#I can hardly imagine how much more I'd be buying if they had this sort of deal hahaha

[hjartasalt]

Two of the grocery stores here have personalized-ish coupons, so I'm always getting money off the price of things I've bought, which makes me buy them again, which means I'm eating so much chili and cabbage! That store is controlling me!

I eat an insane amount of yoghurt just because it's so cheap at my local grocery store. I'm going through at least two liters weekly lmao

[sporco-filth]

The second part of the story about Lee going from neat freak to slob.

Synopsis: A dramatic change in Lee's life gives him the freedom to be a slob and so Bob proceeds to be his guide to this new world

In the following month, Lee's office was a flurry of activity and the constant stress of work meant he was often too busy to do his usual errands and chores to the same level of astute perfection he had usually maintained. One night, after a long, tiring day at work, he returned home famished. He opened the fridge, the pantry, the cupboards, but all he could find was an apple, a few slices of wholemeal bread and a carrot: hardly anything to make a meal out of. He'd been so caught up at work he'd forgotten to buy more groceries. Looking at the clock, which by now read 10:12PM, he knew he couldn't muster the energy to go shopping and cook now. Either he ate his meagre scraps or…

Just because the house was devoid of his healthy fare didn't mean there wasn't any food around. Bob had his stocks of junk food and he always said Lee was welcome to have any of it if he wanted, not that Lee ever took Bob up on his offer. Lee looked around and stumbled on a frozen pizza. Normally he'd never look twice at something like that, but he was starving and his stomach gurgled in hunger. He heated it up and before long he was tucking into the cheesy, greasy, meaty mess. It was delicious, so much so that he found himself devouring the whole thing. He sat back in his chair, stifling a burp and pardoning himself, he patted his belly. It was ever so slightly distended. He imagined what it might be like if it was so much larger, a real gut, but he knew that although he enjoyed his fantasies, they were just fantasies.

Just then, Bob walked in. He had been out with his mates that evening and stumbled upon Lee rubbing his abdomen in front of an empty plate. "I can see you had a nice meal," he said with a smile and Lee quickly pulled his hand away from his stomach and started to tidy up. "I was just really busy in the office," Lee explained, flustered. "I didn't have time to buy any more groceries; I hope you don't mind if I helped myself to some of your things." "That's all right," Bob replied, not at all fussed. "I'm just glad to see you loosening up a bit. I hoped I'd have a positive influence on you." Lee smiled embarrassedly, face reddening slightly. "It's just this one time, I'll go buy more of my usual food tomorrow." "If you say so." Bob gave him a knowing look, as if he was sure this wouldn't be the last time, but didn't say any more and headed off to his room. Lee washed his plate and put it away. He wondered, what if he did let loose a bit? What would the harm be in that? But the rational part of his mind steered him away from that sort of thought and he prepared himself for bed as meticulously as ever, Bob's comments merely adding to his resolve to maintain his lifestyle in this den of excess and slothfulness.

In the days that followed, Lee returned to his fit, clean and healthy lifestyle with renewed ardour, cleaning and exercising almost twice as much as he usually did. He even went back to making his bed. But things at work were getting more and more stressful and he soon found himself worn out from all the internal and external pressures. "Mr Ngyuen, I'm sure you know that sleeping on the job is not acceptable!" "Wah?!" Lee was jolted awake from his exhaustion-induced daydreaming and saw his boss standing imperiously over him. "I-I'm sorry, sir," he said in a hasty apology. "I didn't mean to I just–" "You were just sleeping," his boss finished, shaking his head. "Listen, Mr Ngyuen, you know how tough business has been in the last few months, right?" Lee nodded slowly, concerned about where this might be heading. "I've heard talk," he said in a nervous voice, "of there being some cuts…" His boss nodded solemnly. "Don't tell the others, though. I don't want any panic. I'm warning you, Mr Ngyuen, because I'm afraid that if you don't manage to lift your game, you might be one of the ones to go." Lee was wide-eyed, he wasn't sure what to say. "B-but I've been working here for years! You can't just fire me! Where would I go? What would I do?" His boss gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm afraid that lately you've become a liability to the company: your past success hasn't translated into future success. There'll be some sort of compensation, of course. We have plans in place for this sort of situation…" Lee stopped paying attention. He couldn't believe this was happening to him.

