#i’m so proud of it getting funded so quickly

[el-255]

The entire starkid fan base now that Cinderella’s Castle is fully funded:

[st4rbwrry]

𝒜𝑀 𝐼 𝐵𝒜𝐵𝒴?

✧｡˚ a shy nympho camgirl seeks a partner to help her film content on a dating app. soon, meeting up with a handsome man who's willing to do anything for the pretty girl he chats with.

𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 𓇼 14k. pwp, lowercase intended, age gap ꒰ toji is 36, reader is 24 ꒱ submissive reader, pleasure!dom toji, bondage ꒰ belt ꒱, check ins, heavy praise, overstimulation, aftercare, unprotected, videography, oral ꒰ f + m ꒱ , squirting + kreaming, spanking, choking, hair pulling, mild degradation, intimacy on high, toji is intimidating, manhandling, masturbation, daddy kink srry not srry, pet names ꒰ baby, girl, pretty, sweetheart, angel ꒱ minors aren't welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

౨ৎ — ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 ꒱: this took me so long to finish y'all but im super proud of it. one of my favorite works so far so i hope y’all enjoy. ♡

you hold your notebook in your hands, a bright pink color with numerous doodles sketched onto its cover, your pen on the back of your ear as you slowly cross off a list of things you needed to buy while browsing on your laptop. your room is quiet aside from the soft sound of music playing from your stereo, beyoncé’s cowboy carter album playing from start to finish while you slumped into your soft pink duvet hiding beneath a white canopy slip. the air is crisp how you like, a fresh, chunky strawberry is chewed between teeth, and your skin is freshly scrubbed and moisturized, only covered in a matcha green two piece short and tank set. a laptop sits on your thighs as you cross your legs, twirling your left calf as you bury your back into your mountain of plushies.

this was frustrating. you never realized how hard this would be to find someone to fuck, let alone film content with. you’d made a profile on hinge a week prior to now, and most of the matches weren’t close to peaking your interest. most of the men seemed like creeps, some too old . . . giving very much grim reaper. and others, too young, freshly adults at that. you think you’ve made yourself appealing enough. cute profile with full faced pictures, personality traits, daily interests even . . . but it somehow didn’t attract those you truly wanted.

as your sticker covered macbook’s motherboard screamed for air, warm on your thighs and now sliding on your tummy the further you leaned back. . . you were growing tired. huffing and puffing from literal exhaustion. am i wasting my time? should i just go out and find people like in the movies? but this generation made it so hard to even physically connect anymore. what happened to people running into each other at a coffee shop, a book store, a park? sharing interests and going on dates. granted, what you were looking for was strictly work related. you wouldn’t dare stare a stranger in the eye you bumped into at the farmers market and ask, “hey, wanna fuck me for content?” it’d be tasteless. you have self respect. others may think differently considering your side quests to fund the unfathomable reality of adulthood on top of just being a girl.

“this fucking sucks,” you groan to yourself, thumb aching from how quickly you hit the big ‘x’ on the bottom left corner of your phone screen.

maybe it was time to call it a night. you had an early shift at the salon, about five clients to be exact, booking either re-twists, goddess braids, or a wig install. so you had to save your hand strength. sighing, you shut off your laptop and set it aside on your nightstand, disconnecting the music from your phone before getting up to cut off the light. your fluffy cat that laid on the edge of your bed shooting her head up in alarm, ready to follow at any adventure you pursued.

“relax, mommy’s not going anywhere,” you smile assuredly, knee dipping into the bed as you lean over to smooch her on her tiny head, pointy ears tickling your cheek as you watch her tail sway. “good night, sweet — oh, fuck! i forgot to feed you. i’m so sorry baby.”

the alert in your tone has the black cat stand in attention, cursing to yourself as you slip on your heart printed slippers and make your way towards the kitchen, your studio apartment being on one level making this task easier. you listen to her tiny paws thud on the floor after she jumps off the bed in a hurry, dashing in front of you, damn near tripping you.

“oh my god, you’re so extra,” you shake your head, but couldn’t help but laugh. she meows at you violently, as if you hadn’t fed her in two weeks. rolling your eyes, you reach for her bowl off the floor to clean before opening a fresh can of fancy feast, using one of her plastic spoons to arrange her dinner.

whilst she awaits, you can’t help but glare at the screen of your phone as it suddenly dings, forgetting to turn off your ringer. hovering over it to activate your face i.d, it immediately opens the hinge app, reloading the page to see a new match. the air you inhaled suddenly catches in your throat as you stare wide eyed at your screen, the man in your view is just what you’ve been waiting for.

“oh, holy fuck,” comprehension wasn’t on your radar seeming as you lost the ability of the cat food in your hand, dropping it to the floor and flinching from the mess your fur baby began chowing on. sucking your teeth, you mutter, “goddamit. no, no. stop it.”

flailing your hand gently to get her to stop, you snatch the can and dump the remainder in the deep oval ceramic bowl. you try to ignore the rapid pounding of your heartbeat, unsure why it went so astray. maybe it’s because you’ve never seen a man so fucking fine. deadly fine, foul almost. as if it was such a disrespect to all beings. she’d cleaned up her own mess, so you take the time to grab your phone and lean against the sink to observe this man further. he had matched with you, of course, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so depressed a few minutes ago . . . unless you were waiting for him to like you back.

toji. it’s his name. simple, nice. he only has about three pictures, one of them a huge black cane corso with a gorgeous silky coat. it made sense given the vibe he was giving. dark, intimidating, sexy. jet black hair, slender smoke gray eyes, sharp jaw and a fascinating scar on the side of his mouth. another thing you noticed was how big he was. most of the clothing he wears sticks to his skin like glue. molding the outline of his muscles, the thickness in his arms, the heaviness in his thighs, the brick trail of his abdomen.

a certain feeling burns in your chest, and between your legs as you scroll to see the last image. he’s sitting on a beach chair, thighs spread in black cargo pants, matching tee, a yuengling beer in his hand and a cross dangling around his neck as he takes a sip of his beverage with a hungry look into the camera. it’s cocky, possessive, dominant. the dark brows above his eyes lowered with attentiveness. his shirt is half risen above his abdomen, and you can easily see the dark trail of hair leading into his crotch. it’s full there, clear as day. so it’s easy to tell he carries something serious.

fuck. “fuck,” you feel yourself growing hot, blowing out a breath of air before making your way back to your comfy bed to stare at him more. what a fucking man. honestly, you’d never seen someone so of your standard. exactly your type. before messaging him, you check his profile a bit deeper to make sure you’re not mistaken of anything. find some flaws, though profiles only express so much.

thirty-six, that makes you moan. that’s a twelve year age difference. though that only makes him hotter. not too old, nor young. he’s a . . . gynecologist.

“so he’s good with pussy,” you giggle to yourself. he makes a decent amount of money. he’s into fitness, clearly. cars, politics, sports. seemed like a pretty laid back man to you.

without even realizing, he had already messaged you, your heart dropping to your toes at his first response.

toji

i’ve seen you before.

you blink, fingers typing quickly.

you

mhm, where?

he takes a moment to reply, so you fiddle with your necklace out of anxiousness, laying on your stomach and swaying your feet.

toji

sounds a little embarrassing, but an adult website.

you

sounds about right. does that bother you?

toji

i wouldn’t have matched with you if it had.

you

so you’re saying if i wasn’t a porn streamer you wouldn’t even look my way?

those three dots prolong longer than you wanted, only making you aware he didn’t know what to say.

toji

i matched with you because i find you attractive. whether you want me in that way or not is up to you. i want you.

he’s straightforward. you can’t help but bite the tip of your acrylic, smiling like a stupid teenager, kicking your feet in the air. the attraction being mutual boosting your ego.

“i want you, daddy,” you joke to yourself.

you

i’m assuming you’ve read my bio. i’m looking for someone to film content with! if you’re down for it, we can meet in person and talk about it! i’m not really looking for a relationship. . . right now at least. ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

toji

of course, sweetheart. i’m free saturday’s and sunday’s. you don’t seem that far from me. let’s grab italian. my treat.

there’s something blunt and grown about him, you can practically feel his intimidation radiating through your fingertips. he seems just like the kind of man you knew would fuck you stupid. scream his name until the walls bled. until you’re trembling, and the sheets are off the bed, and his sweat is on your back so arched to the point where it’s painfully delicious. biting your lip, you had nothing else to lose. you needed his help, he’s offering lunch, you only live once.

you

you had me at italian. saturday at 2?

toji

saturday at 2. see you then, darling.

              𓇼

the nostalgic scent of blue magic hair grease fills the air of the salon, your fingers working tirelessly to intricate detail into the woman’s scalp you worked on. your last client of the day in fact. you couldn’t wait to clock out and grab a bowl from chipotle, thinking about it your entire shift. fingers entwining artfully as braiding hair flicks from angle to angle, you finish up the final knotless braid with a hard working sigh. you tried to remain optimistic after she’d taken her seat, unfortunately arriving an hour late to her appointment. said she had ‘issues’ with her boyfriend, smelling like weed and partially slurring her words when she came in. but you could care less when you were on a time crunch.

you hated when people wouldn’t respect the clearly listed rules on your account. so, for that, she’d be paying a late fee. after you applied moose and rosemary oil to her scalp, she’d pay you through apple pay and be on her way. you thank her, and when she’s out the door, you instantly turn to your friend and roll your eyes.

“you’re too damn nice for doing her hair. i would’ve told her ass to kick rocks after showing up that damn late,” amethyst speaks, crosslegged and shaking her head as she digs her fork into her chinease platter, filled to the brim with shrimp fried rice and popcorn chicken. the smell alone makes your tummy growl. “did she even tip you?”

“not at all,” you brush off, not even wanting to think about it anymore. “still got my money at the end of the day.“

“hey, you’ve been off the whole day, everything alright?” amethyst proceeds to question, and your shoulders slump as you halt from sweeping up hair off the floor.

aside from tireless appointments, you couldn’t get toji out of your mind, super impatient, even anxious for saturday to come. it’s two days away until you finally meet him. you’ve texted here and there, shared a few updates on life or spoke of relating passions and wanting desires. you had told him your occupation outside of being a camgirl, and how dissatisfied with it you’ve become. this field wasn’t for you anymore. the passion for it is dying, the clients grow irritable, and you just wanted to breathe. you feel like you’ve been working your whole life. in conclusion, since fifteen. started from an early age dealing with responsibilities due to financial constraints within your family. your mother raised you on her own, along with four other children. and being cursed with the older daughter syndrome, you developed faster than you wanted to. barely having time to live your life until you moved out. even then, it’s been all about work. you needed an island getaway.

“this week just burnt me out. i’m just glad it’s almost over,” you reply, not having the energy for a full conversation. she was a sweet girl, albeit very nosey. you try to keep events in your life private, gossip to a minimum.

“awe, bookie,” she pouts. “what’s your plan for tomorrow? me and the girls were gonna check out that new club ‘sin.’”

shaking your head, you disagree. “now you know i’m not big on clubs. have an art piece to work on anyways before the weekend comes. so i’ll be busy.”

amethyst nods. “well, alright then. i guess i’ll just see you whenever you get booked again.”

you don’t know why that felt like a backhanded response. you’re only here three times out of the week, and most of those days you see about five to six clients. everyone else had a bigger following on social media, meaning more attention, more money. you believe because you aren’t so passionate for this major, your ability to promote and put effort only shows in your adult entertainment career. since it’s where most of your income comes from as of four months ago.

“guess i’ll see you.”

after packing your ballerina pink telfar bag with all of your tools, you wave goodbye to everyone before making your way to your white honda civic, interior a vast splash of pink matching the two-piece skims set you wore. shorts since the weather is about seventy-five degrees today. buckling yourself in, your only agenda is to head to chipotle and then home. ordering your delectable signature bowl of barbacoa, fajita veggies, guacamole, pico de gallo, corn, sour cream, cheese, lettuce, and refusing to eat the bowl without their vinaigrette and a side of chips.

it’s around 9pm when you’re finally cleaned off from a hot shower, curly hair pushed back from your face with a hello kitty headband as you finish your skincare, sitting at your vanity while scandal plays in the background. you’d already eaten your food about an hour ago, even taking a thirty minute nap to regenerate for this art piece you needed to finish. in total, you had about three jobs; hair stylist, camgirl, ceramicist. you had an etsy profile where people bought cute little things of yours you liked to sculpt. tea pots, coquette flower pots, plates, heart cake jewelry boxes . . you name it. you had a few orders for mini miffy trinkets you had to ship out by saturday.

saturday. the warmth in your gut swarms at the thought of seeing that man. quite frankly, you’ve been unable to relieve your mind of him. he’s like a poison, hard to get rid of, but desperate to stay bonded with you. and you wanted nothing more than to be buried in his embrace; small and fucked out. since he’s been busy with work, and so have you, there hasn’t been much time to even call and chat. then again, you wanted to wait to see him in person. to feel that magnetism stronger than it already was. two days away and you’re anxious to even hear a hello.

while patting your toner into your face, you gaze through your mirror to see a scene playing from your show where fitz and olivia fight before they fuck for the hundredth time. the way he grabs her, speaks to her, caresses her and worships her. it has you thinking of toji instantly. the burn for him aching more than normal. practically feeling his eyes on you the way he stared into the camera in that one photo, long fingers clasped around the glass bottle, craving for that lock around your throat. wondering how tight he’d make it. would you be able to breathe? would he kiss air into your mouth to help you? tell you it’s okay, to feel it all, to take it all, to cum on his dick till you're milking him dry?

your thighs squeeze together from your imagination, staring at your reflection . . . and it’s all in your eyes. deep arousal, and the harsh clench you currently held your moisturizer in, close to grinding in your seat to ease the buzz of your clit. there’s only one solution for this, and you might as well make money off it. standing to your feet, you think not a second more before retrieving your laptop from your closet, setting it on your vanity desk and logging into the domain of prettyfuckbunnies.com. it seemed to be the main site for growth, given your eight thousand dedicated subscribers. you check yourself in the mirror once more before going live, rolling your chair back a few inches so they could see your entire frame. dressed in nothing but a small red slip dress.

angelbwrry is live!

your subscribers were notified well before others, hundreds of them swarming the chat within seconds. you were a new favorite, a prized star of the platform. admiration from both women and men. people who tipped you just for being pretty. others here for the obvious. applying gloss to your lips, you stare intensely into the camera, the character you play going into affect.

“hi,” you mutter quietly, slowly titling your head to the side as you bite your lip and sink lower into your seat, back arching. “i’m so fucking horny, and i just need someone to watch me fuck myself.”

the black kuromi chair you sat in begins to sway as you gently swing yourself side to side, eyes trained on the chat to witness them praise you, some comments degrading off the rip that you chose to ignore, others demanding you get on with it. for the most part, you tend to be discreet with sharing much about yourself. technically, you weren’t hiding much, your face easily accessible and probably even less hard to track. you’d always pray that there wasn’t a psycho willing to go that far just to find you. role playing was your forte. writing ideas for new personas to please them. and you had fun doing it. you’d never do something you weren’t in to for the satisfaction of others. never took private calls, or meets ups for obvious reasons.

but, you had to talk about him.

“i met this guy i can’t get outta my head,” the softness in your tone making dicks go erect and clits beat, the chat asking questions and growing fond of your way of interaction. “well, maybe not met. we’ve texted, and i meet him in a few days. possibly someone you’ll see on the channel. and . . .”

the tenseness in toji’s neck bothers him as he groans and leans back into his office’s chair, fork in one hand as he chews on his salad from sweetgreen a coworker grabbed for him, reading through emails his secretary confirmed appointments of, needing to add it into his schedule to be aware of what he can fit between. needing to run a few errands this weekend. the white doctors coat clings to his body, one foot raised to rest on the front of his desk, manspreading and jaw shifting as he finishes his food tiredly, knowing he wouldn’t eat a thing once he got home.

“goodnight doctor fushiguro! get some rest tonight, yeah?” a body comes to view of his secretary; a woman with glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, a chunky face and beautiful red hair. she waves enthusiastically.

toji smiles, the older woman trying her best not to swoon. he’s young enough to be her son. “good night, miss thorn. thank you for today. you get home safe and enjoy your trip. i wanna hear all about it when you’re back.”

“you know you’re the first person i’m running to tell!” she chirps, toji chuckling. “i left my keys on the main desk. don’t forget or else you’ll have to break open the drawer for your patients files.”

