale or something?” Remus turns the box over in his hands. “HATE FUCK by epicblueblanket. I don’t think I’ve seen these before."

whole thing is under the cut:

The doors to the local Shoppers Drug Mart swish as they slide open, blasting the pair of them with a frosty gust of air. Remus bends to grab a basket and they walk in companionable silence, hand-in-hand, passing aisles of various health and beauty products. Remus is just about to turn them down the aisle with condoms and lube, when Sirius suddenly pulls him in the opposite direction, marching toward the snack aisles like he’s on a mission.

"Important question, Remus. Why are chocolate baking chips always on sale for two dollars, but yogurt costs nine!?” he stops, turning toward Remus and presenting him with a bag from the shelf they just passed. “Why is this bag of KitKats eight dollars!? Why, Remus!? Why?"

Remus' face takes on a distinct look of panic. "Uh…Galen Weston?"

"GALEN FUCKING WESTON! Jesus."

His look of trepidation morphs into curiosity as he spins around, seeming to have just registered where they are. "Okay, remind me. Why are we over here? The condoms are not in the chip aisle."

Sirius gives him a blank look. "I need a snack for after."

"You need a snack for after we fuck?"

"Yes, obviously. It's an important part of the ritual. The rituals are intricate, Remus."

"Okay, well...I'd rather not think of our love making as a ritual, but sure. Add them to the basket."

"Can I get some Milk Duds?"

Remus sighs heavily, put upon. "Yes, okay. But grab that bag of KitKats, too."

"A rich man. I have chosen well."

Eventually they do make their way to the condom aisle. Remus bends to pick up their usual box of Trojans, but Sirius stops him, noticing something unusual on the middle shelf. "Wait, what’s this huge box? I’ve never seen a condom package so big before.”

“That’s what she said.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, “Ha-ha, no, but actually. Do you think they’re on sale or something?”

Remus turns the box over in his hands. “HATE FUCK by epicblueblanket. I don’t think I’ve seen these before."

“Hmm.” Sirius peeks over his shoulder to read the side of the box, “Ultra-Thin, Almost as Good as Barebacking…Flavours approved by Remus Lupin himself?!”

Remus drops the box as if he’s been burned, letting out a little squeak.

 “WHAT—I—I DIDN’T APPROVE THIS!!” he yelps.

Sirius picks up the box, breaking the seal and peaking inside. There are five, thin books, each designed like condom wrappers. He spins around to see if anyone is watching, but there's just a woman at the end of the aisle looking at Advil. “Weird, who put this here? And how the fuck do they know who you are?”

“This isn’t some elaborate prank you’ve pulled is it?” Remus has backed himself into the allergy medication behind them, boxes falling off the shelves as he presses himself against it in shock. The woman down the aisle tuts disapprovingly before moving into the next aisle.

“What?! No, of course not. I wonder what these books are about.” Sirius cautiously opens the first one, skimming what seem to be text messages between himself and James. He doesn’t remember sending these…he skips a few pages to a block of prose. “Sirius. Sirius, please. I need it—I need you to fill me up.” He was whimpering now and Sirius wasn’t sure he’d ever heard a more appealing sound.” His brow climbs higher and higher with every word. “I mean I do like when you whimper, but is this what we actually sound like?"

“Sirius, put it back, okay. I don’t know what that is, but it can’t be good. Let’s just go…”

He ignores Remus, who has begun tugging at his free hand urgently, “You’re such a dirty fucker." he continues, "You’re my dirty fucker, fucked loose. I’m gonna fill you up. You want that? — Oh my God, this isn’t even good. If someone is going to invade our life and our privacy they could at least make it sexy.”

“You’re offended? Someone is stalking us and you’re offended?!”

“I mean, I’m decently horrified.” he mumbles distractedly, eyes scanning the page. “Oh, why do I keep calling you a cunt? That’s so out of character. Like, please, mild-mannered ladies man by day, absolute cunt by night. — I’d never say that.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.” Remus frowns.

He points an accusing finger at his boyfriend, “That’s what you said in the story!” 

“Sirius. I’m not joking, please let’s just go.”

“Alright, alright.” He puts the box back on the shelf and jogs after Remus, who is now half way across the store, using his long legs to speed walk toward the exit. “No, wait! Remus! We need to go through the check out first.”

“Sirius…” he pleads.

Sirius pouts, “I need my snacks.”

Remus stares at him blankly for a long moment. Long enough that Sirius thinks he’s going to ask him to leave again, but instead he sighs, “We do need the condoms…”

“Right then.” Sirius grins, sending a salacious wink as he nods toward the self-checkout. “Come on you cunt, let’s go.”