He went home that night dejected and anxious. He sat down at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, not sure what to do. Just then, Bob entered from his bedroom. He'd never seen Lee, a man who seemed to have everything perfectly in order and under control, in such a state: shirt rumpled, tie loose, hair messed up and bags under his eyes. "What's the matter?" Bob asked, genuinely worried. "You know how I told you there were rumours they were going to lay off some people at work? Well, my boss told me today that I'm… likely…" Lee didn't want to say it aloud. "To be fired?" Lee nodded. "Man, that's tough…" "Yeah," Lee sighed. "They said if I manage to improve my performance they might keep me, but I got the sense the decision was already made." He looked up at Bob. "I'm not sure what to do. There's no one hiring so if I lose this I'll be out of a job for who knows how long. I can't lose my job, I just can't…" Bob watched as he slumped over the table in despair. "Don't worry mate, I'll be happy to help you out as much as you need until you're back on your feet." Lee looked up. "How?" Bob smiled. "I might not look it, but I'm actually pretty well-off." "Really?" "Yeah." "But I never see you work or anything." "And how do you imagine I manage to live like that?" "But where did you get the money? And what's your definition of 'well-off', if you don't mind me asking." "I've accrued it over the years in a variety of ways: property, investments, crazy business schemes, even a bit I managed to score in gambling. I also inherited a fair bit from my relatives. I don't quite keep a close eye on my funds, but it's more than enough for me to enjoy my life as I please." Lee was rather shocked. "You really don't mind helping me out?" "It's nothing, Lee. We're friends now, you and I." Lee was relieved. It was as if all the weight of the world had fallen from his shoulders. "Thank you," he said, smiling at last. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to repay you." "It's nothing," Bob said with a shrug.

Lee tried his hardest at work but nonetheless he received the news he had dreaded. Even if he was prepared for it and had a back-up plan, he couldn't shake the sense of failure that it brought. He entered the apartment and dropped his work stuff in his room. Bob saw him on his way out. "It happened?" Lee was still numb from the shock and could only nod. "Here, sit with me in the lounge and relax, just forget about it." Lee was too rattled to think about his reasons against this and followed Bob to the living room. He sat down in the same armchair as he had during the 'challenge', not even bothering to dust away the detritus that was already on it. The empty wrappers and dropped crumbs crinkled and crunched under his weight. As he began to get into the show on TV, Bob handed him a beer. "Here, it might help take your mind off things." Lee accepted it. He largely abstained from alcohol and had never really gotten drunk before, so wasn't one to drink much, but he felt like now was an occasion that merited a stiff drink. One beer turned into two which was followed by a third and soon Lee found himself forgetting about all the uptight rules that dictated his life. Bob opened a packet of chips which he proffered to Lee and which he accepted. He hadn't eaten in a while and the salty, oily chips looked appetising. He grabbed a handful and munched away; they were delicious. So savoury and crunchy and moreish. Eventually he found his hand touching the bottom of the empty packet and dropped it onto the floor and wiped the grease off on his shirt, not caring about mess in his inebriated state. He took another swig of his beer and let out a sizeable burp. "I'm still kinda hungry," he said. "I'd better get something ready for dinner." "Relax," Bob said. "I'll order us a pizza. If you're worried about your diet stuff, it's only just this once." Lee ceded and went back to watching TV. Relax, he told himself. You can have some fun for once. He glanced down at himself and noticed he was still dressed for work; how could he get relaxed like this? He pulled off his tie and threw it away. Then he unbuttoned his shirt, dusting off the chip crumbs that had accumulated on it, and got rid of it. Finally, he unzipped his pants and kicked them off, leaving himself in only his underwear. He felt so liberated and unrestrained. Bob glanced over. "I see you're getting comfortable." Lee blushed slightly in embarrassment, forgetting he wasn't alone. "It's fine, do you think I mind? I spend most of my time in my underwear, after all." Lee nodded and eventually managed to relax again.