“i’ll be sure to remember.”

twenty minutes pass and toji’s cutting off lights to his small facility and locking up. twirling the keys on his long finger, starting up the sleek black maserati ghibli gt sitting in the parking lot from his key. a black patent leather messenger bag hanging from his shoulder, doctors coat discarded and now attired in his usual black tee with matching slacks. setting it beside him in the passengers seat, he gets a ding! from his cellphone, resting his shoulders in his seat before checking what it was, perhaps it was miss thorn, she tends to leave things behind.

angelbwrry is going live!

toji raises a brow from the notification, checking the sapphire bulova watch on his wrist for the time. 9:54pm. why were you up so late? forgetting people have other schedules, he’s so used to being asleep around this time, much more having to be done today the only reason he was still in the office way past the hour it closed. part of him grows inquisitive, wondering if he should invade your privacy or what not. though, he’s not new to your escapades. he’s seen every inch of your body, memorizing it quite literally. he’s not ashamed to say you’ve gotten him off a few times these past months. he feels like he knows you on a deeper level now, so itching for that perverted behavior would be indecent to both of you. especially if he’s seeing you in two days . . . for a conversation about what you do and his potential participation.

nothing wrong with just watching, right?

as the engine to his car hums, toji finds himself in a devious act, clicking onto your feed and finding you displayed in your feminine bedroom. the videos on mute momentarily before he’s going full screen and turning his phone sideways. there you were, small and standing tall as the slip that barely clung to your body arose the more you moved. hips wide, thighs full, nipples taut and tits defying gravity. the strap on your right shoulder falls elegantly, your hair hoisted up by a claw clip and your brown skin radiating glow. the man openly groans from the sight, knowing you smelt so good.

“wait, i have an idea!” the cute tone of your voice blares through his phone, a smirk painting his stern features as he watches you scramble for something in your room, your slip riding up your ass. the hourglass shape of your body, to the pudge of your tummy . . he’s enamored.

he, and a thousand other people watch curiously as you lift the seven foot mirror that previously leaned against your closet door and position it on the floor at the edge of your bed. then, you’re digging into your bottom drawer for something else, toji catching a brief glance at the chat raving and thirsting from the view of your perky ass peaking out, a tiny birth mark under the left one. the cellulite in your legs that squish together from size, the stretch marks leading from beneath your ass cheeks down to the backs of your knees. so fucking soft.

“ta-da!” you wave the object in your hand courageously, an evil grin on your face as you show the crowd your confetti designed dildo, the brow on toji’s face raising. he almost wants to chuckle. you’re so silly, he thinks. watching you dance your way back towards the mirror where you hum a tune to yourself, swaying your ass in the air for dramatics before plunging your toy onto the center of the mirror so it sticks, watching it spring for attention.

“gonna pretend this is him, ‘till then. can’t wait any longer,” your hands slowly drift up your thighs to show your audience your bare pussy, hiding between those luscious thighs of yours. he wanted to suffocate his face there badly. what you say almost goes over his head. pretend who’s what?

toji ignores the flow of comments filling the chat, degrading you to some degree which he briefly clenches his jaw from, feeling somewhat protective. others praising you, acting like your cash pigs. pathetic, he thinks. he sees one comment in particular that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

prinxxxspeach

aren’t you seeing him saturday? call him now to come help you girl!!

don’t fucking call me, angel. i’ll nut in my pants right now if i hear you say my name. he’s slightly amused that you spoke of him. is that why you went live so late? thinking about him? so pent up, and impatient, you had to just fuck it out your system? he’d fuck you a lot better than that lousy toy you had, that’s for sure.

you giggle from the comment, contacts still in your sockets so you can read what people are saying from afar.

“he can wait for me. he’s making me wait,” it’s like an old film camera flipping to the next scene, or maybe his mind had gone blank from your response because now, now you’re sinking your tiny pussy onto your toy after coating it with lube, the reflection of your cunt for all to see in the mirror. watching as this toy splits you apart, pretty folds swallowing it deep as you balance yourself on the tips of your toes. fully sitting and rolling your hips to adjust, your mouth falls wide and a whimper escapes.

“nng, s’so deep,” that voice of yours is going to get you in trouble. the broken moans you release as you lift your hips to grind and bounce, face falling forward to look at yourself, seeing someone other than yourself. your imagination begins to run wild, and you forget a cameras watching you, dainty fingers caressing the mirror before laying your palm flat, as if you’re choking him. biting your lip, you occupy your other hand by molding at your chest.

you uphold your balance well, clapping your ass down against the mirror now coated with your slick, pussy squelching ridiculously loud aside from your weak moans and desperate whimpers.

“fuuck,” your breath hikes, sounds broken and almost pleading, eyes rolling back as you collapse to your knees and lazily rock back on your idea of a dick. by this point, toji’s eyes are malicious, and his dick is hard in his slacks. shifting in his seat uncomfortably from what you’ve done.

“lemme see your face,” toji whispers in the air, the heat rushing to his cheeks. the things you do to him truly fascinating.

“g’na cuum, mmph daddy!” a high pitched squeal you let out stuns him, your hips shifting back and forth hurriedly. the flesh of your ass moving like water, and he’s in a trance. daddy? what the fuck are you doing to him? he wonders if you knew he was going to purposely join your live. already talking about him gave it away.

“c’mon, angel. show me,” the blood swells in his cock rapidly, tip damn near dripping with precum, unable to help but palm his heavy hand with it, humming and widening his legs.

“too-jii,” it’s faint the words you falter, a pathetic whimper followed by drool covered lips and a cute squeak. your body trembles from the depth of your orgasm, riding out your high and giggling cutely to yourself. to others, the words were inaudible. but to him, he knew exactly what the fuck you said.

the way you smile at yourself in the mirror, as if you’re looking at his fucked out face, you slowly upturn your head to bring it back to the livestream, a drunken, and dangerous grin on your face. never in his years of life had a woman made him gulp. to fear for what you’d do to him. how bad you’d break him, make him go fucking crazy. yearn for your pussy on his mouth.

you were fucking ethereal.

              𓇼

of-fucking-course you’d be running late. you were supposed to meet toji at two and it’s two thirty. the location of c’est moi exactly twenty five minutes away from where you lived. you were close to the downtown area, not fond of parking down there but you’d drive faster than an uber can. you made sure to make toji aware of your lateness so he’s not getting the idea that you stood him up. never. not after the other day. you don’t know what happened, but your mind took over your body and you couldn’t help yourself. you only pray he didn’t see it, not expecting him to. it’s embarrassing now that you think back on it.

you manage to make it out of the house twenty minutes after, throwing on a simple white pleated cami dress with a ruffled hem, ruched bust, and pairing of olive green sandals that had tea rose shaded orchids clipped onto the forefront. a teri cherry printed coach bag tight on your shoulder after you sped sixty miles per hour towards the restaurant, finding parking and hurriedly making your way inside.

“hi, reservations for fushiguro. i’m extremely late,” as you approach the host, you make out the sight of the man you were here to see outside instantly. sitting alone sipping a cup of coffee. his side profile all you can see, that deep scar carved into the side of his mouth, his veiny hands big as he clutches the mug . . and your throat clogs up.

he’s fucking . . . big. fuck being nervous before, this made you want to run and hide and never show your face. he’s practically hunching over the table, making it appear smaller than it actually is. his hair is midnight black, his broad shoulders and muscles suffocating the sleek gucci button up he wore, a few undone, eyes studying his cellphone, awaiting your call. one thing about being a doctor, he’s learned to be patient. understanding your alarm forgot to go off, or rather you slept through it . . seemingly growing to become impatient. he needed to see your face now.

“right this way.”

your feet follow blindly behind the hostess, trying your best not to trip over your own feet, heart beating drastically against your ribcage. your palms are sweaty, feeling the warm breeze of spring air hit your skin as the hostess leads you outside to the table where toji resides. he sees you before you see him, the sun beaming on your skin not nearly as hot as your cheeks suddenly became when finally making eye contact. your right hand picks at the ends of your dress anxiously, toji taking a stand to welcome you like a gentleman. it’s like slow fucking motion the closer you approach him, and when you’re inches apart, you can see the stillness on his face. he doesn’t smile, his face is almost unreadable. not sure if he’s upset with you for being late, or he’s just not one for emotions.

“hi,” the hairs on your skin stand from the deep baritone of his voice, visibly swallowing as you stare up at him, height difference making you dizzy.

“hi,” you blink like an innocent doe. he’s hovering over you and the waiter whom sets the menu down on the table, his chest almost touching you as he comes around to pull your chair out for you to sit, finally getting so close to the point where he could breathe in your sweet perfume, the peony and white musk scent has him forcing down a groan. he’s staring intently at your backside, dark hair going to the middle of your back in wild curls, a bit frizzy due to the humidity outside.

“can i get you anything to drink, miss?” the waiter addresses you, politely waiting for toji to move out the way.

why is your entire body on fire? no man has ever had this affect on you. his aura exudes something sinister, overtly masculine even. “u-um, yes please. can i just have a frozen sangria?”

“of course, i’ll be back with that while you decide on your meal.”

“thanks,” you smile sweetly, trying your very best to avoid complete eye contact. once the two of you are alone, you build up the courage to look at him again. he’s seated once more, leaning back into his chair with a left arm resting over the back of the chair with his legs comfortably spread. he liked to do that a lot. his eyes are low, head adjusted somewhat to the left as he observes you.

“good to finally see you,” he’s the first to speak, again. that fucking voice of his; raspy and dominant. how are you supposed to carry out a conversation without folding?

“y-yeah,” you clear your throat, sitting up straight after shyly clamping your hands between your legs and trying to hide like a porcupine. “i want to apologize again for running late. out of all days my phone decides to not ring my alarm. i rushed here as soon as possible. i hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

his lips began to rise into a soft smile, and that eases your nerves. no one would notice you’d rush to get ready. so naturally pretty with your face glowing from rose water and petroleum jelly, hair brushed out, lashes only curled with mascara, lips lined with black liner and smothered with gloss while your prescription glasses sit on the bridge of your nose. too cute.

“sweetheart, no need for the sorry’s. i understand.”

he’s not mad, thank fuck. “kay,” you smile back, tucking pieces of flown hair behind your ear. “did you order yet?”

“was waiting on you,” he replied. “though i kind of lost my appetite. i’m craving something . . . else. so, order anything you’d like.”

that was surely a double meaning. now, you’re not so sure if you had an appetite anymore. you couldn’t bare to eat in front of this man right now. when the waiter came back with your drink, you downed half of it, toji chuckling from your anxiousness. you needed the liquid courage before uttering another word towards the man who watched you with motive, intention. the intimidation brewing from his body is corrupting you. you order a simple caesar salad, nothing too fancy.

“oh! i printed out the document we have to go over.”

toji’s eyes trail to your hands that reach for your purse, acrylic nails painted a peony pink pulling out your notebook stuffed with an arrangement of papers as well as a pen. “guess we can call it like an nda, affidavit . . whatever. i’m sure you’re aware of the obvious on why. um, we can discuss boundaries within the bedroom . . . things we will or will not condone. a safe word is a must. if you don’t feel comfortable showing your face i’d blur it out, but given i do livestreams most of the time that’ll be impossible. so i’d suggest a mask, which i’m actually in to so if that’s something you’re willing to do . . “

toji nods as you continue to ramble, carefully analyzing everything you say, though, his mind begins to drift elsewhere. he still couldn’t get that damn livestream out of his mind. killing himself these past two days just thinking about how fucked out he needed you to be, buried deep and crying underneath him. the cute expressions on your face when you moaned his name so publicly, as if you dared him to see. how desperately you fucked yourself on that pathetic toy of yours from the very thought of him. your whines, the illicit way you stared at your reflection in the mirror beneath your sculpture of a body you rolled seductively. he shifts in his seat, attempting to conceal the stirring of hunger within him as you continue to talk. he doesn’t need a fucking contract. he’d fuck you good and wouldn’t tell a soul.

his expression is firm yet tinged with a hint of something different this time . . anticipation. “why do you film content?”

the unwavering intensity in his gaze causes you to cut your sentence short, mouth forming an ‘o’ as you ponder on his question. was he even listening? “wha—what do you mean?”

toji chuckles. “i mean, why do you film? is it your main source of income? do you enjoy submitting to hundreds of people? does it make you feel confident, make you feel good? why?”

that should’ve been something you prepared yourself to answer. most of the guys you filmed content with didn’t have personal answers to ask, nor did they care. they were simply there to have a good time and go about their lives. you came into this situation thinking that’s what toji wanted as well. now you’re getting a gut feeling it’s more than that. or maybe you’re just an over-thinker. the whole point of making an account on hinge was to find better people to connect with for work, but most of them never got the job done, and you were tired of faking an orgasm and boosting a man’s ego. something about this one though, you can feel that he’s willing to worship you.

“well, i actually have three jobs. hairstylist during the day, which i’m growing to lose passion for. i’m good with pottery so i make little things and sell them. and then as for filming content . . . it’s fast money. the economy is shit right now. minimum wage jobs aren’t cutting it. rent prices are horrifying. i want to fund a new life for myself. to travel more, and just be a girl.”

toji smiles, admiring you.

“bali has been on my mind as a place to reside. it’s always been a dream of mine to be somewhere tropical. less breathing in polluted air and eating foods they pump full of hormones. mexico and puerto rico are also on the list. i really need to dip my feet in some sand or something. i don’t know. it’s also kind of sexually liberating to be in my own bubble and enjoy myself in that way. i do it for no one but myself.”

toji sits up in his seat, taking a piece of ciabatta and smearing softened butter onto the breadpicked up a slice of bread and smeared some butter onto it. “i think that moving to a place like that is a good idea. there’s a lot of bullshit in the world that’s hard to run away from. if you feel like it’s what’s best for your mental and emotional being, then go for it. you seem like you’ve worked real hard your entire life. you deserve a break.”

the heat in your cheeks rise as he leans himself closer, guiding the bread to your lips, waiting for you to take a bite. you smile softly, sitting up a bit in your chair before taking a bite. toji watches intensely as you moan from the taste.

“isn’t it much better when it’s given by someone else?”

“yeah, it’s good. real good,” you swallow, licking your lips to rid the breadcrumbs, reaching for your glass of wine to take another sip. “i have most of my savings in tact, so my plan is to be out of here by next year.”

the unadulterated pull between the two of you threatens to consume him as he stares at you, his body almost painfully yearning for your touch, your taste, your everything. toji can no longer resist. he reaches out and gently cups your chin, his fingers gently yet firmly tilting your face up to meet his smoldering gaze when you dared to look away. “how ‘bout you take me with you.“

the entire scene switches, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of lust and vulnerability makes you fall shamelessly into his trance. you feel your heart patter against your chest, scanning his entire face with small indications of panic, and excitement. you’ve been dying for his touch all week. you pray he’s as good as he looks.

“what’s the catch?” you breathe inordinately.

toji smirks. “we get fake married or something and change our identities.”

you shake your head at his joke. “i need to see a ring first, mister.”

“mhm, you look like a marquise kinda girl,” he tongues his cheek, in deep thought. “go to bali. i pay, you enjoy life.”

pairs of lips are mere inches away, toji ghosting his softly amongst your own, yours parting to follow. you feel like you’re in space, the feeling extraterrestrial. surrounded by depths of nothingness with only the two of you existing.

“i. . no, i can’t let you do that,” you shake your head dismissively.

“you deserve it.”

“you don’t know me.”

“good. that’ll be the perfect occasion for us to spend more time together,” he concludes, softly pecking your lips to coax you into giving him what he needed. you’re stunned, unsure what to say, or to think. so, he doesn’t make you think.

“fuckin’ kiss me,” his voice drops to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of desire and vulnerability, eyes flickering from the plumpness of your lips to your eyes. “can’t wait any fucking longer.”

the heat of his breath mingles with yours as his lips brush against your own in a hungry, fiery kiss. his mouth devours yours with an intensity that borders on primal, each movement filled with a desperate need to taste and consume everything you have to offer. his tongue slips past your parted lips, eagerly exploring the depths of your mouth as if seeking to memorize every inch of you.

you were drawn in fully now and you didn’t think you’d be able to pull away even if you wanted.

within the moment of your passionate kiss, as toji’s rough hand trailed to grasp your throat, your waiter begins to approach with your salad, eyes widening as he noticed how deeply, and somewhat aggressively your make out session was. practically swallowing each others faces. deciding to mind his business and turn the other way. he’d come back in a few minutes. toji breaks the kiss abruptly, his eyes gleaming with a hint of reluctance.

