#and my family would definitely judge me if i used those names

[dejwrldarchived]

⤷‧₊˚ hiromi higuruma helps his bratty sub study for her bar exam.

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — black reader with descriptors, female anatomy described, her/she pronouns, usage of y/n, reader is a law student, mentions of reader being the child of a judge, mentions of law, dom!hiromi, sub!reader, reader described to be very feminine and bratty, no cursed au, dom x sub dynamic, usage of toys (vibrating panties), oral (reader receiving), pet names (good girl, doll), mentions of pubes, praise kink (academical), bonus after care scene, written in third pov (hiromi’s), mdni

sticky note from deja — sometimes i think about dom hiromi higuruma and just sigh happily.

Hiromi passed his bar exam with flying colors. He didn’t do study groups. Simply studied alone and prioritized his time to balance being a law clerk, studying, and socializing to ensure a law firm hired him. But this woman didn’t do any of that and frankly, he was even shocked that she still wanted to pursue law at all. She graduated from law school with a high GPA, and wonderful recommendations from amazing professors, and her father was a prominent judge. Many can assume that her pretty looks and her legacy surname got her where she is today, but Hiromi has observed her in her element and when she was in her element she was a beast. 

So the older lawyer had no clue why she came to him with law books in her arm, her tote bag slung on her shoulders—tight coils sprawled on her head like a crown, and a tight suede tracksuit on as if she was stepping into her law class. But of course, when she had a problem, she came to him. When she needed a quick nut, she came to him. Needing someone to vent about when it came to her class rival, she came to him. Now it seemed she needed help studying for the exam and who did she come to, him.

But as an hour and thirty minutes went by, the young woman was not soaking up the information that Hiromi was going over. His eyes bored into the notebook, flashcards, and textbooks scattered across his desk. She watches as she twirls her pink pen around her fingers reading over the notes she jolted down, but he can just tell by the crinkle of her eyebrows that the information wasn’t going through that thick skull of hers. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe she knew the information because she did. But he doubted she’d remember it for the exam. He leaned back into his comfortable black desk chair trying to rack his brain with a better studying technique before eventually he got an idea. An imaginary light bulb lit up over the top of the lawyer’s head.

“I think I have an idea.” He spoke out, causing her to stop her highlighting—which he was hoping she would do because the scent of the highlighter was already giving him a headache simply because she just had to have scented ones. 

This one smells like strawberries, smell it? Those were her exact words forty-five minutes ago as he was going over some laws on family laws. 

“Will it help me feel like the information I’m consuming is sticking and staying in my brain?” 

“Possibly,” was the only thing Hiromi answered before pulling himself out of his seat and disappearing from his office.

It was three things the woman that sat across from him enjoyed. Shopping, her father’s credit card, and sexual pleasure. If Hiromi had any more knowledge of psychology, he would have labeled Y/N as a nymphomaniac. 

When returned with the red velvet box, he sat the box on the table and she perked up happily, possibly thinking that this was a sparkly diamond necklace for her. 

“A gift? Aw, this definitely will help.” Her plush glossed lips spread into a smile. She claps her hands together in excitement sitting up in the chair. 

“It’s not a necklace, doll.” He points out. She opened the box revealing the black lace underwear that had a vibrator inside of them. 

He was going to use these at their anniversary dinner as a sub and dog duo, but he guessed he had to come up with another idea to make their dinner interesting. His gloomy eyes watched as her eyes lit up like fuckin’ fireworks. His assumption was right. He watches as she simply stands up ready to remove her underwear eagerly.

“I do think a quick sex session will help me focus a bit more. This is why I came to you. At first, I was going to join that one guy who knows Nanami's study group, but in my mind—I just knew you would have a better study idea.” She giggled as her hand went to untie her tracksuit bottoms to change into the other panties.

“No, we’re not doing that. Put the panties on and sit back down.” He scattered around his desk to give her time to change into the vibrating panties. 

He thought she was going to argue against what he said, but she didn’t. As quiet as can be, she’s shuffling to remove her underwear and replace it with the sexual treat that Hiromi graced upon her. While she changed, Hiromi was looking for the notebook that he used when he was studying for his bar exam. He knew it had a bunch of mock bar exam questions on there and thought they would help. When he found the book, he walked back to his desk and Y/N sat patiently waiting for him, she went back to reading her textbook without a care. 

Hiromi removed the box from the table, placing it on the ledge behind him after he grabbed the remote. He slammed the notebook on the table that looked like it’s been through centuries of war. He liked keeping it because it showed how far he had come from a law student to one of the best lawyers in the city. He skimmed through the pages before finding a page he wanted to start on. 

“A defendant is being prosecuted for conspiracy to possess methamphetamine with intent to distribute. At trial, the government seeks to have its agent testify to a conversation that he overheard between the defendant and a co-conspirator regarding the incoming shipment of a large quantity of methamphetamine. That conversation was also audiotaped, though critical portions of it are inaudible. The defendant objects to the testimony of the agent on the ground that it is not the best evidence of the conversation.” He pauses briefly to look at Y/N across from him. “Is the testimony of the agent admissible?” 

He watches as she brings her French tip manicured finger to her chin to think. He had a feeling she knew the answer, she told him about the paper she had done about admissible evidence. But as he watches her shoulders go upward and downward in an ‘I don’t know’ manner, Hiromi lets out a sigh before pressing the remote. The silence in his office was disrupted by the sound of the vibration. He watches as she jerks forward provocatively. He leans back in his seat.

“You know the answer to this, stop being a smart ass.” Hiromi’s slender fingers toyed with the small remote watching as she was withering forward in attempting to mask her moan.

“It’ll be admissible,” She breathes out. 

“Why?” Hiromi asked. 

For a quick second, he can see a glint of sexual frustration in her eyes. This was the first sexual encounter in a while due to him restricting them from it. He had a huge case coming up and she had to study for the bar exam. Sex would cloud their judgment on the tasks they had to do. 

“The best evidence rule does not require proof of the conversation through the audiotape.” 

He presses the button on the remote making the vibrator stop. “Good girl. I knew you knew that.” His lips crack a smile and he watches as she recomposes herself. 

“Next question.” Hiromi flips through the pages in his notebook. “Hypothetically thinking, say a person broke into a closed building to solely seek refuge due to a snowstorm. Can this person be convicted of burglary if that’s her defense?” His fingers were itching to press the button, but he had to hear her answer first.

“No.” 

“Why? Come on baby, you know they’re going to ask why?” 

“I’m not sure, let me think.” 

It didn’t take long before Hiromi pressed the button. Her moans echoed within the study while clasping her thighs closed to engulf the sudden vibration from the panties she wore. She falls back into the seat across from him and her body arches off of it briefly before she’s finally croaking out an explanation. 

“Burglary requires the intent to commit a crime upon entering a building and seeking shelter from a storm is not a criminal act. So, this hypothetical person can validate her claim.” 

“That’s right. You’re doing amazing with these questions. Just need it to stick in your brain, that’s all.” He reassures Y/N with a smile.

The quizzing went on for about thirty minutes, but Hiromi had lost track of time when he felt how tight his cock felt in his slacks. He was sure she had orgasmed multiple times from the vibrating panties just by the way her eyes drooped, her body slouching in the leather seat she was in, and the fact that he could see her hardened nipples through the sports bra after she had unzipped the hoodie of her tracksuit. She had this tendency where if he wasn’t touching her during little sessions, she had to touch herself. Which she did, right across from him—each time he flicked the remove on causing the vibrating on her pussy, she'd pinch her marbled nipples while uttering out a response to a random law question. 

“I think you deserve a break for today. You still have the weekend to study,” He pointed out as he tossed the remote back into its box. “Come here.” 

She’s hesitant at first and Hiromi can tell just by the way her lips part to argue and her eyebrows frown together. She wasn’t sure if she should cave and come forward or stay put just to feel the vibrating in between her thighs again. She knew that he knew she always defied him in some way just to get a rise out of him, but today—it seems her head was screwed on right. After all, Hiromi didn’t have to help Y/N study. Helping her study wasn’t a part of the contract, but he did—in such an odd sexy manner that caused her to be soaked between her thighs. 

As she tiptoed around the wooden desk, she was peeling off her clothes so provocatively that Hiromi couldn’t help but swallow the harsh knot that formed in his throat. He couldn’t wait for himself to be buried so far in between her sumptuous thighs that the only thing he could smell on his top lip was her essence. Hiromi spread his muscular thighs so that she could take place between them—looking down at him like she was Aphrodite and he was a man that she had just placed under a spell due to her elegance. His hand grabs her waist letting his hands caress every bump and curve of her body that he was obsessed with. From the stretch marks that decorate her mahogany skin to the small mole that was right near her belly button. 

“You drive me fuckin’ insane,” Hiromi finds himself saying. His dark eyes scan at how her lips spread into a grin. 

He grabs her, placing her on his desk without a sweat. The sound of textbooks and notebooks echoed through the office as he pulled himself further under the table. Her legs gaped so provocatively that in Hiromi’s mind, the Lady Justice statue on the shelf on his left probably wanted to clutch her pearls. Hiromi placed subtle kisses on her legs starting from her ankle which was decorated bejeweled with a diamond anklet. 

“You’re stalling. You know how much I want you right now, and you’re stalling.” The law student breathes as she leans back on the weight of her arms. 

Hiromi watches as her chest begins to rise rapidly with each kiss growing closer to her pussy. Her words went into one ear and out the other for the lawyer and when he was finally face to face with what his mouth salivated for, his eyes met with hers. Her eyes were pleading for something. A kiss. A nibble. A lick. Hell, even a blow. Anything to soothe the aching feeling on her clit. Y/N’s hand went down to palm at the wetness in between her thighs, so eager and impatient—but the stern lawyer stopped her. 

“Don’t fucking touch yourself, Y/N.” He commands. 

And there goes the tone she was longing for. Oh, that authoritarian tone that made her pussy clench when he used it. She relaxes under his touch and lets him do his work. “If you’re going to take so long, I might as well finish off by myself.” Y/N comments. 

“You talk so much, do you love hearing yourself talk?” 

“And you are doing so much talking for a man whose mouth should be stuffed with my pus—”

Her words were interrupted by the feeling of Hiromi’s tongue dragging upon her panties. He pulled them to the side swiftly and finally was granted what he wanted all along. The flat of his tongue licks up her pussy lips collecting her juices like a man that was deprived of water for days. He moans at the taste of her and his hands grab at her waist to pull her closer. His eyes flutter close as he’s lapping at her puffy pussy lips at the sound of her moans. Her fingers entangled in his hair as her hips grind against his face. She wasn’t sure what was turning her on more. The way his face was buried into her pussy or how attractive it looked as his nose was nuzzling against her pubes. 

“Fuck.” She moans out, her toes curling at the feeling of his tongue flicking her clit. 

Hiromi detaches himself from her briefly, peppering soft kisses on her trembling thighs before devouring her whole again. The thing about Hiromi is that he knew how her body would react to certain things. He knew how her pussy clenched around his cock when he gave her neck a little squeeze. He knew that she was in between a squirter and creamer depending on the task. Squirting when he’s fingering her with a vibrator practically glued upon her clit. Creamer when he’s forcing orgasm after orgasm out of her after begging him to cum inside her (but to Hiromi, having his cum inside her is merely a privilege). So of course, he knew using his tongue to trace alongside the drooling entrance of her pussy was going to have her pushing herself forward for more. The mere feeling of his tongue invading her in such a manner that had her a trembling and whimpering mess was something Hiromi knew about her. 

Hiromi lets out a moan at how good she tastes. The taste of Y/N has graced his tongue countless times and he still ate her out as if it was the best meal he has tasted. With each squirm in his arms, he’s flicking his tongue slower on her clit. With each moan of his name that slips by her plush lips, he’s granting her more licks and sucks. He wanted to see her come undone right here. He could feel it just by the way her thighs were poorly attempting to entrap his head by shutting them. 

He lets out an annoyed sigh after he removes himself from her pussy, “Do you want to cum, Y/N?” 

