#i've been needing to make this post for months

[spencerreidenjoyer]

we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader

You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.

wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit

tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...

a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)

Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.

It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.

You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.

Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve. 

While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it. 

Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.

You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.

And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.

About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly. 

About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar. 

Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you. 

About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp. 

About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room. 

About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.

“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end. 

You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.

“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do. 

Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect. 

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”

Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch. 

You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock. 

He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.

Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.

“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.

The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.

You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy. 

Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.

---

Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.

He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit. 

Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point. 

Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend. 

Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.

Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off. 

He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him. 

He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big. 

He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him. 

You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.

“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”

“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them. 

“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”

You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.

He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his. 

He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you. 

---

Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.

Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer. 

But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.

You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.

You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–

There Spencer is. 

“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”

You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”

You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot. 

Do you make him… nervous?

“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.

No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought. 

Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you. 

You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart. 

So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.

You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?” 

“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”

“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”

“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one. 

“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”

“And what makes you say that?” You hum. 

“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”

“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”

His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”

You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.

“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”

“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his. 

It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.

“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”

“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”

“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.

You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”

Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”

“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”

“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame. 

You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”

Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”

“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out. 

“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”

Spencer grins. “Good.”

His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”

“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.

You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. 

“Fuck me, Spence,” you say. 

Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.” 

His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.

“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender. 

“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.

You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.

“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling. 

“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”

You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.

“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”

You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”

“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.

“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take. 

“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.

The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home. 

[ms-demeanor]

I've been following what's been going on with Belphie the kitten and his person, Greer Stothers, has just mentioned pet insurance in a tag on a post and I wanted to give an example from my life backing up why pet insurance can be a good idea and why I think it is worthwhile.

Two years ago my sister's dog had bloat while she was on vacation. The kennel he was staying at recognized symptoms and called my sister to clear them to take him to the emergency vet. My sister is very financially secure and this dog is an enormous part of her life, so she said yes with barely a moment of hesitation. That ended up being about twelve thousand dollars of emergency surgery.

Large Bastard and I got pet insurance for Tiny Bastard the same week because we realized that if someone had presented that option to us, we would have had no choice but to have Tiny Bastard put down, and we didn't want to be put in that position.

I did a lot of research about different kinds of pet insurance and different levels of coverage and annual maximums and deductibles and so on and so forth. Tiny Bastard is a senior dog, so this was going to be expensive no matter what options we went with, so I chose a moderately priced plan with a $500 annual deductible, unlimited annual coverage, that pays 80% of the bills incurred annually below the maximum. What that means is that we pay the first $500 of care totally out of pocket, after which point we are reimbursed 80% of any vet bills for care covered by the plan.

The first year we had this plan I was kind of iffy about it. It's a noticeable monthly expense and we didn't even spend the deductible in vet bills the first year. Except that a month before the policy was set to renew, Tiny Bastard got diagnosed with diabetes. We now have monthly insulin costs and syringe costs; there are tests she has to have regularly to monitor her overall condition and we need to do more frequent vet visits to track symptoms.

Suddenly the insulin alone means that the insurance is break-even within six months and the additional visits and tests are something we can afford instead of something we'd have to put on credit.

Our plan (through ManyPets) covers medication, surgery, diagnostics, medical equipment, and euthanasia and cremation. It doesn't cover pre-existing conditions, joint conditions for dogs who were signed up over a certain age, dental care, spay/neuter, vaccinations, or prescription food but honestly all of that makes me just kind of wish we'd signed her up earlier - her knee problems *would* be covered if we'd had her signed up as a puppy, and the monthly cost would have been lower if we'd signed her up then. And there are at least a few emergency vet bills that I wouldn't still be paying off on my credit card. Hell, I've probably paid more in interest on some bruising she got in a fight three years ago than I have for this policy as a whole.

I am glad that Greer is able to take care of Belphie. I am glad that my sister was able to take care of her dog. But I'm also really, really glad that for a relatively low cost, I would be able to take care of Tiny Bastard if she were catastrophically injured, or if she needed emergency surgery. I'm glad that I'm able to take care of her now with her medications and her additional vet visits.

There are a lot of people who say that pet insurance isn't worth it, especially not for young animals. But if your young animal gets very sick, or gets badly injured, or eats a hairband and needs an emergency endoscopy, then it will probably be VERY worth it. It's a risk/reward question. You feel like you're wasting money if you're paying for a policy that you never use, but honestly that just means you're lucky to have a healthy pet.

I'm lucky that Tiny Bastard was relatively healthy before I got the insurance; I'm also lucky that she was insured when she was diagnosed with a chronic illness that will need lifelong care. This enables me to provide care for her that would otherwise be financially unmanageable, and that makes the insurance *extremely worth it* from my perspective.

And Belphie is a good example of why it's a good idea to get coverage even for very young pets. Greer is recommending it because this kitten has required a tremendous amount of care during a period in his life when it's generally taken for granted that a cat will be healthy. (And Greer is not stupid for forgoing pet insurance - pet insurance is still a relatively new concept and there are lots of people who are leery of it for a number of good reasons)

So I'd say that if you've got a pet or are getting a pet it is very worthwhile to find a pet insurance plan that fits in your budget. There are a variety of plans out there and some are very inexpensive. Check coverage levels (you can even get some with wellness plans that include dental care and vaccinations) and see if there's something that works for you.

I personally don't think I'm ever going to own another pet without having pet insurance. It's ridiculous how much easier it is for me to say yes to diagnostic tests or different treatments than it was before because I know I'm going to be able to fit Tiny Bastard's care into our budget.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

It feels like hope.

Pairing: Hot Priest!Joel Miller x f!reader, no outbreak

Words count: 5700

Rating: Strictly +18, MINORS DON’T INTERACT

Warnings: pov second person, no use of y/n, priest kink, catholic guilt, religious kink, smut, unprotected p in v (use protections IRL!), reader has breasts and vagina and hair that can be pulled and wears a shirt and a skirt, apart from that no other description is given, age is not mentioned but they’re both grown up adults and reader is only inexperienced because she grew up in a very catholic family, fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), sex in a rectory, hair pulling, blasphemy all over the place 💀, pussy pronouns she/her, drinking, two hits on nipples, improper use of liturgical objects, cream pie, pet names (angel, baby), reader calls him "Father" during sex, mention of hell, mention of porn videos, mention of masturbation, improper use of prayers, God named in vain, another thing that I won’t spoil... listen, this thing is filthy, probably the filthiest more immoral thing I've ever wrote, ok? If you think you can't handle it just scroll down to another story.

This is a revised version of something I had already posted and then deleted because I personally didn't like it.

It took me months to come to an end with it, I don’t know why, I’ve changed a lot of things, I’ve changed the pov, I’ve changed dynamics etc… I really really hope you will enjoy it and please be gentle with me, I really tried hard even if you would think it’s no good.

English is not my first language and I have no beta so any mistake is all my fault, I’m sorry.

Title is a Fleabag quote, specifically from our beloved hot priest “when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope”

Thanks to everyone who has shown interest in this story, thanks to those who were there from the beginning (you know who you are and I love you) and thanks to anyone who will read 🩷

(Just added a brief note at the end 😉)

It all started on a Sunday. 

You came to your neighborhood church expecting a nice function and you exited knowing you were doomed. 

That Sunday you met the new parish priest.

From the first moment you felt like something in you was compromised. 

You couldn't even explain it to yourself and you had never felt like this, it was something so unfamiliar. 

A need you’ve never felt before.

Your eyes glued to his holy form, adoring his raven curly hair, his scruff, the curve of his neck, his strong nose, plump lips, broad shoulders, thick thighs, big hands.

Courteous and kind as he greeted parishioners leaving the church, he shook your hand and you felt a jolt.

You weren’t like this before, you did things to do good to others before. But now…

Volunteering for every event, clothing drive, bake sale, children's shows. You were always there for the ride. Making excuses to talk to him.

Wondering if he had any more freckles than the ones on his neck, how warm his skin would be, how manly and intoxicating his scent would be, what his kisses would taste like, what his fingers would have felt like inside your cunt, peeking at the outline of his cock under his black pants.

A perfect Christian girl who would have make your mother proud on the outside, a raging hell of arousal on the inside.

You couldn’t believe that he was him who had awakened this new person inside you, insanely hungry, wanting, needing to taste, lick, bite. 

His low gruff voice grueling from his chest echoed against your damp inner walls so much that you were almost afraid to get up after the mass and see a stain where you were seated.

It was more and more difficult every time to fight your urge, stay on the tracks of life that you were taught to live, no sex before marriage, no masturbation because it’s a sin, no impure thoughts because you were a good girl.

Yet now you could hear them, all those voices crowding your head, pushing you towards something you had been taught was wrong.

Entering the church you were trembling, guilt pulsing in your gut.

Everything was quiet and serene, your eyes wandered on the frescoed walls, the organ, the large altar and the wooden benches neatly lined up in rows in the central nave, your steps sounded uncertain and timid on the marble floor.

You entered the confessional feeling your heart beating wildly in your chest, palms sweating and your mouth dry.

You could hear his breathing through the grate.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned” 

The following silence weighed like never before.

“Open your heart to the Lord so He can forgive your sins”

And you had confessed. 

The words slipped from your mouth like pearls from a broken necklace, finally rolling free between your lips revealing your every sordid thought.

The girl shaped by catholic parents to be a modest virgin, mother and maid, perfect smile and delicate manners was in reality a shameful bundle of filth.

You were a sinner.

A sinner eaten out from dirty thoughts.

You told him how you couldn't stop thinking about him, how you had questioned your feelings and who you were as a person, how you hadn't spent a night without touching yourself thinking about him in many months.

You told him about your desire to kiss him and more. So much more. Everything.

Every single time you lowered your hand in your panties, every single time you squeezed your breasts, driven by instinct and desire, every single time you thought of him as Joel. Just Joel, a man.

You just wanted to let go of the weight on your chest, coming clean. If you said it all out loud you would have realized how crazy it was.

You heard the door snapping, a few heavy steps close to where you were seated, the door opening to your side.  

Suddenly he was there, standing in front of you.

He said nothing, only grabbed your arm, dragging you to the rectory.

Dust in the air danced beneath the soft light that came in from two small windows high up.