Remus shudders, “Never call me that again.”

[innerchildabortionclinic]

thinking about how my mom met bill gates before he was ultra rich and famous. I need to ask her about that meeting (she worked in PR at the time) because I forget what she said he was like. he does have better PR than others in his position, people even forget there was a time he was widely hated. also my mom met so many sickos in PR but the pay wasn't even good

[goatskickin]

On the sixth day of GOATmas, my true love sent to me...

...chairs! Wood recolors of chairs!

I've recolored every dining chair that EA has created in a pack or expansion that:

1) already had wood recolors

2) didn't have wood recolors, but I felt that wood recolors suited them

For the colors: I am using Dynamite, Depth Charge, Shrapnel, Safety Fuse and Time Bomb by @pooklet, and Nesert and Honey by Io aka @serabiet.

Please check out the Add-On's I've recommended! They are meshes made by community members that will use these textures too. Or, they are bits of CC that go along with these nicely!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ahead of the Table - chairdiningelite

notes: a super nice and good mesh made better! With @tvickiesims's help! Included in the DL is default replacement that they made removes the balls at the top of the chair. Check out that fix HERE.

This has an edited texture by me, with the shine is removed.

I also did lots of seat recolors for this, as it was a recolorable subset. 30 colorful ones and then 7 neutral ones that are packaged with the wood recolors.

AOD Disco Dining Chair - chairdininggroovy

notes: wood texture lifted from the light wood, and 7 new seat colors! 7! Removed the shine on this as well.

Bon Appetit Dining Chair - chairdiningcolonial2

notes: not my fave mesh, but it's alright. Mostly the same wood textures. Has 7 new seat colors!

Contempo Penn Station Side Chair - chairdiningofficestandard

notes: nice chair! good texture.

Recommended Add-on: #1

Contorto Dining Chair - chairdiningscaleframe

notes: a chair I never used, because it was so shiny! The wood texture underneath is really nice, actually. This chair is so early/mid aughts coded.

And you know I did some seat recolors.

Cowboys Caboose Chair - chairdiningoutsidewood

notes: 🤠 YEEHAW 🤠

But for real: same texture, shine removed.

Dynasty Dining Chair - chairdiningoriental

notes: mostly the same texture. Did remove a little decorative bit as it looked cronchy, and it helps the mesh be a little more multi-purpose.

Ergo Supreme Dining Chair - chairdiningcolonial1

notes: not my favorite mesh but for your ultra-rich sims, it gets the job done.

7 new seat recolors of course; @pforestsims said it was okay for me to use some of the textures they used in their recolors of the same chair - these REALLY helped the seat gain some nice texture and definition.

Recommended Add-on: #1

Festive Foldy Chairs - chairdiningpartyballoon

notes: a chair I never even touched, let alone even thought about recoloring. But! With the shine removed, the clunky TS4-ish wood texture really grew on me.

Plus! 7 balloon recolors, wee! 🎈

Recommended Add-on: #1

Floral Foldy Chair - chairdiningweddingoutdoorsash

notes: another chair I didn't regard at all but! It's so cute!

All original textures, and each wood recolor gets a seat recolor. Also removed the shine, which was doing this chair exactly zero favors.

The 2nd subset is actually for the flowers! All game-sourced textures.

Industrious Divinity - chairdiningtechep8

notes: a really great mesh that had wood textures I really hated! So these were made from its sole 'steel' recolor.

And seat recolors. 7 seat recolors.

Recommended Add-on: #1

Jacusters Last Stand - boothwood

notes: the best booth ever! Same texture.

And a truly unnecessary amount of seat recolors.

Moderniste Dining Chair - chairdiningartnouveau

notes: was dreadfully shiny, that's been reduced. Mostly the same texture, but I've removed some bits here and there.

Recommended Add-on: #1

Mysteriously Medieval - chairdiningmedieval

notes: what is there to say about this one. It's medieval and it's a chair. You get it.

Oaktowne Dining Chair - chairdiningclub

notes: Recolorable subsets that don't have separate images to recolor. Weird. Anyway, same texture, shine removed.

Recommended Add-on: #1

Oaktowne East Side - chairdiningmoderate

notes: oh, poor chairdiningmoderate. It's one of the first meshes that the game developers made, and you can tell. 😑

It's got a new wood texture and the shine is removed from the wood and seat...but this is as much definition as you're going to get.