“I do. I want to cum.” She whines.

“Then fuckin’ act like it.” 

Y/N obediently nods, her snarky comment jammed into her throat before she let Hiromi spread her thighs even wider than what they were before. Her clit throbbing to be in his mouth again and he graciously granted her wish. Like a deprived man, Hiromi snuggled his nose back into her pubes as if he belonged there. Y/N was aware that Hiromi knew she was about to cum. He had this tendency to hold onto her as if she would turn into dust in his arms—as if he didn’t want to let her go. That’s what he was currently doing as her orgasm was spilling over. One hand gripping her in place (that she knew would leave a bruise) and the other palming his hardened cock through his pants.

Just with the flick of his tongue, an explosive feeling causes Y/N to let out a dragged-out moan. Her back lays back on the desk as Hiromi’s tongue helps her ride out the orgasm. Her French pedicured toes curl at the feeling of that fiery pit in her stomach shattering so intensely it brought tears to her eyes. Her fingers tugged at his black strands of hair as if they were a handle holding her up from falling. When she heard him remove himself from her with a pop, Hiromi leaned back in his seat with a huge satisfied grin on his face.

After Y/N came down from the euphoria of cumming in Hiromi’s mouth, she sat up on her elbows with a pleased look on her face. She knew after any sexual intercourse with the high-profile lawyer, he just had to include aftercare in the special package. He may have gotten off at the thought of seeing her tied up with rope, handcuffed to his headboard, or mouth gagged with his cock—but he was very serious when it came to aftercare. The two soon settled for a bath to end the evening. The warmth of the water engulfed their bodies as they were in the large bathtub filled with scented soap and rose petals. Hiromi’s head fell back to be met with the marbled tile and he let out a relaxing sigh, the scent of Y/N lingering on his upper lip and tongue. 

“I have a confession to make..” Y/N leans further back on him, relaxing under the warmth of both the water and Hiromi’s body. 

“Hm.” He hums lightly letting his eyes flutter back open.

“I’m actually well prepared for the bar exam. Took a practice bar exam a week ago and according to my professor—if it was the real one, I would have passed.” She happily sighs letting her fingers play with the bubbles in the tub. 

“What?” Hiromi glares at the back of her head with a displeased look.

“I woke up this morning with a student and tutor sex fantasy, silly.” 

“You will be the death of me.” 

⤷‧₊˚ cuties that wanted to be tagged | @tojiscumdumpster @salaciousdoll @thithesandofferings @tachibannaa @shinsousliya @sinistersnakey1427 @gothogue @rhionnajones @jamaicanqueenaa @dxmb-luv @0hmyg0th @ryukenzz @dancingwithdeities @getosbunny @hvly @racconwarrer @aiyaaayei @torapologist @strawhatsav @msdrpreist @neesieiumz @strawberrymuffinlovin @consternat1on @photosbyameil

thanks for reading. <3

[silent-stories]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐌

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Eddie wants to introduce you to his mom, so you go to the graveyard with him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, death of a parent

It was late evening and the sky was starting to darken when you sat down on the ground, in front of the stone with Mrs. Munson's name engraved on it.

"Hi mom, this is Y/N," Eddie said as he crossed his legs and stared at the faded photo of the smiling woman on the tombstone "my girlfriend."

He had been wanting to take you there for some time, he said that since he knew your family he wanted you to get to "know" his too, only if you wanted too, of course.

"I've talked about her so many times before, I do it every time I come here actually, but I've never brought her here before." He added pulling his hands out of his jacket pockets and playing nervously with the rings on his fingers.

He kept talking without ever meeting your gaze as if he was afraid of what he might read in your eyes.

"She's here because she's really important to me and I wanted to introduce her to you too. Uncle Wayne has already said that she likes her a lot, they're basically best friends, sometimes I think she loves him more than me." He said the last part with a slight laugh but from his expression he didn't look amused.

"You two have a lot in common, you know?" He asked before pausing as if he was really waiting for an answer.

In return you only heard the rustling of the leaves of the trees caused by the wind.

"She's as kind as you were. She always lets me copy her homework even though I should probably start doing it myself if I wanna graduate. Sometimes she brings home-cooked food for me and Wayne, she and her mom make really good chocolate cakes, you would have liked them a lot." He explained, his voice low.

"Sometimes we cook together like I used to do with you. But Y/N and I always end up making a mess or fighting with flour. But it's fun, so we keep doing it even if we have to clean the trailer from top to bottom afterwards." A sad smile appeared on Eddie's face, probably remembering his days spent with his mother when she was with him.

"And she's as funny as you, she can make me smile with a simple joke even though my day has been shit and I just want to sleep for three days straight." He added and your heart squeezed in your chest.

"She's caring. That's another thing you both have in common. Once I didn't go to school because I had a fever and she missed an important test to come and check if I was okay. Actually I wasn't very okay, she had to keep my hair back as I threw up. I told her she could go anyway but she stayed with me until Wayne was back, at night. She stayed there all those hours, making me rest my head on her stomach and running her hands through my hair just like you used to do." At this point you just wanted to cry. You never thought that all those simple gestures that were part of your relationship with Eddie could mean so much to him.

You reached out to him and grabbed his hand which had started to shake slightly and definitely not from the temperature. He fliched at first, then hold it as if his life depended on it.

"She's also a good listener, she never judges when I talk about my problems and always listens when I talk about things I'm interested in . She says she likes to hear me talk about what I like, Dungeons & Dragons, the band and music in general, books. Once I even started reading the Hobbit aloud to her, but she fell asleep after half an hour with her head on my chest. I didn't get mad, she was too pretty. And I could never be mad at her, she makes me happy." If he was talking about being happy, then why did his voice sound so broken?

"When I'm with her I feel good, mom. It doesn't matter if I'm at school, in the trailer or on a bench in the woods, when I'm with her I feel at home. And it feels good. It feels great." He added as a tear rolled down his cheek.

"She's one of the best people I know." He breathed as you reached up to him and wiped it away with your thumb, slowly caressing his cheek.

"You would have loved her, mom." He said finally, before wrapping an arm around your waist and pushing you against him, resting his head on your shoulder and sniffling.

"It's okay." You said rubbing your hand on the fabric of the denim jacket covering his back.

"I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too. And I'm so sorry I didn't get to know your mom. If she was even half as amazing as you are, then she really must have been great." You said leaving a kiss on his forehead.

"She was." He murmured as his arms still held you.

Your lips brushed his temple leaving a light kiss there too, then you turned towards the tombstone.

"Mrs. Munson, I promise I will take good care of your boy."

[mamaspeckles]

Hey my lovely! So there was some difficulties when working with the fic so here is a fixed version! Mama apologizes!

Velvet x Fem Reader SFW And NSFW Headcanons

CHARACTER IS 18+

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

SFW

-She was undoubtedly the first to develop feelings for you. Despite being a mega star alongside her brother, you weren't initially fazed by all her glitz and glam. At first, you were in denial that a famous pop star with numerous hit sensations would be interested in someone of a lower level like you. "I like you, Y/N! I've always had!" "I know... I knew from the beginning, but why?"

-Being her loving girlfriend doesn't guarantee she'll be all soft with you. She's had a bad attitude since childhood. If she dislikes something you do, expect a glare or a warning grip on your shoulder if you're beside her.

-You and her keep your relationship subtle and private, mainly because her fans crush on her and find her attractive. She believes it's not just her music that draws them in, but also her seductive and attractive aura. Only close family knows about the two of you, and it will remain that way until she finds the perfect time to reveal your relationship to the world.

-She throws her credit card on your lap if she sees you eyeing things you want, but she subtly judges your taste in fashion, mainly because you don't wear gold like her. "Oh, you want that? Okay, put it on my card, babe."

-Velvet's only pet names for you are "babe" and "hon"; she doesn't go overboard on nicknames. However, if you manage to make her truly mad, she'll refer to you as "bro."

-Velvet definitely bought those tap and buzz couple bracelets just to bug you, and she freaks out if you aren't wearing them. One time, you were asleep at 4 in the morning, and she full-blown spams the bracelet, waking you up.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

NSFW

-velvet is a very bold girl and isn’t afraid to say straight forward things to you “Shut up and take your pants off …I want to watch you touch yourself for me.”

-Sex doesn’t affect velvet. The only problem she has is the fact that her body will be covered in sweat when she’s done- She likes showering after. If you want to join her she doesn’t mind- if you are looking forward to her giving you after she won’t do anything to help you unless you tell her what you want.

-During sex, romance isn’t the biggest part of it for her. She mostly likes it to be strictly pleasure-based. She already shows you love in wholesome manner why show it with sex?.

-Velvet LOVESSSS seeing you beg. Anything that sets a power dynamic in general. Get on your knees for her and she’ll be ready whenever you are.

-She doesn’t make too much noise. Maybe a gasp and an mini groan every once in awhile. Vocals aren’t her pride. She doesn’t see the reason to force out noises for somebody else’s mental pleasure. - she does love hearing you cry in pain though..

-She owns toys…a lot of toys. Mostly for sex with you. She strictly uses them on you if you want to.

-she has dirty thoughts of fucking you senseless with a strap on but she doesn’t act on it.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

MY HANDS HURT UGH😭I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS (please like it)

[flaneur001]

Whitney Theory Time

[CW- talks about mental health, child neglect, random character analysis and unnecessary deep diving into little details (lol)]

I went down a little rabbit hole pertaining to Whitney’s oral fixation. I have known that when something is brought attention to constantly during any story, then it’s not a simple coincidence. I feel like (how Sydney said in the library) that Whitney has a lot going on. And it’s probably not good. I feel like their back story will be very angsty and sad.

So as someone who has studied psychology for a while, I found this…and I feel like I hit the nail on the head (for those morbidly curious like me this is Freud’s theory on oral fixation…and yeah don’t judge me for going all Freudian analysis on Whitney/silly)

So chances of our Whit being a neglected child are very high. But from their general appearance in the game (m!whitney wearing a blazer and f!whitney wearing a long school skirt. Both items are on the costlier side in game) I feel like they come from a well off family? the general hate towards the privileged people they hold, points to either them living a life of privilege but they are so miserable they want to escape? (Tbh their whole schtick sometimes gives rich kid doing all kinds of weird stuff trying to get attention from their absentee parents trope)

Or maybe used to be a part of a well off family? I feel like they are not being able to cope with the sudden change in their lifestyle if this is the case. Thus are trying to sell this fearless image of themselves.

And Is it just me or do you find it weird too that although Whitney is sent to detention Leighton almost never does anything to Whitney besides scolding? I feel like they do come from a powerful background. Otherwise why would all these lackeys follow them around?! And they own a phone to top it all off. I know all the other NNPCs have a phone too but amongst the LIs only Whitney (and Avery) owns a phone?!

The lowkey neurotic and manic tendencies they have towards PC also screams of separation anxiety. (Ahem collection of stuff toys?) For example, them needing to control PC at all times. Their love stat going high only when PC willingly chooses to act on their every whimsical/cruel wishes, them wanting to tattoo their name on PCs face of all places, not being able to be more open/ vulnerable with PC because they feel that PC might leave them.

And their dismissal event also shows just how much their image matters to them, and why they crave to be in control. This is yet another trait they share with Avery, when on low dominance, you can see how humiliated they get whenever PC fights back with them. Add insecurity about looks on top and viola, you have some deep childhood issues (I love complex fully fleshed characters so much)

Also the not being sufficiently fed during nursing part (I’m referring to the picture above) makes me think that the Headcanon about their parents being divorced and maybe their mom moving out at a very young age, seems like a possibility. Hence Whitney not being able to withstand emotional cheating seems like a result of that (I’m just spitballing here…)

So yeah. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk. I feel good after hyperfixating about a fictional character.