There wasn't much in the room, a cupboard where liturgical objects were kept, a table, a wardrobe where the clothes for the service were hung.

Nobody was there except the two of you, you could hear the rumble of his breathing and your heart drumming behind your rib cage.

He was staring at you. 

Your mouth sealed, a lump in your stomach.

You thought about the day he tried to teach you how to play guitar.

You were here, together, helping with the Christmas party. He was sitting strumming when you walked in, you tried not to surprise him from behind by pretending to cough and he turned to you. He didn’t stop playing as he greeted you, you told him “I didn’t know you played” and he invited you to try. As you sat down your legs were shaking, he gave you the guitar and you just stared at it, fingers uncertain and mind empty. 

“It’s not that hard” he told you and he leaned over you taking one of your hands in his and placing it on the neck of the guitar, moving your fingers over the strings “like this. Now play”

You strummed on the guitar and an unpleasant sound came out, you both laughed softly at your clumsiness and a flood of pleasure slicked your panties.

His breath on you was like a caress, you felt the minty scent grazing at your nostrils.

For a moment, just for a moment you thought, “I could turn around right now and kiss him. A few inches and my lips would be on his.”

Your desire flowed before your eyes, leaving you with nothing else to look at.

“But I can’t. I can’t.” 

You've tried to swat away that sinful thought with another strum on the guitar but nothing disappeared, instead it burned in your core even strongly than before.

You thought about that day when the rain caught you on your way to set up the bake sale, how you walked into the rectory soaked from head to toe, how he looked at your shirt stuck to your skin that left little to the imagination, how you instinctively covered yourself when you just wanted to let your arms hang at your sides and let him look at you. You saw a reaction in his eyes as he mumbled that he was going to get you a towel, just a moment before he regained his composure, and it was enough. You knew that he was not indifferent to you. That night you touched yourself imagining what it would be like if he took your shirt off, if he placed his lips on your neck, his tongue on your breast, his cock inside you.

You started to navigate on porn sites daily, out of curiosity first and then because you needed to see, you needed to imagine, you needed to visualize something so unfamiliar and strange to you. 

You were ashamed, but at the same time you couldn't help it, it was the only resource you could think of looking for and it was there, on your phone, private, no one would have known. You didn't even imagine you would find so many, a whole catalog of big dicks, huge tits, positions that your brain couldn't conceive.

Seeing those women pleasuring themselves scared you but at the same time attracted you, you wanted to be like them, you wanted to reach that pleasure, you wanted to try their way of using their hands, you wanted to refine your clumsy way of reaching that heat between your legs.

You sinked into it.

If your parents had known, if your community had known, you would have been branded an unworthy woman, a pervert, a slut.

But your parents were far away now, your whole life was somewhere else and you were proud to have freed yourself from the golden cage they had locked you in. You were an adult now, it was the moment to choose for yourself. If they hadn’t always denied you any other vision of the world, if they hadn’t forbidden you to have the experiences that everyone has in their youth, maybe it wouldn’t have happened this way.

His mouth was a thin line, tensed, you looked into his eyes and you saw nothing than dark.

So much different from the gentle detachment he had always shown to everyone, his look was a mixture of concern, agitation, maybe a hint of fear, but most of all - to your great surprise - sexual arousal.

You could see him cracking behind those eyes, you could feel his mind filling with all sorts of questions.

His voice was barely a whisper but sharp as a blade when he finally spoke “Are you even honest with that ‘I am a good christian’ thing? Say the truth”

You hesitated, the uneasiest bitter taste in your mouth.

“I-” your throat felt like atrophied “yes” you tried to say.

“No, you’re not. The least you could do is being fucking honest with Him” he raised his finger pointing it at the ceiling.

You’ve never heard him cursing before.

You looked down feeling the weight of your stomach turn to lead and then concrete and if you thought you were free now you felt even more guilty. 

You said the only thing your brain could think of at that moment and you knew what you were asking for, you knew what it would do to him and you knew that in this way you would drag him down with you. And yet you did it anyway, because desire was stronger than anything, than faith, than lies, than truth.

“I need-I need to repent. Teach me” you pleaded “teach me how to be good”

Something lit up in his gaze, like a spark of hell, a glow of lust.

He turned around and you hungrily followed his every move.

His hands moving expertly, the cupboard opening, him taking out the mass wine and pouring it into a chalice.

You saw him down the entire glass, without hesitation, without a shred of tremor.

You felt like you were watching a hurricane approaching, just waiting for the wind to suck you in without being able to do anything else.

You wanted it. You wanted it to sweep you away, to make you someone else, braver, indomitable, someone who wasn’t afraid to say what she wanted because of a belief that had been instilled in her, someone who was simply herself. 

We are all born with guilt, you told yourself. I am tired, tired of dealing with mine so much.

You just wanted to feel alive, to feel something authentic and fierce, no half measures. 

You wanted to be desired in a way that felt relentless and desperate, like air that is necessary to keep humans alive, something unique and undeniable.

Could Joel read it in your eyes? He was so good at reading people, you could tell it right away. 

He had guessed a lot about you, he had noticed how coffee was a weakness of yours - and his - and he offered you a cup first thing in every meeting.

He had noticed how nervous Danny, a parishioner who liked to play the fool with any woman present, most often in front of his wife, got you and made sure to never leave you alone with him.

He had noticed how much you enjoyed sewing and had assigned you the costumes for the play and praised your work. 

And he did the same with the guitar that day when he saw how enthusiast and curious you were about it. He didn't say it openly, but his gestures spoke for him.

He came closer to you again, bending the chalice to your mouth and said “drink”. Sharp, cold, an order.

At that point you didn’t care it was something you were not supposed to do, forbidden, maybe unholy even, you just drank. 

You were dealing with a part of yourself that always existed but you had put that in a box.

Joel looked into your eyes sternly and said: “Show me the good Christian that you think you are. Pray.”

“What?”

“Pray. Right now” 

“What prayer?” You asked, confused.

“You're not starting off well, you should know that.” He smirked, caught you in fail.

“Act of contrition” you whispered and he nodded “yes. That’s right.”

He was just inches away from you, his crucifix hanging between your bodies, grazing at your stomach. 

You began to recite in a low voice, stumbling over your words, your brain couldn’t think straight:

“O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest… all my sins because of thy just punishments, but most of all because they offended Thee, my God, who art all good and deserving all my love.”

You said it dozen of times before and yet it seemed totally different in that moment. 

Joel took off his rosary, letting it dangle from his hand and swing across your chest. Beads brushed against the cotton bra you wore under your blouse, making your nipples harden, you could feel them pushing against the fabric.

“Go on”

“I- I firmly resolve with the help of Thy grace to sin no more and to avoid the near occasion of sin. Amen”

“Take off your shirt,” he told you in a whisper.

Something shifted inside him “and your bra”

His voice was no longer the same, it came from deep within him, frighteningly authoritarian but to you it seemed like a magic instrument that was hypnotizing you.

You did what he told you. 

You were half naked in front of a man for the first time. It could have happened before, much before, but of course you couldn’t because you never got married. No one was supposed to see your body except the man you were going to take to the altar. That’s what they taught you.

Joel looked at you, entranced, almost in disbelief. You wondered how long it had been since he’d seen someone else’s naked body, what effect it had on him. 

You were more alike than you seemed, both of you denied something because of religion. 

You were both more needy and frustrated than you were allowed to admit. Tension hung in the air like a fog that clouded both of your gazes.

Every time you had talked to him you had noticed the way he looked at you but you thought it was all in your head, like you were a poor naive girl who was building castles in the air, but now you knew that wasn't the case.

It was another thing you shouldn’t have done but you prayed deep down that he wouldn’t decide to stop.

He raised his arm, clutching his rosary. You felt a slash through the air and then a sharp smack on your nipple.

You looked down shocked as the pain quickly turned into a dull pleasure rising from the pit of your tummy, to fade more and more, becoming a tingling sensation.

You liked it.

You wanted more.

He did the same at your other breast and all the breath you had left in your body had slipped past your lips in a lustful sob.

He took one of your nipples between his fingers, twisting and pinching it and you couldn’t help but moan. A sound you never made for no one and you made it first for a priest.

His body pushed you against the wall, his breath on your neck, his fingers didn't stop torturing your nipple. Everything you saw was red. Red like the passion you had never felt before, red like the blood that pulsed in your veins, red like sin.

“Kneel” he said firmly.

You were equal parts scared of making a fool of yourself and eager to try.

You knelt down, feeling the cold of the floor touch your shins. 

His eyes were as uncertain as yours, it was new territory for both of you but you saw a flame burning in him and you felt it inside you. 

His face was serious, tense, as if he was ashamed of what he was doing but couldn't contain. 

He was punishing you and punishing himself at the same time.

You weren’t afraid though, you were ready to face what was eating you up and you trusted Joel for some reason. You could see in him that he wouldn’t hurt you. At least not more than you wanted.

Your tentative fingers undid his pants, letting them sag around his ankles. A pronounced erection protruded from his boxers as his eyes almost begged you, they weren’t cruel and ruthless eyes, but rather needy and guilty.

You moved your hand closer to his crotch, hesitating for a moment before placing it there, testing the sensation, opening your fingers around it to realize how thick it was. You could feel the heat through the fabric. You caressed it, feeling the tremor that shook Joel's body. Your eyes couldn't tear themselves away, it was the first time you had seen one in person, you were amazed and attracted. You continued to caress him until you heard a grunt leave Joel’s lips and a stain wet the front of his boxers. You were struck by how much he was growing under your hand and the smell, like musk, pungent but not unpleasant.

You remembered the videos you had seen, how women did it, looking into the men's eyes lustfully, with a confidence and naturalness you had never acquired. You wanted to be like them, but you were afraid of being ridiculous or grotesque.

You slowly pulled down his boxers, gasping at the sight of his cock springing free. 

Joel had his eyes fixed on you, they were encouraging somehow, he made you feel safe but the trembling of your fingers did not stop. You took his shaft in your hand again and were surprised at how soft his skin was there, velvety. You watched that thin layer of skin retract as you moved your hand up and down like you had seen in the videos, it felt incredible. It was heavy, hot and throbbing. It was uncut. His big balls hanging right under. You ran your thumb over the tip, collecting the pre-cum that was leaking, spreading it around.