Soon the pizza arrived, the scent of it filling the air and making Lee's stomach growl. Bob had ordered two large pizzas and he tossed one to Lee. He opened it up; it looked like the biggest, unhealthiest, most overindulgent thing he could imagine. "I'm not sure I should, or can, eat all of this," Lee remarked. "Just eat as much as you want," Bob replied. "But from what I can see, you could do with a bit of meat on your bones." Lee looked at his taut stomach with its washboard abs. This was the culmination of years and years of hard work and dedication, but was it really all that worth it? Was it really all he wanted? He looked over to Bob, who was digging into his pizza, and at his belly. It was so round, so soft, so flabby and jiggly. Imagine having a gut like that. It'd be like having a comfy pillow all the time that you can wobble and play with. What are abs good for? Lee looked enviously at Bob's chubby love handles and bum, his soft moobs and thick thighs. He knew he wanted that.

Did he, though? Maybe it was just the beer making his mind foggy. He shook the thoughts from his head and started eating his pizza. He only managed half of it before he was full. Bob offered him another beer and the two watched TV late into the night.

The next morning, Lee woke up in the armchair. He was still only in his undies and surrounded by the remnants of the night before. The TV was still on and Bob was still sleeping away on the couch. He looked at the time on the clock and saw it was after seven. He needed to get to work! Wait… work… Lee remembered the events of yesterday, he was now unemployed. Still, he should get up for his daily run. He tried to get up quickly, but was hit by a wave of pain in his head. He looked down at the coffee table to see a fair amount of beer bottles and wondered how many of them were his. Noticing that there was a similar, albeit larger, pile beside Bob, he concluded they were, likely, all his. This must be what it feels like to get a hangover, he thought. He sighed and caught a whiff of his breath; it stank. He realised he didn't brush his teeth the night before, which meant he hadn't showered either. He took a quick sniff of his armpit and smelt the odour of sweat beginning to develop. I should freshen up, he thought. It'll help me clear my head. But then Lee felt a pang of hunger. He was never the type to do anything before having first eaten breakfast, but he was hardly in the right state of mind to prepare anything. He was out of muesli so would need to make something if he wanted a healthy, filling breakfast. Maybe eggs on toast, but that'd be a lot of messing around with the eggs. Smashed avo? No, they were out of avocado too… Out of the corner if his eye, Lee noticed the leftover pizza from the night before. It was cold, but in his hungover state it still looked pretty appetising, and most importantly it looked filling. Lee grabbed a slice and began munching away. Here I am, he thought. Unemployed, unwashed, hungover, in my undies, surrounded with trash, having woken up on the couch and eating cold pizza from last night for breakfast. Instead of being repulsed by the idea, he felt oddly turned on by it. He had no responsibilities, no one to impress. Perhaps Bob was right, maybe it wouldn't hurt to let himself go a bit. He felt an itch around his groin. Usually he'd be too polite to scratch down there, but in the spirit of his new lifestyle he let himself. It felt good. He grabbed another slice of pizza and picked up the remote, flicking idly through the channels. I think I could get used to this. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and got comfy. Really used to this.

A little while later, Bob stirred and woke up from his slumber to see Lee idly watching TV. "Shouldn't you be off on one of your jogs by now?" he asked, glancing at the clock. Lee gave a nervous smile, like a kid excited to dive into the deep end but unsure if it was safe. "I'm thinking I might… maybe, like, let myself go, a little…" Bob wasn't sure he heard that right. "As in, stop exercising and stuff?" Lee nodded. "I think it might be fun…" Bob didn't understand. "But you keep going on about being healthy and fit… I know I said I didn't get it and was hoping you'd come around, but I didn't think it would actually happen." Lee grinned. "Well, I think I've wanted it for a while, I think it's why I decided to move in here, but I couldn't find the courage to actually do it. Losing my job, I'm free now. I can do what I like and just, you know, relax a bit." Bob smiled. "Well then, in that case why don't I take you through the basics of being a slob?" Lee could hardly wait.