“damn this table,” he mutters, his gaze shifting towards the barrier separating the two of you. his breathing is ragged, body practically trembling with pent-up need. even so, he manages to pull himself together enough to maintain some semblance of composure.

he’s left you breathless, feeling something in your chest you’d never felt before, this attraction for him otherworldly. your lips are pouted, hands bawled into little fists levitating in front of your chest, as if you were begging for him to come back. when he begins to rise to his feet, you wonder where he’s going, eyes coming into immediate contact at the bulge growing tight in his jeans. you swallow, shifting your gaze up to the tall man that hovers over you possessively.

“go home, send me the address. i gotta handle a few business calls then i’ll be there at eleven.”

you hadn’t noticed the way your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you give him those damn puppy eyes, as if you’re so fascinated by him, almost scared of him to leave right now. toji grabs the pen resting between your little pink book, signing his signature on the indicated line on the bottom of the page for your gratification. after, he’s fishing for the brown leather wallet in his pocket to place down a hundred dollar bill on the table to cover the tab and the waiters tip. then, he leans down, lips gently brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. he lingers just a moment longer, as if reluctant to let go.

“see you later, angel.”

finally, and with that, he steps back, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment before he turns and walks away, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoes in your ears, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a lingering sense of anticipation for the evening to come. starstruck entirely.

𓇼

a rush of arousal burned within you like wildfire as you lay in your empty bed, yearning for the man who's been gone for only a few hours now. caressing your collarbone while chewing on your lip, your phone rests in your palm, excitement brewing for twenty minutes now ever since he texted you to let you know he was on the way. a black baby doll is adorned on your soft skin. ruffle lace details at the neckline and hem with a satin waistband tie at the back into a cute bow. matching mesh g-string panty, and floral patterns along the bust and hip area.

you took the time to curl your hair, reminding yourself to actually put your contacts in this time. also keeping makeup to a minimum with just mascara, a bit of blush, and some strawberry chapstick. skin moisturized in baby oil and spritzed with miss dior. . . waiting. the camera’s set up across from your bed, trying to distract yourself by engaging in conversation with your viewers. the comments were raging about how impatient they were to see something, but how did they think you felt? you could barely walk out of that restaurant without feeling your legs shake.

he intimidated you beyond measure, and god knows what he’s going to do to you when he gets here. it’s a fear and form of greed you’d never felt before.

“my fucking hands are shaking,” you giggle anxiously, smiling to yourself and shaking your hands before dramatically breathing out.

as you waited, you did little things to keep your buyers entertained, showing your ass every now and then as you cleaned your room like a cute maid. call it foreplay. sitting on your knees now become uncomfortable, so you aim for lowering to your tummy and stretching your arms ahead of you, ass raised up. as soon as you get comfortable, your head pops up from the sound of heavy footsteps surrounding the small area of your home. it’s him. you’d hope, leaving the door unlocked so it’d be easier for him to enter.

“oh, fuck—y’all,” the anxiety is even worse now, mentally preparing yourself with steady breaths and shoving your face into the bed to scream happily. the emotions are bipolar. “he’s coming up.”

toji steps closer to your slightly cracked open door, pushing it open wide to see you. his demeanor nothing short of serious when he gets a good look at you, hearing you yap at your camcorder with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. he rests his right shoulder against the frame of the door, staring at you, admiring. his boots hit along the floor the closer he gets to you, and that cute ass you had perched up. the lights in your room are dimly lit, citrus candles spread around and led lights from your vanity illuminating the area. the vibe is nice, he likes it. like he likes you.

you continue to speak to your livestream and pretend he wasn’t there, trying to ignore your heartbeat picking up. the tension is in the air. you tried to steady your breathing as you continue to ramble about nonsense; animal crossing, sims you wanted to recreate and purposely wicked whim them. anything to distract yourself from the sparks shivering through your body. you prod the inside of your cheek trying to bite back a grin when you finally feel his hands on your hips, eyes watching the chat go wild from the brooding man behind you. what makes it all the more hot is that he hasn’t spoken a word, feeling like an intruder. stalking, waiting.

“so yeah, i’m thinking about dying my hair red. i feel like my face is kinda full to have a silk press so i’ll look . . off? maybe p-pin ‘urls,” a wave of pleasure shocks through you when you feel him press the outline of his dick against your cunt, dragging you back to air-fuck you once or twice. a few times. for the tease of it. his fingertips lightly flowing along the curves and contours of your body, your hips being the most sensitive. gasping and twitching from the feel, the thong you wore barely shielding how wet you were.

your breath became heavier, and you found it harder to continue speaking. you felt like moans would slip out of if you continued to react to his touch, the heat between you two rising. you were drawn fully into him. the reaction from him gave you a confidence boost, a slick smile showing on your face. while his body speaks of his own growing need, he remains a silent observer, his intense gaze watching as you maintain, or try, your playful conversation with the camera.

“i gotta admit something,” you smile into your hair that falls angelically around the frame of your face. his form, silhouetted behind you, takes on an ominous yet seductive presence. even though he remains hidden from view, his yearn is palpable, eyes locked on you as if he could consume you with a single glance.

“i fucked myself thinking of him,” a jolt of electricity runs down toji’s spine as he recollects the image. a low, involuntary groan escapes his throat as his grip on you tightens. “those of you who don’t remember. it was really, really good.”

that’s the final trigger. in seconds, a rough palm strikes the flesh of your ass, causing the cutest squeak to emit from you. toji’s wrapping his other fist around the softness of your hair and pulling you back to his hard chest. his cologne is strong, enrapturing even. your hand reaches beside you to catch his wrist in your grip, feeling the coldness of his expensive watch while he’s busy locking your jaw still and pressing his lips beneath your ear.

“really?” the tone is condescending, and as you nod frantically, pushing your ass back to feel him more, all you can hear is the unraveling of his belt. slowly removing it, the sound of the leather rubbing against the buckle and his pants. the anticipation fills you at an alarming pace. “i knew that, angel.”

how? wait, did he fucking watch the live you made that night? your legs nearly go weak at the possibility, sheer embarrassment consuming you. he wasn’t meant to see that. yeah, you told him about it. but him seeing that, then having lunch with you like nothing happened is crazy work. he noticed you’re frozen, chuckling darkly behind you.

“relax, doll. i can pretend i didn’t, ‘n you can show me all over again.”

he grabs your wrists, pining them behind your back with a rush of power fueling him, crossed hands sitting on your ass.

“this okay, baby?” he scans the side of your face for approval, using the smooth leather to bond them together. you hum, lips bitten and nodding obediently.

the look on your face in the camera is so worth the thousands of views from people who were just as desperate as he was to see you submit. your hands wriggle to touch him, laying your head on his shoulder and biting your lip as his teeth graze from your shoulder, to your collarbone, and your neck. your body’s completely on fire, and he makes it worse when he gently shoves you forward to fall on your face, back arched and ass high for his view, and theirs.

toji stared down at you as you remained there, fully surrendering yourself for the taking. his larger body leans over yours, fingers grabbing your chin to force your mouth to open. toji brushes his lips along yours, your desperate mouth sinking into him, feeling that same spark you felt earlier during lunch in your chest. he deepened the kiss to give you what you wanted, easily reading you, his tongue ravaging your mouth with his waist grinding into the shape of your ass. the kiss is so wet it has you mewling like a cat in heat, losing your breath.

“give me a safe word, hm?” toji sucks on his lower lip, the arousal in his eyes ruining you. a heavy hand rubs circles on your ass before hitting it again, another cute sound leaving that pretty mouth you had.

brushing your cheek along your bed set, dark curls dancing around your face and a pout on your lips, you whimper, “strawberry.”

“mhm,” your stomach flips when you felt his hand drift between your inner thigh, toji’s tongue skidding over your lips the same time his fingers apply pressure to your clit, rubbing in circles after he pulls your panties to the side, your babydoll resting pretty on top of the rolls on your back. your fists are balled tightly in your restraints, widening your mouth to suck on his tongue before giving him a deep kiss. the image on your face is pure dizziness. acting like your fucked dumb while barely being fucked. he couldn’t wait to see you crumble.

you squirm under his touch, breath growing short and shaky, toji maintaining eye contact with you dangerously. he’s big on it, and it makes you shy, yet brave enough to endure it.

“you hear yourself, girl?” toji hisses, pecking your lips hard, his fingers coated with your slick the more he rubbed. you whine, arching your ass even closer to his hand. “you’re so needy for me, it’s cute.”

it’s ridiculous that you can’t even speak, him turning you into nothing but a whiny, whimpering sub. “you’re desperate for my touch, for my tongue.” he whispered, his voice growing even rougher as his own need grew.

“mmm, yes. need it so bad,” you pout, mouth gaping after he spanks your clit lightly. “fuck, please eat it, baby.”

“i will good girl.”

he didn’t hesitate for another second, sliding behind you with one knee pressed into the bed and his big hands holding you still, spreading your cheeks further apart and cussing under his breath from how fucking cute your pussy was. fat, and glistening in your juices, clit hiding between your folds giving him something to search for. “g’na fuckin’ kill me, angel. pretty fuckin’ pussy you got.”

you scoot up as much as you can, hands still bound behind your back, wanting to cry from the inability to move, but loving that he had you at his mercy. his hair covers his eyes and he’s submerged into you, pressing his mouth to your pussy in a sweet kiss, like he’s knocking politely, before running his thick, long tongue over you slowly. a groan resounded devilishly, toji lapping at your dripping clit, tongue hot and your toes can do nothing but curl.

he’s slow and deliberate, enjoying the sounds and reactions he was getting out of you as you writhed and quivered under his ministrations. your pussy and his mouth makes up the loudest voice in the room, so fucking sweet and wet he’s salivating over you. spanking you, taking his time to devour you as he swallows your cunt whole, tongue gliding from your clit all the way to your hole. occasionally dipping his tongue into you to fuck you like that. your eyes cross, a broken cry making him lose it.

“keep bouncing that ass back, baby. fuck, fuck my face, angel,” he’s hitting you again, and you can’t take it, shifting your thighs to roll your ass back onto his gorgeous face. you’re panting like an animal, jaw dropping as he keeps his mouth on your clit, sucking it hard and groaning into your cunt, the vibrations traveling up your spine.

“oh . . god, oooh god,” the gasp in your throat became high pitched, toji licking you faster when he sees you giving your utmost effort. continuing his onslaught on your sensitive clit, swollen and satiating his taste buds. his fingers dug into your thighs, lowering himself completely to sit on his knees before you, rocking you back on his face as he eats it, unrelenting. sucking, licking, slurping, drowning his tongue inside of you . . . damn, it’s fucking good.

“c-cumming,” he can barely hear you as you stuff your face into the bed, toji’s head bouncing as you settle your feet on his shoulders and rock back on his face even quicker, groaning. “don’t stop, don’t s-stop, babyyy.”

“mhm hmm,” he’s moaning into your pussy, kissing and tonguing you down until you finally burst, your hands in their constraint balling into fists, getting the chance to latch onto his black hair once he pushes you flat on your stomach to bury his face completely between your ass and thighs. “let it out, baby.”

his chin glistened from your juices, toji groaning the rougher you tugged at his scalp, dick jumping in his jeans he needed to unravel soon. when you cum, you do this thing where you squeal and gasp at once, and he swears it’s the cutest thing he’s ever fucking heard. lifting his face, he licks his lips proudly, wiping his chin and patting your ass to watch it shake in his palm. you were a lovely display beneath him, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of ownership over you.

he reached down and traced a finger along the length of your trembling leg, his dominant presence still overwhelming. he brings his hand to the back of your neck which you arched into his touch, his eyes darkening at your silent plea. “you want more?”

“nn, yea,” a breathless giggle falls from you, toji dragging you to sit at your knees by the grip on your neck and around your chest with his forearm, back hitting his chest again, and your eyes come into contact with the camera, almost forgetting it was there.

“show them what i did to your pussy, angel. let them see how perfect you are,” toji whispers, tapping at your knees to help you sit on your behind.

“okay,” the words are small again, because that’s how he makes you feel. once you sit, you raise your knees to your chest, toji lifting your babydoll to show your soft tummy and the pink lights from your vanity mirror glowing on the angles and curves of your body. you look like the finest art.

it’s liberating seeing yourself like this, a sense of relief washing over you when he begins to unloose the belt, humming elatedly and arching into him, your periwinkle painted toes twinkling in the air playfully. toji laughs at you, your hand coming to your cunt to cover it out of fake shyness, rolling to lay on your side and giggling to yourself. you really did know how to play a role, or maybe you’re just naturally silly.

toji unfastened his button before drifting his zipper down, thick thighs spread and arms bulky as he kept them in fists into the bed, tilting his head in your direction as he sat beside you, body taking up half the bed. you sit on your knees next to him, your hands running across his stomach and lifting up his shirt, toji licking his lips when your nails delicately scratch at his hips. you moan when his hand comes into contact with your hair, your nails digging into the broadness of his thigh.

as he guided your head down, you could feel the heat coming off of his body. you could smell the unique scent of masculinity wafting off of him. the feeling of his fingers running through your hair sent tingles down your spine, his touch tender and affectionate despite his dominating demeanor. your chest fluttered when his thumb touched your lower lip, your breath stuttering and your body quivering, a heat rising in your core all over. you felt the need for him grow stronger, pulling your lip downward. he shifted his fingers and tilted your chin up further, exposing your throat and neck to him. then he leans over, his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head as his mouth latches onto your neck. pressing light kisses along the sensitive skin, his tongue grazing out and your skin pricks with fire.

“can’t stop tasting you,” he grunts, his lips and tongue on your throat licking hard, driving you insane with need. his hand holding the back of your neck in a possessive manner, keeping you in place as his mouth explored your sensitive skin.

“toji. .” your voice is weak, feeling your inner thighs drown in a puddle of your arousal. “wanna suck it.”

“i’m sorry, what was that?” he hums.

“don’t tease,” you roll your eyes and pout.

“mhm,” he lets out a little grunt as his eyes rake over you, his breath catching slightly as he stares at you. he runs his hand down to your waist, gripping fervently. “so pretty,” he murmurs.

“thank you,” you whisper, feeling a strong rush of affection for him. “you’re so handsome,” you say, your voice low and tender.

“g’na give it a good kiss, baby? real good?” he hisses, your hand pulling at his jeans to sit lower on his sharp hips, letting his dick free and watching it with a watered mouth as it sat against his tummy. heavy, thick, two veins protruding on either side. you fucking knew he was big. bless your intuition.

“yes, want it,” you plead.

a low growl escaped his throat. “show me you want it then,” he purrs, his eyes growing darker with desire and his grip on your hip tightening.

the salivation in your mouth gave you just what you needed to do the job, widening your mouth to accommodate his size, drooling over his dick as you pull him in as deep as you could to start. half of him enclosed by the warmth of your mouth and instantly toji moans from the feel, your cheek sucking in while you guide your head up and down, keeping your hands to yourself, one on his thigh for balance. your eyes are closed to focus, humming and dragging your mouth slow to make him feel it all. toji catches himself knocking his head back, pulling the sheets between his fingertips and scrunching his brows together, stomach caving in.

he can hear you slurp and suck at him needily, moaning around him and riding the air with your ass, spit gliding down to the base of his dick as your tongue sticks out to drag along the under of his shaft, bobbing your head and licking at him. something about giving him head in specific felt intoxicating. maybe it’s the sounds he makes; guttural yet whiny. the desperation begs to tug at his throat, shifting his hips blindly and cussing under his breath. eventually, his fingers find their way back to your scalp, toji sitting up and entangling both hands into your hair, face curated in pleasure with eyes wired shut and a gaped jaw.