[Bonus Angst Headcanon] I like to imagine, if it indeed turns out that Whitney lives in some mansion with their dad, and their mom left when they were young, why do I get a feeling that their mom left them/ said goodbye to them near the water fountain on a rainy day. Them just staring into the fountain with a solemn mood, feels like there is a definite reason behind it. Or maybe they used to come to the fountain and make wishes with their mom? (Yes I like to torture myself with sad thoughts)

[lacyscabinet]

Natalie Scatorccio being Italian

A/N: Hi GUYSSS!!! I was really bored in class today and I remembered that Natalie is indeed my fellow Italian so I thought I'd make a headcanon about it, in the first few bullet points I tried to kinda give her a backstory so that was fun :) enjoy<3

From what we have been shown in the series Natalie doesn't really lean in the Italian-american stereotype (luckily lmao) apart from her very Italian last name and the attempted Italian accent Sophie Thatcher gave to the character in the first episodes, so we'll have to use some imagination here, but hey, it's an headcanon after all

Her dad's family is Italian (I'm pretty sure this is canon, correct me if I'm wrong tho) but he moved to the USA

Her dad's family was probably from the south, not necessarily Sicily or Sardinia, maybe somewhere around Naples!? Definitely not the north tho

I don't think she ever actively decided to learn Italian, maybe she knows a few words (definitely the swear words, we'll get to that later) but the accent is what really stuck with her

Would get pissed if someone cooked pasta the wrong way

"you need to boil the water first AND DEAR GOD NO DO NOT BREAK THE SPAGHETTI WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THAT'S BLASPHEMY"

Thick Italian accent when she gets mad/speaks with a louder tone/when she first wakes up (same girl, same)

Does the 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻 ironically (again, same girlie)

At first she tried to get people to pronounce her last name correctly but eventually gave up

"Sketorcio?"

"no, it's literally the same way it's written"

"Skeattorcio"

"You know what nevermind"

Side eyes people every time they pull a pizza pasta mandolino on her

Goes around and judges pizzas even though she has not tried real Italian pizza

Randomly flexes being Italian to anyone at random times

As I said she can't fluently speak Italian but she knows for sure every curse word (and trust me we have lots of those)

"Natalie have you brought your soccer shoes?"

"Oh, yes they are in my bag, look..."

*opens bag to take the shoes out and they are not in there*

"OH CAZZO"

Or

*hits her pinkie toe against the corner of a wardrobe*

"PORCA PUTTANA"

Firm believer that she would use bestemmie (really really bad words that are considered a sin and are very stigmatized by Catholic folks) all the time

Even at random times just because she can and after all no one would understand anyways

Brags about her cooking skills but can't actually cook

She would like to visit Italy one day but she's too broke even to buy lunch at school

That's all for today:)

A/N: if anything else pops up in my mind I'll make a part 2 pookies!!! Have a good day and be gay :)

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chptr 17

It's been a while since I've last updated this fic, but here it is - the next chapter of The Butterfly Effect. Hope you enjoy! And thanks for everyone's lovely support with this story. Hopefully it won't be as long before the next chapter is out 🤞

No major tags for this one - minor angst, whump and a bit of family fluff thrown in!

💙💚🧡💛💜🐦‍🔥🚒

John was torn. Torn between all those who needed him. Torn between duty and love. But, in the end, the choice was easy. His place was on the GDF carrier headed for Auckland, at the side of his brothers and Grandmother.

The post-mission clean up (if it could indeed be called that), the press, and the rest of the world waiting on them, would simply have to manage. God knows, he was having to.

Hauling himself aboard, he gently touched the painted name of the carrier, before finding a vacant seat next to Tam.

"Welcome aboard!" Colonel Casey greets, over the sounds of the engines, and flicking of buttons.

Val had been good to them. As soon as she had a functional comms line up and working, she'd taken the initiative to pull strings with a number of contacts. Phoenix would be allowed the time off from their regular civilian jobs back home to help with getting International Rescue back onto their feet, if they so wished.

It was a unanimous 'yes.'

"We're here for as long as you need us," her words held a warmth befitting her honorary Aunt status. She'd squeezed his shoulder, before brushing a stray lock of hair out of Scott's face.

"Thanks," John sighed, with a gratitude that somehow furthered his exhaustion.

Although it was in the world's best interest to see International Rescue functioning again, as swiftly as possible; it was good to know that people had their backs when the chips were down.

Val made her way to the front of the carrier and a flutter of garish Hawaiian fabric filled the seat.

Gordon peered over the eldest brother.

"Hey there, Bird Bath! How's the head?"

A groan, but Scott's eyes remained shut.

"Gords..."

"The one and only!"

Scott could hear his brother's Cheshire Cat grin.

"As your brother, I feel it's my duty to tell you that that landing was...*raspberry* stinko, awful...I've seen Rigby land better!" He gave a thumbs down.

"Ah, save it! Yours is the one Thunderbird that doesn't fly," Rigby deadpanned, from the cockpit.

"Make him stop," Scott's hoarse whisper is mainly levied at John, but entreats any and all who can hear him.

"Gladly. Just tell me how," John smirks, finally letting his shoulders drop a fraction.

"Ah, don't be like that... Hey, I know what'll cheer you both up!"

"No."

"A good ole sea shanty!" Gordon whips out his pocket device.

"Veto."

"Aww, really John? Not even, 'Leave her Johnny, leave her?'"

"Especially not that."

"Fine. I've got you..."

A moment passes as Gordon scrolls, then taps; and the hangar bursts into song.

"Eurovision!"

Virgil reopens his eyes to the sounds of...wait, is that Conchita Wurst?

Oh God, Gordon - Rise Like a Phoenix...really? Phoenix. This was definitely Gordon's taste in music - and humour.

Virgil doesn't remember being hover-stretchered to the hangar, but it's good to hear the voices of his family once more.

"Stop your fussing. I'm fine,"

"I'll be the judge of that Mrs. Tracy."

"Matthew Eric Jones!" Grandma starts.

"She middle named me! Did y'hear that Mac? She middle named me!"

"Oooh! Now you're in for it!" Gordon's chimes in, clearly enjoying his inflight entertainment.

"I was a doctor-"

"-And now you're my patient. So, unless you're going to sign an AMA form, you'll sit back nicely, and let me do my job."

"Oooh, I like him." Grandma's voice concedes. "Fine. But if they keep me in, you're bringing the treats! And none of this basket of grapes rubbish. I'm talking chocolate and brandy - neat."

"It's a hospital, Grandma." John's voice reasons.

"And?"

"And you should know - better than most, that they're not gonna let us bring that in for you."

Grandma goes to fold her arms, then winces, with a concealed hiss.

"John. Kid. I'm old! Just stick it in a sippy cup and call it apple juice - they'll never know the difference!"

"Stop tryna...get John...into trouble."

It's a wonderful sound, hearing the deep rumble of baritone. Sally can feel a secondary tightness - one she could not attribute to her injury, leave her broken ribcage.

"Eh. Twas worth a shot." She offers up a warm smile, knowing he cannot see it - both her eldest grandsons sporting large foam trauma blocks; but she hopes he can hear the sentiment within her voice.

"Nice to have you back in the land of the living, kid!"

[sharp-silver4795]

Liu Woods Headcannons

The people have spoken! On a poll that I made, I asked if yall wanted me to post my own stuff and…. Oh god- I set it for a week cuz I thought no one would see it- 40 FUCKING PEOPLE RESPONDED-

So, I hear you! I’m gonna start with just random head cannons cuz… yeah…

TW!!!

Suicide, Murder (duh), abusive families, definitely not the Liu most ppl know.

I will put a warning before each group of bullets.

Least Sensitive >> Mildly Sensitive >> Most Sensitive

The first two aren’t head cannons-

I pronounce it like “Lee-oh” (Leo). I made a post about it earlier. However, I’ve said it like “Loo” for a long time- I’m tryna break that habit

He is my favorite. I remember seeing a post that was judging ppl based on their fav creepypasta…. No I won’t shut up about him.

HEAD CANNON TIME

General

He’s Chinese. Jeff is his half brother on their mom’s end. There is no fucking way an American kid would have a Chinese name.

So, Liu moved from China when he was 5 and his mom married Peter. Jeff was born when he was 7.

When Liu was young he didn’t have many friends cuz his English sucked and his little brother wasn’t even a year old.

He likes brownies and cinnamon rolls like their made of gold

Man can cook 🧑‍🍳 🤌

Has a bunch of plants that he forgets exist and cries when they die

Boy is tough. A lot of ppl see him as a teeny bean, hell nah!

Wears combat boots, skinny jeans, and sweaters consistently.

The scarf is to cover scars.

He’s about 6’5 (nearly 200cm).

Murder, Gore, Blood

Mainly uses a crowbar to beat his victims to death.

Remember how I said he wears combat boots? Well those things have heels and he tends to “stun” kill people by jumping up and stomping down on the side of the person’s head. 240lbs in a surface area the size of a US quarter is definitely gonna break your skull.

In the mansion his job doesn’t really revolve around murder as much as it’s about torture. He’s fucking good at it too.

Sexuality, Gender, and Such

He’s gay. You can’t change my mind.

I see him as being Agender and not caring about the pronouns you use for him. (Note: I usually switch up the pronouns but since this is the first HC post I’m making for them, I wanted this to be said first)

Married to EJ. If you don’t like the ship, I’m sorry!

⚠️ SA, CSA, Abuse, Suicide, SH, Grooming ⚠️

DID usually forms before 9yo and I can’t believe him getting DID at 19.

So, he hung himself when he was 19. This is what set Jeff off, because he was the one who found Liu’s body.

So, Keith is about 11 years older than Liu, and, when he was looking for friends, Keith took advantage of them. This lead to Liu basically being groomed until he was 12. I HC that Randy had a lil “crush” on Jeff and Keith kept Liu “out of the way” by consistently r—ping him.

Things at home weren’t great for him either. Peter was under the impression that his mom was a virgin with no kids (incell vibes), and when he found out Liu existed Peter decided to take it out on him. He would be locked in a dark closet of the basement for days on end. If he “misbehaved” too much, Peter would put him in the clothes dryer (also in the basement) for however long he deemed necessary.

Eventually Liu couldn’t take it and he hung himself.

Liu’s Alters and System

⚠️ similar themes from before, drugs/alcohol abuse, religious trauma ⚠️

Hannah: gatekeeper, what Liu “would have been” like if nothing happened.

Jinx: Sexual protector, the response to Keith’s abuse

Sully: Physical protector, response to Peter’s abuse

Jessie: Mental persecutor, encouraged Liu to kill himself.

Leviathan: Trauma holder, response to constant guilt from religious trauma

Vex: persecutor, response to alcohol and drug addiction.

Nigh: Trauma holder, response to all those lonely years

So, about Jeff…

Liu has zero issues with Jeff.

Jeff didn’t kill him, he had to make his way back to life (I will post more abt this another day).

Jeff mispronounced his name, but Liu was too nervous to correct him (bc trauma)

He is about 6yrs older than Jeff.

I probably have other HCs that i forgot, but anyway- that’s all the energy I have rn….

[jqmalikhsgib]

astrology

one

in most stories being the youngest kid means being the sheltered child. everyone would see the baby of the family being favored more than the eldest or middle child. for you, it wasn’t ever like that.

you grew up in an classic middle class family. your mother was a nurse and your father was a detective. your older brother followed in his fathers footsteps. he went to college, worked his ass off, and became an officer.

your sister went a bit of a different route. she decided to be a lawyer. she was damn good at it too.

you on the other hand, you had different dreams. you never wanted to be cooped up in a bubble. your dreams were to travel the world, draw the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen, meet new people, discover yourself.

when you graduated high school you saved up enough money over the years to do so. you took different jobs just to pay bills and continue to move along.

your parents never thought it was a great idea. they’d always scold you to go to college. they’d get your siblings along in it but it just never worked. you loved your free spirited life style.

you visited your family every once in a while. but after ten years of being free, ten years of constantly hearing the same things over and over, ten years of nonstop get bugged over when you’re gonna grow up and turn your life around, you were tired.

you stopped going to every christmas, every thanksgiving, every birthday, any holiday. you’d come up with some excuse. telling your family you had a shift at whatever job you had.

truth was, you needed to be away. your family back home may not have understood. besides your best friend, you didn’t really keep in contact with anyone.

spencer was the only one who stood beside you. he knew that you had other dreams and aspirations. he never judged you for drifting off and exploring the world. he was the one to encourage you.