Joel was quiet, he let you do it.

He was touch starving, just like you.

You lowered your head and licked him, just with the tip of your tongue. A timid lick, like a kitten.

His taste, matching the musky scent you could smell, invaded your mouth in an instant. You had never tasted anything like it. You braced yourself, while Joel waited, and licked once more, this time starting at the base and working your way up.

Joel groaned.

You pulled away, looking into his eyes, he brought a hand to your cheek and then to your chin and took it in his palm. 

“You are so beautiful” he whispered.

And you felt beautiful, you felt like someone was really seeing you for the first time. And you loved that that someone was him.

You took a deep breath and lowered your head onto his cock, you knew you couldn't fit it all in your mouth, but you wanted to take as much as you could.

“Don’t force yourself” Joel murmured as your lips touched his skin, causing another whine.

“I want to do it” you replied resolutely, you were loving hearing him whimper beneath you.

His length slid across your tongue, wet and salty, your lips closing around it.

You closed your eyes and focused on that feeling, just holding it there, nestled inside.

“Suck it,” Joel commanded gently, bringing a hand into your hair and twining his fingers there.

You were unsure how to do it, you tried to suck it in as if you were using a large straw, with all the breath you had.

Joel flinched, almost losing his balance “Easy, baby” he muttered

You pulled away again, eyes widened “oh my god, I’m sorry” almost afraid of having hurt him but he immediately reassured you "no it's okay, just... go slower, go slower if you don't want me to come right away”

“Uh- okay” responding timidly to the smile that was spreading across his face.

You began to suck again more calmly, holding the base tightly with your hand, feeling it pulsate between your fingers and on your tongue.

It was an addictive sensation, spreading through your synapses like a drug.

Obviously you had never tried any drugs, but you imagined that the sensation might be similar to something like that.

Joel still held your head, his grip tightening as you continued, you could feel his body tense and respond, and you liked it. You liked it more than you ever liked putting on your Sunday best and going to say prayers with your parents like you always had.

There was actually a prayer that was ringing in your head and it was Joel's, who softly repeated "just like that, you're being so good to me”

It was exhilarating.

You felt like you had a true gift, for once in your life.

An obscene gift, but still.

You had the courage to run from your mom and dad and then at what felt like a minute later you found yourself there, naked from waist up, on your knees, sucking a priest cock.

You’ve never felt more alive.

Deep down you were exactly that person there, not a whore like everyone you knew would say. Just a woman, a woman who wanted what other women wanted. Sex, pleasure, being important to someone or just not being condemned to do what others wanted for you.

You continued to suck as Joel's breathing became heavier and more labored.

At that point he was just uttering disconnected phrases like “oh my God” and “Yes, go on”, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

Suddenly he started shaking violently, almost falling, as something warm and sticky hit your throat. You knew what it was and you were eager to swallow, as you had seen done in so many videos.

A little of it slipped from your lips, down your chin, onto your neck.

Joel's hand was still in your hair, it almost hurt but it was a delicious pain that you were enduring, a small punishment for the rush of adrenaline and excitement that was coursing through you.

You kept holding his cock in your mouth until you felt it relax.

“Get up,” Joel said gently, still out of breath, as he was fixing his boxers and pants.

Your knees almost gave out, you leaned against the wall feeling wetness on your panties.

Joel came closer to you, placing a hand on your cheek, pulling you into a deep kiss that left you stunned for a second and then you were more than happy to reciprocate. His tongue in your mouth explored feverishly, you wondered if he could taste himself from your lips.

He pulled out saying “I’ve never done anything like this before” and you replied “me neither.” 

And then he was on your lips again, nibbling at your lower one, placing his hand on your thigh, raising it under your skirt, up to your drenched panties, grazing them with his fingers.

You squirmed, moaning a “yes, please” from down your throat, a tingle spreading on your outer lips, in your tummy, up to your chest.

He put his hand inside your panties, brushing your skin.

“What should I do with you?” He asked, in an almost desperate tone, as if he knew he couldn't stop and was asking permission not to.

“Make me come” you pleaded “Please.”

He sighed, pulling your panties aside and sliding his index and middle fingers between your folds, gathering your wetness up to your clit, starting circling it as you writhed. 

It was different than when you did it yourself, his fingers bigger and stronger, his touch a little clumsy but still effective and intoxicating.

His mouth landed on your neck, stifling a moan, sucking a hickey where it joined your shoulders, nibbling hungrily at your skin.

“Have you ever done this before?” 

“Just…me” 

He smirked “have you ever put your fingers inside you?” 

“I- yes.” there were no point on beating around the bush, you told him that you touched yourself thinking about him. You were already deep down into that dizzy. 

“Put your fingers in me” you added immediately “I want to feel them, please Joel, I want to know what they can do to me” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes, yes.” You breathed.

He prodded at your entrance,  just a little bit, making you whine just with his fingers tip.

The rosary lay abandoned on the floor, you could see it out of the corner of your eye and you didn't care about that eyewitness symbol of what was happening between you two.

You would have liked him to put it around your neck while he fucked you, fully participating in that sinful act. 

You were surprised yourself at what you were thinking but somehow it made you even more eager.

You felt two of his fingers sink inside you, filling that void that you had never been able to fill enough on your own, stretching you. 

It hurts a little at first because they were bigger than yours, but then it was more heavenly than anything else. If you were made for anything, it was to be there in that moment.

Joel looked ecstatic “God, she’s so… wet” he whispered “and warm” His face was the representation of pleasure, lips slightly parted, his eyes wide, his pupils dilated, his heavy breathing blowing on your neck.

He began to move his fingers inside you rhythmically, each thrust making you shake and sob, a litany of “yes” coming out strangled from your mouth.

He went slowly, taking his time, as if he was savoring every second of your pussy tightening around his fingers.

He placed his other hand on your breast again, cupping and squeezing and then twisting your nipple. Big hand full of your tit.

It was beautiful. You didn’t know how or why people could deny themselves that, but you certainly wouldn’t do it again, not after having Joel inside you. He curled his fingers, looking for the right way to make you feel the pleasure you wanted, the one you kept asking for.

“You like that, baby?” He asked with an hopeful tone

“It feels so good, so good” you told him, clinging to his neck, digging your nails into his soft skin as you felt like you were losing your mind. You didn't care about losing it, your mind had ruled your life for so, so long.

“Please don’t stop” you murmured, tightening your other hand on his wrist, guiding him “don't stop”

You felt your essence slowly leaking out of you, spreading over Joel's fingers and your outer lips, you had never been so soaked, never so much as under Joel's touch.

Your eyes suddenly fixed on that little piece of white cloth that was around his neck, that little piece that made all the difference in the world and made what you were doing terribly wrong in the eyes of others and God and Joel kissed you again like a man deprived and starved, his lips trembling and dramatic, asking silently for more and more, like they were drinking from yours.

He was all over you, like a sailor through a  violent storm, he clung to whatever he could, as if it were a matter of life and death. 

Tasting him like this, the smell of his skin, his warmth, his clerical clothes rubbing against your half-naked body, made your head spin.

You moved your hand onto his collar, grasping it with your fingers, pulling it, until it came undone, you squeezed it as you came copiously, repeating Joel's name and God's, cutting off your moans, abandoning your head on Joel's shoulder.

It was all too much and yet not enough, you wished it would never end. Joel held you tight, one hand moving behind your back, as his fingers continued to sink into you. The blinding pleasure that had invaded every fiber of your body was raging like hell’s flames inside you, like a sinful but also purifying fire, wrong and right, heavenly and hellish.

And then it slowly faded, giving way to a sense of satisfaction that had never belonged to you.

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, hard and demanding again.

Joel grunted, pulling his fingers out of you, taking them to his lips, gathering your juices with his tongue.

“I want… I want your cock, Father” you whispered, at that point you felt greedy, delirious, drunk on sex.

His eyes widened, being called “Father” was making him even more aroused and dizzy.

You grabbed his balls from above his pants, holding your hand tightly on them “please, Joel”.

If you were going to Hell for this, you might as well go all the way.

Joel pushed you against the table on the other side of the room, making you sit on it, unzipped his pants again, pulling out his cock without hesitation, as if he had finally accepted his fate.

His fingers were big but his cock… you wondered how it would all fit inside you.

“I’ll go slowly” Joel reassured you “It will fit” he said, brushing your folds with the tip, aligning his cock with your entrance, as if he had guessed your thoughts. His eyes were blacker than ever as he prodded his shaft past through your lips.

It felt overwhelming, so big and pulsing, it hurt but you almost immediately felt a fullness that you had never felt and a sense of belonging, your pussy opened like a bud, widening and molding for him.

If you were made for anything, it was to be there in that moment.

“She’s tight, so damn tight” Joel gawked “fuck” 

You whimpered, looking at his face, so serious, pleasure written all over it and you felt like it was right, it had to be right if it was that good.

“Make me yours, Father, make me good” you pleaded. 

Joel growled as he slid in and out of you, slamming against your walls, your pussy making obscene squelching sounds every time he moved, dripping all over his cock and the table.

It didn’t even seem embarrassing to you to be so inexperienced, you both were. You didn’t know if Joel had had sex before but you guessed he hadn’t had it in a long time anyway. 

You didn't know if it was the way it was supposed to be but you felt like it was natural, not like in the videos you'd seen which were probably mostly choreographed to please the eye.

It was sex. Pure and simple. Urgent, hungry, even uncontrolled.

And the way your body reacted, melting like wax under Joel's hands, arching into his touch, bending to his will, and seeking all the friction you could get, told you that this was the right way for you.

“See?” Joel mumbled “You’re taking me so well, baby, a perfect angel for me”

You twisted your legs behind his back, pushing him against you as much as you could, kissing the exposed skin on his neck. It drove you crazy that he was still dressed, you wanted to rip off his shirt and run your hands down on him, feel his warm skin on yours so you did it. You placed your hands on both sides and you just popped every button, revealing his broad chest, feeding your eyes with every single detail and your fingers with every shape and curve.

“Never had a cock inside before but that pussy is made for mine, I swear to God she is” he started desperately rutting into you, deeper strokes every time, taking God’s name in vain, murmuring some prayers while he pounded into you. You could feel his big vein brushing at your walls, his big mushroom hammering your cervix, the most intense rapture you’ve ever felt.