“shit, ꒰♡꒱. that’s fuckin’ good, doll,” toji grunts, your moans around him encompassing him to briefly detangle a hand to spank against your ass in clear indulgence. “damn.”

your hand couldn’t help but travel to touch him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick to stroke your hand according to the pace your mouth drags. that gravitational wave in his abdomen hit, a deep ‘your suckin’ it so good’ fleeing from his mouth followed by another harsh spank and a steady tug at your scalp to push you down only enough to follow your rhythm. when he hits the back of your throat, you force yourself to hold him there for a few seconds, purposely constricting your throat to hear him moan for you again, and again. his sounds addicting.

toji chuckles from how good you’re doing, raising your head to breathe before swallowing only the tip while stroking the remainder, your salvia being enough lubricant to quickly move your wrist. twisting and tugging while keeping it mostly on the head of his cock, the sensitive spot your toy to play with as you give teasing kitty licks, two hands covering him now.

picking your head up momentarily, you stare into his eyes with your siren ones, low and dangerous. pulling at his dick while you bite your lips before kissing him, mewling when he shoves his tongue into your mouth, pulling your body closer by your ass, the other grabbing the side of your face he practically swallowed into his own. the kiss is feverish, something straight out of a movie. he’s highly infatuated with you, tasting himself off of you with the mixture of yourself. toji sucks on your lower lip, and you find yourself positioning your thigh over his to sit and grind on his leg. you had enough of the foreplay, you needed him to fuck you.

“fuck me,” a whimper escapes, pressing your body down harder onto him, hand still stroking at him, that fucking voice of yours driving him mad. he doesn’t think he’ll last if you keep it up. “toji. . . toji.”

“stop begging,” he shuts it down quickly, the sound of his boots hitting the floor as he kicks them off exciting you. of course you couldn’t hide the smile, feening innocence as you pet at his jeans to help him remove them.

he's only in his black shirt now, your eyes following how his muscles swallowed the material, showcasing every sharp cut of his upper body. he made you dizzy, truly. that slit on the side of his mouth curving with his mouth as he smirks at you for getting lost in your cute little dream land.

“focus, love,” toji reels you back in, his hand on your lower back to arch your chest into his, dragging you to straddle him. if he could see the blush on your face he’d see that you were red as a tomato, his dick sitting right beneath you and you can’t help but shudder. “need you to lift your hips, help daddy out.”

“kay,” you nod like a damn bobble head, laying your hands on his shoulders and balancing yourself on your tippy toes, wrapping your arms around his neck for extra security. toji’s large arm his thrown around your waist to keep you locked to him, both of your body heat scorching.

he catches a hold of his dick, pumping it twice before he’s rubbing the fat tip against your drenched opening, collecting your flow before a soft gasp emits past your lips when you feel him gently enter, sinking you down carefully, little by little. the sensation from the stretch is . . like a fantasy. your foreheads are touching, breaths mingling as he removes his hand to balance the two of you on the bed, leaning back somewhat for your comfortability.

when you think he’s fully apart of you, that thought is knocked down the minute he utters, “c‘mon, girl. you gotta lot more to take.”

“oh my god,” the shock is out of, well, shock. he feels really good already, it’s gonna be hell if you handle any more. embedding your nails into his clothing, chin resting between the crook of his neck while you ground your ass back to make it easier for him to slip completely in. the two of you groan in sync, toji’s arm tightening around your waist from how tight you felt.

the more you rock, slow, steady, it fucks the both of you up. holding tightly onto one another while toji lets you take your time, the heavy breathing and hearts beating rapidly is fucking poetic. one might call this act making love. once you drop your ass entirely, that pressure in your sweet spot causes you to scream out softly, losing balance and sitting on your knees, holding onto him with an unexpected whine.

“shit, baby, you alright?” he’s immediately checking in on you, bringing you up and make eye contact, hands holding either side of your face and scanning for signs. pushing away the fact that you’re convulsing around his dick and trying his best not to fuck you hard. yet, at least.

again, you can’t even speak. your mouth is wide open, nodding and breathing heavily, shifting your hips and grind onto him, flexing your ass when you arch your back deeper before lifting halfway and slamming yourself down. toji chokes, face copying yours as he grips onto the sheets and places his arm back around you, helping you lift yourself.

“you feel . . really good, baby. stuffing me full,” you moan, toji grunting and yanking you up and down faster, losing his patience now. it blew out the fucking window the minute he slipped inside you. he fixates on the sound of your pussy sliding and swallowing his dick, the slick making his tongue water for the taste all over. you’re so fucking sweet it’s insane.

“yeah?” he lets out a low, guttural groan and grips your hips even harder, his breaths coming out in deep gasps. “fuck me like you fucked that toy, thinking of me.”

that makes you smile, that insecurity of him seeing that video earlier disappearing as you take both of your small hands and wrap them around his throat, using your weight to push his body so he falls onto his back, his hands cupping the curves under your ass cheeks. toji usually isn’t one for submission, but he’s been thinking for a while about trying new shit, and a pretty girl like you choking and fucking him was only the start. you see the look in his eyes, and you feel heat sweltering inside of you even more, relishing the fact that you are the one in control, applying more pressure to his neck, loving the way his breath hitches.

“you want me to fuck you just like that?” you lick your lips and grind teasingly, the dangerous swirl of your hips making his head sink further into the bed.

“want you to fuck me like that, angel. gimme a show.”

and you won’t deny his wish. positioning yourself back on the tips of your toes, his hands are smoothing underneath your thighs, clutching on either sides as you with his eyes going dark, his hips bucking. he can barely string a thought together, his mind completely consumed by the sensations you’re sending through him. your pussy takes it all while you pounce your body above him, rolling your waist each time you dip your ass down and meet his thighs.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his voice thick with pleasure, eyes never leaving yours before his voice rasps out, “keep going. fuck me for real. like you want it. it’s yours.”

you let out a strangled gasp, body jerking and mind almost slipping away, the pleasure he’s giving you overwhelming and consuming you completely. his hands on your body clench harder, the warmth from his body on yours killing you.

“just like that,” his hands move at their own possession now, slamming down on your ass repeatedly to bruise your skin, the hits vibrating straight to your clit and it’s making you drunk. your eyes scroll back into your skull, his appraisal driving you to work for it faster.

“t-toji, i’m so wet for you,” you gasp in shock from the slickness between you two. “look what you did to me. you slide in and out so easily.”

“f-fuck, doll. you’re killing me talkin’ like that,” he lets out a strangled gasp at your words, voice ragged and eyes filled with need. “you like it that much, baby?”

“y-yes!” a squeal sounds from you, bouncing heavier than before, your voice getting caught in your throat from the impact. you clutch any part of his skin you can grab, losing yourself in the way he fills you. “i love your dick, baby. makes me feel prettier.”

hazy eyes filled with pleasure admire your features, fucked out already when he still has so much he wanted to do to you. give you what you deserve. a smirk tugs at his lips, sitting up and leaning in close, missing the skin contact. his voice low and rough as he says, “you look prettier when you’re sitting on my dick.”

“yeah,” you drunkenly nod. “s’mine.”

toji raises a brow with amusement. “it can be yours. when you cum on it real hard.”

wanting him even closer to you, you keep only one hand around his neck, placing the other on his forearm and pressing your chest to his entirely as you gyrate your hips and tease his neck, hovering over his skin with your mouth and teeth before you leave little love-bites on his skin. toji guides your hips in a circular motion, the simple switch up making you gasp and whine into his ear, hitting that spot repeatedly.

“god, baby,” you feel his guidance, his grip on your hips firm as he moves you. you ride against him, the friction on your clit making you whimper weakly, his deep voice in your ear making your body shake, feeling another orgasm develop. “i love it. s’fucking me so good.”

“see you movin’ just like you did for me on that mirror,” he wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing firmly. your eyes lock, yours clouded by arousal, his with an agenda. “fuckin’ yourself like that . . ima fuck you real bad for that,” toji hissed, swiping his tongue across his lower lip before aggressively smacking your ass. “i feel that fuckin’ pussy squeezing me tighter. if you’re g’na cum then do it on me. gush all on it.”

the more your body reacts to his praise, and sprinkles of degradation, the faster your orgasm approaches you, washing over you hard as your body spasmes from the intensity of it. your teeth sink into his shoulder as you scream, riding out your high, squeezing hard on his arms. toji kisses your temple, keeping you close as he falls back and lays on his side while turning you to face your camera you’d both forgotten about, still did.

“you did so well,” the kisses continue around your face while your brains on autopilot, his hand clasping around your neck as he presses his hot chest against your back. his kisses are so aggressive it makes you feel small and wanting to obey. you jump when he spanks you, moaning weakly into your shoulder with your arms halfway hanging off the bed.

toji goes lift your right leg to adjust himself behind you, dick achingly hard and covered in your juices, slipping back inside of you fully before angling your knee towards your tummy, keeping a hand locked under the bend of your knee, your skin smooth to the touch. you smell good too. everything about you besotted him. your hand touches his face, tugging it closer to the point where his nose smushed against your cheek, dark hair clouding your eyesight as his big frame overtakes yours.

“you’re gonna kill me,” you whisper, eyes focused on each other, a giggle creeping up.

“not you,” he whispered back, rolling his waist back and forth, grinding deeper into you. the plush of your ass molding against his sharp hips. his lips brush on your neck as he kisses and nibbles at your sensitive skin. your hands roam over your body, touching and exploring every inch of yourself as his lips trail down your collarbone, darkly watching as your hand presses on your clit. “her.”

as he possessively holds you in place, he’s prepared you enough before he’s fucking you hard, knocking the wind from your throat completely. a hard gasp falls past your lips as toji slams his hips against your ass, knitting his brows together, squeezing his eyes shut while his mouth falls open. the utter silence both of your voices held at the moment was more powerful than the rough interaction of your skin. your eyes a ghost white as he pounds his dick into you hard. when a noise is made, it’s from equal parts, syncing your eager moans.

“ooh, fuck baby. you’re taking it,” he huskily whispers into your ear, his words punctuated by the way he continues to move into you. “sucking me so deep. m’not going nowhere.”

“to-ji,” his name is broken down by the harsh pounds he fucks you with, whining and moaning in his entrapment. your vision gone. “i love the way you fuck me. you fuck me so good.”

he fucks like he’s not letting up, his body pushing you deeper into the mattress, the grip around your neck remains tight, the feeling of his ownership only growing more intense. his body is hovering over yours now, digging deep as he can to fuck you real good, to make himself feel it all. your body remains to the side, only half twisted as he drops your leg and pushes his weight into you so your stomach is close to grazing the bed.

“s’too much, fuck . . i, i—” the words are caught in your throat from the overstimulation. breathing heavy, tears begin to fill your sockets, whining his name loudly in his face like you’d lost your mind for good this time. this pleasure was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. it’s everything you needed and more.

toji shushes you, kissing your nose as he grips your face, big hand almost covering it whole. “you like when daddy takes control? you like when he tells you what to do?”

toji will admit, you’ve got him fucking spent. it’s been a long time since he’s had a woman submit and cry under him, and you do all those things well. the gorgeous image on your face, to the salacious movement of your body. the softness of your skin and the equal relation of your voice. capturing and captivating him. you’d think he was on drugs the way he was talking. high off his ass from your pussy. his lips gently brush over your ear. your eyes flutter, his voice attacking your clit, and you swear it makes it gush even more, soaking the sheets underneath your ass. “when he makes you his? you like being my good girl, pretty?”

he knows you can’t speak anymore, but you’re still interactive with your body language. the slur of your nonexistent words to the way you try to roll your ass back to fuck him back . . but he’s got you trapped. even the tears falling down your face from overwhelming pleasure. he knows you’re okay, asking for a safe word prior for your protection. you’re a big girl, he knows you can handle it.

“nnng,” you can’t stop trembling, gasping for air and sobbing in his face. toji places his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes and nodding, cooing. you are fucked dumbed. toji hisses, hitting your ass and pausing momentarily to look between where you two collide, an ‘oh my god’ faltering out. he’s as gone as you are.

“you so fuckin’ creamy, girl,” toji drags out a frustrated hum, getting annoyed by how good your pussy is. you’re going to become a problem.

“please,” you don’t even know what you’re saying it for. do you need him to stop, do you want more, or are you just completely fucked out you’re saying anything that’s coming to your head? that butterfly feeling is back in your stomach, as well as a foreign one near your clit, knowing exactly what’s going to happen. “toji, m’ g’na c-cummm. oh my god, babyy.”

your hiccups and sobs only urge him to fuck you even harder, loving how the breath literally jumps out of your throat in shock.

“cryin’ on this dick. fuck, you got me going crazy,” he really doesn’t want to cum yet, he needed to fuck you in every way imaginable. but he knows you need a break, to breathe for sure. he wanted to edge himself so that when he finally came, it’d be the best fucking orgasm of his life. your moans are clawing at his soul, so filthy and dulcet. you’re making it really fucking difficult to obtain that.

toji finds himself slamming his palm over your mouth to bury them in a way, but you’re so damn loud it’s getting to him. ‘fuck fuck fuck’ he’s cussing repeatedly in a whispered hush as he fucks you as hard he possibly can. his hand doesn’t even work, because you’re consuming him wholly and the minute he feels that build up, he pulls out to cum and you’ve drenched the sheets as you squirt. an almost blood curdling scream surrounds the room, your body rapidly trembling as your mouth falls open in utter shock, gasping, whining, whimpering, moaning his fucking name while he moaned yours. toji nutting up the entire side of your body, wrist twisting as he holds you body still, mouth drawn open.

his hand reaches over to unclamp your legs, heavy hand rubbing your pussy to stimulate you further, your back arching and head sinking into your pillow, crying out. he watches your hand flail to grip his wrist as your wetness continues to spurt out of you like water.

“strawberry!” toji listens to you weep, choking on your cries and pleads. finally having enough.

“holy s-shit,” you’re laughing while also trying to catch your breath, not believing that just happened. he can tell by the shock in your face that you’ve never had it happen before, or that much.

“damn,” he laughs along with you, smacking your outer thigh before smashing his lips to yours in a deep kiss, gliding your tongues together while his hands massaged every part of your body after allowing you to lay on your back. caressing and soothing you to calm you down. “gonna grab a rag.”

you pout when he goes to stand, already missing the disconnect as you lay empty on your . . messy bed. absolutely disgusting you two, hawk puth! one things for sure, you can’t keep that wide ass smile off your face. he comes back into the room, one of your pink towels wrapped around his midsection covering up that demon of a dick he carried. toji smirks down at you, grabbing your ankle and tugging you down to the edge of the bed before he’s taking a warm rag that smelt of your dove beauty bar to wipe what he painted on you. you swallow your lower lip into your mouth, watching with hooded eyes as he drags the rag sensually along ever part of your skin. you flinch when it comes to contact with your cunt, toji kissing your inner thigh with a ‘sorry’. he admires the curves of your body even more, kissing your ankle adorned with a silver anklet after he finishes.

“how you feeling?” he asks.

“i’m more than perfect.”

he hums. “you’re something else.”

“i was good?” you ask seriously, batting your lashes shyly.

toji stares at you as if you’re deadass. “don’t do that. you know you were. you didn’t hear me? i fuck you deaf?”

that makes you roll your eyes, but not before giggling. “hate you.”

“you won’t after i tell you i got chinese in the kitchen,” he winks, the light in your eyes making his heart swell. “c’mon, sexy.”

you sit up, gasping. “i knew i fucking smelt that shit when you came in. i thought it was outside!”

“nah, i realized i didn’t eat shit at the restaurant earlier so i decided to get us both something. did you even eat your salad?”

“i did, had to after you dropped a whole hundred,” you shake your head. “how’d you know i liked chinese?”

toji blinks. “baby, we literally talked half of this week. for hours. i have good memory.”

that slip of a nickname outside of sex warmed your chest, burying your face in your hair to hide your shyness. “you’re right.”

“don’t hide now, i’ve seen it all,” he chuckles, tickling the bottom of your foot.

“oh, whatever!” you chuck one of your plushies at him, half of them had fallen to the floor. toji gets up to grab your robe he saw hanging on the bathroom door, draping it around you as you stood.

he kisses your forehead and you walk ahead of him into the kitchen, screeching when he hit and gripped your ass, the two of you forgetting about the livestream altogether as you warmed up the food, poured a glass of wine and reminisced about what just happened.

angelbwrry live : 1M viewers.

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡ 

[user211201]

Identity Death

--- Originally posted on 2024-04-12 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

As directed by @mrrharper

“Endless war will end our world!” Alan shouted.

“Stop funding our military!”

Alan was amongst the hundreds of protestors at the courthouse fighting against the proposed budgetary reforms. Schools, roads, transportation, parks, environmental protections agencies–they were all on the line. Through the presented bill, thousands of institutions would be shut down as billions of dollars would be rerouted towards a single entity: the military.