“yn, remember what you told me when i had a hard time deciding to skip a few grades? you said that if i didn’t, id always wonder. you told me im too smart to be in seventh grade and i needed to get off my ass and go show those high school idiots how smart i truly am. you’re an amazing artist, yn! i know you can make a name for yourself.”

that was the only thing you needed to hear before you packed your bags, bought a plane ticket, and began your journey. you never regret your decision.

it’s why you’re so glad to be in virginia. getting to see spencer again made you happy. you haven’t seen your best friends since he made it into the behavioral analysis program. you knew spencer was beyond smart. knowing that he was working with the smartest people, fighting crime, and kicking ass, made you proud.

you smile at the guard up front. “hi, im here to see doctor spencer reid.”

the guard asked for a form of identification before smiling and giving you a visitors badge. spencer made sure to let them know you’d be coming by.

when you finally got to his floor your eyes widened with how big it truly was. you never thought you’d ever be here. standing in front of a team full of people who study human behavior.

“yn!?” spencer runs to his friend.

“woah, slow down there pretty boy.”

you opens your arms wide as spencer lifts you up and spins you around. you giggled before he sets you down.

“hi, genius!”

“god, i miss you.”

“miss you too bud. this place is incredible, spence. how do you guys get any work around here done. i wouldn’t know how to sit still.”

spencer just shrugs as he walks the two of you over to his desk. you spot two individuals.

one of them was a woman. she was beautiful. her dark locks were slowly fading to grey, but she definitely rocked it.

the other was a tall, muscular build man. he had a cocky smirk on his face. he was definitely handsome. you can tell he’s a bit of a player but ultimately a sweetheart.

“well pretty boy, you gonna introduce us?”

spencer smiles. “guys, this is my best friend since diapers, yn! yn thats emily and derek.”

you gently waved.

“hi. it’s nice to finally meet you. spencer talks bout you guys all the time. im glad he has someone else to bug besides me.” you playfully hit his arm.

“you must be someone special. reid doesn’t hug anyone. says—”

“it’s safer to kiss? he’s been saying that since we were children. i think he came up with that when he had a crush on our next door neighbor, dawn.”

“hey! it’s an actual fact!” spencer defends.

you playfully roll your eyes. “when are you off, butthead? i wanna look at places while im here.”

“im off this weekend.”

“you’re moving down here?!”

“yeah. spencer constantly tells me how great this place is. it’s gotta be better than nevada if it’s got spencer’s vote of approval.”

“it is a great state. you’ll love it. if you need help finding something im sure i could be of service.”derek flirts.

“thanks. i should probably let you all get back to work. ill—”

“we have a case!” you get interrupted. you slowly lift your head and your heart skips a beat.

he stares at you with a scowl on his face. you assumed it was a permanent one. he was tall, had a beautiful head of hair, his face was clean shaven, his suit was definitely dry cleaned. he looked like a man you’d see in a fairytale. like how you’d imagine prince eric from the little mermaid to look. he was breathtaking.

“i’ll probably be gone for a few days. will you be okays exploring the city without me?” spencer breaks you out of your trance.

“um—yeah. just be safe. and call me!”

spencer smiles as he squeezes your arm before walking away. you give your heart a second to go back to normal speed.

you think you’re gonna love it here.

so, yes it’s an age gap between them. listen, im not gonna be like some people and say i have a huge problem with age gaps, because i do not!

yes, at times it can be gross. when someone is freshly eighteen and dating someone in their mid to late twenties or older, it’s gross

if someone knew the person when they were a child and begin dating them. even if they’re in their twenties, it’s gross

but as someone who’s 25 and has only dated men older since i was like 22, i don’t see much of a problem as long as they were two consenting adults.

that being said, read it if you want and if you don’t, scroll past it.

reader is 28

aaron is 44

[unholyplumpprincess]

Falls on my knees,,, Peach can I please request nsft Junker Queen with a smol fem s/o who comes from a rich family and is kinda sheltered? Like, sneaks out to go see her Junker wife, maybe a bit of a corruption kink if that's okay? Ty ty in advance! And if the request isn't to your liking, that's totally alright too! <3

Now, I don't normally do gendered readers. BUT I couldn't get the idea of Junker Queen calling reader her Lil Princess soooooo I'll make a self indulgent exception this time. Also accidentally got carried away and wrote more than intended lmaooo

Reblogs > Likes. Please Reblog if you hit like/heart to keep more writers like me alive and to see more content! :D

Ao3 link: Here

Fandom: Overwatch

Relationship: Junker Queen x Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader explicitly uses she/her pronouns + has a vulva + is called a good girl/princess/wife/etc, I'd say fem reader but as a femme nb Id be okay with those terms sooo, There's a public scene so like- pda but make it horny?, Possessive Junker Queen

Words: 3.2k

_____

Would it really surprise anyone nowadays?

You always had a luxurious life- yet, very strict. You were raised under the intention of taking over your father's company, being the only child in line for it. You were to be someone else's legacy. Your feelings and opinions never mattered- not even your hobbies.

Your father ran a tight ship, one that limited you greatly even into your adult life. He worked closely with Vishkar, working on a program that would better life for humans and use omnics as either scrap metal or servants.

You never liked it, always having immense empathy for those around you. Omnics or otherwise. It left a poor taste in your mouth at the thought of having to take over such a company.

But. It did mean you had to learn the tricks of the trade. Meaning trading with other people, companies, and sometimes even faux kingdoms.

And that's where you met her.

~Rest under the cut~

Odessa was not a woman of unreasoning, but she definitely wasn't one you bullshitted with either. She could sniff out a lie like a bloodhound; No exception to your father either when he tried to underhand her.

She laughed in his face when he proposed helping with the feral omnics around and using them as scrap metal. Offering to clean out her Wasteland just for parts. But she knew better and had leaned down from her imposing throne, using her axe to tip his chin up as she crooned; "And what's in it for me, old man?"

Whilst looking directly at you.

He tried offering money for the scraps, but in the end they had reached an agreement of some kind. You would come to her faux kingdom and help her with financials and factions that she couldn't seem to get right. And of course, he'd still pay handsomely for the scrap he took. But, if he overstepped his bounds or went against his word, he could kiss his scraps goodbye.

And judging by how she had looked at your during this dealing, you expected you'd be scooped up as well as 'aid for the salt in her wounds'.

It's how you two get close. Odessa- or Dez, as you find she liked to be called instead- keeps to her word and uses your knowledge for her own gain. And in turn, you get to see parts of the world you know you'd never be allowed to.

She takes to calling you Princess, and at first you scoff at it. But soon it turned into a fond pet name, something that made you feel pretty and cherished.

Your interests start to show again, an old love of engineering and tinkering coming into play on one of the weeks she has you. She finds you late at night in her very own workshop, using pieces of scrap found around to make a makeshift sculpture of her Champion. A little ball that when a button was pressed, popping open into the sculpture to form the little hamster inside.

After that, she'd come and watch you instead.

Her keen eyes on you as she straddled a chair backwards, resting her chin over the top of it as her honey eyes burned holes into you.

Then more watching as you got to stay for longer periods of time. Dez was interested in your routines, how you lotioned your skin, patting lipgloss on your lips and doing your hair. Softer things she was unfamiliar with, just like the rougher things you too didn't understand.

Tension built between the two of you. You couldn't look her in the eye without feeling flustered. And it seemed like she caught on quickly, trying to do everything to impress you.

She was like a puppy some days.

Some times you caught her making a struggle sound when lifting something heavy, only to act like it was no big deal when you walked in the room. Or how some days she'd try to cook something more elaborate with spices like you did, but it would be too much and inedible.

It's the thought that counted.

It wasn't until she shows up in your room in her wing with flowers does it occur to you this silly queen had been trying to court you.

From there, you…try not to go home too often.

Your father doesn't like that you're enjoying time away. It all becomes too much one day when he tries to tell her he's breaking off the arrangement to the Queen. To which Dez laughs in his face and reminds him that she's not against taking his only child.

Not that you would be against it either.

When your relationship starts, she's all chivalry. She's loud, huge, and isn't scared to get into fights with people who even look at you sideways.

She holds your hand in public, grabs your ass, presses a hand on your lower back- you name it. She says it's to 'Give that lot something to really look at' and 'Let em know what's the Queen's property'.

It makes you feel…wanted.

But Dez also grabs your hand to guide you gently down the steps, or helps you tie your dresses up in the back. She'll sit with you while you take a bath, watching you with all your fancy bubbles and soft lotions with curiosity.

And then hunger when you offer for her to join you.

In turn, you learn to get a little dirty. The basics of self defense and standing up for yourself. Learning how to say No with certainty and getting into hobbies you'd long since forgotten.

It's one day after one of your baths does she make her move. She's upset about something, frustrated, looking to blow off steam. She tells you you smell so good, that you're so soft.

That she wants to tear you apart.

You go that night sore and bruised with bite marks lining every inch of you. With a snoring girlfriend lain across you and holding you like a stuffie.

Princess becomes more than a pet name after that.

One final night, you have a fight with your father and sneak out that night. Your private dropship already knows where to take you, the built in AI taking you there.

It's dark out, but Dez is already waiting for you. As if she got wind of it before you even showed up. You don't question it or try to make sense of it, just taking her hand silently as she escorts you off your ship.

"Rough night?" Are her first words that break the silence as she leads you inside her bedroom. You laugh dryly, wiping at the mascara trails under your eyes silently as she hands you a tissue.

"S'alright, love. You can stay here as long as ya need, yeah? Been in my fair share of spats with my old man too back in the day." Dez comforts you, opening her large arms as you come towards her to rest your head on her.

Your head reaches below her chest. Her hands are warm and rough as they rub across your back, focusing on the exposed part of your upper back where your dress dips down. Her short nails soothingly rub across your skin as you breathe in her scent slowly.

"Got any positions available in your kingdom, Your Highness?" You murmur as a jab to be humorous, but it comes out quietly.

In turn, Dez spares you a little chuckle. She pulls away briefly, grabbing your chin to tip it up to her with a cocksure smirk playing on her lips. "Could use someone to help me keep documentation on things." Her thumb then rubs across your bottom lip, watching as you close your eyes and peck a kiss to it. "Could also use a lil' wife to keep me in line too."

"Wife, huh?" You tease back at her, reaching up to grab her hand and press a kiss to her palm. But when she doesn't laugh at first, you glance back up to her face to see she's looking at you expectantly.

It clicks.

"Dez you're not seriously proposing like that, are you?" Your tone is full of mirth, flattered even. Your smile breaks her as she starts to smile in turn, leaning down to kiss your forehead and then your nose.

"Nah, nah. Just a thought, Princess. Would wanna find ya a big ole ring. Somethin' that screams 'Queen', ya know? Maybe we'll even getcha a lil tiara, aye?" All the while she speaks, gesturing to your head and forming a circle with her fingers like she's measuring you.

"Are you going to bring fireworks for the occasion?"

"Of course, doll! Would do it in public too. Maybe after pulverizing some bloke in the Reckoning." Dez hums thoughtfully, cupping her cheek and letting her eyes flick over your now smiling face. "Though, worry it'll make 'em think you're part of that prize. The title and the bride up for grabs."

"I'd poison them in their sleep and get you your title back."

A grin splits across her face, her big, booming laugh echoing in the room as she scoops you up into her arms to squeeze you tightly. "Now THAT'S my girl!"

--

You stay there afterwards. Carefully bundled in her bed with her night after night. Most nights she's not there, busy with handling things. And in turn, you learn to stay up late with her. You write down all her words, keeping documentation on factions and any upsets that went around town.

It feels like a domestic lifestyle. She's even started teasingly calling you her bride and wife, much to your embarrassment.