7 seat recolors though! 7.

Recommended Add-on: #1

Outside The Box Chair - chairdiningbohemian

notes: one of my favorite chairs! Half original/half new texture. Shine removed.

And 7 seat recolors of course.

Plasticity Node Pod + Stark Inspiration - chairdiningloftfork

notes: these 2 share a wood texture and I had no idea until I recolored them! Removing the shine improved these a lot. And they share a texture with Milano Royale Dining Table - tablediningloftfork too!

7 seat recolors, which work for both chairs.

Simple Sit Chair - chairdiningquaint

notes: haters will call her basic, but I won't. Shine removed.

Sit Up Straight Dining Chair - chairdinigmission

notes: the Mission furniture set that game with OFB is unbeatable. Original textures for both wood frame and cushion. Which has 7 recolors of course.

Tea Party in Teak - chairdiningvalue1

notes: chairdiningvalue1? more like chairdiningvalue Number 1.

Shine removed. Original wood texture.

Recommended Add-On: #1

The Cozinator 450 - chairdiningcountry

notes: this chair is Good Stuff™! The frame and seat are separately recolorable. And no longer shiny.

The Schottel Chair - chairdininghotel

notes: I quite like this chair! Nice clean lines.

I also gave it 22 cushion recolors! Why not. You likely don't have any.

Zecutime Social Chair - chairdiningdanishmodern

notes: a really charming chair 100% improved by removing the shine.

And 7 cushion recolors too yes yes

Download - Sims 2 Dining Chairs - Wood Recolors

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Recommended downloads:

[beggars-opera]

I hate this country so much

[esmedelacroix]

07 - Blank Space

synopsis ! he’s an american football player by day and a passionate mathematician by night . she’s a well-rounded historian and writer who couldn’t evaluate a derivative to save her life . they lived in two different worlds but shared the same study room .

previous chapter | series masterlist

cw ! no use of y/n, y/n is _____, fluff, slow burn, college au, ooc sukuna, f!reader, child abuse/neglect, alcohol, angst, brief mention of self-harm, depressive tendencies, suggestive, explicit mentions of smut

fic radio ! Motion Sickness by Phoebe Bridgers

The door shut in his face long ago. So why was he still standing outside your study room, hoping that maybe you would feel bad and open the door? Or find in your heart to hear him out.

After watching you stay ultra-focused on your work, he decided to call it quits. As he trudged out of the library, he received a text. He scrambled to fish his phone out of his pocket. Luckily, he did receive a message from you. But, it read, “I don’t think we should study together anymore. Wouldn’t want you spending your time with a grade-A bitch. Right, Sukuna?”

He didn’t know what hurt more, seeing that you were no longer adding his name to the study room, or the fact that you now called him Sukuna instead of Ryomen.

He hated his full first name before he heard you say it. As early as the first grade, he had classmates call him Ryo instead because it was something he made for himself. He didn’t want to be referred to by the name given to him by his mother and father.

When you said Ryomen the first time, it took him by surprise. He liked how you defied him immediately after he asked you not to call him that. Eventually, he had gotten used to hearing his full first name from your lips and your lips only. Sure, Toji tried to tease him, but he made it clear that ‘Ryomen’ was reserved specially for you. He liked himself more when you were involved. He felt like he belonged in your rich circle and not in the dump where he grew up.

It was certainly a rude awakening. Im a fuck up. And that’s all I’ll ever amount to. It’s in my DNA, he thought, walking into his room. Soon after he welded his body to his bed, Gojo burst in. “Hey bro,” he chirped, making himself comfortable on his bed.

“What do you want?” he groaned, eyes still trained on his ceiling fan like it was a television.

“Well, I could feel your gloomy aura from a mile away,” Gojo sat up and turned to Sukuna, dissecting his features, “Everything okay, Ryo?”

“Im always gloomy,” he replied.

“Yeah, well, it’s more than usual. What’s up, man?”

Just as he was about to let out an unconvincing, “Im fine,” Toji swung the door open and also plopped onto the bed, whining, “Are you guys having a heart-to-heart without me?”

Sukuna let out a long sigh, knowing that Toji was already reading him, and now he would have to tell the truth. “What's up, Kuna Tuna?” he grinned. That damn nickname he had used since the fourth grade when all he could afford to bring to lunch was tuna still lived on.

“I called her a bitch to those Sigma Chis on the soccer team,” Sukuna revealed, cringing at his actions as he admitted to them.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Gojo asked, pretending he didn't already know.