“The military corrupts! Stop the brainwashing!” Alan spat. He had organized this event under his alias, a popular political blogger on multiple social media outlets. Although his voice was loud and aggravated, Alan's physical appearance was anything but. He wore a baby blue tee and white-washed skinny jeans. 5’7 with bleached hair. All he needed was a rainbow somewhere to perfect his twink look. But he was not here to make that kind of statement. He was at the protest to make another form, something that could gain traction. Peering across the crowd, Alan saw his chance. 

A few of Alan’s fellow protestors were bombarding one of the towering guards with jeers. They scrutinized him, although it appeared none of their words got through the soldier’s heavy artillery padding. In fact, the solider stood proud in his position, dominantly poised with his chest puffed up in pride. Alan approached the guard slowly, noticing he remained perfectly still as the protestors continued to insult him. Without thinking twice, Alan approached and made his move. 

“How about you show us what they’re really funding, dickhead?”

Alan threw a fist at the soldier, putting all his strength behind the movement. Due to the crowds, the soldier did not recognize the motion until it was too late. Alan’s knuckle dove right into the much taller man’s neck, ricocheting into the muscular, masked chin. Instantly, there was a cheer from the crowd at the successful blow, but it was quickly hushed.

“You pathetic cocksucker,” the soldier growled. In a flurry, the once peaceful statue became a merciless brute, swinging down and dragging Alan out of the crowd. Before he knew it, Alan found himself handcuffed with the soldier escorting him off into the enemy’s territory.

“You can’t do this! This is illegal!” Alan cried out. 

“Shut your whiny mouth.” As soon as they were out of public sight, the soldier slapped Alan hard across the face. The warmth of blood soon filled his cheeks where the bruise began to bloom. Alan made sure not to react, but he could not hide the worry in his voice.

“Where are you taking me?”

“The barracks, you fairy prick.”

The soldier brought Alan to a building not too far from the protest lines. He guided them down numerous hallways, Alan losing track before they even made it halfway there. There were checkpoints, various nods, and some curt conversations with other soldiers, but nobody questioned about Alan or the situation. Eventually, Alan was tossed into a small makeshift bedroom, only holding a cot and a pile of unwashed clothes.

“Get undressed,” the soldier demanded.

“Why should I listen to you?”

Alan was met with another forceful assault, this time a punch to his gut.

“Cause I’m First Sergeant, maggot, which means out of the two of us, I’m in charge.”

Alan scoffed. “Is that your name: ‘First Sergeant’?”

“First Sergeant QF24,” the soldier gruffly shot back.

“That’s not a name either,” Alan replied. 

“Been in service so long I don’t need a civilian name.”

Alan wanted to jump on this, make a point about how this was evidence of the dangers of the military, but First Sergeant continued.

“While my identity is real, I assume the one you were about to give me is not. What do you go by, something like that 'AlanActivist' snot?”

Alan blushed, believing that his pseudonym had been cool and unique.

“It’s about time you considered that maybe it is not the military that enforces this ‘identity death’ you all are so worried about, but your own belief system.”

“You can’t be serious,” Alan snarked, surprised at the soldier’s intelligent argument. First Sergeant was however humorless, once again pointing to the pile of discarded clothes.

“Get dressed, degenerate.”

The soldier placed one of his giant, gloved hands behind the twink’s back and pushed him towards the pile. It appeared to Alan as a giant heap of army green and camouflage. Slowly but hesitantly, he began to strip himself of his clothing, hoping to avoid any further hazing. Once down to his underwear, he silently pleaded that he would not have to drop anything else.

“Soldiers go commando, sissy.”

First Sergeant quickly appeared behind Alan before ripping his underwear clean off, exposing the twink’s bare bottom and small package to the world. Alan quickly covered himself up with one hand before leaning down towards the pile. He grimaced, his fear no longer overriding the powerful musk seeping from the military cloth. First Sergeant chuckled at his disgust from behind.

“Aren’t homos supposed to like that kind of thing?” he asked, before grabbing the back of Alan’s head. “Go on, get a better whiff of it!” Amused, First Sergeant plunged Alan’s head into the musky pile of clothes. Alan’s oxygen supply was cut off, forcing him to inhale the overpowering masculine fumes.

“You idiots never consider that being in the military is hard work. It’s not all fun and guns.” First Sergeant smothered Alan’s head further. “‘Bout time you realize what it’s like, standing on the front line all day, hot and sweaty and random strangers berating you for protecting their country, their freedom.”

The military body odor seeped into Alan’s system, numbing his body and clouding his mind. By the time he was pulled away, the naked twink struggled to form a coherent thought.

“Much better,” First Sergeant noted the lopsided smile on the twink’s face. “Now, fit yourself into some tactical gear.”

Without questioning it, Alan followed the soldier’s command. He did not know every single piece of equipment that went into the common soldier’s uniform, nor did he understand the procedure to follow, but somehow Alan managed to get the attire onto his body.

Combat pants, military-grade socks, gore tex boots. Camouflage button-up, hardshell jacket, belt with holster and magazine pouches. Shooting gloves, army print hat, face mask. It took a minute longer for Alan to place every minor piece of tactical protection onto himself, but finally his smaller frame was completely covered, dwarfed by the oversized gear.

“Looking like a real soldier there,” First Sergeant mocked. “Now let’s actually make you one.”

Already covered in the musky clothing, Alan’s intellectual ability had been dulled considerably. But when First Sergeant approached, clutching Alan’s head once more before shoving it into his wet armpit, his brain completely halted. Coming straight from the source, the soldier’s stench wafted past all Alan’s barriers, taking control immediately. Its first instruction was to keep sniffing, its second was to conform.

With a chuckle, First Sergeant watched as Alan’s body began to expand underneath his hold. The shrimpy twink grew inside of the tactical gear, filling it out properly in every direction. Muscular arms filled the sleeves of the jacket, meaty hands stuffing the crevices of the gloves. The vest became as padded on the back as it was in the front, juicy pectorals and rigid abdominals forcefully pushing against the fabric. 

Thicker thighs padded the pants, bloated feet crowded the massive boots. Two muscular buttocks crammed the seat of Alan’s pants. A lantern jaw and cleft chin became prominent underneath the face mask. Buzz cut hidden by the cap, deeper voice waiting to confirm with “Sir, yes sir!” First Sergeant even noticed the prominent padding his new soldier was developing beneath the belt. When he ultimately removed Alan from his hold, the man before him now stood at the same domineering height.

“Good, now just stand still for one moment.”

Even if he wanted to, Alan could not move. The musk was still lingering in his mind, holding him steady as First Sergeant deposited an obnoxious military headset onto Alan’s head. He then plugged the headset into a walkie-talkie before tuning it to an empty channel. A robotic voice began looping into Alan’s ears, along with a few simple tones to open up the receptive pathways in his brain.

“Ready to get back out there?” First Sergeant asked, knowing his fellow soldier could not hear him. With a smirk, he escorted the dumbfounded subordinate out of the room, pacing slowly as Alan absorbed the propaganda. It was simple phrases, nothing too complicated but through repetition effective on the psyche. “Military good,” “pacifism bad”. “Nationalism good,” “multiculturalism bad.” “Masculinity good,” “progressivism bad.” The messages were rudimentary, but deliberate.

Once they stepped back into the open, fresh air, Alan’s consciousness resurfaced. He tried to fight back against the rampant messaging, doing his best to tune out the audios as the First Sergeant led him back to the front line. Alan was being attacked on all fronts: his morals, his identity, his sexuality. Every time he turned away to defend one trait, it was like he lost another. He felt himself dwindling, chipping away.

Before long, the two stood directly in front of the courthouse, mere feet away from their first encounter. First Sergeant loaded the new soldier up, arming the man with a weapon and other items necessary in case of an emergency.

“Let’s see if you’re done cooking yet.” First Sergeant looked directly into his subordinate’s eyes, pleased with their reflective quality. He then removed the headphones.

“Name and rank, soldier?” he saluted. The other man fell into place, mirroring his actions.

“Private Aaron Steel, MH36 sir!”

First Sergeant smiled. The name change was a good sign of transition, but complete removal would have been preffered.

“Ready for the task, soldier? Will you be loyal and obedient to the greatest nation? Follow every instruction in the name of tradition?”

The soldier nodded his head quickly, “Affirmative, sir.”

“Alright then.” First Sergeant replaced the headphones back onto the private’s head, knowing a little more time would do the trick. “Dismissed. Get back to work, private.”

“Sir yes sir!”

First Sergeant strolled back to his command at the front line. The new private monitored the crowd, absorbing his commands as he scanned for any disturbances.

[galaxyshine24-7]

The Silver Bullet🥂

Chapter 8 Strawberries and Cream🍓

TW: Violence, Possessive Relationships

After the overblot, Heartslaybul had to do a lot of apologizing to the public about the event. Lots of money was donated to charities around the district and the gang even offered to hold a banquet to raise funds for the community. The gang had a party where Riddle prepared everything and took it as a chance to apologize for his misdeeds. The closeness they had for each other surprised Yuu knowing how cruel gangs could be to their own, but Heartslaybul seemed to accept Riddle back after all the effort he had shown to change. 

Yuu sits by the bar once again all bandaged up and healing from their wounds watching the gang mingle and enjoy their time at the party. Riddle pours tea for his fellow members as Trey stands next to him, proud. Hearing from Ace it seems Trey had his own apologizing to do when it came to not speaking up about Riddle’s behavior to Riddle himself pitying the gang leader for his past hardships. Since that day, Yuu can’t stop thinking about their dream with the young Riddle. Yuu tried to bring it up to the leader himself, but he seemed unaware of what Yuu was talking about. Not to mention the strange black crystal they found in their pocket after the incident, said crystal is now safely at home until Yuu could figure out what to do with it. They go back to enjoying the party taking a sip of the signature drink of the evening strawberries and cream. It’s as much of a happy ending as it good be. 

“Ew what is this!” 

Well almost good. Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Trey, and Cater surrounded the snack table standing by the batch of tarts the leader made. Ace’s face convulses in disgust having to spit out a piece of said tart. 

“It’s so satly.” Ace gags. 

Trey takes a small bit out of his tart cringing at the taste. 

“Riddle what did you put in this?” 

“I put in oyster sauce like you said.” Riddle tilts his head. 

“Riddle dude are you serious?” Cater laughs taking a picture of the moment. 

“I think Trey was joking when he said that Riddle.” Deuce also tried the tart doing his best to swallow it down. 

“I was in fact joking.” Trey starts to laugh as everyone joins him. 

Yuu smiles from the side taking a sip of their drink glade the gang leader seems to have relaxed and let go of his strict mindset, at least most of it. 

The party ended on a good note as Deuce was nice enough to take Yuu home on his blast cycle. Once he was gone Yuu let out a deep sigh heading to their apartment above the bar. As they reach the door a sound alerts them from inside a familiar sound of a radio being played. Yuu opens the door to be greeted by the roar of a fire place as Divus Crewel sits on the armchair beside it. He seems right at home legs crossed with a book in his hand. 

“Getting home rather late pup.” He sets the book down on a side table.

Yuu closes and locks the door behind them, as Grim greets them with a song of meows. 

“Hello Crewel.” Yuu sighs putting their jacket on the coat rack before picking up Grim. 

“Hm formal today are we?” He raises a brow. 

“Well, I’m surprised to see you in my home is all.” Yuu takes a seat on the couch across from him. 

“Does a guardian need a reason to check on his pup? Besides we taught you to never be surprised.” 

Grim jumps off Yuu’s lap to finish his left over food watching Crewel in the corner of his eye. 

“I was taught it was polite to at least send a heads up before entering someone’s home.” Yuu crosses their arms. 

“You’ve gotten cheeky since I’ve been away.” He smirks taking a smoke out of his cigarette. “Let’s cut to the chase puppy, I know you’ve realized the overblot issue we are facing right now, and you getting involved with Heartslaybul was a very foolish decision.” He stares right through Yuu. “The others are thinking we should bring you back home if this newfound freedom is too much for you.” 

“I’m fine I handled it.” Yuu starts. 

Crewel gets up quickly lifting Yuu off the couch by their arm making the bartender wince. 

“Your injuries say otherwise.” 

Yuu pulls their arm out of his hand. 

“You know you shouldn’t get too involved.” He lowers his voice. 

“I wasn’t trying too.” Yuu huffs. 

“You where certainly trying when you nursed that red haired mutt weren’t you?” His voice drips with sarcasm. 

“What was I supposed to do let him die?!” Yuu raises their voice. 

“Your supposed to be smart, and have the upper hand. To much affection will cause others to use it as a weakness.” Crewel flicks them on the forehead.      

Yuu looks up at him rubbing the affected area. 

“If you continue to go this route your heart will be beaten and scattered on these streets.” 

Yuu looks down at the floor Grim comes by to rub against their leg as a moment of silence passes through the apartment before Crewel sighs pinching the bridge of his nose.        

“We just want you to be safe.” He takes out a small black box from his pocket. “Here we thought you needed more protection.” 

“But I already have the guns and the bar is full of traps-” Yuu opens the box to see a simple black ribbon. “Uh what’s this?” 

“It’s a ribbon.” He takes out the simple black ribbon putting it around Yuu’s neck. 

“We have been working on infusing clothing with magic. This will let us know when your in danger and it will protect you.” He finishes making sure Yuu is comfortable. 

“It feels more like a collar.” Yuu mumbles already pulling on the ribbon. 

“It’s just to make sure your safe.” Crewel places their hands on Yuu’s shoulder’s. 

Yuu gives Crewel a small nod. 

“There that’s a good pup.” He gently pats Yuu’s head letting a silence fall over the apartment once more. 

Across town, flashing lights beam down on the arena as blood and teeth litter the floor. Leona Kingschalor punches his opponent across the jaw sending him flying out of the ring. The ground roars his name as he stares at the glittering lights around him. The referee comes over to lift his hand letting the crowd know who the true winner of the match is. Leona doesn’t stay long in the ring after receiving his trophy. He hops over the rope waiting for Ruggie Bucchi to hand him a towel. Leona grabs it wiping the sweat from his face. Once they get backstage Leona finally speaks. 

“So any news?”   

“Everyone is still in an uproar about Riddle’s overblot but the Heartslaybul guys threw a party today,” Ruggie answers. “Very carefree if you ask me.” He yawns. 

“Doesn’t matter once we accomplish what we need to do things will finally be in its rightful place.” Leona smirks as they reach his dressing room. “So they better be prepared.” He closes the door behind him and Ruggie as the crowd cheers in the background. 

“Long live the King! Long live the King!” 

[lily-alphonse]

thoughts on haley x abigail?? 💛💜

Haligaillllll I have to plug maxRebo again with Things We Dont Say on AO3 it's the sequel to a fantastic SebAlex fic I loved.

We love Haligail, who wouldn't love Haligail? This is one of the least rare ones I've done so far according to AO3 . I haven't looked each one up I've done, but I was curious since punk/prep seem like they'd be popular.

Anyways how would I handle this? Spoiler alert Ive gotta make it rivals to lovers OBVIOUSLY it's just too good to pass up.

Let’s say they went to high school together and ran in different circles (obviously). Abigail looked down on Haley for being a preppy dumb blonde prioritizing boys over school.

Haley for her part was learning very quickly that girls couldn’t be trusted, with all of the shit they talked behind her back. So she definitely wasn't going to think fondly of a sullen girl like Abby, who would just glare at her for no reason.

But its years later now. Abby has returned home from college to attend remotely. She’s grown confident and developed a sense of style. It’s still dark and moody and she loves a skull motif, but she clearly takes more care in her appearance than in high school. Oh… and she’s a proud lesbian now.

She’s annoyed to be back in this bumfuck town but her dad threatened to cut her funding if she didn’t come back to help with the shop at least one semester. Haley comes into the shop and its tense. Abby hates feeling subservient to her like this, wearing the stupid fucking apron dad insists she wears while she’s helping out. It puts her in a weird headspace like she’s in high school again.

It’s nice to be back with her boys though, the regular gig practices fun. They even decide to throw a little party to perform at. It’s exhilarating and she’s in her element until she sees Haley. It’s like, somehow, the old Abby exists in Haley and she fucking hates it. She wants to purge Haley’s memories of that weird quiet girl in high school. She wants Haley to understand she is more confident than the queen bee ever was at her peak.