Dez treats you gently, the utmost gentleman that she is- per her own words.

But one time, when you go to the bar with her, someone gets a bit too bold with you. Knocking shoulders with you, poking at you. You can see her from across the table slowly looking murderous. But the cherry on top is when the person beside you implies they could treat you better.

You're surprised they don't end up a bloody pulp. But you quickly learn why when Dez croons at them, "Oh, ya do, aye? And would you happen to know what little spots make her tick, hm?" In this venomous tone as she stalks around the table to come toward you.

You squeak as you're lifted off the chair by her, your body turned towards that person as her hands slide down your shoulders. Down to your waist where she grabs you tight and makes you gasp, a heavy flush covering your face.

You try to turn your head, but she grabs your chin, turning your head towards the person to make sure they're looking just as you are.

"See how her legs shake?" Dez continues, her free hand trailing up to your chest and making you tremble. "See how she melts at my touch?" Her hand on your chin slides down, and you automatically move to make room for it to wrap loosely around your throat.

Your lashes begin to flutter, your breath shaking.

"You wanna know what sounds she makes for me in the night? Screaming my name? Ya think you could do that? Mate, I can make her scream for me without ever bein' inside her." Her words are harsh and heavy, but you're so distracted by her hand trailing down to the bottom of your dress. Her hand slides underneath, over your thigh, bending you over with her height only.

"Doll," She directs to you, her tone so sweet and kind. You hardly have time to breathe. "Remind this poor, blubbering fool who you belong to?"

"M-my Queen."

"And who only gets the utmost pleasure in having you?"

"You, my Queen."

"Now. Be a good girl and tell this bloke to fuck off." Her tone is sweet to you, so kind. You're shaking at the feeling of her body heat behind you as she stands to allow you to stand.

Her hand catches your chin again, directing you to open your eyes and look at the poor son of a bitch avoiding eye contact with you as the whole bar stares.

"Fuck off."

You don't get to finish your time at the bar. From there, Dez tells everyone to get back to what they were doing and have a good night. Said with a big slap on the back to the person who had been flirting with you.

You barely make it to the bedroom before Dez is snarling and slamming you into the nearest surface- but of course with a hand behind your head to avoid impact.

You whimper as she captures your lips in hers, bending down to do so. Her hand grabs your hair, her other one quickly shuffling up your skirts to fit her large thigh between yours to cause a moan to gasp from you.

"My pretty girl," She snarls against your lips, kissing down your neck as she pulls your hair. Forcing you to expose your neck as you gasp out. Her thigh presses up harder into you, feeling how wet you are already and making her breathlessly chuckle. "Oh? My sweet Princess liked that, hm?"

You try to nod, but can't move a muscle when she sucks a bruise into your neck with a cry from your own lips. "D-Dez-"

"Yeah, keep sayin' my name, angel. Gonna make you scream it real soon." She promises, her voice sounding like a growl as she scoops you up to deposit you on the bed.

You hardly get one bounce in before she's grabbing your hips and tugging you to the end of the bed where she gets down on her knees in front of you. Your dress is shuffled up where you quickly hold the skirts in place to watch her helplessly.

She moans at the sight of you, her finger trailing over the wet spot on your panties and pressing with just enough pressure over your clit to make you squirm. "My poor baby. A queen should never let her bride be wanting, hm? How selfish of me."

Your panties are ripped off, tucked into her back pocket before Dez is quickly yanking you close to bury her face into you. Her tongue knows exactly what you like best, licking flat over your whole cunt before her lips seal over your clit.

You scream out, your hands finding her braids and grabbing onto them for support. Your legs quake as she presses forward, forcing your feet to press to her shoulders and effectively pressing you into a better, open position.

It works to her favor, as she quickly introduces a thick finger pressing inside of you just like you like.

You cry out when her tongue flicks across your clit, back and forth nice and slow before taking you back between her lips again to suckle. She presses in a second finger, curling them upwards just as she moans helplessly into you when you pull her hair.

You cum quickly like that, with her fingers pumping into you shallowly and her tongue flicking across your clit nice and slow as if savoring you.

"Dez- D-Dez, fuck, baby, please, f-fuck-" Your cries are all her name like a prayer, fucking your hips into her face as she growls into you again.

It's only then does she pull from you, not giving you anytime to think as she forces you onto all fours.

Two fingers slide into you again, her other hand coming below you to sandwich your clit between two fingers to massage it in time with her fingers fucking you.

You scream her name into the mattress as your fingers claw for support in the sheets. Your face buries into them, desperate to muffle your pathetic whines as your eyes roll back into your head.

You're over sensitive, but you can still make out her words behind you. Each one more claiming than the next.

"No one else gets to see you like this."

"What a pretty Princess for her Queen, hm? Not such a good little girl now, are you? Just look at how well you take me now."

Then finally, her hand leaves your clit, giving her enough space to lean over you as her fingers fuck into you still. Spoken as she nips your shoulder and murmurs behind your ear, "Beg. Beg to cum around my fingers, pretty girl. Let 'em hear ya all over the wasteland, yeah?"

Then Dez moves. Moving to lay on her back under you, keeping her fingers sunk into you and using her free hand to grab one of your hips bruisingly.

She yanks you down to her awaiting mouth, moaning into you just as you sob out and start to hump into her face and back into her fingers.

You know Dez doesn't need to wait for you to beg, pleas already slipping from your lips in a higher pitch with each swipe of her tongue. Each curl of her lips sloppily kissing over your clit in open mouthed, messy kisses with a brush of her tongue on each kiss.

You scream for her. Screaming her name loud enough to be heard outside the open window for sure as you cum on her tongue and fingers.

Your back arches, twisting your fingers in the sheet as your eyes roll back into your head. You don't even realize you're kicking your legs and squirming too much until both her hands take a hold of your hips.

Dez's strength in her very fingertips makes you shiver, sobs racking your frame as overstimulation winds into your bones. Tears bubble in your eyes, your body shaking as you whine her name quietly.

It's then that she slides out from under you, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand before readjusting you.

She pulls your trembling form into her arms, cradling you bridal style and fixing your dress into place. You cling to her tightly, burying your face into her neck as she rubs over your back crooning to you gently.

"You did a good job, love. Not hurt, are ya?" Her voice is gentle, using her cheek to nuzzle at the top of your head. You shake your head quietly, humming to let her know that your reply is no.

"Good. Cause I ain't done with ya yet." Dez chuckles softly, kissing the top of your head with a turn of her head. Your reply is a soft whine, feeling how one of her hands cheekily slides under your dress to squeeze at your thigh.

"What? Haven't even properly bruised ya up yet. After a slight like that, I'm itchin' to tear you apart." Her words are a promise, despite her soft tone. "'Sides, we know you can take more than just that."

"You're going to kill me." You groan back to her, lifting your head finally just in time to catch her gaze. Your cheeks flush at how dark her eyes are.

How hungrily she looks at you.

"Not gonna kill ya," She promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead tenderly. "Just gonna make sure ya can't walk tomorrow."

And you know Dez. Her promises?

They're not ever broken.

---

Reblogs > Likes. Please Reblog if you hit like/heart to keep more writers like me alive and to see more content! :D

[totowlff]

extra — anger leaves a great void

➝ as a polish writer would say, “anger always leaves behind a great void, into which a flood of sadness immediately pours and flows like a great river, without beginning or end”.

➝ word count: 2,1k

➝ warnings: none

➝ author notes: happy holidays!

NOVEMBER, 2016

— Babcia, are you busy this Friday? Around seven?

— I don’t think so, Bene — Joanna asked, walking over to the wall calendar hanging in her kitchen. Her grandson called her just as she was finishing her dinner. She tucked her phone between her neck and her shoulder while she flipped the page over from October to November. It was about time, anyway. There was nothing scribbled in for Friday, the fourth. How was it November already? Where had the year gone? — It looks like I’m free. Why do you ask?

— Well, dad and Elisabeth are having a birthday dinner for me, because they’re both in Mexico right now. Dad didn’t want us to go out like we usually do because those reporters are still hanging around.

Joanna sighed. She hadn’t seen her son since the day after she’d had dinner with him and his girlfriend. She’d said some things to her that she had since come to regret. She was just trying to protect her son from having his heart broken, really. When he showed up with a girlfriend that she didn’t remember him ever having mentioned dating, she told the poor woman some very unkind things. 

Toto had come to Joanna’s apartment the next day and gave her an earful. She initially stood by what she said, but when Toto said he didn’t want to hear from her until he cooled off enough to talk to her again. She started thinking about it, ruminating on it, remembering the way that the anger crept up the back of her neck in little pinpricks as she spoke to the poor woman — Elisabeth was her name, Elisabeth Lauda. 

In retrospect, It made her feel awful. She knew next to nothing about the woman before writing her off wholesale, thinking she was just another in a long line of pretty, shallow women who were after the money and notoriety that being with her son would give them. It wasn’t as if he’d grown up wealthy. Far from it — his wealth was self-made, but that just meant that he didn’t grow up being able to judge the kind of intentions people had when forming relationships with him. 

That’s what Joanna thought. 

But Elisabeth didn’t need his money, or his notoriety. She had a successful career of her own, in addition to being the daughter of a national hero in Austria. She spent more time trying to avoid the spotlight than seeking it out, as it turned out.

What felt worse, though, was not hearing from her son in months, and knowing she deserved his silence. She had to find out about his comings and goings secondhand through her other child, Lili, or worse — through the tabloids. His relationship with Elisabeth had gone public, and according to Lili, it had not been easy on either of them. 

Every time Joanna looked at her phone, she had to fight the urge to call Toto, to see how he was doing, to apologize, to offer her support — after all, it seemed like Elisabeth was definitely serious about him. But, she learned her lesson, and respected Toto’s wishes. She would wait.

— I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Bene. I’d be happy to take you out for a birthday dinner this week if you’d like, just the two of…

— But — Benedict sounded equally hopeful and disappointed — I really wanted to do something with the entire family since we can’t go out together like usual. My mom is coming, too. Even Aunt Lili and Uncle Gerard are going to be there. Please, Babcia?

Joanna stared at the blank November 4th square on her calendar. She may not have always been the best mother to her children — she can admit that, now, but she always tried her damndest to make sure she was a good grandmother to her three grandchildren. It wouldn’t make up for her shortcomings as a mother, but she couldn’t change the past. Her relationship with her grandchildren was something she had control over.

— Okay. Yes. 7pm, correct? At your dad’s apartment?

The days between then and Friday flew by, in Joanna’s view. Time usually went faster before something one is nervous about, she found, and she certainly was nervous about Benedict’s party.

She wasn’t a woman who typically got nervous about things. She’d been through a lot of misfortune in the course of her lifetime — as such, it took a lot to rattle her, so she was surprised by how hesitant she felt about Benedict’s birthday party as she went about her week. She kept seeing Elisabeth’s face, kept hearing the ugly words she’d said to her, creeping in from the corners of her mind. She kept rehearsing the things she’d say to the woman, kept trying to figure out how she’d even begin to face her and apologize. 

Friday came. She got ready far too early. She’d already wrapped, unwrapped, and re-wrapped Benedict’s present, a Lego Technic set that, when assembled, would make a 48cm long model of a Porsche 911 GT3 RS. Lego sets had long been Joanna’s birthday gift of choice for Benedict, and thankfully, he hadn’t lost interest in them yet. The previous year’s Technic 24 Hours of LeMans car model was a hit.

Joanna’s anxiety was at a fever pitch when she pressed the button for Toto’s apartment. By the time she got to his door, she had almost turned around three times. 

“Where is the boldness I had when I had when I decided to talk to her like I did?”, she thought, when she finally was able to bring herself to press the button for the buzzer for Toto’s penthouse.

She waited for what felt like an eternity until the door buzzed and clicked, indicating that it was unlocked. Going up the elevator to the penthouse felt like yet another eternity. “Maybe this is what hell is like,” she thought. 

Toto answered the door a moment later.

— Mom… Hi — he said, like he didn’t believe that she would be standing in his doorway — Come in, come in.