He pulled at your hair, forcing you to look him in the eye, murmuring “that’s what you wanted, huh? Dragging me to hell with you?”

Your eyes filled with tears at the thought. It was true, somehow you corrupted him, but you were willing to face that just to feel something so strong. You weren’t sure about him though.

But again, he was there, right there with you, with his cock inside your cunt and you didn’t force any of it, he could say no, he could stop, but he choose the sin. Now blaming you wasn’t so saintly nor kind, but you understood why he did that. He needed to blame someone other than himself, and you were there, open arm taking the weight for him.

Your ass slid back and forth on the wood of the table with each thrust, one of his hands was on your nipple again while the other held you behind your back. He then moved to your clit, applying pressure on it, circling it with two fingers.

You looked down only to see his cock sinking between your lips, his balls bouncing and the bush of hair that adorned his groin glistening with your juices.

You could smell the sex in the air, your mingling scents becoming one, your pleasure merging and becoming one as he shot huge spurts of cum into you.

He muttered a prayer, asking God for forgiveness, his voice exhausted, hoarse, broken by orgasm.

And then you woke up.

Your room was quiet, the crucifix that your mom gave you hanging on the wall behind your bed.

It took a few seconds for your sleepy, blurry gaze to settle on it, you were sweaty and shocked.

You closed your eyes, shutting them and cursing under your breath. 

You unrolled your body from the sheets and then stood up and picked up the crucifix. Your days as a good, God-fearing girl were over.

A/n: if you don't know what is dream and what is reality in the story at this point, that's what I wanted, I hope it's not too confusing but I wanted to try something new. I hope you liked it and thanks for your time 🩷

[olderthannetfic]

I accidentally killed my own desire to write, and I need some advice. To be really blunt about it, what's the point of writing? When I would spend lots of time laboring over making a good story with a plot and characters who were in-character and connecting all the dots narratively so payoffs were satisfying, my reward was dead silence and virtually no clicks. I posted some mindless smut to my side account one day and got more hits in a day than most of my other works combined got in a year. I know, I know. "Write for ~*~yourself~*~" is the common response. It's the "be yourself!" of writing. It's supposed to be a magical phrase that'll make everything okay. But... I don't like knowing that something I spend months working on won't be read by anyone while something I write in a car while bored got thousands of clicks. I don't like making something I'm proud of and then no one ever looks at it. That's not fun for me. It's not fulfilling.

For a solid decade, I've tried to ignore how the level of interactivity in fandom is falling. Fewer comments. Fewer kudos. No comments in the bookmarks. You put your tumblr and Discord in the AN and get a handful of asks and one person who adds you, talks to you twice and then ghosts you. Most of the comments are "well, actuallys", made even more annoying by them being wrong as opposed to actually correcting an error. I avoid fandom drama, wank, and infighting. I don't engage with things I know will make me unhappy. I try to be happy over in my own little corner. I comment on every single work I read. I want people to enjoy fandom. I used to.

Some dumb smut I wrote in 40 minutes gets five times the hits of the writing I'm most proud of, and it gets it in just under three months. I am not a great smut writer. I haven't stumbled onto an incredible talent I had that makes it so the issue is that I'm so amazing my smut brings all the boys to the yard. People just don't like what I write and put effort into. It's very likely that despite 20 years of writing fic, I suck at writing. And people enjoy my writing most when they don't have to put up with anything substantial and can just skip to the sex.

So for the last eight months, when I write, I just sort of give up. Close the Word doc without saving. No one will read this. No one cares about this. There is no fan eagerly awaiting every update like I await updates from my favorite authors. There's not even someone saying, "update soon!" Close the Word doc. Delete old WIPs. There's no point. I do not tell stories worth reading. I used to. In the FFN days people genuinely enjoyed my work. I'd never have had an opportunity to do the 'I won't update until I get 3 reviews' thing because getting that many on a chapter was usually something I'd do overnight. Post before bed. Wake up. Read the reviews before school. I peaked in high school, I guess.

And now I'm just sort of lost. I still have lots of ideas. Ideas for fics fall into my head all the time. That's never been a problem. What I don't have is any motivation to write them. What's the point of writing? If no one else is reading, I guess the point would be so I could go back and read my own story and have fun with it. Write for myself. But I can review the story and have fun with it in my head without writing it down. It's substantially faster and more importantly, isn't incredibly depressing.

So, at the risk of definitely being calld the second-coming of True Art Anon or a troll or validation-seeking or haha mentally ill haha... what's the point of writing?

--

Okay, so write porn in a car while you're bored.

Look, you can whine all you want about my response, but what you've written here is blatantly about depression.

Lots of people in fandom are still interacting. And no, it isn't just on fics that are objectively written to some pro fiction standard or whatever. Teenagers still breathlessly review poorly spelled cracky masterpieces about this year's big anime and so forth.

Yes, there may be reasons why you in particular are in a slump when it comes to fandom friendships or "plz update" comments. We can talk about that. But this ask is all gloom about fandom in general. That's not realism: that's you having a problem.

--

As for why a person should write: because the actual hours you spend doing the writing are fun.

If they aren't pleasurable in some way, find another hobby.

--

But if you want an answer to the age old "Why did my 5 minute fic get 1000000x more asspats", I've seen meta about this for literally decades.

The most likely reason is that the fic we write quickly and without much thought often feels fresher and more fun. The things we labor over endlessly can feel overworked. Even in cases where they don't, they're often heavier subject matter or more niche subject matter. On top of all that, we just care more, so even a high level of feedback doesn't really feel like enough for the effort and care we put in.

--

Do you really need me to tell you why you don't feel the same as in high school when things were fresh and new?

Go read up on combatting burnout or dealing with post-college anxiety or managing stress in a dead-end job in your 30s or finding meaning in your 40s or whatever is going on.

Everyone goes through fallow periods in fandom and in life.

Feeling reinvigorated has to do with internal factors and some general life circumstance stuff. It doesn't have that much to do with number of kudos. That's just the surface trigger for a mood that was already there.

[soaps-mohawk]

I'm so sorry to everyone that I freaked out with the last post, I was trying so hard not to 😭 I have that like instant fear as soon as I see "we need to talk" or something in the same vein. I always think it's something bad.

This isn't bad, at least depending on how your perspective I guess.

So...I'm having thoughts about CRCB in October. I planned out posting schedules for Kyletober and CRCB and my Patreon stuff and it's going to basically be a post every day, sometimes multiple in multiple places.

That's a lot.

So, I am set on doing Kyletober since all of the fics are already written, but I was planning on continuing CRCB during October as well. But...I think I need a little break from CRCB. It's been about eight months of posting almost every single week and it's been a lot. I'm struggling with chapters right now and with work it's vastly limiting the time I have to write and focus on things and I'm kind of burning out right now.

So, what I wanted to discuss was potentially putting CRCB on hold for October while I focus on Kyletober and everything involved with that. Trying to do both is a lot and I'm not sure I can handle all of it, plus life, plus work.

I was planning on not necessarily putting CRCB on hold, but doing more of a "whenever I can/am inspired" random posting chapters kind of like I did in the beginning when I first started writing the fic, in November/December because those are very busy months and I will be dead tired from work and just general life.

I think I might still do that for November/December and possibly into the new year since there's no way the fic will be finished even if I posted every week until the end of December.

BUT

That's something I'll think about and make a decision on later.

Right now, my thought is...would you hate me if I put CRCB on pause in October? IF I do, I promise I won't end Chapter 39 on a cliffhanger. I wasn't planning on it anyway, but I promise I won't end it on a cliffhanger if I decide not to post any chapters in October.

That way if I do put it on pause, then I can not focus on it for a bit and give my brain a refresh, and I can also focus all my energy on Kyletober.

So yeah, it's going to be a lot doing both at the same time, and honestly I'm ready for a little break from CRCB. It's been going for a long time and it's a lot of words to get out in a week. I've been super stressed lately and I'm just struggling a lot trying to get through chapters.

So yeah. That's basically the dilemma here and the discussion to be had. I know y'all will tell me it's my blog and I can do whatever I want, but I would like opinions on it. Are y'all okay with me putting CRCB on hold to focus on Kyletober? Then pick it back up for probably just whenever I can chapter updates for the rest of the year? In January things will calm down and I'll have more time to relax and write and maybe get close to finishing the story. Plus I know a lot of my readers will be busy the next three months with the holidays and vacations and family and school and all of that, so you won't have to worry about getting behind and having to catch up with a bunch of chapters.

So...let me know...

[autumnmist101]

Hermit Head-cannons

Hello! I've been wanting to share some of my hermitcraft head-cannons and seen @silly-st4rrr was wanting to see some. So, thank you to them for giving me a reason to share. <3

General Head-cannons:

Hybrid hermits can morph forms on command or intentionally keep certain parts of each form on them at all times. However, they can also morph or go into full form involuntarily from things like nightmares, flashbacks, or just being around similar creatures for too long.

All mammal hybrids must get vaccinations yearly.

Hybrids can form in a number of ways. Some formed from contact with a creature’s DNA, some are born with the form, while others have been. . . magically infused with a form.

Traffic life victors recall all memories and emotions and trauma from the games. Non-victors recall major parts and major emotions, however, forget most of what happened.

When someone perma-dies in the games, they are immediately teleported back to hermitcraft/empires.

All worlds are connected via void, however, can be traversed via rifts, portals, teleporting, and through a main hub with shopping areas. (how do you think hermits get new clothes?) Group/duo head-cannons:

Pearl and Grian were inseparable the first week she was on the server.

Hermit Parent Club (HPC): Doc, Keralis, Joe Hills, Impulse, Skizz, Tango, Bdubs, Stress, and Beef (newest member) meet once every 2 months.

Gem, Pearl, and Mumbo will make up problems for when anyone in the Hermit Parent Club needs to feel parental.

Mumbo still wants a tower building rematch with Gem, who refuses to give him one.

Boatem still has sleepovers together monthly.

Scar and Pearl have an avoidance of chorus fruit and refuse to explain why to Grian.

It is now a rule that the ZITS crew must take a minimum of iron armor to ‘naked whatever raiding’.

Mumbo and Pearl will secretly eat red-stone torches together. Mumbo is the supplier.