Everyone settles in on the floor for a drinking game and SHE is there of course, looking stupidly hot and just… generally stupid. “Who invited you?” Abby snaps as Haley sits down near her.

“Hello, Abigail,” she sips her drink innocently, “that’s how normal people start conversations anyway.”

Abby scoffs, fighting the fluster with anger. “Yeah, avoid the question that’s fine.”

Sebastian settles between them, attempting to block the electric tension between them with his body. Great deal of good that does though, since one of the very first dares sees Alex daring Haley and Abby to Seven Minutes in Heaven.

“What the fuck, Alex?!” Haley hisses. She seems embarrassed. Abby likes seeing her flustered for once.

“Aw she’s afraid to touch the lesbian! She might catch it,” Abby teases.

Haley glares at her with a fire behind her blue eyes. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Alright,” Abby smiles, “Prove it.”

And so they get sloppy in the closet and it’s hot and awesome and the seven minutes runs out too fast. Abby decides she craves this power over Haley and chases it. Being glared at with lust in her eyes is better than being looked down on.

They have a back and forth of sneaking around, while Haley comes to terms with her sexuality and they grow closer. It’s always just hatefucking until its not, because Abby discovers how actually self-conscious and lonely Haley is. And how this toxic fling is the closest thing she has to love. She’s clinging to it like a liferaft but it’s just making her sink even further. Abby recognizes the damage she’s caused and decides to cut things off.

Something brings them back together though, obv. Hmmm.

Maybe Alex ends up cornering her and telling Abby just how much she means to Haley and how maybe instead of abandoning her like everyone else, she could just be an actual partner to her and treat her like she knows she should be treated.

Which all culminates in a very sweet scene of Abby coming back to Haley and apologizing. And I want it to tie back into the party like

“I also want to apologize,” Abby says, wiping her eyes, “for leaving you hanging a few months ago. When you said hi.”

“Abby…”

“Can we go back to that? Can we roll it back? I want to say hi, it’s nice to see you.”

Haley laughs through her tears. “It's nice to see you too.” She takes Abby’s hand and squeezes.

Oh and Abby would prbly take to calling Haley Blondie or something. Starts out as kind of an insult and then just a term of endearment. Anyways,

Send me any Stardew Valley rarepair and I will tell you how I would make them work! (Even non-marriage npcs) If youre lucky you may get a mini fic out of it. Check the list below to see if Ive already answered yours

Rarepair Masterlist

[lonepantheress]

♡ txt as summer jobs

pairing: ot5!txt

genre: crack

warnings: completely unserious.

a/n: my inspiration? work has been kicking my ass and i thought it'd be funny if a shitty summer job kicked their ass too! will be updating with a REAL FIC so soon

Yeonjun

Works everywhere and is somehow always broke

It starts to freak you out

Like you see him as your cashier getting ice cream

And then he’s stocking shelves at the store and you’re like, “Oh, that’s weird..”

And then he’s your waiter at a restaurant

And you’re like, “?????”

He’s all cute and nice and hates his job(s) and is like, “I’m saving for a car!”

But he can blow through a paycheck in like a week. 

If he’s your coworker omg I could imagine him being the coolest person ever.

Willing to pick up shifts, is fun to talk to when it isn’t busy, and gets shit done when it is.

I don’t see him being like the manager type, but the type that all the managers love even when he’s being super lazy just because he’s charming.

Soobin

Really sweet barista at Starbucks 

The type that you run and tell your friends about after you see him because he’s so attractive and so nice

He hates his job though.

I could see him not being a manager but instead being a “team leader” which is basically a manager in training wheels.

Always stressed. Always saying, “I think I’m going to quit soon”

His ass is NOT quitting soon

Like- if he quit, his coworkers would probably cry

Constantly cleaning because he’s constantly knocking things over.

Any embarrassing customer experience? He can safely say he’s had it

Really good at saving his money well

Like… suspiciously good.

Beomgyu

Works at like Forever 21 or something

And using “work” here loosely because he never shows up

How he isn’t fired a month in? Who knows.

A stickler for his job title too

“Oh, so you’re like a cashier at-”

“I’m actually a style consultant.”

He’s just a cashier with a fancy name.

He will hide in between clothing racks and play on his phone or chit-chat with someone else

And if he’s on register, he’s really not paying attention to his surroundings

“Hi, are you able to check me out?”

“What..”

“Like, can I pay here?”

“OH, YES, RIGHT! I WORK HERE!”

Will tell customers all the workarounds and codes and coupons they can stack without them even having to ask.

His giving out company secrets will probably get him fired before him never doing his job.

Taehyun

Works at some fast food spot and wins management over in like a week.

So efficient, so smart, so practical, he gets promoted in record time

the embodiment of this meme I'm sorry

He’s genuinely very good at his job and not necessarily proud of it, just good at it.

And he’s only so good because he uses common sense.

The old ladies that come in love him and are like, “You remind me of someone I knew when I was in high school!”

Will not cover any shifts for the LIFE of him, he would actually prefer you call out before asking him to cover your shift for you

He’d also be so annoying to couponers. It’d basically become a battle of who knows the company policy better

GOD at saving money. Has a 401k and retirement and college fund.

Kai

Game stop employee

Like if you’re buying a game that he knows, you’re stuck for another half hour listening to him talk about it

He gets in trouble for stashing away things that get sold out quickly for himself

He’s actually so sweet to the nerdy little kids in the store

But he also would tell their parents, “This game has a lot of violence and gore btw!!!!!” before they buy it for their kid

As a coworker would have the most fucked up inconsistent schedule

Shows up every day for 2 weeks in a row

And then disappears

And then shows up every day again and you’re like “hello???”

Would initiate the oddest small talk ever while the store is empty

“Do you ever wonder if a little pebble in your shoe is actually your toe rolling around?”

“No….”

“Yeah, me neither.”

[myheadphonesareneverloudenough]

with a fully funded kickstarter, all 7 projects that TCB have planned for the next year are happening for real!!🔥

the TCB fam is literally the best fucking community ever. y’all have done SUCH an awesome job posting and spreading that word of tinlightenment. 🩵 do you feel tinlightened? i know i sure as hell do.

this is literally amazing. those last $6k shot up so quickly, watching it happen before our eyes with the friends in the tcb discord was insane.

i’m so so proud of all of us, and SO proud of the bros, Brian, Corey, and Joey. i’m still shaking with excitement and probably won’t stop until the 10hr stream on Saturday is over.

but speaking of which! we still have until 4PM PT on SATURDAY MARCH 2 to over fund that kickstarter! while obviously the end goal has been reached, you can still pledge to get some of those sick ass rewards and add on merch 🤙

TINLIGHTENMENT.COM

i’m excited to lose my mind with y’all on Saturday. TCB’s Tinlightenment Finale stream is happening on youtube from 6AM-4PM PT! it’ll be a blast. hope to see y’all there.

[whumble-beeee]

Tortured? I Was Tortured Once.

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 5

Content: disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, past captivity references, torture, threats, begging, blood

* * * * * * * *

Except from: The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for villains and bounty-hunters

[{When hero-keeping in the short term}... it's imperative to do everything in your power to keep your identity a secret; wear a mask to hide your face, cover as much of your body as possible to minimize the amount of prints, hair, or other forms of DNA/evidence you could leave behind at the scene. Use a voice modulator, and if you can help it, don’t even be in the same room with the hero when they are conscious. Most importantly, do not tell the hero any identifying details about yourself, your loved ones, or your past.

This is solely to protect you, the dastardly villain! Should the hero ever escape or decide to take revenge (not that a hero would ever dare, as long as you follow the instructions in this guide!), you want to make it nigh impossible to find you and hurt you, lest they turn you into their captured villain!]

* * * * * * * *

“Alright!” Deeby clapped his hands together, chipper than ever. “So, back when I was in the early days of my job, I sometimes made some… questionable choices. Dangerous ones. Not that what I do isn’t dangerous, I can handle the dangers of the job. I mean I fucked with the wrong people. Powerful people. Not in the sense of… y’know, what you have. Super-powers. I mean like they were like a crime lord or CEO, lotta money, lotta power… God, I was a fucking idiot. But hey, live and learn, right?”

He brushed at Stan’s cheek to ease his attention up and away from the floor, where it had been firmly located since the start of the monologue. Stan just leaned away slightly and tried not to let his burning eyes brim over into tears. “I’m still here, right? Still kicking, so I must have done something right.”

“Unfortunately…” Stan mumbled.

“Repite?”

“Nothing.”

Deeby tilted his head matter-of-factly. “Look, if you’re gonna be defiant, at least do it loud and proud, bud.” He ruffled Stan’s hair much too aggressively for Stan’s liking.

“Might actually respect you if you did that. Anyway, I’m sure you can figure out what basically happened after that; I got hired to rough up some asshole’s waste-of-space trust fund kid, gave him back with a couple bones broken and a couple extra bullet holes, but he was fine, then daddy got mad and managed to find me somehow, and here’s where it gets really interesting, bud. You wanna know what this chain’s for?”

He reached up and jangled the metal loops reaching down from the ceiling, and the chain shifted just enough to barely nudge into Stan and nearly send him careening backward again from fear.

“Uh…” He’d been doing his damndest to ignore the mercenary and retreat into himself, and was actually half succeeding right up until the required audience participation. The question just served to jarringly rip him back headfirst into the painful and hopeless despair of the present situation. “Not–... Not really…”

“Sucks to be you then, I guess. So I get knocked out and kidnapped, and I wake up in this, like, fucked up white-tiled torture room with like a drain in the floor and suspicious cabinets and all that, and then I'm strung up in the center of the room–...”

He grabbed Stan's arms and wrenched them up all the way above his head, so his wrists were together in Deeby's hands and held flush with the chain. Then he pulled up even more. Stan squeaked and briefly struggled to tug away, but quickly fell into pliable stiffness under the mercenary’s warning stare. So instead, he stretched as tall as he could, shoulders pressing the sides of the collar into his neck to try and relieve the tension. It didn't really work.

“...–Like this. So I was literally hanging from the ceiling from my wrists, feet barely even touching the ground, cuffs grinding into my wrists so bad they were already bleeding when I woke up, it hurt like shit. Hold your arms up there, would ya bud?”

Deeby let go of Stan's wrists and he immediately pulled them back into his sides. No way he was holding himself in a torture position. No way.

That was until the mercenary regrabbed his wrists and slammed them back up into the chain, leaning down slightly and getting way too close to Stan’s face. He could feel the body heat radiating off the man.

Stan leaned away as much as he physically could, which wasn’t much with his arms holding him excruciatingly erect.

“You’re really starting to get on my nerves,” Deeby growled, not a trace of his usual smile highlighting his fiery eyes. “Hold the position or I’ll lock your handcuffs up there just like they did to me and we can roleplay it exactly as it played out. You wanna do that instead?”

Stan managed a minuscule shake of the head. He was sure he’d be able to feel the bounty hunter’s breath on his face if it weren’t for the mask.

“Speak up, runt.”

“G-got it,” Stan breathed.

Deeby more tentatively let go of Stan's wrists this time, an unnecessary precaution, since Stan grasped the chain and held onto it for dear life so as not to anger him further.

This isn't so bad. He lied to himself, Deeby mercifully backing up to more than inches away from his face. At least there aren't any flashbacks now. Just have to hold the chain.

“Yeah, just like that. Perfect.”

He held up his fingers to create a fake camera frame around Stan. As if he knew exactly what picture he wanted to paint with Stan's body.

“So I woke up like that, hanging by the wrists, and of course I recognized the guy because I do my research, y'know? So I woke up and I already knew exactly what was happening. He tried to monologue at me, I bantered back, the guy was getting all pissy because I guess I was too smug or whatever. And… well, I forgot to say, when I woke up, they'd taken off my shirt–”

Deeby started to twiddle at the top button on Stan's button-down and, with an amount of force that surprised the both of them, Stan slapped his hand away and nearly toppled to the ground jumping backward.

“Don't touch my shirt!” he yelped. He tripped over the chain that anchored him to the corner sending spirals of agony out from his knee again before he stabilized himself and stared at the mercenary in abject terror.

Deeby stared back in disbelief. Then a flash of danger, a slight tilt of the chin, furrowing of the eyebrows, a tensing of the shoulders.

“You… really don't know when to quit. Do you?” he growled.

Stan took another small limp back. “I–”

“I'm not gonna take your shirt off.” Stan barely withheld the primal urge to fully turn around and run when the mercenary surged forward, grabbed Stan by the chain of the handcuffs, and yanked him forward. The southern twang rang so hopelessly clear through his wrathful voice. “I am many unsavory things, but a perv ain't fuckin’ one of 'em. Get back over here and stay before I kick your ass again.”

Then once again, Stan found himself with his arms pinned above his head and flush against the chain. Though this time, the mercenary clamped his hand over Stan's own, pressed them in so hard that Stan's fingers smushed painfully between the chain links. He didn’t even try to struggle. Just tried to shrink away from his towering presence and keep his eyes on the floor. Not let Deeby see the redness of his eyes that threatened tears.

“So, Stan, whaddya think they did to me next?” Deeby questioned, humor all but gone from his voice. “Strung up, shirt off, completely helpless and at their mercy. What would you do if you were a sick sonofabitch getting revenge on the person who tortured your son?”

Stan stared off to the side. “I… I don't…–”

“Oh come on, bud, you must have some sort of idea. Can't think of a single way you'd hurt–”

“No, no, no no nononoNO!” Stan mutter bordered on shouting as he started trying to yank his hands out of the mercenary’s grasp and only succeeded in yanking them hard enough that he was being held up solely and much more painfully by the cuffs themselves.

He couldn't take this anymore, was Deeby gonna torture him or not?

“I can't think of a single way I'd wanna torture someone! I'm not some– some freak sadist kidnapper-torturer like that guy! Or like you!!”

Deeby hummed lightly, unfazed by yet another one of Stan's outbursts, holding the cuffs firm. “You'll learn.”

Stan growled and yanked again, hard enough that when they didn't give it all, he actually lifted into the air slightly. He cried out from the bite of the metal digging into his wrists and scraping into the top layers of skin. A few drips of blood started to pool on the surface.

If Deeby noticed the scarlet now smeared across Stan's wrists, he didn't show it. He just pulled the chain of the cuffs up further. Stan's elbows locked straight up, pressing into the side of his head. He almost had to go up on his tiptoes.

“Besides,” the hunter continued nonchalantly. “What he did to me isn't what I would do to you, if I were to torture you.”

“IF!?” Stan groaned, trying another weak yank against the cuffs and sending small lightning bolts of pain down his arms. “What do you mean ‘if’?! What–… What do you call this?”

Deeby shrugged. “Foreplay?”

Stan froze dead in his tracks. He could physically feel all the blood leaving his head and rushing down straight to his feet. Foreplay? As in… There was… Ge wouldn't, right? There was no way.

“Y-you–...” He could barely even get words to form properly, barely able to suck in enough air to even speak. “You–... Wait, you–”

“Cálmate, Stan, Christ, it was a joke. Loosen up. Wanna know what I would do, though?”

“Ah…”

His head felt like it had just been dunked underwater. Or maybe that was the concussion coming back haunt this waking nightmare once more. Who’s to say? Why not both, make it a party.

And yet, Deeby still leaned down to whisper in Stan's ear; “There's a reason I put the leash chain on your good leg.”

Before Stan could react, Deeby leaned back on his heels and pulled the chain hanging from the ceiling with him, unbalancing Stan just enough that he had to try to take a step forward to readjust, except the fetter on his ankle caught on the very end of the leash. He couldn't get his good leg under himself for support. Which left–

Stan let out a yelp as his full weight fell onto his injured knee, shooting rivulets of pain all the way up to his spine. And couldn't shift his weight off of it with how to chain dragged him out, so when his knee immediately buckled to save himself from the screeching pain, he had the new problem of the cuffs knawing into his already bloody wrists, which made him scream again and claw desperately at the chain and the hand holding him up until he was death gripping the chain in a half pullup. His arms were already shaking from the strain of it.

“DEEBY!!” He choked out. “Deeby! Deeby please stop, stop, I can't AUAGH–” He slipped and spent agonizing moments flailing before he got another hold again, moments in which Deeby didn't let up at all, despite Stan's amiable requests.