Joanna walked in while Toto was telling her that dinner was almost ready. Her  eyes couldn’t help but lock onto Elisabeth’s as she was standing at the stove, looking at the contents of the pans over it, which made Joanna feel terrible near-immediately. Given the last conversation she’d had with Elisabeth, it probably made Joanna seem threatening. 

She followed her son into the living room. Lili and Gerard were there, along with Eloise, Joanna’s other granddaughter. 

— Babcia’s here! — Benedict called out, as all of her grandchildren ran up to Joanna to hug her. 

— Just a second — Joanna said. She handed over the gift that she’d wrapped for Benedict — Happy birthday, moj serce.

— Thank you, Babcia — the boy said, wrapping his grandmother into a hug. She wondered when he’d managed to get so tall, almost as tall as she was. “If he keeps growing like this, he’s going to be as tall as his father is,” she thought. 

Her memory flashed back to when Toto was still young, and how much Benedict looked like him. She shook her head as she sat on the sofa, sneaking a glance to the kitchen, where Elisabeth was talking to Toto. Toto had his hand settled onto the base of Elisabeth’s spine. 

“They do look nice together”, Joanna thought. She glanced around the penthouse for a few moments — it looked way different than the last time she’d been in here. It used to look like a serviced apartment, like it was used for long-term corporate housing, not like anyone actually lived there full-time. Or, even part-time, as was Toto’s situation since he’d taken over at Mercedes and bought a house in the UK. 

But now, there was color and life in the place — there were framed photos on the fireplace mantle, a vase full of fresh flowers on the coffee table, something that looked like Rosi had made in art class, books that looked like someone had actually read them, and a cheerful, colorful throw blanket hanging over the back of the sofa that Joanna was sitting on. It looked like a happy home instead of a cold temporary apartment. 

There was one photograph on the mantle that drew Joanna’s eye in particular — it was front-and-center, after all, as if it was meant to draw the eye. It was her son, next to Elisabeth. They were both drenched in champagne and had wide smiles on their faces. Her son was in the middle, looking so fondly at the dark-haired woman next to him, holding an enormous silver-toned trophy. Something about the way Toto was looking at her stung Joanna, but it wasn’t anger she’d felt. 

It was shame. 

Deeper shame than she felt the morning Toto surprised her with a trip to her apartment, and surprised her even more by shouting at her for how she’d acted. 

She defended herself, telling herself that she was acting in Toto’s best interests, and in the best interests of her grandchildren, trying to spare them the pain of having all of their hearts broken at their family torn apart again, but now, Joanna felt it so acutely. She thought she was trying to do what was best for her son, but she didn’t actually know what was, in fact, the best for him.

It didn't take long for Elisabeth to call everyone to the table, which was beautifully set with plates, cups and glasses, as well as a large platter of spaghetti alla bolognese. With a smile on her face, she insisted on serving Benedict, stating that the birthday boy deserved special treatment. Afterwards, she sat next to Toto, whispering something to him before serving the plate with some pasta.

Everyone ate quietly, praising Elisabeth's skills in the kitchen. She tried to downplay the merits, claiming that the recipe was Toto's, not hers, and that he had been a big contributor to dinner that night.

— Until I cut my finger, right, Liesl? — he chuckled, showing the bandage on his thumb.

— Why am I not surprised by this? — Stephanie said, making everyone at the table laugh. Toto's lack of skill in the kitchen was legendary, but even that Elisabeth had been able to work around. She made him bloom.

At the end of the meal, she got up and went to the kitchen, returning with a cake in her hands, decorated with white buttercream and topped with a few candles. Placing him in front of Benedict, she asked Toto to get the box of matches, while Rosi turned off the room lights. Then, with everything ready, the family sang happy birthday to the boy, who blew out the candles and smiled. In a corner, Elisabeth was smiling, taking pictures of Ben, who was surrounded by his sister and father.

“She really likes them”, Joanna thought, as she popped a last bite of the chocolate cake with Oreo cream into her mouth, completely lost in her thoughts as Elisabeth cleared away the dessert plates.

After handing her the plate with a smile, Joanna looked around the apartment. Lili, her daughter, was chatting happily with Stephanie, Toto’s ex-wife. Gerard and Toto were talking about something in rapid French. All of her grandchildren were playing happily together. Her family wasn’t torn apart, they were all here, celebrating Benedict’s birthday with all of the joy appropriate for the occasion, except for…

Joanna looked toward the kitchen, where Elisabeth was bent over the dishwasher, trying to figure out how to fit the pots and pans in. It was clear that she was the one who threw together such a nice dinner for Benedict — Toto was good at planning and good at detail, but not the kind you would need to host dinner parties. She’d done a wonderful job, and Joanna knew that it was because of Elisabeth that her family was all here, and gathered together. 

Almost without thinking, she rose from her spot on the couch and crept quietly toward the kitchen, trying not to make too much noise that would startle Elisabeth from being so focused on her task. 

— I think we’re going to have to buy a new dishwasher if we’re going to have dinner parties like this more often, my love — she said.

Joanna smiled a little. She must have heard her walking over and was expecting it to be Toto.

— Is there a problem, my love? — she said, as she stood up and locked eyes with Joanna. She startled a bit, not having expected her. 

Joanna swallowed before she responded, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt.

— Well, I’m not Toto, but, I do believe I have a problem. Actually, we have a problem — she struggled to keep her voice even, void of emotion — Can we talk?

[why-rock-look-tasty-if-no-eat]

Silly Game Time: You are getting an all-expenses-paid vacation for one month to anywhere in the world. Where would you choose to go?

Japan, I really miss Kyoto and I have some unfinished beef with the museums I went to. Namely not being able to buy everything that I wanted. There's this gem museum next to Mount Fuji that doubles as a jeweler and I would love to some of the more pricier items than what I was able to get last time. Another museum would be the Kyoto National Museum because omgs do they have stunning artwork and they live rent free in my head. The statues they have are especially breathtaking, it's insane to think that they were carved by hand from wood. Some of those statues are like 7 ft tall and are insanely detailed!

Back to the gem museum, there's a trend over there that I love, it's where the jewelers cut a pattern into the gem to make it look like a star then hang it horizontally to make it look like it's 'dancing' and I'd love to have a diamond version of it because I only have a zircon one. They also have a history in gemology and I could easily spend another three hours in that museum just looking at their displays. Not to mention that they offer to sell some high quality stuff, and the exchange rate practically halves the price for USD.

Tokyo is definitely third on the list, I want to get more creators build figures from Monster Hunter World (MHW) and to just window shop and get some more art. A cat and owl cafe is also on the agenda, the cost adds up the longer you stay. Honestly I'd love to just be able to revisit places I've been and see shrines I didn't see yet, go to more of the monthly flea markets and such. I never thought I'd be able to an ivory carving (terrible and I hope the guy was just getting rid of some heirlooms that was gotten humanely. I doubt it though) right next to a guy selling strawberries and veggies.

The strawberries tasted delicious. Speaking of food, I'd probably try and visit some night markets since I didn't last time (social anxiety let's gooo) and try out some real street food. Maybe go to more corner restaurants and such. Buy more clothes since they're made with humid heat in mind and where I live it's both. That and I like their style.

Uh, if it's a good time of year I'd probably head down to Okinawa and swim in one of their beaches since the province acts similar to Hawai'i being a vacation destination from mainlanders.

For my last three days or so I'd try and see if I could do what I couldn't do last time and go from the lowest point to the highest point in Japan. That's been a goal of mine for some years now and I couldn't fit it into my schedule last time.

It's been almost a year since I was there for work and I still think about Japan. Their work ethic is insane but it's at a pace I'm used to and not every country is perfect. They can be pretty racist but honestly I experienced less racism over there than back in the states. Everyone I met was lovely and didnt judge me to much for tripping up on speaking Japanese. I can understand them verbally and written well enough to get by but their syntax makes it hard for me to write or speak. And, well, since it's all expenses paid I'd take along my family and friends and I'd get to show them the country that holds a piece of my heart 💙

[strang3lov3]

Good Morning out of my bed to you Bug 🩵 I hope your vacation was good 😌

Well I promised to vomit in here so I’ll do that 😏🫨🫨 (Btw it makes me so happy to hear that you like when I do this 😚😚)

“The Real Deal” let’s goooooooo:

“The smell of your bedroom comforts you as you take your bra off and hang it on the doorknob.” Wow First line and immediately I have something to say. This made me think about the picture of your cats where you can see in the background hanging on the doorknob the rainy weather bra. 🤣🤣🤣

Bestie back in the day when I used to wear jeans and in general be on the go all day, the moment I got home, I stripped myself from these tight, constricting jeans and literally everything that I had on, put on the most comfortable clothes and said goodnight 😴

The Cats name, Dr.Waffles 😍

Since I’ve mentioned vomit my brain now is a little confused and I read this “a tuna poke bowl” as “a tuna puke bowl” omg 😆

“You got an alert earlier that one of your favorite writers updated her series Devotion, a story about Joel from The Last of Us where Joel acts as a cult leader.” @noxturnalpascal is that you sweetheart????? It is…I see a Patti mention 😍🥰 (I swear one day I’ll find time and I will read this series 🙏🏻🙏🏻)

“One of your best friends, Kiki, gifted it to you last year after she caught you reading smut on your phone. She said the sex toy shop was having a buy one, get one free deal and she knew just the friend to share the sweet deal with.” Soooooo I need a Kiki too that shares her extra sex toy with me 👀👀👀

I used to have one of those satisfyer suctioning toys and it took me so long to figure out how to use it correctly but once I did absolutely bombastic, I enjoyed some good times and then the stupid motherfucker broke and that was it. I still grief the loss of that toy…😭

“That little tongue worked magic on your clit and had you coming more times than you could count, endless orgasms that had you seeing stars.” Yes this is what I need, seriously Kiki where are you ?????

When in dire need you might have to destroy the nightstand to get the prized possession. Stupid drawer acting up for no reason 💀💀💀

“I know, I’m coming,” you say” yeahhhh baby I have a good feeling you will 😏😏😏

“You open the door to one annoyed Frankie Morales glaring at you with his arms crossed.” Uhhhh Frankie glaring at me with that annoyed face, well guess what it turns me on boom 🤯

He’s a good man and delicious looking good man yes indeed. I’d present myself as meal instead of the lasagna. Actually Bug why did you have to mention that, I’m dreaming about lasagna for weeks and if I don’t cook it for myself soon I’ll turn into hungry hulk. 🫨🫨

“Hi, sweetheart.” Panties have dropped lol 🥵🫠

“Sorry, the drawer to my nightstand was stuck and I was trying to open it,” you stated.” Ahhhhh let me predict what I think will happen, he’ll try to open it, then boom the drawer goes flying out, ohhh no he sees the toy, connects the dots and then offers himself as a wayyyyyyyy better clit sucker 👀

Let’s see if I was right 🤭🤭

“Frankie snickers, “Funny to me,” he smirks.” Hahhaaaaa funny guy now put your mouth on my pus-….😏😏😏

“You don’t mind though, because from where you’re standing, you’ve got a perfect view of his ass that’s definitely filled out some since you began feeding the man.” Relatable, I would also be staring at all that cake in front of me. 🤤🤤🤤

“You sit on the bed and Frankie sits next to you as he messes with the toy. He hums as he holds the flicking tongue against the palm of his hand.” I have the image clear in my head. How they sit on bed together and he just examines the toy and she’s next to him looking annoyed, huhhh how the tables have turned. 😆😉

Poor toy is getting judged and criticized 😆😆

“Would you like the real deal?” Eeeeehm yes 🙌🏻 yes I’d like the real deal. I wish this Frankie would be my neighbor, but instead, I’m blessed with old people and families, no hot single men….love that.