“Well she is kind of a bitch. But it’s not necessarily in a bad way. It’s in more of a sexy dominatrix kind of way,” Toji explained. Gojo nodded his head in full understanding of Fushiguro’s deranged description.

“So you feel bad for calling her a bitch?” Gojo asked.

“No, she heard me. And poured her matcha all over me and cussed me out,” he recalled with shame.

“Woah, what a bitch move,” Gojo chuckled.

“Don’t call her that,” Sukuna scolded.

“Well, isn’t he like best friends with her? He can lowkey do that. In a not offensive way,” Toji thought out loud.

“Wait, I forgot about that. You already knew, didn’t you?” Sukuna questioned. Gojo simply smiled at him crossing his arms.

“Fuck you, idiot, what did she say?” he asked, proping himslef up on his elbows looking to Gojo.

"My lips are sealed," Satoru shrugged cooly.

"Hold on, why did you even call her a bitch?" Toji asked.

"Well, there are some dudes that are spreading a rumor that she slept with me. Now its turning into some, _____'s a slut narritive and I thought maybe if I made it seem like I don't like her it would help her reputation," he explained.

"Oh, I did see something about that on the school gossip page this morning," Toji recalled.

"Wait, so you didn't do this to protect yourself?" Gojo questioned.

"No? I don't have an important reputation to protect," Sukuna admitted. "But, she's rich and top of her class and all that shit. Her grades and record are her pride so I don't want to fuck with that."

"So you were an asshole to her so you could protect her from the rumors," Gojo concluded.

"I guess kind of. But know she fuckin' hates me so there's really no point in trying to fix shit, when all I do is fuck it up at the end of the day," Sukuna sighed laying back down.

Toji heard the defeat in his voice before he looked at his face to confirm his suspicions that Sukuna was a lot more upset about this than he led on. He made eye contact with Gojo, and without the need to fill the already thick air with words, they chose to leave him alone.

Meanwhile, you sit in your room, finally calmed from the rage, and now sit sulking on your bed, face buried in your pillows with thoughts of Sukuna and your friends disappointing you. You couldn't believe them. You couldn't believe Suguru and Shoko wanted you to study less. Were they saying this because they wanted to take your spot? You had heard some rumours about Suguru climbing the ranks recently. You had some assignments that were due in a month, so you quickly got started on those. You forced yourself out of your short-lived slump to do assignments not even your professors were thinking about.

The pounding headache that took over your senses and the lack of assignments showed that you were in dire need of a brain break. Since you were studying in your room to avoid running into Sukuna, your brain break was spent lying on your bed. Soon after you got comfy, you heard your stomach rumble. It was then you realized you hadn’t really eaten all day.

With perfect timing, you heard a swift knock on your door. It could be anyone, and you weren't sure you were in the mood to talk at all. Still with the little energy you had left, you trudged to the door with the little energy you had left and swung it open.

There stood a semi-drenched Suguru Geto with takeout in his hand. "I'm sorry," he said, inspecting you and waiting for a response. You shattered.

You moved to shut the door quickly, but you slammed it on the arm he had thrown in the way. He stepped into the room and wrapped his arms around you. "I'm sorry, _____," he apologized again.

Suguru dropped the bag of takeout and hugged you more firmly, rubbing your back and occasionally petting your hair slowly. Your salty tears added to the moisture of his dark hoodie. He smelled like rain, his signature cologne, and faintly of the numerous cigarettes he had probably smoked that day.

Instead of reciprocating his hug, you cried into his chest and curled your hands into fists, hitting him with the little force you could muster. "I know, I know you're not happy with me. But even so, you need to eat. And I know you haven't," he whispered in your ear.

"I have work to do," you mumbled.

"No, you don't. I know you've been studying in here, you were listening to the playlist I made for you on Spotify," he said smugly.

"Ugh, I forgot you can see that," you sighed, chuckling a bit.

A bit of silence stretched, and you finally hugged him back, moving your hand from his chest to his broad back. "Hey," you breathed.

He hummed in response. "I'm sorry too. I was kind of being a bitch," you smiled, pulling away from him.

"Don't say that about yourself," Suguru chuckled.

The two of you sat on your floor and had your favorite sushi. Soon, you felt a hurried knock on your door. You and Suguru exchanged a look as he got up to answer the door. Gojo bounced in with a takeout bag in hand. His eyes fell to the rug, seeing that there ws already a line up of food. "But I got your favorite," he whined, unpacking your favorite soup.