“Deeby you said–!” he could barely squeak out a phrase through the tear-blurred vision and gasping breaths and the sheer amount of concentration it took to focus through the already horrible aches and agony the clench onto the chain and hold himself up and not make it worse. “You said no torture! You– you said–! Let go! You said you wouldn't–”

“I said I wouldn't hurt you if you did what I told you to.” Deeby retorted nonchalantly, pulling back on the chain just a bit more and wrenching Stan even more off balance. “Which you didn't.”

“Let go–!” Stan tugged as hard as he could. No give.

“Repeatedly.”

“I can't–” Stan's voice cracked. His hands were on fire clutching onto the cold metal links. “I can't hold this, I can't, I can't, please let go-o, it– it hurts! Please!”

“That's the point, bud, it's a stress position. It stresses you. You’re doing great, chiquito, taking it like a champ.”

Little droplets of blood left bright red tracks down Stan's forearms as whines squeaked out from behind his gritted teeth in place of the full blown screams he refused to let out.

“I hate you.”

“Tell you what, bud. If you can shut up for just 30 seconds, no whines, no cries, no begging or grand sweeping declarations of feelings, I'll let you down. Deal?”

“That’s–!”

“Take it or leave it. Deal?”

“Deal–! Deal!”

“Great, now mouth-shut.”

Stan immediately squeezed his lips together as violently as possible and focused every single fiber of his being into holding himself up, keeping off his bad knee and not letting the cuffs scrape his arms to bone while also not squeaking in pain or cursing Deeby out. That may have been the hardest part of the entire balancing act. His muscles burned with the strain. His hands started to slip on the chain from the sweat, so he gripped harder, hard enough that his hands started to go numb. That was fine. Less pain, right? Was thirty seconds over yet? Stan just had to pray that Deeby would keep his word this time and actually only do thirty seconds. God he would give anything to just go home. See his family again. Be out of this hell.

Then a new, perfunctory voice shattered his fragile concentration. He'd been so laser focused hadn't even noticed someone else enter the room.

“Oh, did I interrupt an intimate moment? I can come back in ten minutes if you two wanna finish up.”

Stan’s grip slipped on the chain and he cried out, catching himself after an agonizing centimeter fall and praying to anyone that would listen that Deeby wouldn’t get mad at him for it. Though Deeby didn't seem to care too much anymore as his own grip holding Stan's cuffs loosened and a small growl ementated from the bottom of his throat.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Then Stan was suddenly freed, cuffs no longer held in the iron grip of a bounty hunter, and he collapsed to the floor in a graceless heap.

* * * * * * * *

Next

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy | @pirefyrelight | @cakeinthevoid

[starry-hughes]

7 from the angst list BUT ITS ANGEL AND QUINN

but also angel girl is so sweet like idk if she would ever do that

im not really writing for angel currently but an exception for you :) - "is it so easy for you to assume than to listen to me for goddamn once??"

-

angel was tired. maybe it was the pregnancy hormones or the fact that she was still attempting to attend school. but she was tired.

luca could only help so much, he was juggling hockey and school while saving money to become a father. quinn had stopped in at home, a game out in detroit with a day off.

he had come to the house, just expecting his parents but he was met with giggles of angel and his mom. his dad building some toy and his mom folding baby clothes as angel laid on the couch, feet propped up and a textbook close by.

“oh! hi honey!” ellen said as quinn entered. “jim, let’s go get the kids lunch, i have some pasta salad we can make up quick.”

the parents left the room. “how are you?” angel asked as she sat up. trying to ignore the awkwardness in the air. “good.” his eye’s immediately fell on her baby bump. “it’s a boy. you missed the baby shower.”

quinn opened and shut his mouth, thinking about what to say. “what do you want me to say Angel? that i’m proud you’re pregnant at 20? or married engaged whatever? do you even know luca that well?”

angel got defensive immediately, anger taking over. “it’s none of your business.”

“do you even have the money or is jack funding this all?”

“is it so easy for you to assume than to listen to me for goddamn once??” she snapped loudly and the house fell silent. “i’m sorry” she stuttered quickly as she gathered baby items from the living room, counting softly to herself to calm the breathing.

“i just need a second,” she whispered before leaving the room.

[vee-crytraps]

Kiss Me More | Ch 4-5 | {Ornament}

AN: Last part!

{Trigger warning/Themes Masterlist} First | Previous | Next | 

“Fuck,” You pull away, reaching towards your ears. The once cold sting of the gold bracelet on your wrist was also absent. “You know what? Well played. I can’t even be mad.” “Welcome to the club.” Bruce chuckles, pulling you into your dance once more. "I'll have them replaced." During the silence that follows, you manage something else to say. “I think it’s cool,” You blurt out. Bruce simply raises an eyebrow at you, and you quickly backpedal. “No! No, not the…Selina stuff. Though you have to admit-" Bruce cuts you off with your name. “I mean the rail. And making the busses run for free was a complete stroke of genius. Everyone who really needs it can get a reliable ride to work, and all the uptown types who are terrified of poor people pay to take the nice new rail, which funds the busses-“ “I can do a little bit without the mask,” Bruce interjects, mirth in his voice.

It’s fucking genuine, and it makes you smile. “I’m proud of you, you know.” He continues, though he looks a little uncomfortable saying it. “I’ve always been proud. I know we don’t spend much time together, but-" “I understand,” you say, strictly out of politeness. It’s true and it’s not. You don’t want him to be too busy for you, and you don’t love being excluded from the ‘family business’. You just want time with him, the man your mother admired so much that she trusted you with him even knowing about the cape and cowl. “Just like…thanks. For taking me in and stuff. I know we've been having a lot of disagreements lately, and you have a lot going on, but I appreciate you looking after me-” “You’re my daughter.” Bruce says, with no hesitation. “You don’t need to give me some big speech. I don’t know what in the world compelled your mother to trust you with me, but I’m glad that she did.” “Well, she was hardly ever in her right mind,” you joke, and it makes Bruce crack a smile. “Everyone thought the whole funeral-of-the-century thing was totally nuts.” “Everyone who didn’t know her like we did,” Bruce assures you. “I think she was onto something. It was…a good last memory. “ There was a question you had that hung in the air. Once that you’d never had the courage to ask. So you let it end there. You may never really know what the inside of Bruce's head looked like. And if you were honest, you didn't really need to know. At the end of the day, you were content with what you had-the promise of a dead woman who loved you, and her reclusive billionaire best friend.

“Chelsea Conroy left a bloodied rabbits foot in my locker today. On one hand, I can’t really blame her. I mean, really. Everyone’s gone mad ever since I rocked up to dance on the arm of Bruce Wayne. He may be kind of a serious guy, but even I'll admit that he's hot enough to drive anyone crazy. On the other hand, it wasn’t like the paw of a squirrel or a raccoon or some kind of local bird she found crushed on the side of the road. I mean, it was a nice rabbit. White fur and everything. Jesus, I hope she didn’t buy a rabbit just to pull some sort of Godfather jr. shit on me. I wouldn’t put it past her, though. I’m a girls girl, but Chelsea is a D1 hater. And apparently an animal dismember-er. I wish my parents had just sent me to public school instead. These rich kids are serial killers in the making, and if Bruce doesn’t stop hanging around with his handsome face, I can’t be sure I’ll even make it to graduation. I told Bruce to let it go. He's stubborn as an ox, but I'm worse. He offered to help me bury the poor thing afterschool. There's family cemetery behind his manor, with a small section for pets. He said we could name the rabbit posthumously, even if we don’t have the whole body. I’m going to take him up on his offer. It's so fucking weird, but also? So…thoughtful.”- 12.03.2001

[puffpasstea]

hiii I love all your writing! it really makes me feel some type of way 💖🥲 I was wondering if you would be willing to write something about y/n feeling like her friends are using her (to get to harry, $$$, or for clout) and Harry is comforting y/n. Or something like y/n feels left out at a Hollywood party with all of Harry’s friends?

im going thru a rough time with my friendships and kind of feeling lonely. no pressure though 💖 thank you for being a source of joy during this time 🥺🫶🏻

Hi babes! Thanks so much for your lovely message 🥰🥰 and I’m so sorry that you’re going through this. I’ve been where you are. It hurts no matter how you try to rationalize it. Please know that my inbox is always open if you need a friend, or just to vent. I hope this little one shot helps somehow. Let me know what you think! 💗

—

She plumped down on the barstool, tucked away in the shadowy corner of the room, letting her feet dangle and hover over the floor. Those heels were killing her. She glanced across the room, scanning the crowd of faces for Harry’s comforting eyes. He was standing in between Jeff and some really old guy in a suit, the grin on his face slowly growing until his dimples appeared. At this distance, she had no idea what he was actually saying, but she liked to imagine that he was telling a joke, judging by his face, that’s usually what he looks like when he’s laughing at his own joke before he’s even reached the punchline. She was glad to see that he was at least having fun. Because she’d be lying if she said that these kinds of events felt fun for her.

Tagging along to these parties increased her sad and admiration for Harry. It always made her proud to see him in “work mode.” This wasn’t even what he normally does for a living. Giant parties like these were usually hosted by the record label, designed to make really rich, really old people feels important enough and respected enough to convince them to invest their buckets of money into musicians’ tours. Someone needed to pay the insurance companies, purchase the bands’ equipment, pay the crew, and fund the millions of things -big and small- that went into carrying out an entire tour. Learning this gave her a better understanding of why, to make it in an industry like this, you need more than just a pretty voice and a little bit of hard work. But as proud as she was of Harry, she couldn’t help but feel like an outsider in moments like this.

Harry always wanted her to feel included, so he would keep his arm hooked into hers, introduce her to his team and investors, and whisper any background information into her ear to catch her up to speed. She loved witnessing first-hand how he was good at remembering a CEO’s 4-year-old daughter’s favorite cartoon, or how he complimented an ancient rich lady on her brooch. She found his ability to make everyone feel important to him weirdly attractive. But, when Harry and his friends would so quickly fall in and out of industry talk, making inside jokes or using technically lingo, she often found herself feeling weird. Like she was an anchor weighing him down. His constant need to keep an arm around her waist, or to explain a joke to her, or rephrase something in a way that she would understand, it made her wonder if he wouldn’t be more present in the moment if she wasn’t trailing behind him, so she found a quiet place to sit and admire him from a distance, hoping he’d be too engrossed in his friends’ conversations to notice her absence.

She pulled out her phone to check the time. It was almost midnight. She could pass the time by scrolling through her phone, but it would honestly just make her more miserable. Scrolling through Instagram posts of people that felt so far away would just hurt.

Perhaps this whole thing wouldn’t be on her mind if things in her own friendship were different. The truth was that some of her most important relationships have felt nonexistent lately. Which made her more conscious of how she related to people. Often even wondering if she had some invisible flaw that she’s failing to see, or if she was too stubborn to realize that she was unintentionally pushing people away. It felt like her relationship with Harry had altered the way that people saw her. Friends that she had had for quite sometime, and honestly thought would hold on to forever, were now gone without a real explanation. It was like they’d decided on her behalf that she no longer needed them. They began acting different around her, gradually growing colder and more indifferent. It was difficult to come to the realization that, if they would treat her this way, maybe they weren’t really friends in the first place. Maybe they only liked having her around to make them feel better about themselves and seeing her happy, successful, and in a relationship with someone like Harry was doing the exact opposite of making them feel good. So, they no longer had any use for her.

She felt a lump form in her throat. At least ending friendships in this way was better than the opposite. The people who’d never actually liked her, never treated her with any respect at all, and never bothered to hide their feelings about her suddenly “reconnecting” with her because they found out who her boyfriend is. How did things get so fucked up and why hadn’t she noticed until it was too late?

“There you are!” The feeling of Harry’s soft lips kissing her cheek yanked her out of her spiral. “How’re you, darlin’?” He smiled, grabbing the stool next to her and ordering a drink. He still had a smile on his face and seemed to be giggling to himself.

The look he was giving her forced her to smile back. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, it’s- it’s nothing Mitch was just telling a funny story over there.” Harry chuckled at the memory of the encounter. “Anyway, where’d you run off to? I looked behind me and you’d vanished.”

She waited for a moment, considering just telling him the truth but she didn’t want to burden him. He was clearly having a good time. And he’d earned it. He’d been working so hard lately; a night out with his favorite people is what he needs. Besides, she liked that Harry felt comfortable enough to introduce her to his friends and bring her to industry events. She didn’t want to make him feel bad about it.

“N-nowhere, I- my heels are just too much. Probably should’ve worn a different shoe tonight.”

Harry’s brows furrowed. “Oh, I’m so sorry, baby. Wanna go home?”

“Oh- no, no. Don’t worry about me. I’m good just staying right here. You go, have fun.”

Harry wasn’t having it. She should’ve expected it. He wasn’t the kind of person to just abandon her after she’d admitted to being in pain. Instead of going back out there, he brought the party over to her. Within minutes, Mitch, Sarah, Pauli, some assistants from the wardrobe department and a few drum techs were gathered around her previously private corner. They’d ordered some appetizers and sat around telling stories from past tours, making plans to visit the landmarks and hidden gems of certain cities they were touring, and recalling the time someone had intentionally re-tuned Mitch’s guitar and fucked up his string-matching.

For the whole night, Harry’s hands were on her thigh, glancing at her in between conversations and casually kissing the top of her head. She felt selfish for not having fun. After all he does for her, and after he’s forced everyone to hang out at the bar so she can be included. She still felt like an outsider looking in. What the hell was wrong with her?

The ride home was quiet. Harry asked her if she wanted to take her shoes off and stretch her legs but she’d just hummed a quiet “no,” looking out the window of the passengers seat to avoid his eyes.

She stood in the bathroom, getting ready for bed and trying to shake the feeling of intense isolation that had clung to her. She wished she could wipe it off the way she’d just wiped off her makeup. Maybe if she just went to bed and started fresh tomorrow?

Harry called her name “come over here and give me a cuddle alreadyyyy.”

She made her way to the bed where he’d been plopped, reading a book as he waited for her. The goofy smile on his face disappeared as soon as he saw her. “What’s the matter, baby?”

“N-nothing.” Her voice betrayed her, already breaking. It’s just that the softness of Harry’s voice and the concern in his eyes threw her off. The tears that she’d been pushing away all night were now stinging the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over.

“Not nothing.” Harry asserted, reaching for the side of her hip and gesturing for her to come closer.

“It’s dumb. Please just forget it, Harry.” She pressed her palms to her eyes, wiping the tears away.

“It’s not dumb if it’s got you this upset, honey.”

“I- I just wish-“

Harry said nothing, his eyebrows shoot upward.

“I wish I wasn’t so lonely all the time.”

Harry felt his heart split in half at her words and the simplicity with which she’d said them. He wondered how long she’d felt this way. If the feeling just rolled off her tongue like that, it had to have been sitting in the pit of her stomach for a while.

“Lonely?” Was all he could say.

She just nodded, tears now unashamedly rolling down her face.

Harry was now replaying all the conversations that he’d had in the past few weeks where she seemed to jokingly suggest that she was fundamentally in likable, or that she was too rough around the edges for friends to want her around, or that she hated people so much that she hardly left the apartment anymore. How could he have been so blind? He knew her well enough to know that when she made self-deprecating jokes like this, it was usually because she believed them to be, at least partly, true.

“W-why?” He cleared his throat, hoping to sound more like an adult. “What’s made you feel so alone?”

She shrugged, finally pulling her hands away from her face and shifting nervously on top of the duvet. “Just don’t have any friends anymore, Harry.”

“What do you mean? You’ve got plenty of friends!”

“Name one.”

Harry wracked his brain. “Well there’s Je- okay, fine? What about Sa-“ he was stumped. Every name that came to his mind was a friend of his that had, by extension, gotten to know her through their relationship.

She could see the wheels turning in his head. “Exactly.” She huffed.

“Well, what about people at work? That nice lady, Melanie? You seem to get on really well. And, besides, you can share my friends!”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I don’t know people. But those superficial relationships only make me feel worse. They just remind me of the connections that I’ve lost. I don’t- Harry, I don’t wanna have perfectly mundane conversations about the weather, or what I did over the weekend. That’s not what I mean. I just- I miss the kind of connection where you could text someone your random and extremely niche take on a specific topic that only you care about. Or call someone cuz you’re bored and want company. Or make spur of the moment plans. Or vent to without worrying if they’re secretly judging you for talking too much. You know? The kinds of things that you can just build overnight.”

“Intimacy.” He said simply.