"Now," explained Bob, "there are five main food groups–" "Carbohydrates, fruit, dairy, protein and vegetables," Lee proudly recited. "No," said Bob. "At least, not for a slob. They are: fatty, sugary, salty, carbs and meat. Anything else is tasteless fodder and empty vitamins. Now, the rule of thumb is if you want it, eat it. If you really wanted to eat vegetables," he said the word with disgust, "you can, but I don't see why when there's so much other tastier food to eat." Lee nodded. "Next up is hygiene," Bob continued. "Only wash if absolutely necessary. Be proud of your stink. When it comes to cleaning the house, don't. Why bother if it just gets dirty again?" "OK, cool," the thought of being coated in grime and living in a tip titillated Lee. "What else should I know?" "The general rule for everything is if you feel like it, do it, and if you don't, don't. You wanna stay up all night playing video games? Go ahead! Want to eat nothing but doughnuts for a day? Who's stopping you? Can't be bothered exercising? Stay in bed all day." Lee imagined this. A life of utter laziness where he let his desires take control. "This sounds amazing," he breathed in awe. "It's a sweet life," Bob agreed.

That afternoon, while Bob had gone out for a bit, Lee was laid out on the couch in his undies playing video games when his stomach growled. He paused the game and got up to see what was available. Looking through the junk food filled kitchen, he had trouble deciding what to eat; it all looked so tasty. Then he noticed a chocolate cake sitting on the counter. Out of habit, he looked at the clock: five fifteen, too close to dinner for snacking. Then Lee remembered Bob's advice and went with his gut. He plonked himself back down on the couch and began to stuff his face with the rich, sweet cake. He didn't even bother with cutlery, just scooping handful after handful into his mouth. He moaned in delight; it was so delicious. How had he forbidden himself from this for so long? Even when he started to feel full, Lee pressed on, his stomach wanting more and more. Eventually he finished it all. He rubbed his sore stomach which was by now pretty bloated, the chocolate on his fingers smearing over his body. He let out a burp and sighed with contentment. He thought about going back to his game, but the stuffing had made him sleepy so he took a nap instead. He woke up to the sound of the door and was the scent of food which made his stomach start burbling again. Bob had arrived and with him he had brought dinner. "Hey Lee," he called out. "You hungry? I got McDonald's." He went over to the couch to find Lee sleepy-eyed and chocolate-coated. Lee smiled bashfully, looking down at his messy state. "I had a cake a little while ago," he yawned. Bob was a bit befuddled. "The cake on the counter?" "Yeah." "The whole thing?" "Yeah, sorry… I was kinda hungry…" Bob grinned. "Don't apologise, I just didn't think you had it in you. I'm impressed, good job." Lee smiled back. "Thanks." "If you ate so much before, I'm not sure you have room for more." Lee got up quickly. "I can eat," he said, not wanting to miss out. Bob chuckled at his enthusiasm and tossed him his bag of food. Lee looked inside and pulled out his burger. "You know," he said, looking at it. "I don't think I've ever had McDonald's before." "Really?" "Maybe the chips or something, but not a burger." "Well, you've been missing out." Bob took a bite out of his. "They're great," he said, mouth full. "Try it!" Lee took a bite, the greasy meat filling his mouth and sending his taste buds into a frenzy. He ate with vigour and soon he was sitting back, belly full and sipping his soft drink. "I've never really drunk soft drink either," he said, enjoying the sugary rush and the sensation of bubbles on his tongue." "I don't know how you've lived all these years like this…" Bob replied in awe tinged with disbelief. "Neither do I," Lee said. He felt the bubbles rise up from his stomach and opened his mouth wide. A large belch escaped his lips. "Wow, I think that's the biggest burp I've ever done." He was rather chuffed with himself when Bob let loose an even larger one. Lee was impressed, if a bit put to shame. "Belching is an art form," Bob explained. "It takes practice. You need to know how to properly shape the mouth to really amplify it." "Can you teach me?" Bob shook his head. "That's like going to Pavorroti and saying 'teach me to sing like you'. I'm afraid I can't help you, Lee, this is something you need to learn on your own. Master it, perfect it, and one day you might be as good as me." Lee nodded to this sage advice, still sucking on his straw. "I'll do my best."

[firendgold]

Harry for the blorbo opinion bingo

and with this ask, the other half of fireandgold/this blog's ship is now complete! thanks~

And would you look at that, Harry earned himself a bingo! *confetti*

Expounding on the squares again from the top down--

blorbo: not as much as Albus, but Harry is very special and I like how he defies the "everyman" tropes people try to put on him. He is definitely a distinct character in his own right.