Joe will supply Mumbo with redstone when he needs it. (He doesn't ask why he needs it.)

Doc and Ren have been trying to create the perfect dog treat. Problem is neither of them can bake.

Pearl and Bdubs will confide in each other on days where they feel too tall/short.

Afab hermits meet for Ladies Night at least once a month.

Bdubs and Scar still call Cleo 'Mom' from time to time.

Cleo and Pearl will talk about the games and how they wish things could have been different in DL.

That's all for now. I do have individual hermit head-cannons, but this post is long enough. Hope you enjoyed! <3

[ghostradiodylan]

Probably a lukewarm take, but other than the (lack of an) ending, the Laura and Ryan scenes are some of the worst written and conceived parts of The Quarry.

And this is completely separate from whether Ryan is interested in Dylan (he is, but that's another post and not important to this rant) or Kaitlyn; even if Ryan had no other potential relationships in the game, even if Laura wasn't practically married to Max, wearing his ring around her neck the entire time they're talking, it still would feel flat to me because nothing about it is earned.

Laura is on a killing spree with the single-minded goal of saving Max. She genuinely believes the only way to do that is to kill Chris Hackett. Even if you've made her argue with Max to the extent that they can, they're still a strong unit when she goes out to solve this werewolf thing once and for all. Even if you don't believe in love think their relationship would survive all this trauma, she deeply believes she owes it to him to rescue him, that is her entire guiding ethos during the game.

Ryan is going with her to try to keep that from happening because Chris has been his friend and mentor for years. We know Ryan has an absent mother, unmentioned father, and a potentially turbulent family life, and he's been coming to HQSC for so long that it feels like home to him, that Chris and his kids feel like family. Laura has already killed Kaylee. Even if Ryan completely bought into the werewolf thing by now, that would be a tough pill for him to swallow, given his reaction to her death.

Then, they fall in the titular Quarry and suddenly have the option to express a completely unearned sort of camaraderie with each other. Why is Laura asking Ryan about his love life in the first place? The question about him being single makes sense as a dig, but it doesn't make any sense for her to ask about him being a 'brooding and mysterious loner' because... she hasn't actually seen him do anything brooding or mysterious? How did she even get that impression? If Laura's got some kind of borderline psychic intuition then this is really the worst possible use of that ability--she should have foreseen her need to go to that motel and stay the fuck out of locked storm shelters instead.

It doesn't make a lick of sense for her to say that Kaitlyn looks up to him either. She hasn't seen that. Hell, we as players haven't even seen that! Kaitlyn seems generally tolerant of but unimpressed by Ryan. She has the option to be impatient with him multiple times and even get the chyron that she's ‘losing respect’ for him if he suggests she take the gun and go after Nick instead. This seems like an objectively good idea, since she's a much better shot than Ryan, a fact which the game keeps telling us despite refusing to give her a gun until the last possible second, though maybe the concern is that she'd have to drag Nick back to the campfire herself. (Honestly, I think Kaitlyn could do it, I think she's like a mighty ant who can lift many times her own weight, but that's not what this post is about.)

Ryan, for his part, shouldn't really be willing to talk about any of this with Laura either. He canonically doesn't even want to talk to his coworkers about his animation school decision (in the office scene with Dylan and at the campfire with Emma if you choose truth like a lunatic) and he's known them for at least two months, if not for years attending the same camp. But he met Laura a few hours ago and is suddenly willing to spill his guts about who he does or doesn't have a crush on and who does/doesn't have 'the hots' for him, despite the only experience they have together being her leaving his friend of several years dead facedown in a pool and expressing a strong desire to kill his father figure? I simply do not buy it.

I'm not sure if this was supposed to go along with the relationship system that they scrapped or what (there's not a single shred of Ryan and Laura stuff in the datamine that I've been able to find), but all it really serves to do is muddy the waters by trying to force some level of intimacy on Ryan and Laura before the big confrontation at the Hackett House. But that confrontation itself should have been the thing that forged that intimacy between them and allowed them to go on to fight Silas together.

Overall, I think it's a major sign that the back third of the game got a very rushed and, frankly, bad chop job (which we know is true) and that they struggled to tie the resulting loose threads off in a way that made any kind of narrative sense. It's a shame, because the writing in The Quarry is actually way better than most people give it credit for, it just wasn't allowed to pay off in a lot of ways that clearly were intended.

[scriptfree]

Alright finally! I have these pages out!

I've been excited to post these pages for a long time and hope you all like them! Man! Working on a comic is hard and I spent so long trying to be satisfied with how consistent the style and rendering is but it's finally in a place where I feel it's alright.

I hope you enjoy and I have a few more rough chapters coming out. The chapters come as I have time and I will be moving within the month so I wanted to put this out there before I have no time to even pick up a pencil.

Please give me feedback, I would appreciate it.

And I also need some extra support for commissions so I would appreciate some help spreading the word around! I still have the reduced prices and am willing to negotiate prices depending on the project.

Anyways, it's 3am here so I should sleep. Have a good night/morning wherever you are!

Edit:

I just really liked this other version of page 6 so I'll put it down here below the bar. I had a serious debate whether or not I should use this one but decided against it since the other one showed more detail. But this one somehow makes the villain look more epic or powerful. I dunno.

[heartfeltcherie]

PERIOD COMFORT WITH LUCIFER

that man built like a portable heater

he probably purrs too

DOUBLE DATE ᡣ𐭩

❀ summary; lucifer comforts you during that time of the month

❀ what to lookout for; descriptions of monthly, lucifer being a dork

❀ extra notes; i"m back from my trip! i actually got back yesterday but i wanted a day to just relax but now, have this draft that i've been waiting to post!

- when you get your time of the month, it hits hard and ever so painfully.

- it sometimes causes you to feel so ill that you can do nothing but curl up in a ball with a heating pad to stop the pain.

- when lucifer finds out that you’ve started your monthly, it doesn’t matter if there’s a meeting scheduled or if he’s made plans to work on more dubber ducks — he’s at your service.

“do you need anything else? more advil? another blanket? another pillow? i could get you some chocolate, i heard it’s really good for easing cramps-”

“luci!” you interrupt him from his rambling.

“what?! what’s wrong?! are you okay?!” he’s kneeling beside you on the couch, eye level with you.

“i’m good. everything is perfect. thank you”

lucifer takes your hand, kissing the inside of your palm then resting it against his cheek.

“you’re perfect”

- when you’re napping, he always makes sure that you’re heating pad is turned on and at the highest heat because he knows that’s how you like it.

- back on the chocolate thing, he will sit beside you on the couch with your head resting on a pillow on his lap, feeding you a chocolate bar piece by piece.

- will make it his duty to rub/massage your back and carry you around in his arms at the slightest mention of back or hip pain.

“maybe i should make it a new rule that every man has to try a monthly cramps simulator, just to see what women go through every month”

“luci, honey, you can barely handle when you stub your toe”

❀ word count; too lazy to count

reblogs/hearts/comments and all that good stuff are appreciated !

audience; @crystalrayn @drxgonspine @alastorthirsty @speedycoffeedelight

© heartfeltcherie

[wc-confessions]

An unsanitary TW is probably needed but it's just for the character name

So when I was 12, I was active on this Warrior Cats roleplay site called the Animal Jam Clans Wiki (a FANDOM site dedicated to WC Roleplay, specifically for roleplay based in Animal Jam, a children's MMO from the 2010s, although they did have forums and Discord-based roleplay groups on the site too) and back then, I really wanted to be popular on that site and have a character that everyone liked and ask to roleplay with, etc, etc. One day, my dad made a (very much stolen and terrible) joke about yellow snow since it was snowing that day, and my pre-teen brain immediately went "Ah! I should make a character named Yellowsnow!" since I thought that having an incredibly stupid character name would get me attention. And it did. It very much did

He became a pretty popular character on the site to the point where even a couple of years after I stopped roleplaying as him, I introduced myself to someone I never met as the person who created Yellowsnow and they knew who I was and who the character was. I also got fanart unprompted a couple of times

Although he began as a joke character, he grew into a more and more serious character that honestly is near and dear to my heart strangely enough? I've changed his name since then, but I don't feel comfortable posting about him nowadays because of his old name. I don't know, it just doesn't feel right people not knowing what his old name was if I post about him since it was pretty gross and all. Either way, hope this was okay to send here (I double-checked the rules but I still wasn't sure), I just wanted to get it off my chest since it's been on my mind for the past couple of months

.

[solradguy]

Kind of heavy.

The other day I saw a video of a Russian soldier surrendering to a Ukrainian drone. He had gaunt cheeks, his leg was covered in blood, he had wide, staring, eyes. Someone pointed out he was wearing a wedding ring. There were bomb craters all around him. He cowered when the drone got too close. He couldn't have been much older than me.

One of the comments said something sort of like, "In the early internet you would have to go to specific websites to see grievously wounded children, graphic footage from wars, the last words of condemned men. Now you can find it on the front page of every social media site. You can rewatch the death of a human being with a family at home, with hobbies and a favorite meal, from thousands of miles away through the eyes of machines, recorded in languages you will never know."

And we encourage others to watch these videos and look at these photos. Why? Who is it really helping? Is feeling like we're sharing in their suffering by watching and spreading them through some morbid sense of justice as good as actually doing something? It is good to be aware of these issues, we need to know what's going on in places like Ukraine, Lebanon, and Palestine right now, but man... I can't take this anymore

I'm sorry if I unfollow some people. There is only so much I can blacklist and some things still get through it. I've been in a pit this entire year and I hop online to catch up with friends and interests and it's just endless death and doom. I follow some world news outlets and still get updates on things that way, but I seriously need to make changes to my personal online spaces.

The drone video I saw yesterday and the comment with it have been rattling around my mind for a few days now. Watching these things isn't helping anyone or anything. I know things are bad, I know people need help. Making myself watch these anyway, like it's raising some "awareness" or something, is just making me depressed, cranky, and isolationist.

I hardly draw anymore unless someone pays me to. My 3D printer has a layer of dust on it. Translations I could have done months ago sit unopened in my editor. I've been kind of downplaying how bad this year has been but it has been bad. I don't think I've been in a headspace like this since I was in high school. I'm like a friggin cat and don't like it when people worry for me so I stay quiet about it and just get grumpy instead lol

I hate unfollowing people and breaking mutuals with friends, but I seriously need to, and I'm sorry...