“Feel a real man, with real lips, a real tongue. Real hands. We’ll broaden your horizons. What do you say?” Baby idk what to say I’d let my pussy answer cuz she’ll tell you what you need to know. She’s exited so much much I can make up 🥵🥵🥵🥵🤭🤭

“Words, baby,” it’s so easy to make me lose my mind, two simple words and I’m losing it. What does this tell you about me???that I’m desperate but we love that.🥰

“May I lift your shirt?” Consent king I kid you not 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

“Sure it is, I’m a professional at this. Been studying for years. Watch - Do you prefer…” Frankie begins” STFU Frankie you lil sex scientist 😏🤤🤤🤤🤤

“Can’t do most of the things you’re supposed to do to a pair of tits as pretty as yours, sweetheart.” I need his mouth on my tits omg, I’m biting my goddamn pillow it’s so good🥵🥵🥵

“Good god, you made a mess. This all for me? Just from a little kissing?” Believe me it does not take a lot, a little kissing and she’s going crazy (s)creaming lol 🤭😏

How you described Frankie‘s pussy eating passion was wonderful. I read it three times before I continued. 😆🥰🥰

I love that she’s confident in telling him how to do it correctly to her needs and he does not get offended by being corrected. We love seeing that. 🫶🏻😚

The amount of times I wish a guy would’ve just listened to me instead of continuously rubbing anywhere but where it’s needed….

“He admires your pussy, the glistening wetness dripping from your hole, the ribbons of creamy arousal on your folds. And your bush, he loves the dampened curls framing your beautiful cunt.” Bug how are you so good at describing things, my mind is blown. Btw, I love when writers describe the male parts but when I get a good pussy description, that’s when I start to get real crazy 🥵🥵🥵🤭🤭🤭

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart. You spread those legs nice and wide. That’s it, good girl.” Call me good girl and I do whateverrrrrrrrr you want ahhhh 🫠🫠🫠🤭😏

“He finds that special, sensitive spot that intensifies all of it and moves his mouth to your clit yet again.” I really need him to come over here and find that sensitive spot inside of me. If not I might disintegrate…🥸

Him asking what the verdict is as if he doesn’t know that he absolutely surpassed that toy. 🤣

I know you said this was your first time writing Frankie, but honestly, if you would’ve not mentioned that I would have not noticed because it was so goddamn good 🤯🤯🤯😍

This is just me spewing even more thoughts no pressure:

How about Frankie buying a toy that mimics a bj and then he compares it with real bj from her, that’s the next experiment 👀👀

Anyway, 10/10 as always, everything you put out is just too good to be true ❤️🙏🏻

Omg and Waffles @beefrobeefcal ‘s cat is so adorable, the pic with the glasses had me giggling 😅😊

Morning sweet Mina!!! Favorite part of the day begins NOW

1. Vacation was lovely, but I learned that even surrounded by the people I love the most and who are so easy to get along with, I don’t do well with days of uninterrupted social interaction. My brother in law’s brother in law was like “man, one more day of this vacation would have been perfect” and I’m like … … … actually I cannot wait to be home and alone and snuggling my cats.

2. YOU REMEMBER THE RAINY DAY BRA! You’re referring to this pic I believe

Heheh there really is nothing better than changing out of stiff and uncomfortable clothes. Nothing better!! I’m shameless tho if I don’t feel comfortable in my jeans, I unbutton and unzip them. Don’t care. Let the tummy breatheeeeee suns out tums out

3. About Dr. Waffles and the tuna poke bowl - those are @beefrobeefcal Easter eggs! The pics at the bottom of the fic are her cat Waffles, and as I was writing this fic I asked her what she’d order from Uber eats right then and there and she told me poke bowl 🩷 dear god I’m glad it’s not a puke bowl. I have a lot of stomach issues and anxiety surrounding vomiting so I actually keep an emergency puke bowl under my bed 💀

4. Correct about @noxturnalpascal!! I thought that would be a cute addition. Patti recently finished that series, definitely give it a read!! It’s one of my favorites ever and it’s always on my mind tbh.

5. Another beefro cameo! Beef’s name is Kiki and I wanted to use her name in this fic 😋🩷 which I realize could be confusing since I wrote this for her, so you’d think I’d make Kiki the reader and not a side character…I don’t think she minds lol

6. I also have one of those clit sucker toys and I can tell you that when it’s good it’s good but often it’s hard to get the hang of! Sometimes things are a little slippery and it’s hard to find a good angle. Not that you asked lol, and I just checked and unfortunately this company only ships in the US, but this is my favorite toy. Bought it at target lol

7. Frankie standing looking at reader all pissed off 😤 I love it. I think the annoyed glare is one of the sexiest looks someone could give me lol

8. Mina, I love man ass. Frankie’s is so squeezable I know it and he does too.

9. ISNT FRANKIE KIND OF PRETENTIOUS?! I mean, he knows his shit but goddamn. He’s picking that poor toy apart 😭

10. I too am surrounded by old people and families, no hot neighbors :( the man who lives next to me could be a dilf, but he started creeping on me a little which I wasn’t into, despite all of my dilf-centered fics. He told me that he could hear my partner and I having sex but that there’s no need to be quiet because it’s natural or some shit like that. This happened last year and it totally creeped me out and I haven’t spoken to him since. If he’s outside his apartment, I wait in my car until he’s gone to go into mine lol

11. I often don’t do verbal consent in my fics because I like that element of taboo and when things lean darker, but I felt it was appropriate for Frankie here. He strikes me as such a gentleman. A freak, but a gentleman. I’m glad you enjoyed it! I think it’s sexy too

12. OKAY. Frankie’s little rant about the scientific method and all that I thought was so funny because he’s such a dork. He takes pussy eating so fucking seriously LOL

13. The fact you read the section about his pussy eating passion three times over is so special to me 🩷 I just couldn’t put into words how much these asks mean to me. So so so special I love you

14. Yes to the adjustment! I think something that makes smut so hot is when things are realistic - when people have hair in places they’re supposed to, when adjustments need to be made, positions need to be switched. And I think it’s important to normalize, voicing your needs in the bedroom. As a pussy eating king, Frankie knows this - he knows all the right moves and this and that but he also knows that listening and asking questions is key. Every pussy is different and worthy of love 🩷 and that sort of leads into your next point about the pussy descriptions - I too love a good word picture about a cock, but I love to add pretty descriptions of vaginas because it makes me feel good and I think it makes my audience feel good too. We should feel sexy and good about ourselves. I feel like as women, we’re often taught to feel nothing but shame towards our own bodies, especially genitals and I like that I wrote Frankie as a lover who embraces all aspects of a vagina - loving pubic hair, the smell, taste, feel, actions, etc.

15. Oh, he knows the verdict. He’s just a smug bastard! Which is okay. I like him that way

16. It really was my first time writing Frankie. I promised Beefro months ago I would try and I finally did. I’m proud. I like him and I like the fic, but I still feel like I don’t have a fantastic grasp on him whereas I feel like I do with my other characters Roman and Joel. But I ripped off the bandaid! Perhaps I’ll be more open to writing him in the future, who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ up next is Stepdaddy Roman Roy and a fic where Joel fucks you as Tommy watches 🥰 but i’ll keep your thought in mind! I feel like when it comes to Frankie’s own pleasure, he’s sort of submissive 🤭

I am so fucking glad you enjoyed. I really was nervous about this fic, but the response has been so positive and uplifting and you, Mina, are such a huge part of that. I know it’s not a quick and easy thing to write down so many thoughts and notes about a fic, but I think it’s such a thoughtful thing to do and really, really makes me so happy to write. You’re one of the readers I have in mind when I’m working on something and I’m always just hoping I’m writing something that’ll make you happy 🩷

You’re not alone in the Waffles love, btw!! I love that guy. You should pop into Kiki’s inbox and have her tell you all about that guy 🥰

[1lostsoul0fishbowl]

Definitely didn't send an ask yet for those 15 questions... So I choose Gareth! 😏

Totally only the one ask in my inbox! 😂 thanks bestieeee 💕 here ya go…

1. Are you named after anyone?

I think my parents might’ve got Gareth from a book called Give Your Kid A Welsh Name Americans Will Actually Be Able To Pronounce… honestly I have no idea where that came from. Middle name Alwyn is after my granddad.

2. When’s the last time you cried?

Do we really have to go there? Wouldn’t you rather know about my favorite pizza toppings? (Pepperoni and pineapple.)

Alright Janie says I should be honest, so the last time I cried was three days ago, I dreamed that she was back in Hawkins Lab and they maybe-accidentally-maybe-deliberately drowned her in that stupid fucking tank of theirs, and I woke up bawling like a stupid baby. There. Happy? Can we go back to talking about pizza now?

3. Any kids?

Nope. Maybe someday, waayyyy in the future, but not now.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Yeah, it’s actually a pretty bad habit of mine. My big mouth has gotten me in trouble more than once.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

What they’re wearing. I don’t judge them for it, I just notice it. Especially if it looks like a band shirt.

6. What’s your eye color?

Janie likes to call it “cornflower” (because she’s just goddamn adorable) but it’s just ordinary blue.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

I kinda like both. I don’t mind being scared by movies because I know the bad guys don’t usually win.

8. Any special talents?

Just music I guess. I play drums and piano. Eddie’s trying to teach me guitar but it’s pretty slow going.

9. Where were you born?

Bala Cynwyd, PA. My family moved to Hawkins when I was three.

10. What are your hobbies?

Playing music, dungeons and dragons, writing crappy songs and poems, drawing, and helping Janie look for cool rocks to add to her collection.

11. Do you have any pets?

No, I want a cat but my dad’s allergic.

12. Any sports you play?

Um… between fifth grade and tenth grade I played this super awesome sport called Run The Hell Away From Bullies. Sooo much fun.

13. How tall are you?

NOT TALL ENOUGH, OKAY???

14. What’s your favorite subject?

In high school it was English. It’s harder to pick now that I’m in college— I’m studying to be a music therapist and just about every class on that topic is fascinating.

15. What’s your dream job?

Honestly I’m pretty excited about the music therapy, but if I had to pick something different I’d say author. It would be pretty cool to write something as awesome as Lord of the Rings!

Losty answers as your choice of character

[deci-doodles]

Misc assortment of OC doodles from recently that I had no idea how to post individually so I’ll just compile them :p feat previously shown family members+Tiziri in some outfits besides her Eremite one, and also me attempting to design Itto’s parents coz why not

More info+rambling under the cut

Aight SO,

Tiziri’s the Eremite lady that Tesey’s head over heels for and can’t blame him, she’s very charming, very competent, and won’t hesitate to call him out lol. She’s also the current successor in place for the matriarch (Tizemt) of her adoptive tribe (the Ifri, named after the goddess not the demons lol). They don’t exist in lore since the other two main GoF worshipping tribes don’t really fit the area of influence I wanted to use and Tanit were also a definite no go so instead, the Ifri are a smaller tribe that had branched off from the Tanit but under their current matriarch, have been slowly trying to make themselves more self sufficient and independent, with Tiziri being taken in by them as a child. after they took down the raiding party which had targeted her original tribe and family.

As of current game events, Tesey had been trying to collaborate with the Ifri with textile trading since he believed their work could sell really well in a more international market, so Tiziri’s been assigned to keep an eye on him and also just get a grasp of what kind of a person he is before letting him into their territory and all that (luckily for him he’s long passed the vibe check but after Fontaine’s AQ he had to make an emergency trip back to Morepesok).