I respect them: Harry is extremely compassionate, and extremely forgiving. He makes a lot of choices I would not and could not personally have made if I were in the same situation. I think it takes a lot of courage and for someone so young to stick to unpopular opinions and feelings. For example, if Harry were real, I think he'd defend to the death all his children's name-choices, and heaven help you if you thought you'd change his mind with some half-baked, rehashed argument.

(but like, Harry. why Severus. why Severus as a middle name--)

my opinion changed a lot over time: I've never disliked Harry, but I've definitely disagreed with him at times (especially in DH over Dumbledore, because he was being such a fucking idiot). It's also easy to get the real canon Harry confused with all the fanon Harrys who are meant to "improve" on him (but sometimes don't actually do so), 'till you get to the point where you hardly remember what your unbiased opinion of Harry James was in the first place. But when I'm fresh off a re-read, I find that I am far fonder of him than I was when initially reading his story in the mid 2000s. I was more or less neutral then.

I can make them worse: Mmmm, imagine. A genuinely Dark Harry who wasn't Voldemort's pet or lover, but a dangerous individual in his own right who was the patron saint of misplaced orphans and serpent king of the underworld. Ruler of dementors, and the only dark wizard able to cast a Patronus. A man whose only true love was control because he spent so much of his pre-Hogwarts years without a shred of it. Similarly to Albus, people write the most bland, nauseating independent!Harrys and Dark!Harrys and Harem!Harrys and PoliticalAsshole!Harrys and every type of Harry who isn't Harry you could think of. Even if I restricted myself to writing those repetitive genres only, I'm pretty sure I could do better. You know, if I ever hit my head on the sidewalk and had a personality transplant.

they intrigue me: Auror Dad is perhaps the least interesting route That Woman could have had Harry take, so of course that's where he ended up. Harry wasn't The Next Merlin by any means, but he was skilled with magic and a quick thinker, and I would have loved to see him unleashed on the world as he was at seventeen, fresh off dancing on Voldemort's corpse.

I have so much to say about them: It's not as easy to get me going on Harry as it is on Albus, but the parts of him that do get my mouth running send it off just as passionately as any Albus-related-rant does. ^^

they're hard to understand; I get it tho: I... sort of get it and don't get it... because it definitely feels like people are projecting what they wish Harry was onto him, or their own experiences or whatever. I do that too but I have to be so careful not to let my own voice seep through when I'm writing him. so in true Virgo fashion I'm all, if I can watch myself when analyzing Harry why can't literally everyone else? lol. But yes. Harry is very hard to understand. His compassion, his temper, his mood swings, his reactions to how he was raised... any and all have been misunderstood by all of us at the best of times. He's very intriguing because he's not as easy to pin down as he might seem. (That's why I don't buy into the idea of him as a bland protagonist. Y'all just aren't reading deeply enough into him. If he was that bland, wouldn't there be even more versions of him in fanon, instead of people slowly starting to come to a consensus about just who Harry James Potter is?)

I'd fuck them: oooh, a NSFW one. well. I'm far too old to think of canon Harry in that way, and he wasn't really pushing any teenage heartthrob buttons for me when I actually was a teenager (that was more Percy Jackson's role, lol). But sometimes I see fanart of adult Harrys that look delicious. Like, shaggy tied-back hair, lightning-bolt scar accentuated to the point where it looks like an epic tattoo across his face, brilliant bottle-green eyes, long flowing Quidditch or professor robes... it hits sometimes.

[korpuskat]

i'd be appalled if i saw you ever try to be a saint [Pagan Min/Reader]

[Ao3 Mirror] Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 1,944 Content: DFAB & Gender Neutral Reader. Blasphemy & Sacrilege, Inappropriate Use of Religious Objects, Shibari, Bondage, Suspension, Begging, 

"I didn't think you'd be into... this..." You murmur, raise your arms as Pagan's nimble fingers slide the rope around your chest, once, then twice, forming lines across your skin with the deep red-brown material.