I understand I really didn't need to make a post like this and could have just quietly unfollowed people, but I'm making it anyway to hopefully encourage other people in dark mental pits to make similar changes for the better to their spaces.

[tallyica]

Uh Dave x reader. Dave wants reader but unfortunately reader is already dating (any member from Metallica) so when reader broke up with (Metallica member) for some reason, he started talking to reader and eventually ended up together. reader is way happier with Dave.

(Kinda basic but I know you’ll make it great 😍)

hihi!!

omg I'm actually posting a very long fic after threatening to quit writing..

also ily Kay this is a good req I LOVE James and Dave dynamic stuff (anything having to do with revenge or jealousy, if youre a writer PLS write some and tag me..) so i loved this req

anywayssss

word count: 4,515 (I think my longest one to date)

warnings: angst, break up, cheating, drinking, fluff, mention of drugs (once), kinda corny, rushed but slow at the same time, way too similar to that one mustainegf fic

A CHANGE, FOR THE BETTER. (1987-1990)

Once again the apartment was cold and empty. It wasn't actually empty; it was filled by James and me. We were on opposite sides of the couch, avoiding each other. IT had been like this for months. We hadn't hugged, kissed, held hands, gone out, anything that normal couples do. He was quiet, which differed from how he was with his friends, including me. Though, this hadn't been different for a while. I've almost gotten used to it, but not emotionally. No matter how hard I try, he seems like he isn't there. The more I thought about it, the more it settled in, the more it hurt. The more I felt I needed to talk about it.

I finally broke the painful and dead silence between us, “What up with you, You've been weird with me for months?” I asked, finally turning my head to face him. He wasn't looking at me, or anything. He was hunched over, his blonde locks blocking the view of his face as he stared at the floor.

James let out a huff in response, shrugging.

This was going to be a long, and very difficult conversation.

James would get like this when there was something on his mind. Something big, but normally it would spill over before this point, he normally would just be like this for a week or two before confessing whatever was hurting him, and I would hold him and comfort him as he cried.

I sighed, moving closer to him, and placing my hand on his back, but he retracted from my touch, something I had gotten used to.

“James, talk to me, please..?” I asked softly, though I was willing to beg to have what we had back.

He just shook his head, adjusting slightly and sitting back, letting me see his stressed and confused expression. “What's bothering you? Tell me, I know that something is wrong..” I tried again, my eyes on his, but his were on the black TV screen.

I tried to move closer to him, my hand on his knee as I tried to get him to even look in my general direction, “James, look at me,” I asked more than commanded.

His eyes wandered in my direction, but landing on the couch cushions under me. It was a start at least. “Can you just say something, please?” I asked again, keeping my tone gentle.

He took a deep, long sigh, mumbling something I couldn't hear, couldn't understand.

Or maybe I did, but I didn't want to.

“What?” I asked, refusing to believe any of this was real as tears stung my eyes.

James just repeated himself, the words falling from his lips like shards of glass.

I shook my head, standing from the couch as the tears began to fall down my face. Knowing of the other woman, I was broken. I was pacing, and he didn't even look at me.

“Are you serious?! Why?! Was I not good enough for you?! We could've talked, we could've worked things out!” I cried, my stomach twisting in a tight and sorrowful knot.

He didn't look like he had any emotions on his face, but I could sense and feel the guilt and pain that clouded him. Every word he spoke only brought more tears to my eyes, each one punctuated with a sharp and sad pain I felt in my heart, eyes, mind, everywhere.

I was trembling as I shook my head, for some reason I refused to believe any of this, or that this was real. I began to waddle towards the kitchen counter, filled with hurt and rage, grabbing my car keys and purse.

“Where are you going?” James asked, his own voice shaky with guilt and regret.

“Away.” I answered harshly, beginning to walk back to the door.

“Please, we can fix this, just.. Just stay with me, ok?” James begged almost, though he wouldnt even stand up to face me, eyeing muy figure from the comfort of the couch. One that held many memories of us.

I shook my head, “No, no, I.. I need to go..” I mumbled, reaching for the door handle and leaving hearing James call out for me as I shut the door, stumbling to my car, getting in and beginning to drive fast and far, no clue where I was headed. It was late at night, probably past ten pm. Tears strung down my face, puddling on the shirt I was wearing, which I realized was James’ shirt. That didn't help, making me sob harder as the faint and musty smell of beer and smoke fumed from his shirt, reminding me of him too much.

After twenty minutes or so of driving, I came past a run down hotel, hearing the soft pitter patter of rain hit the roof of my car, the clouds matching my eyes. I parked, scurrying into the lobby, an older and tired woman at the front desk, noticing the clear sadness that radiated off me.

We had a brief interaction, paying for my room before wandering up to the beat door, the well cleaned room before me.

I stepped in, shutting the door behind me before falling onto the bed, everything hitting me as I began to break down and cry. The man I had once cherished, loved, my everything and world was gone, no longer who I knew. No matter how guilty he felt or regretted it, or how drunk he was, he still did it. It hurt, and it hurt horribly. Someone I poured every ounce of my love and my being into threw me out for some shitty drunken fling with some random slut.

It wasn't long before I cried myself asleep, awaking with a harsh headache, trying to put back together everything that had happened. The words rang in my ears, twisting in me like a punch to the stomach. Instead of sadness, it was just anger and hurt. Tears couldn't come to my eyes, just a cruel, upset feeling I couldn't name.

I laid on that bed for a few hours, the soft hum of electricity filling my ears as I got lost in thought. I had woken up at three pm, and it was now six. I had to get out, do something, talk with someone. Why not go to a bar, get a drink, take the edge off and maybe talk to someone to distract myself.

I went into the bathroom, wiping the black streaks of mascara and other smudged makeup off my face, fixing my hair as much as I could without a brush or any products before checking out and walking back down to my car.

I just drove around, going a bit further out of town on the off chance I may run into James.

Then I saw it, the dark building with a pink neon sign on the outside, not looking too busy on the inside but still a good amount of people. 

I felt I had been here before. Maybe a few years back, maybe a few nights ago.. I wasn't sure, but there was a comforting familiarity as I walked in.

I ordered a drink, sitting at the bar as I picked at my nails, watching the football game on the TV. Not that I cared much for sports, but it was a start for a distraction.

I sat in there for maybe several minutes before my drink was ready, the bartender handing it to me as I began to sip on the bitter liquid, sighing softly as I tried to relax.

I felt a tap on my back, confused and surprised, I turned around.

Then I saw him.

Dave Mustaine, a man I hadn't seen in person for about four years. He was on the rise of the metal world, finally earning his own independent name. Our eyes met, and we instantly recognized each other.

Dave smiled, chuckling to himself, “Where the hell have you been?!” He asked happily, and I forced a smile back.

“I haven't gone anywhere, still been here. Where the hell have you been?” I asked back, hoping this conversation could take me away from this ruin I have been placed in.

He shrugged, “About, just becoming the next big face in the metal scene..” He answered back in a cocky way, as usual.

Seeing him in this bar, made all those old memories flood back. This is where I first met Dave, finally realizing why this place seemed so familiar. James and I had been friends about a year before he formed Metallica, and I remember him asking me to come to this bar with him to go meet his bandmates. I met Lars, Ron, and of course, Dave. 

Dave was still fiery as ever, never changing from his previous self. 

We began to talk, catching up on the years of missed time together, the once strong bond we had slowly reforming.

I remembered the first time I came to one of the band's practices. It was at James’ garage, and Ron and Lars had already left. It was just the three of us, but James was in the house. Dave and I chatted for what felt like hours, and quickly became close and good friends. We had a lot in common, so we got along well.

Then, Dave asked me a question, snapping me out of my thoughts of the past.

“So, how’s things with James? You guys still a couple?” Dave asked, clearly not meaning anything negative, but I felt it.

The question made my stomach twist in a knot, reminding me of the bitter end I had with James last night. I glanced to the floor, my expression shifting from positive to anxious in a way.

Dave quickly took notice of my change in demeanor, his expression softening, “Did.. did something happen? What’s up?” He asked, clearly worried.

I sighed, shrugging. Should I tell him this? Ruin our night together? Force him to feel guilty?

But I didn't want to lie to him either, it would be easier to just rip off the bandaid and move on.

“Uhm, we kinda broke up last night..” I mumbled, staring down at our shoes.

Dave's face was struck with realization, nodding slowly with a solemn expression, “Oh shit, sorry to hear. What happened?” Of course he had to dig deeper. And again, who am I to deny him the truth? He wasn't really one to judge.

“Well.. things had just been rough the last few months.. And then he told me that.. He cheated on me..” I answered with a sigh, feeling a slight weight taken off my shoulders as I acknowledged it, but a fifty pound boulder crashing down on my heart.

Dave looked upset, frustrated even. “I told you that fucker was never any good,” Dave reminded me, which brought me back to the night when James had asked me out.

It was the night of the first Metallica show I got to go to, not having work or anything, and I had to be a supportive best friend. After the show, I went backstage, waiting for the band, when James had ran towards me, grabbing my hands and pulling me into his dressing room, very rushedly confessing to me, which had me smiling wide, as I had felt the same from when we first met, but he had as girlfriend at the time.

It was just us, sharing another happy moment together. No one had known that we were official, but I'm sure someone caught onto his crushing, or mine.

It wasn't just that someone caught on, Dave knew. I told him after a few too many drinks, but of course he remembered that one thing.

After we had come out of that dressing room, I went to go talk with Dave, to tell him that everything seemed to be going perfectly for me at that moment, but then he spoke before I could.

“I don't think you should be around James too much man, he enjoys the life on the road a bit too much, if you get what I mean,”.

It was one of the last things he said to me before he got kicked from the band. After I told him we were dating, we drifted apart, and then he was kicked out.

I hadn't thought of those words until tonight. And it only proved that Dave was right. James did enjoy the drinking, groupies, drugs, all of it. It was only a while until I found out, which I did.

I was snapped back to the present hearing the loud whoops and clapping of other patrons of the bar, who were watching the football game on the TV. I nodded in response to Dave's statement, “I know, you warned me the minute after I started dating him.. Guess you were right..” I admitted, and Dave nodded back.