“Yeah…”

Harry said nothing. He pulled her into his side, letting her lay her head on his shoulder and blink her tears away as he squeezed her shoulder.

“I’ll be your friend!” He said suddenly breaking the heavy silence.

She laughed, the chuckled disrupting her sobs. “Thanks, but, I think I like what we are.”

“No, I mean, like, sometimes you date someone but you can’t really talk to them about stuff. You know? I’m saying you can talk to me.”

“I just- I don’t know why it’s so hard for me.”

“Baby, it’s not your fau-“

“Don’t! Don’t say it, okay?”

“But you know it’s true.”

“It makes me feel like a bad person to just say that they’re dumb for not wanting to stay friends. Somehow I’m the perfect Angel and everyone else is wrong for leaving me.”

Harry said nothing for a moment. He could tell she firmly believed that and convincing her wasn’t going to be simple. Plus, he didn’t want to interrupt her as she finally let things off her chest. After he was sure she was done speaking, he started again.

“I’m not saying you’re perfect. Nobody is. We all have our flaws. But people who really care about you wouldn’t give up on you when things get difficult. Friendships only work if both people are invested.”

“What if- What if I’m just not good at this? What if people leave me because I’m not a good friend?”

“Bullshit.”

“Harry! I’m serious.”

“So am I! You care, and you’re so kind. And you’re fun and gracious and-“

“Then why am I so alone??”

Harry kissed the side of her head gently.

“I get what you mean.”

“No you don’t. You’re surrounded by people who love you all day everyday.”

“Yeah, but that hasn’t always been the case. I felt really lost and alone for years before all this happened. You know? After the band and all?”

“Hmm”

“It was hard.”

She just nodded silently listening to, taking his words in, letting the sound of his voice comfort her.

“Just can’t change who you are to make people want to stick around. You’ll lose sight of what matters to you. Even though it hurts to let people go.”

“It does.”

“I know baby.” He nuzzled his nose into her neck. “But you’ll meet the right friends eventually. Ones who won’t take advantage, won’t be threatened by your light and love.”

“I hope I do. This is exhausting.”

“Let me help. Hmm?”

She finally turned to face him, locking her lips into his, causing him to hum into her mouth.

“You always do, Harry. Everyday.”

[englishstrawbie]

For the lyrics prompt: Stef and Lena + the song Duet featuring Stephanie Briggs by Penny and Sparrow. It’s been one of my top adamsfoster songs for a few years and honestly, it’s the whole vibe of the song for me so I can’t even pick a specific lyric. But if any one in particular stands out to you, run with it! 😊

You're right, this song is so perfect for them. It was hard to pinpoint just one moment. And yet, when I started writing this several days ago, I very quickly went off-course and it got too angsty! So I scrapped most of it and started again. 🤦🏼‍♀️🤣 Anyway, I hope you like what I came up with.

A link to the song

>>>>>

Lena makes her way around the room with ease, making conversation with her guests and possible donors. The last few months have been a whirlwind as she has prepared for this evening, her first fundraiser to kick off her campaign to run for the California State Assembly – in between moving out of their family home and seeing their kids disperse to different parts of the country. If she stops for too long, she realises just how exhausted she is; so she keeps going, always with a smile painted on her face.

Her eyes scan the room, finding her family scattered amongst the crowds. All five of their kids flew home to be there and support her. Despite their bright eyes and wide smiles, she can tell that they are hiding their boredom well, and she feels a surge of pride and love for them, and for how grown up they all are.

A hand on her back grabs her attention and she looks over her shoulder to find Stef stood just behind her. Her breath catches in her throat, just as it has every time she has caught sight of Stef schmoozing their guests, every bit the dutiful wife to a democratic candidate. She wears black pants and a cream blouse (adorned with a Democrat Party badge, of course), open to just above the swell of her breasts, and a delicate gold necklace that entices Lena’s gaze to the dip in her neck.

“You know that golfing friend of Jim’s he mentioned at lunch last week? He wants to meet you. If you can sweet talk him, I think he’d be willing to put his hand in his pocket to fund your campaign.”

Stef is all business and Lena can’t help but find it hot. She grabs Stef’s hand as she starts to move away, keeping her close for a moment.

Stef looks confused, her brow furrowing. “Is everything okay?”

“Thank you,” Lena says. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Stef smiles sweetly. “You’re the one who’s been running around making all this happen.”

“And every time I’ve got home late, you’ve made me dinner, or run me a bath, or rubbed my aching feet,” Lena gushes.

She smiles as Stef presses her lips to her cheek, the simple act of affection spreading warmth across her chest. Her exhaustion has left little time or energy for more intimate activities, but as the relief of knowing that she has successfully pulled off tonight’s party, the familiar urge to drag her wife into a dark room and kiss her until her mouth is sore is starting to build.

Lena licks her lips instinctively, a sign that Stef knows well, bringing a smirk to her face.

“Eyes on the prize, my love.”

“Oh, they are,” Lena teases.

She watches with glee as Stef’s head tips back to laugh, exposing more of her neck.

“Okay, Casanova, we’ve still got another hour or so before we can get out of here,” Stef points out.

A low grumble escapes from Lena as she accepts Stef’s outstretched hand, falling into step beside her wife as they make their way across the room.

“This is amazing, by the way,” Stef says, looking around at the decorated hall. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I haven’t done anything yet,” Lena says, very much aware of how much money she needs to raise tonight to be able to continue her campaign.

“Honey, look at this place,” Stef says, pausing for a moment and gesturing around her. “All of this is because of you. I really do believe you’re gonna do this.”

“You do?”

Stef nods confidently. “You’ve got my vote.”

Lena leans in then for a kiss, soft and slow, not caring that they are in the middle of a room full of people. After all, if people are going to support her, they need to know exactly who she is and who they will be voting for.

“Come on,” Stef prompts her when the pull apart. “It’s time to get your game face on.”

[battle-of-alberta]

For a grown man, Cal gives off spoiled brat vibes. What was he like as a kid?

[the irony being that today, calvin regularly drinks whiskey because It’s the Culture tm]

so sorry to inform you guys Calvin was assigned cop at birth u_u he didn’t spend his whole childhood in the NWMP barracks though, there was a period where he was living in a tent on the side of the road waiting for the train to show up (though that said, that might have been a bit more sanitary.)

More notes follow.

- Calvin was imbued with admiration for Toronto from a young age because the majority of the men recruited for service were originally from Toronto. His attention quickly turned south, however, the more he interacted with Americans and heard about mythical places like Denver and Chicago.

- Fort Calgary was ironically built and supplied by some of the same whiskey traders they were supposed to stamp out, shh.

- Calvin was really proud his American friends tolerated him enough to hang out with him... and is still to this day, perhaps not realizing that the others considered him “mild west” rather than wild west. During this period he mostly hung out with folks from Montana and Colorado- the relationship with Texas didn’t really get off the ground until the mid 20th century.

- It’s been a few years since I read Denny’s account of Fort Calgary but I seem to remember him commenting on having to order lots and lots of tea.

- I still think this ongoing joke that Calvin doesn’t realize Lilith and his old rival Fort Whoop Up are the same person is really funny (y’know, despite Lethbridge having an identical flag, annual Whoop Up Days, Whoop Up Drive, etc that he just assumes is a historical curiosity of hers)

- Calvin’s other siblings/cousins (not depicted) include big bro Fort Macleod and Fort Saskatchewan, among others. I’m not sure what that makes Fort Walsh... a brother/cousin who was re-animated in the 40s and never quite the same? Lol.

- The “gentlemen” Calvin comments on to Caroline are caricatures of “remittance men”, that is, a man exiled to the colonies by his family and paid regular remittances to ensure they didn’t come back and do whatever it was that got them sent off in the first place.

- “No English” was a common sentiment because of above remittance men - ‘English’ I believe was kind of a derogatory term used in both Canada and the States to refer to anyone from the cities back east who were a bit too soft for frontier life, but in the territories it could definitely refer to literal expats from England. (Tangentially related, but Prince Edward even bought himself a ranch not far from Calgary in the 1920s.)

- The events Ed and Madeline are thinking of include: one of the early visits to Fort Edmonton that I’ve referenced a zillion times (the NWMP couldn’t sleep because they weren’t used to the dogs); the 1885 Northwest Resistance which caused Calgary to panic so much that a basically useless militia was formed; when natural gas wells were discovered around Medicine Hat, Calgarians threw a fit and wouldn’t rest until someone funded a successful hunt for their own.

- (afterwards in the race for the capital, edmonton newspapers would jab at calgary’s tendency to act like a pig eating everything around it, an article which the papers in medicine hat would reprint)

[marmiteprinter]

The next day (our last day with this family for this round) was Gracie's first day at school and I couldn't resist taking a proud mum photo of the oldest three in their uniforms heading off to school. I love this family so much.

From left to right: 11 year old Evan, 9 year old Charlie and 4 year old Gracie.

I'm not crying, there's dust in my eye. 😭

Kyle was still diligently going to work at the market every day, desperately trying to make enough money to fund their ever-expanding family. He hoped they’d get out of the hole eventually, but for now they were still in dire financial straits.

Ramona was finding life a bit easier now that she only had a toddler to deal with and quickly taught Megan how to use the potty while she had the day alone to do so.

[t-am-i-the-asshole]

AITAH for Refusing to Let My Sister’s Family Live in My House After They Sold Theirs for a "Dream Vacation"?

So, I (32M) own a modest three-bedroom house that I’ve been paying off for the last ten years. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s mine, and I’m proud of it. My sister (29F) and her husband (31M) are the typical free-spirited types. They’ve always talked about quitting the rat race, living life to the fullest, all that. Well, a few months ago, they finally did it—they sold their house during a booming market, thinking the profit would fund a year-long break to travel.

They believed they could stretch the money by traveling cheaply, staying in hostels or Airbnbs, and getting by with occasional odd jobs. At first, they stayed in nicer places and ate out a lot, thinking they had plenty of cushion, but within two months, they were out of money. They underestimated how quickly expenses would pile up, especially with two young kids (7F and 5M) to feed and care for.

Now that their funds are drained, they’ve decided to stop full-time travel but don’t want to settle down yet. Instead, they asked to live with me, rent-free, for the next 10 months while they “figure things out.” They say they’ll still try to take some occasional trips if they find super cheap deals, but for the most part, they want to stay at my house.

I told them no. My house isn’t big enough, I don’t want the disruption, and I certainly don’t think it’s fair for them to live off me because their plan failed. I offered to help them find an affordable rental or even cover part of their expenses for a couple of months so they could get back on their feet, but that wasn’t enough. My sister blew up at me, calling me selfish and accusing me of being jealous of their “adventurous lifestyle.”

To make it worse, my parents are siding with her, saying that family should help family and that I’m being too rigid. The thing is, my parents live in a small apartment and can’t take in my sister’s family, which is probably why they’re pushing it on me. They say I don’t understand the “value of experiences” and that I should be more supportive. Some of our mutual friends are also saying I should be more understanding, but I think it’s completely unreasonable to expect me to house their whole family for nearly a year just because they didn’t plan properly.

AITAH?

[bllsbailey]

Rough Start: Protesters Tear Down Security Fence as Thousands March Outside DNC

Dozens of protesters broke through a security fence near the site of the Democratic National Convention on its opening day Monday as thousands took to the streets to voice their opposition to the war in Gaza.

Families with babies in strollers, students, elected leaders and others holding signs and flags joined the march to the United Center, where the convention is being held, to call for a ceasefire in the Israel-Hamas war. As the larger group marched peacefully, a few dozen who broke away tore down pieces of the security fence.

Several protesters who had managed to get through the fence were detained and handcuffed by the police. Officers put on gas masks as some protesters tried to bring down a second fence set up in front of police. Authorities said the inner security perimeter surrounding convention site was not breached and there was no threat to those attending the convention.

Chicago Police Superintendent Larry Snelling said some of the protesters who took down the fence threw water bottles and other items at police. Police de-escalated the situation without using their batons or chemicals, he said.

“When you have people infiltrate a crowd and they want to commit acts of violence, vandalism we are going to stop them,” said Snelling, who walked in a group of officers ahead of the protesters Monday. “We are not going to tolerate anyone who is going to vandalize things in our city.”

Members of the crowd chanted “End the occupation now” and then “The whole world is watching!” just as anti-Vietnam War protesters did during the infamous 1968 convention in Chicago when police clashed with protesters on live television. Families gathered on their porches and outside their doors as protesters marched by. Some children wore keffiyeh, blew bubbles or held “free fist bumps” signs.

The march happened just as President Joe Biden, who has been the target of intense criticism from pro-Palestinian groups, including the marchers, was doing a walk-through of the largely empty United Center. Biden was scheduled to address the party in the evening.

“Biden, you can’t hide. We charge you with genocide,” the marchers chanted amid the beating of drums. They also referred to him as “Genocide Joe” and lodged similar chants at Vice President Kamala Harris.

Protesters said their plans have not changed since Biden left the race and the party quickly rallied behind Harris, who will formally accept the Democratic nomination this week. Activists said they were ready to amplify their progressive message before the nation's top Democratic leaders.

“People are dying,” said Cameron Benrud, a 25-year-old high school special education teacher from Minneapolis. He drove five hours to attend the rally at Union Park to call on Democratic officials to halt funding to Israel.

“I’m from little old Minnesota, and you feel kind of powerless... You gotta do something," he said.

Mayor Brandon Johnson said authorities were well prepared. “The city of Chicago is really good at things like this,” he told a news conference. “We are ready.”

Organizers had hoped at least 20,000 people would take part in Monday’s rally and march, but it appeared that only a few thousand were present, though city officials declined to give a crowd estimate.

“We’re proud of the turnout, especially considering the degree of the repression from the city,” said organizer Faayani Aboma Mijana.

The Chicago area has one of the largest Palestinian communities in the nation, and buses were bringing activists from all over the country.

Taylor Cook, an organizer with the Freedom Road Socialist Organization, traveled from Atlanta for the march. Cook said the group was pushing all Democrats to call for an end to aid to Israel, with a particular focus on Harris.

“We’re saying to Kamala, she has been complicit in this. People think it’s just Joe Biden, but she is vice president,” Cook said. “So we’re saying, you need to stop if you want our vote.”

Medea Benjamin, who traveled to Chicago from Washington, D.C., with a women-led group of protesters calling for peace, said she was shocked that the Biden administration recently approved an additional $20 billion in weapons sales to Israel.

“There’s an incredible discrepancy in what people are calling for in this country and what the administration is doing,” she said ahead of the rally in Union Park. “We’re so disgusted by this.”

Pro-Palestinian supporters descended on the park, west of the Loop business district, for the rally.

Prior to the march, independent presidential candidate Cornel West addressed the crowd, which welcomed him with cheers.

“This is not about some Machiavellian politics or some utilitarian calculation about an election,” he yelled into a microphone. “This is about morality. This is about spirituality.”

Around 40 pro-Israel supporters walked around the park during the rally. Remaining mostly silent while waving Israeli flags, they were accompanied by about 20 police officers on bicycles. Although tensions flared at times, there were no physical altercations.

Josh Weiner, co-founder of Chicago Jewish Alliance who walked with the pro-Israel group, said their intent was to “make our presence felt.” He said the group applied for permits that were not approved by the city.

“The pro-Palestine protesters have gotten multiple permits, including a march, which seems to be a little bit weighted on one side,” Weiner said.

Snelling praised police and march organizers for a peaceful Sunday night protest calling for abortion and LGBTQ+ rights and an end to the war in Gaza. Chicago police said two people were arrested on misdemeanor charges of resisting police and damaging property..

Some businesses boarded up their windows as a precaution, and county courts said they would open more space in case of mass arrests. Chicago police say officers have undergone extensive training on constitutional policing and de-escalation tactics.

Coalition activists and the city have been at odds over the location of the protests and other logistics. A judge sided with the city over an approximately 1-mile (1.6-kilometer) march route, which organizers argued was not big enough for the expected crowds.

Not a single speaker or spectator showed up to a speakers’ stage offered by city officials near the United Center. Eight groups with progressive agendas had signed up for 45-minute speaking slots on Monday. On other days, some conservative groups, including the Illinois Policy Institute think tank, have plans to speak.

Also Monday, the Philadelphia-based Poor People’s Army, which advocates for economic justice, planned to set up at Humboldt Park on the city's northwest side to feature events with third-party presidential candidates Jill Stein and West, plus a 3-mile (5-kilometer) march.