"Oh? Why's that?" He grins and it makes your stomach flip- a completely different anxiety than the one that's born from being completely nude as he takes his time forming shapes with his preferred medium. "One must be adventurous to rule a kingdom, and it's quite aesthetically pleasing."

"Thought it would be too similar to your work."

"Work, hah." He carefully threads the ends of the ropes back behind you, pausing to give you a moment to turn away from him. "Maybe for De Pleur, but I for one do not make it a habit to personally tie up terrorists with this much care." With only light touches he brings your arms back and binds them at your elbows, weaves the rope around your outstretched limbs until you can no longer pull them apart or lift them, as he secures that set of knots to harness forming at your chest.

"Though," He starts, then taps your shoulder to make you turn again. His eyes wander over your body, appraising his work thus far before lowering himself to his knees to begin working again at your waist. "This does give me some ideas."

"Thought you didn't want to tie up terrorists." You tease him and it earns you a half-amused glance and raised eyebrow.

"I don't, but someone must. It's the only way to stop them from making a mess of things." His hands are tireless, forming a thick, intricate weave along your outer thigh before it splits into individual strands- and Pagan tips you backwards onto the bed as he finishes that foot with your toes extended, leaving your leg as immobilized as your arms. Only a few minutes in and you can't move the majority of your body- and the thought sends a wave of heat through your body, culminating between your legs. In a vain attempt to subdue the building desire, you press your thighs together- which does not go unnoticed.

"Always so needy." He tsks, but his words carry no weight. Even if you didn't know your neediness made him feel wanted, his own excitement was obvious, tenting the front of his pants. "Almost done." He purrs and rolls you onto your stomach. He touches your unbound leg. "Lift, please."

The angle is odd, but you raise your leg as much as you can. It must be enough, because Pagan rests your ankle in the crook of his arms as he works more rope down this leg. He seems to work quicker, his own impatience growing- and you can't blame him. That heat burns between your legs and you have nothing left to sate it with other than the imaginings of what's to come.

"There." Pagan sighs, and steps away from the bed. He walks around in front of you, once again appraising his work- and you realize you can't put your leg down. Without his support, your leg hangs in the air, the rope shorter on the back of your leg than the front, the tension alone keeping it up. It's an odd sensation, like your weight isn't spread the way it should be- but you don't focus on it long as Pagan retrieves his phone.

All at once the heat rushes to your cheeks and you're ducking your face into his plush beddings. He laughs, always one to enjoy your embarrassment. "Nothing to be shy about, darling. Don't you want to look good for your king?"

"You're horrible." You grumble into the mattress, try desperately to close your legs as he circles around.

"Mmm," His clothes brush against your inner thighs. "Is this so horrible?" His fingers slip between your labia, slick and easy with your building arousal. Unbidden, your hips buck as best they can with the ropes restricting them, and still Pagan is as careful as he was threading the ropes. Never once do the pads of his fingers touch your clit, circling tantalizingly close and never quite making contact. All it does is fan the flame, all your focus centered on the feather-light pinpoints of his touch.

He stops as quickly as he started, coming around in front of you once more. Your mouth is already open, correctly anticipating his ritual of making you clean his fingers.

"Now this may take a moment." Behind you once more, he messes with the ropes- and you struggle to figure out what's happening- until you feel a peculiar pull across your body. You twist in your binds, try to glance over your shoulder- all you get a glimpse of him with his shirt sleeves rolled up, buttoned to expose more of his forearms as he grabs the rope again and pulls.

This time you slide right off the side of the bed. "Pagan?" Your voice shakes, not quite sure what to make of it- and he pulls again, not even answering you. One leg bent back, you balance carefully on the toes of one foot- each pull on the ropes takes more and more of your weight. He keeps going until you're nearly hanging by your leg, almost inverted except for your one leg that still dances across the floor, skittering across Pagan’s plush carpets for purchase, not quite supporting you and not quite dangling.

Pagan exhales, and with your new position you spin lightly in the center of the room, field of view drifting around until you catch sight of him again. He's trying off the rope, and mutters half to himself, "Let's buy a winch next time."

Though he sweats lightly, as soon as he makes eye contact with you the exhaustion wears off quick. His fingertips remain light and teasing as they trace down the long lines of rope, testing the strength of his knots that keep you in your perilous position.