“It pisses me off, y’know?” He began, “You're too good for that shit, especially from a jerk like him.” Dave added.

I just nodded again, and he kept talking. “I guess he just can never see what he had, always wants ‘better’ but he already has what's best. I mean, he threw me out for that Kirk guy, he's no nowhere as good as me! And I’m sure whoever he slept with is just some whore,” He concluded, and I just nodded again.

“You're right… as always, it seems,” I answered back to him, before my thoughts drowned out the world around me once more.

Dave probably understood this better than anyone, at1 least when it comes to being mistreated and betrayed by James. Someone who he considered a brother, a close friend, kicked him to the curb for someone else. And in similar was me. Someone I considered a lover, and closest friend I had, traded me in for another.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Dave asked, calming after his rant.

“No, not really.. I'm staying at a motel a few miles away,” I answered back, and he thought for a moment before speaking again.

“If you want, you could come stay at my place, I wouldn't mind the extra company, it gets pretty lonely there anyways,” He offered, and my eyes lit up, a small hope in my heart.

“Yeah, that'd be great, thanks,” I said with a small smile, a weight lifted off my shoulders.

“We could leave the bar now and get you set up, it's a one bedroom, I don't mind taking the couch until you've figured something out,” Dave suggested.

I quickly shook my head, “No, don't take the couch, it's your place, I'm the guest! I'll take the couch,” I rebutted.

Dave just nodded, “Exactly, you're the guest, you get the best treatment. Plus, it won't be forever, I'll be fine for a few nights.” Dave still noticed hesitation in my eyes, “I insist.” He added.

I sighed, “Fine, if you insist. But don't hesitate asking me to take the couch once in a while, alright?”

Dave just smiled, “Sure.”

After that, we got in our cars and I followed him to his place, a decent apartment complex in the outskirts of town. We parked and he led me to his door, unlocking it and allowing us in.

“Make yourself at home,” He said, setting down his keys and walking towards the bedroom, and I followed him.

“Hope you don't mind the mess, but it'll do.” My nose was overwhelmed with the strong smell of cigarette smoke and liquor, something he had never been able to get rid of even after not seeing him for four years.

It reminded me of James, which made me feel solemn once more. “Thanks, it's fine, I don't mind, you're already offering me all of this,” I added, sitting down on his unmade bed, which he joined me on.

“You alright? You still seem upset,” He questioned, and I could feel tears pricking at my eyes once more.

“Yeah, I'm fine..” I forced out, my voice choked as I wiped the stray tear from my cheek, avoiding eye contact with him.

Dave noticed, tilting his head slightly as his concern grew, “Hey, look at me, you can talk to me, y’know?”

And just like that, I crumbled. Tears filled my eyes, and they spilled right over as I broke out into sobs, and he just wrapped his arms around me, holding me as iI leaned closer to him, soaking his worn and faded shirt with my tears as he gently comforted me and shushed my cries, wiping my tears with his thumbs when he could.

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, just him holding me and caring for me, but in a way James never could, never did. James was sweet when he wanted to be, but he never held me like this and heard my cries and answered them with comfort.

After a while, I had cried myself to sleep, my cries lessening and silencing as my breathing began to even out, and Dave laid me down gently and got me into bed, wrapping the blankets around me before he headed out for the couch.

That was the night where it began, the rekindling of our once close friendship. Even though we had agreed that this wouldn't be permanent, we had now been living together for a few months, and it felt like we had never been separated, as if we had been friends for the last seven years.

Today, we were planning to go back to that bar, the first time since that night we bumped into each other. We both needed to get out, and Dave was beat and stressed over all the touring with Megadeth, and we could both use a drink.

Dave had been out for a bit today, and I was busy getting ready for tonight since he would be home within the hour. It wasn't a fancy occasion, and I was definitely over-dressing, but I hadn't had any reason to look pretty in forever, getting to wear my favorite black dress, once that complimented my figure and hugged my curves, flowing down to a bit above my knees.

I did my makeup, nothing too glam but noticeable, and for the first time in a long time, I felt beautiful. Even when I thought I had previously when I was with James, he never showed an appreciation or complimented me often.

I shook the thoughts of James out of my head, knowing I had to move on, even though much of myself was still left in that past of what we once were.

I was snapped out of my thoughts as I heard Dave open the door, entering the apartment with a sigh. “Im back,” He called out as I finished clipping on my earrings, walking out to Dave.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” I asked him, seeing his face slightly surprised as he took in my figure.

“Yeah, totally.. You, you look great, by the way..” He answered, still taking in my appearance.

I smiled widely, “Thanks! Let's go then, yeah?”

Dave nodded and we headed out to his car, driving back to that bar, per his choice. The drive was filled with conversation and laughter, as we found that there was rarely a moment of silence between us. His hand rested lightly on my knee, and I didn't think much of it, just a sweet and friendly gesture.

When we arrived at the bar, he offered me a hand and helped me out of the car, walking me in the dim lighted and busy establishment as we searched for somewhere to sit, finding an empty table in the corner, quickly scurrying over there before someone else could snag the spot. 

It was a large table, one meant to seat probably around six people as it was a booth. The leather of the seats were well worn, torn in some places. The table matched, scratched up and old, though it held many memories. 

Dave got up to go order us some drinks, returning soon after and sitting down in front of me. We began to talk, but there was something different, and what I hated most about it is that I couldn't put my finger on it. It wasn't anything negative, but everything felt heavier, like I could feel my heart pounding in my chest for a reason I didn't know.

Dave acted off too, like something was bothering him. He was fidgety, his eyes avoiding mine but at the same holding long term eye contact. What was going on with him?

I tried to not think about it as I was probably over analyzing the whole situation. I took a sip of my drink, and for once, there was a lasting silence between us.

I didn't know what to say. The bar wasn't my idea, it was something Dave had planned on a few days ago, and he seemed excited at the time. “Everything ok? You just seem all.. Jittery.” I commented, snapping Dave out of whatever haze of thoughts he was in.

“Yeah, totally,” He muttered, which only grew my curiosity, and sparked a new worry.

Was he on drugs? Well, I knew he was, but was he on too much?

“You're not… on anything right now?” I mumbled out in a question and he shook his head.

“No no, it's not that, I swear.” Dave reassured me, and I had to take his word for it.

Dave tapped his fingers on the table a few times as he thought before speaking up.

“You uh, you remember anything in specific about this place?” Dave asked me out of the blue.

“Uhm,” I paused to think, “Yeah, isn't this where you picked me up a few months ago?”

“Well, yeah, but anything else? Think as far back as you can,” Dave instructed me, and I tried to think.

Until it hit me.

“Oh! Yeah! Isn't this where James took me to meet the rest of the band? We even sat at this booth, right?” I finally remembered, and the memories flooded back as clear as day.

Dave hasn't changed much since then, but I do remember how he was when we very first interacted. He was crazy and animalistic, yeah, but he seemed shy around me, until he had a few beers, and then he was way less tense and boxed up. That was the beginning of our friendship.

“Yeah, I think about that a lot,” Dave informed me, and I nodded.

Dave still seemed off, like he was hiding something from me.

“Dave, what's on your mind? Like actually, something is clearly bothering you,” I was growing impatient with his vague answers, I wanted to know the truth.

Dave sighed, thinking for a moment before speaking, “Well, you remember that night, tha=e first Metallica concert you attended, when I warned you about James, even though you two were already together,” and I nodded.

“Well, when he told you in that dressing room, I overheard it all. I was uhm.. Looking for you too. I got pissed that James had got to say something before I did, and uhm.. I had like.. The fattest crush on you when we first met.. And now that we've grown close again, I think I feel the same wa-” Dave was cut off as I kissed him on the lips, all of our unspoken feelings coming out for each other.

After I pulled away I moved some of his long ginger hair out of his face, gently caressing his cheek as I smiled softly at him.

“I've felt the same since we met too.”

Another influential night, all in this bar. The three times I've come here, three big things happen, always having to do with Dave.

That night was about three years ago now, and Dave and I have been together happily for those three years, now engaged and happier than ever. With the success of MEgadeth's latest album, ‘Rust in peace’, things have been going great for us. He showed me what real love felt like, to be cared for and cherished, all without getting judged.

I had gone to multiple shows with Dave at this point, and this was just another one. They were one of the headliners for a weekend-long festival, and I was more than thrilled to support my fiance.

I listened to loud chords of ‘Holy wars’ as the band began to finish their set, with me sitting backstage. I was at a table, my left hand that wore my gorgeous engagement ring was digging in my purse, until I heard familiar steps behind me.

And then a voice.

“Are you..” I cut them off.

“James? What are you-” I was now in turn cut off by him.

“I'm playing a show. What are you doing here?” The frontman asked me. I was so shocked to have seen him, personally, that is. I knew Metallica would be having a show here, but it wasn't until the next night.

As if the timing was perfect, after James questioned me, Megadeth had come off stage, Dave rushing towards me. “Hey baby, did you like the show?” He asked, leaning down to kiss the top of my head.

“Yeah, it was great..” I answered, still dumbfounded. James looked even more dumbfounded than I did.

Dave looked up, curious at the silence, “What's wro-” He cut himself off, his eyes meeting James.

Daves lips curled into a smirk, knowing now he has the best form of revenge for kicking him out all those years ago. That revenge was me.

“Nice seeing you, James. What's going on with you and my fiance?” Dave bit back a cruel snicker, watching as James just grew more and more confused.

“Oh.. I was just, uhm, saying hi,” James answered, trying to process everything.

I was avoiding James' eyes. How would I explain that after I broke up with him, I met up with his ex bandmate, moved in with him after remeeting, dated after a few months, and engaged after three years.

“Uh-huh… You guys know each other, yeah?” Dave teased, knowing the answer, just wanting to get a rise out of James.

James didn't want to give Dave anymore attention, just nodding.

“Gotta thank you a bit man, I doubt we would have ran into each other again if it wasn't for you being a prick like always,” Dave said bitterly, enjoying this game of shame on James.

James looked slightly guilty, just trying to ignore him.

Dave looked back to me, “Well, I need to go clean up a bit, you can find me if someones bothering ya, sweetheart,” he said to me sweetly, my eyes meeting his before he kissed my cheek and walked away.