Anyways I thought it’d be fun to draw her in a modern Moroccan caftan, but also a Ukrainian folk outfit since she does eventually make a trip over to Morepesok to visit Tesey’s family when they get together. Anyways like Kirena, Tonia and their mother, Oksana (I’ll post their design eventually wsojcndwoc), I’ve based it off outfits from the Luhansk area (go check out these blogposts for references I used for the embroidery it’s such a life saver, but yeah their mum’s side would be from the Donbas irl, dad’s from Zaporizhzhia). Jewellery’s primarily based off Amazigh jewellery from southern Morocco, as well as some Tuareg ones and also a few strings of Ukrainian korali ehe (they’re a gift from Tesey later on as a sign of his intent to take things more seriously and his sincerity). I tried my best with the tattoos since I didn’t want to just trace someone else’s given how personal they are but if anyone has any sources on Moroccan Amazigh tattoos please let me know 🙇🏻‍♀️

-

Next bit is just me realising that a good chunk of my labelled OCs (most aren’t) happen to be aspec, which I find absolutely hilarious (fyi I’m ace myself so this isn’t malicious I just think it’s funny how it keeps happening). Kageharu and Mingli are probs also some flavour of aro but I haven’t figured it out yet so they just have their ace labels for now

-

And, finally, Arataki Natsuki (荒瀧凪月) and Arataki Takenosuke (荒瀧岳之輔). Apparently I felt like revisiting old ideas from 2021 again weciswnjdsq, but still was fun to do. I’m aware it’s more likely Itto’s mother was also an oni (judging by his troubles voiceline regarding Granny Oni) but I thought it’d be interesting to explore what it could be like for humans given how prevalent oni discrimination is, both towards them but also towards humans who are close to them (again: see the voiceline on Granny Oni), as well as people learning to look past assumptions and all that fun stuff. They could’ve lived out a nice cottagecore life with their son if it weren’t for those damned robberies they got blamed for smh

Bonus concept portrait of Natsuki while I’m at it. Tbh one of my biggest pet peeves in designing related characters is making any character too similar to whichever canon character they’re related too and I just really wanted to show that yes, Itto does have quite a few of his mother’s features. It’d be more helpful if I actually drew him to compare ofc, but motivation do be funky like that and my brain wants me to draw Oksana next 😔

[betouma]

touma raps and dances to the hit song idol for next gen.

touma doesn't know what drove him to fill in the form for next gen season two, but somehow he has. it was probably an impulsive decision, honestly he doesn't even remember what he wrote down now—he does remember the image he sent in, where he looks a little goofy with his button-up, bare face and messy hair. and yet, he passed that stage. he got the message when he was walking the dogs. one of them barks, like it's congratulating him. touma smiles and pets the dog, as if saying thank you.

now he has to prepare for what's to come. so he decides to do what's fun for him. if he does that, surely everyone else will have fun in turn too... right?

—

it's unexpected. he watched the last season of next gen, and he's pretty sure there wasn't a rapid fire question round back then. he doesn't mind, touma thinks he's pretty quick on his feet when it comes down to it. that doesn't mean the pressure isn't on, especially when they have to showcase a 'unique skill' afterwards too. he does have some spray cans left in his bag, and he wonders whether he's allowed to do use it later.

for now though, he'll focus on his performance. time passes fast and suddenly it's his turn to face the judges.

touma introduces himself: name, age, what he's doing right now, the names of the dogs he walks every few days—okay, fyi, but he thought it was important. then, he thanks them for their time ( maybe he should have done that after ), and begins his performance.

he starts with the face-paced rap, missing no beat, keeping up with the rhythm. a quick few seconds, then the song continues onto the chorus. touma fosters a big grin on his face, hopping and skipping in place, stretching his arms as he dances to the music—complicated hand gestures done. he's jumpy on feet, as the song requires him to be. he sends a heart to the camera at the right time—it's a little embarrassing and his ears feel a bit warmer, but it fit into the song too perfectly. and then he poses towards the end, smile ever-so-present despite trying to catch his breath.

unfortunately, he has to gather himself for the round of questions he's about to get. so he does.

“what style of music/performance suits you best and why?”

touma hums, considering his options for a while. "if i'm being honest, i want to try everything at least once." that's not the answer they're looking for right now though. "but i think fresh concepts would work best with me, those that are upbeat but also heartfelt. throw in a bit of rock or pop... and i can make a choreo out of that too."

“why do you want to become a kpop idol?"

that's a question he knew was going to be asked in this round. "oh, well. i like to dance... and i want to dance for other people to see. i also like to rap, and to perform..." that being said, he definitely has to get better at singing itself.

“what would you do if you won ₩1,000,000,000 (~$750,000) in the lotto?”

touma laughs. "not sure, i'd probably say i want to spend it for myself. but i'd end up using it for my family. specifically my brother. help him get into school or something. and then... expenses for my future pet?"

“what was the first thing you thought about when you woke up this morning?”

he tries to recall the morning. "honestly, i was thinking about this moment. hoping i'd make a good impression." now he sounds likea pick-me, but it's the truth. it's because of the nerves. "i also thought about what i should eat that morning. i ended up going with eggs."

“what can you bring to the table that we won’t see in any other contestant?”

the pressure is definitely on. "hm, good vibes." he means it though. "i think that's important, particularly when you want to keep an audience hooked. right?" he laughs once more. "i'm also determined, i want to learn more. i know i'm not perfect right now, but i think i can be a great performer if even the chance." he supposes that's eventually up to the judges though.

now it's time for the unique skill he has to show off. "okay! is it alright if i ask for some sort of... canvas? anything is fine." the judges seemed a little hesitant, but somehow they do have an actual blank canvas. so he doesn't have to use the stage itself, which he's grateful about. it's medium-sized and not what he's used to ( he's used to walls, after all ), but he can make do with it.

"thank you! please give me some time. it won't take too long!" touma takes out his paint spray cans from his bag. he doesn't have too many colors to work with, but this will do enough. he's used to running low on supplies, it's not like he has a huge budget for his hobbies.

touma was right, he doesn't take too long. after a few minutes, he comes up with his newest masterpiece. this time, more people will see it. and know who made it. a part of him is flustered about that.

it's done now. after this, he can only put faith in the judges. but mostly on himself.

[chicago-geniza]

Here is Agnes's short essay in its entirety, which is for me a tour de force, in that it accomplishes the extraordinary task of 1) articulating what I have tried to articulate with a methodical clarity that has eluded me; 2) refusing the role of the naming animal, rejecting the taxonomic doctrines of disclosure that insist upon designation/definition as price of entry: 3) abstaining from the confessional, persuasive, or self-consciously lyrical tones that tend to color essays on these topics

Agnes!!! Under cut

I am not a private person — quite the opposite — but I do have two secrets. The first concerns some Bad Events that happened to me long ago (yes, it’s the sort of thing you are thinking of), and the second is an unrelated Fact about my neurological makeup.

Let me be clear: I am not ashamed of either of these things. Keeping them secret creates, in me, an uncomfortable feeling, as though I were hiding something, as though I were ashamed, and that bugs me all the time, like a scratchy tag in my clothing. But I can’t tell you what The Fact is, because you won’t believe me; and I can't tell you about The Events, because you will.

I have barely told you anything about The Events, but I suspect that you have already started believing. You want to be someone who believes women; you see this as the belief-challenge you have been waiting for; you want to rise to it. When I first told a therapist about The Events, she said: “Of course. In retrospect it makes perfect sense of so many things …”

Later she apologized for this as therapeutic overreach. Even therapists can’t help themselves — they are off to the races, believing and believing. On this topic, so much gets packaged into “being believed” that I fear the more I tell you, the less you will understand me.

I don't want you to think you know the meaning of The Events; I don’t want to be classified as damaged; I don’t want you to feel good about yourself for believing me; I don’t want you to feel sorry for me; and most of all, I don’t want you to praise my courage for “coming forward” or for “surviving.” The prospect of receiving praise or honor for this revelation fills with me with rage — when I imagine your admiration, I immediately imagine throwing it back in your face.

The Fact I’d like to tell you has to do with a difference between how we — you and I — think. But to get specific about this difference, I have to use a word you associate with people who don’t talk, who can’t take care of themselves, whose inner lives seem utterly obscure to you, people who harm themselves, people you struggle to see as human, people whose existence you see as a tragedy.

And you will find this comparison preposterous. You will tell me I shouldn’t use “that word,” you will helpfully offer me milder alternatives. You might acknowledge that I’m “quirky” or “idiosyncratic” — in a good way! — and that a few of those quirks may superficially resemble those people. But I have a professional career, a family. I can’t be like them. (Ask yourself: how much knowledge would you need, really, to be certain of this?)

You might be willing to budge a little if you could hear it from some medical professionals — though one might not be enough. You’d need a second and third opinion. Notice that if I told you I had cancer or diabetes or depression, or for that matter that I was left-handed, you would not insist on seeing my papers. You would not be inclined to think I was faking my left-handedness by having trained myself to use my left hand; or that I resembled depressed people only “in some respects.”

In the case of The Events, you are eager to assign victim status to me; in the case of The Fact, you are wary of assigning it to me. For you, there is only one question: how much suffering can she legitimately lay claim to?

You are so busy trying to answer this question — trying to serve as judge in the pain/suffering/disadvantage Olympics — that you cannot hear anything I am trying to tell you. And that means I can’t talk to you. No one can sincerely assert words whose meaning she knows will be garbled by the lexicon of her interlocutor. I don’t want privacy, but you’ve forced it onto me.

You might wonder why I have to tell you these things. Couldn’t I find a supportive community of people who endured similar Events, and wouldn’t I be believed by other Fact-Bearers? Yes, and individual connections of this kind are very valuable, but at the group level this kind of support has never worked for me.

Being surrounded by people who are supposedly like me inevitably leads me to feel maximally “different.” Probably my failure to benefit from such communities is a sign that I have not suffered so much, and deserve very little victim credit. So be it!

Solidarity is not my thing, openness is. It is a consequence of The Fact, for me, that I lean toward transparency in all contexts: I have to consciously prevent myself from oversharing (even more than I do), and I am honest from necessity rather than virtue.

There is a reason for all of this, which is that I am bad — really bad, you cannot imagine how bad — at figuring things out on my own. If I take too many steps in reasoning without the intervention of another person, I go very far wrong. So I have accustomed myself to reasoning in public as much as I can, to making sure to expose my mistakes to correction.

I know that I don’t know what corner assistance might come from. I don’t want to confide in a select group of people who grumble among themselves about how you misunderstand “us.” I want to talk to you, any and all of you, freely, so you can help me stop misunderstanding myself.

The truth is that I don’t know the meaning of The Events, for my life. Isn’t it at least possible that they simply don’t have any meaning? Or maybe the meaning will change once I am allowed to speak them out loud? Perhaps I really am scarred for life, but do we have to assume that from the outset?

If I could talk it through, I might have a hope of figuring this out. Because that is mostly how I figure out all the difficult problems of my life: I talk about them to whoever is available, whenever the problems seem relevant to something else I am thinking about; I listen; I rethink; I write; I circle back and write something else; over and over again; and over time I develop a stable picture.

With The Events, I am at sea. For so long I did not even allow myself to speak them to myself. Now that I can, it chafes at me that you have decided that if I want to talk about them with you, I have to follow your rules, and let you trample all over me. Perhaps more people who have experienced Events would talk about them with you if they thought you would do less “believing” and more listening.

Factwise, this is what I want to know: what, if anything, ties together the “superficial” differences in how I dress, how I talk, how my mind jumps around, my repetitive movements, my sensitivities, the kinds of patterns I see and the kinds I miss, my obsessions, my literal-mindedness, my odd oscillations between needing to be alone and needing to be with others, between striking you as charming and coming off as unbearable. Why do I struggle so much to understand which emotion I am feeling? Why am I so bad at predicting what you will find offensive?

The Fact makes me part of a group of people whose boundaries are amorphous; we do not all recognize one another, and even when we do, we are not sure what we have in common. You would like to manage this situation in a very specific way: First, carve off what you take to be the “most severe cases,” and find a cure that prevents any more of them from arising.

Second, assimilate the rest — people like me — as “normal,” or as normal enough, so long as you are sufficiently tolerant and accommodating. But I suspect all the tolerance and accommodation in the world won’t make me normal. Do we have to pretend that I am? Is that the condition on which you are willing to engage with me? And couldn’t a group of people have something in common even if “degree of suffering” isn’t that thing?

I could use your help — not your support, not your approval, not your reassurance but your help as an open and thoughtful audience for these difficult questions. But you won’t help me, because you won’t listen to what I’m trying to say, because all you care about is how much victim status I deserve. You are really letting me down.