He plopped down and started talking your ears off about plans for the next football game party. He was complaining that the theme for the afterparty was a beach party, when he had voted for a Victoria's Secret theme. Suguru called him out for just wanting to see girls in minimal clothing and kept whining, "defending his honor." The three of you continued to chat and laugh over food until another knock was heard. At this point, you were all sure it was Shoko until Gojo opened the door and glared at whoever was there.

You couldn't see from your angle, but something told you it wasn't Shoko. "I don't think she wants to see you right now, dude," he said in a hushed tone. He and the person you assumed was Ryomen exchanged a few more words you couldn't make out, then Gojo hoped right back in with a notebook he silently placed on your desk, and Shoko followed after with a bag of takeout in hand.

"I was on my way in, and Sukuna was at the door?" she said, confused.

"Yeah, he was just dropping something off for _____," Gojo quickly explained, dismissing him as a topic of conversation.

"Well, we definitely should have coordinated this because I got your favorite," Shoko said, holding up her takeout bag and assessing the food already spread out.

"You guys are idiots," you grinned.

"We're your idiots, though," Gojo replied.

You all cringed at Gojo's comment and continued your night. By the end, bellies were way too full. Apologies were said, and you almost forgot about all the drama that led up to this moment. Almost.

After the last goodbye, you shut the door, and your eyes fell on the itch you couldn't scratch all night. That notebook. You picked it up and opened it to the very first page. In his neat handwriting, he printed, "I took notes on the next four units. I explained the methodology for the problems the way you like."

You shut the notebook after reading the message. If he thought that some math help would make you forgive him, he was wrong. Besides, he hadn't even apologized. So for the rest of the week, you refused to talk to him. Still continued leaving a blank space where you used to scribble, "possibly Ryomen," because there was now no possibility of you allowing him to get near you again.

. . .

-> next part

@minasuniverse @not-a-glad-gladiator @love-me-satoru @sukunawhores @emoedgylord @domainofmarie @sadrna @lazylunarlover @tamishadawn @boudoirbae @river-vixenn @bitchyfestivalbouquet @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @clp-84 @emochosoluvr @yoongithebean @linaaeatsfamilies @magalimachete @chubbydumplingbarnes @katsukiseyebrows @sukubusss @r33m-world @pelicanpizza @mykuronekome @linny-bloggs @your-mum3000 @jayathelostdragon @userr152536367474 @veras-fanfic-reblogs @yuaisen @k0taaaa @nina-from-317 @sukunasrealgf @sukunana12 @synthesame @kyo-kyo1 @chloe022r @detredoomy

comment to be added to the taglist !

[pinene]

The USA is on the brink of complete cultural disintegration. It has been rotting for years now. Nobody knows their neighbors because they know they’ll probably need to move soon anyways. Many people can’t read and most just refuse to. Those with remaining patriotism essentially take pride in their own exploitation. Those without it are aimless and afraid because this machine demands blind faith.

I guess this is the way of all colonial projects and empires. But to me there’s something uniquely hollow and creepy about this one—the US commits genocide on the people who had lived on the land for generations, constantly incentivizes people to move closer and closer to its bloating border. offers people from other countries the chance to be part of the splendor of the imperial core if they just come here and deal with awful conditions quietly, they can hope to have children who will hate speaking their native language, American children. And their children could be millionaires. Just keep working, keep your head down. When the rich get richer that just means our future’s brighter.

If we are to suppose the American dream was once achievable, it certainly isn’t anymore. There’s bipartisan acknowledgement of this, and partisan explanations and solutions. But they always neglect the fact that the American dream isn’t sustainable under capitalism lol like, after a few generations, everyone would be pretty well off if all it took was hard work. But if everyone was well off, then some people couldn’t be ultra rich, and a few couldn’t be richer than god. Wealth has to grow, profit has to increase, or it all falls apart. The money is trickling upward and pooling around the rich, and most of the country is still operating under the impression that this is a good thing.

not to mention how racism and intolerance get worse when the economy does, how moral panics sooth financial anxieties. the rich and the money-seeking have so clearly bait n switched us. valorizing wealth leads us to blame anyone but the rich, blame anything but class. and now it’s reaching a point of further consolidation and openly squeezing more and more out of the 99%. They don’t have to even pretend anymore because most people are fine with it. tv shows about the wealthy are really popular. We are such an aimless people, prideful and tribal about the square borders of ruined land we live in, proud to suffer for the chance to get to give the bank and the government most of your paycheck to live somewhere and almost own a big car to traverse the emptiness. Angry that it’s all so hard, but forbidden to blame the system. Bleh