"I think," He says, breathless, "this is right where you belong, don't you?" His fingers race along your arms, up to your shoulders, up and up till they're stroking through your hair. You strain to look up at him, watch as the fire builds in his eyes. "It's what you really want, to be under my power. Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, nothing to do but to obey me."

With a whine you avert your eyes, try once more to bring your thighs together- and all it takes is a rough tug at your hair to bring your focus back to him. Your hands flex aimlessly, staring at him as he licks his lips, "That sweet pussy of your must be aching by now. I know you want to beg, so go on."

"P-please." It's hardly more than a whisper, and Pagan's face hardens, more insulted than amused by your first attempt. A forceful swallow and you try again, "Please, Pagan... touch me?"

"Tsk, that was pitiful. You can do better than that."

A bite to your lip and you’re still fighting to get the words out past your shame. "Please, I need it, I'm aching," You whine, can't even drop your head with his hand still tangled into your hair. "I- I'll do anything you want."

The knuckles of his free hand caress the side of your face. "Oh, I know you will, darling. But that's bargaining not begging. Is the blood rushing to your head already? Come on dear, let it out."

You're aching and he won't stop, ruthless, almost sadistic and all you want- all you really want- "Use- use me. Please, King Min, please, use me- I want- I want to make you cum, I want to taste you, please-"

Pagan grins, unashamedly pleased in your slow descent into subspace. "All you had to do was ask." Finally, he releases his hold on your hair which leaves your scalp tingling and your neck straining to keep watching. It's a sight worth fighting for; he unbuckles his belt and makes short work of his pants, the pink fabric parting- and your whole body throbs. With one hand he strokes himself, takes care to draw his foreskin back and watch as you begin to drool. If he could, perhaps he'd tease you like this for hours- make you watch him slowly please himself while you beg and insist that you could help. It would be agony for you both.

His own impatience is what makes him grasp your hair again- and he doesn't even have to tell you to open your mouth.

His taste and scent fill your every sense- the faintest twinge of sweat, but mostly soap and his cologne. Until, of course, he holds the sides of your head and begins to move. The first hint of bitter precum has you moaning, remembering the last time you'd had the privilege of making your king come undone with your tongue.

"I didn't tell you where these ropes came from, did I?" He manages to say between grunts, doesn't wait for you to try to answer. "Some unloyal citizens had thought to- oh, to rebuild one of those bell towers."

Your mind fights to the surface to understand, but all you can manage to do is stare up at him with big, glassy eyes. "They're sanctified. Meant to dispel fucking demons." He says and lets his head fall back. The weight of his words begins to settle in- and he pulls you as far as you can go and holds you there. Your nose flush with his abdomen, pressed against the black, well trimmed hairs. Your throat spasms with the intrusion, gagging- and Pagan doesn’t let up until your chest begins to burn.

He pulls you off him entirely. You gasp in lungfuls of air as he wrenches your head up again. He's half-crazed, panting, as rabid as you've ever seen him- "Are they working? Do you feel like you're curing evil?"

There's no right answer. Nothing you could say would be right, but he’s pleased enough at your open-mouthed panting, how you’ve nearly come undone just from sucking him off.

Pagan grabs the rope and spins you, your one foot dragging on the floor until you're facing away from him again. His hands find your hip and your strung-up leg- and there's nothing for you to do but squirm. He pushes in and his first thrust is like music; your whole body sings for the stimulation, the attention, the touch of your king. As rough as he can be with your body swaying, his fingers dig into your skin, desperate for any sort of leverage. Hard, then harder- his short-clipped nails biting into your skin. It's still not good enough; he grabs the ropes that twist around your arms, his fingers winding around his own knots as he yanks you back onto his cock.

His other hand reaches around, latches onto your throat and pulls as hard as he can, your body aching as you're bent backwards, straining against the ropes. Close, close enough for him to pant in your ear as he fucks you- "They're for worship.” He spits the word, drives it home with a thrust so hard he must bruise your cervix- and follows it with a hand sliding over your side, over each line of rope. Down, over your belly, down to your still-neglected clit. You keen as he brushes it, draws faint circles over it- "Do you feel worshipped?" His teeth close around the shell of your ear- and that's all it takes.

Lightning passes through you, leaves you gasping, begging with empty words as Pagan grunts, mutters a "Fuck, fuck!" A long, stuttering sigh- and his forehead rests against your shoulder, breath slowing in rhythm with your still-twitching body.

The serenity doesn't last long- the ropes cutting into your skin brings you down from your high. A single tiny "Ow." has Pagan up- and through his own post-orgasmic stupor manages to cut through the ropes and steady you enough to fall back onto his bed together.

With half-asleep limbs you shuck the knots from your body. Pagan watches with one eye before conceding, "Maybe too adventurous."

----

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[7-brightly-colored-lamps]

Why does Walmart sell fish anyway

Long post, but bear with me

Today while walking through Walmart with my mother, I noticed the local Walmart in my new(er) town had fish tanks. Of course I was like 'Hell yeah!' and went over to see.

What I saw fucking shocked me.

The water was filthy. Almost opaque in some places. The tanks were full of white, green, and black molds or growths. Many of the tanks were full of dead fish, floating around near living ones.

Many of the living ones showed strange behaviors I haven't seen in any fish before. Now, I'm no expert, but I am an avid animal lover, and I don't think this is normal.

Repetitive behavior like swimming into the tank over and over. Going from top to bottom ritualistically. Or just staying compleatly still. Alive, but motionless.

What really got me, though, was the following scene.

A tank, compleatly dark and almost overgrown with strange fungi. Dead fish all over the bottom, yes, the bottom. They weren't recently passed like the other ones. They were grey goldfish, laying belly up, white eyes protruding out of their sculls. This would have been disturbing enough, but then I saw a singular goldfish, alive, swimming from top to bottom in it's tank.

Seeing I was distressed, my mother ushered me along, but I continued to worry.

We don't have the money to take care of a fish, no matter how much I promised I'd pay or I'd take care of it, we just cant. However, we settled for writing a note on the back of our grocery list and leaving it on the table (with moldy filters laying in the sink, devoid of any food or cleaning supplies like you'd expect.) And getting an employee to promise to talk to whoever was running the station.

Somehow I don't think that's happened.

Now, it may seem dumb to make a whole ass post about some Walmart fish, but this is a sad reality for all Walmarts.

I mean, look up "Fish abuse" like anywhere.

I'll include screenshots if you don't believe me. The top recommendations are all about Walmart.

This leads me back to my title.

Why in the world does Walmart, a primarily grocery and convenience store, sell living, breathing animals like it's some sort of pet store.

If dogs or cats had conditions like these, there would be outrage.

Can you imagine a kitten, pacing in a tiny barren cage while surrounded by mold and decaying corpses of other kittens?? Not pretty.

I've seen betafish on shelves in "tanks" hardly as big as they were, stuck to the glass, hardly moving.

Now, I know fish aren't dogs or cats, but in the end they are animals. Pets come with responsibility. They are not a convenience.

It's not just fish. It's blatant disrespect of life just to get a quick buck.

And I'm sure some Walmarts treat their fish okay, but I've never seen one that has.

You may be wondering if there's any way you can help.

Email, mail, or call the higher ups of your local Walmarts. I know they really don't care, but with enough pushing, some things may change.

If you have the time and money, you can try buying some of these fish and giving them to local pet stores with good reputations. (I'll be listing some good and bads below.)

Take photos or videos of the conditions you find. The internet has done some amazing things before. With enough help, we can get more people seeing this. (I'd appreciate any photos or videos you can send me)

In the end, it's not "Just fish." Water based animals (Fish, certain reptiles, crabs, hermit crabs) are some of the most neglected and abused animals out there.

Walmart does all this for, what, a few hundred extra dollars??

It's disgusting.

Id appreciate it if you could spread this around. Yes, it may not fit with the theme of your blog. Yes, it seems a lot for some fish. But in the end, I'm just a guy who loves animals.

Some really bad pet stores

Walmart

Petco (known for throwing out live animals, abuse of exotic animals)

Petland (see Petco)

A lot of big brand pet stores, tbh. From betafish abuse to puppy Mills.

Again, anything from a reblog to more information is appreciated. Thanks so much for reading all of this, it's not in vain.