James just stared at me for a moment before walking off in another direction, the rest of Metallica showing up finally, Lars leading the three of them, his eyes landing on me.

This was  going to be a long, long weekend.

[bubblegumgothglados]

This is my RACK focused judgment free primer for heavy impact play. It covers every part of the body from head to toe and at no point does it say you can’t do something just the risks of doing so. I don't normally put warnings on my posts but most of my writing is fantasy, this isn't. I'm going to talk about any number of painful deaths and heaps more ways of becoming disabled.

In this primer "you" means the one doing the hitting, "victim" is the one being hit, and "tool" is the thing you're hitting with which could be a fist, foot, hammer, bat, anything. I'm writing it this way because its fun for me.

This primer also assumes you know the different types of impacts and how they affect the body, if you don't go look at my other writings.

Finally i take no responsibility for anything you do. All this information is what i could put together from medical journals and car crash reports if I've got anything wrong (and you can prove it) please let me know.

Enjoy

Head. With hits to the head, the two major concerns are concussions and neck injuries. A concussion occurs when a person’s brain impacts with the inside of their skull, this happens because the brain is suspended in fluid so if the skull stops or starts moving suddenly the brain will move out of sync with the skull. Symptoms of concussions can include headaches, confusion, lack of coordination, memory loss, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, ringing in the ears, sleepiness, and excessive fatigue. If your victim lost consciousness for any length of time and is having trouble speaking or understanding your words, you need to get them to the ER. There is no cure for a concussion but the best treatment is pain medication and activities that won’t tax the brain to give it time to recover. There are any number of ways to damage a neck, but generally it happens when a person’s neck is moved suddenly and violently or pushed past its limit. Minor injuries should heal by themselves within a few weeks but if unlucky pain and stiffness can last months or even years. For more major injuries, physical therapy or a neck brace might be necessary but only if the pain lasts longer than a few weeks. It’s also possible to hit someone hard enough to break their neck or fracture their skull but that takes a lot of force. All of these injuries can be avoided by supporting your victim’s head and neck by bracing their head against a surface or holding their head with your hand.

Jaw. It takes surprisingly little force to dislocate a jaw, you can do so with a good slap Dislocations are talked about in Note 3 at the bottom of this primer. Heavy bleeding from gums or a tooth that feels loose could indicate a fractured root. This is a fairly minor issue and if you see a dentist quickly they should be able to fix it back in place with no lasting damage. A tooth that has been knocked out completely should survive; get your victim to rinse their mouth out and rinse the tooth off and shove it back into the gap, and then have them see a dentist to make sure it’s properly seated and avoid chewing with it for a while.

Eyes. A fun combination of fragile and complicated. There's no first aid tips I can give you and it'll be real obvious if something is wrong. I will say you don't have to hit someones eye to give them a black eye, it’s bruising around the eye socket that matters. Also check Note 1 about the use of ice when treating injuries.

Nose. It’s more difficult than you think to break a nose. You definitely can with a good punch but you'll have to really commit. A broken nose isn't that serious (I've broken mine twice now) and isn't even ER worthy. If your victim is leaning backwards after breaking their nose the blood will run down the back of their throat potentially making them vomit or very sick. There is a chance a broken nose will heal in a way that restricts breathing in which case your victim may need surgery.

Cheek bone. Below the temple but above the gum line, running from just bellow their ear to their nose. Special mention to this spot because it’s the best place to hit your victim in the head (in my opinion). This piece of bone is very sturdy and not that risky to fracture. Plus, when you hit them here they have to watch it coming.

Neck. The windpipe, jugular, cranial nerves, vagus nerve, carotid arteries, and spine all live here and damage to any of these can cause permanent disability or death. Seek medical attention if your victim has trouble breathing or swallowing, or a lot of pain or swelling. Stingy tools are far less risky here than thuddy tools.

Shoulders. Note 2 on joints. The shoulder blades can either be an ideal impact location or one of the most risky depending on how it’s sitting. If the shoulder blade is jutting out away from the rest of the back, it’s very easy to damage If it’s laying flat against the back, it’s protected by a thick layer of fat and muscle.

Biceps. Top 4 impact location. The main concern is damaging the elbow and shoulder joints, if hitting in a way that will pull on those joints. Much like with the head, bracing the impact area against a surface will minimize the risk. Repeated hits to this area can temporarily disable the arm, which is fun.

Forearm. As above, the main risk is damaging the adjoining joints. There are also several important blood vessels and nerves running through this area and not a lot of fat an muscle to protect them.

Hands. Very little fat or muscle, mostly tendons, nerves, and cartilage. See Note 2 on joints. Special note to the palm, which hurts like hell but is relatively safe because of the extra muscle and fat in that area, great for punishment. Once again, stingy tools are much less risky than thuddy tools.

Breasts/ biceps. Top 4 impact locations. Thick layers of fat, muscle, and bone protect anything vital.

Sternum. That is the bone running down the center of a person’s chest that connects to their ribs. Not in itself very fragile but the cartilage that connects it to the ribs is easily damaged and will take a long time to heal. A fractured sternum will likely cause shortness of breath and pain when taking deep breaths. There's not much to be done about these injuries just rest and avoiding strenuous activity.

Spine. The single most risky impact location. Any damage to the spine risks permanent paralysis of everything below that point. As ever, stingy tools present less risk than thuddy tools.

Rib cage. Designed to protect a person’s most vital organs, the rib cage is very strong. Fractured ribs will cause pain breathing but aren't particularly serious. Snapped ribs can pierce organs If this happens, it'll be immediately obvious and medical intervention is required to prevent painful death. Special note to the 'floating' ribs at the bottom of a persons rib cage which don't connect to the sternum and are therefore much less resilient. Second special note to the spot right above a persons heart. A significantly hard impact at exactly the wrong moment in their cardiac cycle can stop their heart. They will loose consciousness and you will need to give them CPR until they can be defibrillated. This is ridiculously unlikely but better to mention just in case.

Abdomen. If you feel around your victim’s belly, you can figure out the line where their abdominal muscles sit. If you have them tense these muscles, you can hit them fairly hard with relatively little risk because the muscles plus the fat in that area create a thick layer of protection. (Pro tip: "Stay tense or this will might kill you" is not only true but hot and terrifying). Outside of that area or if they don't tense, there's real risk of bruising or even rupturing their intestines, which carries a 50-70% survival rate depending on how quickly you can get them to the ER. Symptoms to look out for are bloating, diarrhea, loss of appetite, and fatigue. Special note to the kidneys, which sit next to the backbone just below the rib cage and are very easily bruised. The primary symptom to look for is blood when peeing. As always, stingy tools carry less risk than thuddy tools.

Gluteus maximus. That's their butt. Hit it as hard as your victim will let you. Enough has been said about this region; I don't feel the need to recover that ground. Note 4 on bruises.

Genitals. I'm not going to get into CBT, that's a separate kink. But the vagina is very durable as it’s pretty much just flesh and fat on the outside Minimal risk, go to town.

Thigh. Top 4 impact location. Outer thigh will hurt more and bruise more. As with the head and arms, the primary risk is damaging the adjoining joints. Note 4 on bruises because this is the primary place for DVT.

Calf. As above. Shins are also a great location for punishment because they hurt like hell.

Feet. Very similar to hands. The soles of a person’s foot are intended to impact with the ground frequently and with some force, so they can take a fair bit of punishment.

Note 1. Ice. It is no longer suggested injury procedure to use ice to reduce swelling. Yes, it is effective at reducing swelling but we now understand swelling is an important part of the healing process and although ice might make it feel and look better in the short term, it actually increases the amount of time the injury will take to heal. You want the blood to be able to flow to the injury to take away dead cells and bring nutrients and energy.

Note 2. Joints. Neck, spine, shoulders, elbows, wrists, fingers, hips, knees, ankles, and toes. The reason these are almost always labeled "red" or "no go" on impact play body maps is because these are choke points for blood vessels and nerves; they are made of fragile tendons and cartilage, and they have very little padding for protection. They're also important for movement day to day and very difficult to heal properly. If a joint is damaged, you can buy braces for every joint from most pharmacies.

Note 3. Dislocations. If you're lucky, a partial dislocation will relocate by itself if you move the joint around as you normally would, not forcing it or trying to manipulate it with your hand, just moving it with its own muscles. If it does naturally relocate but you still have pain a few weeks later seek a medical professional. If you're unlucky or if it’s a total dislocation, you will have to see a medical professional. DO NOT TRY TO FORCE IT BACK INTO PLACE!

Note 4. Bruises. Normally, bruises are nothing to worry about but there are situations where a deep bruise can be a health concern. If the bruise continues to get worse after a week, there could be a hematoma under the skin, which is like a blood clot, and might need to be removed. The other possible complication is Deep Vein Thrombosis, which is a blood clot and can be lethal, if not treated quickly. With DVT, the symptoms are tenderness, warmth, and a "pulling sensation" which are pretty normal impact play symptoms. But if you're doing impact play at the level that could cause DVT, then you and your victim should know their healing process intimately, so if something feels off or isn't healing right, get them to a medical professional; better safe than dead.

[voxofthevoid]

Yo, time for Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #5 👁

The fic has currently stalled at a hefty 41k because I've been writing sukuita nonstop for around a month now (Gojou's still two chapters and probably over 10k away) and snapped from goyuu withdrawal. Poking at a quick-and-dirty goyuu oneshot that's...dirty for sure but not quick at all. All @nearalways's fault, again.

Anyway, to switch it up from the creepy church demon sex that's been happening over the last few posts, this week's snippet is entirely a conversation between Yuuji and Megumi. Enjoy?

“Do you think having sex makes it harder to jerk off on your own?”

Fushiguro chokes on nothing, whipping his head around to stare at Yuuji with eyes that’re twice their usual size. “What.”

“Y’know…” Yuuji gestures. Fushiguro’s expression screams that he does not know. He looks a little like he doesn’t want to know anything ever again, really. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m just asking!”

Fushiguro sucks in a deep breath, screwing his eyes shut so tight that it hurts to look at. “Why are you asking me?”

“Who else? You saw how Kugisaki reacted when I asked her about sex. She’d rip my dick off.”

“I,” Fushiguro grits out, “will rip your dick off.”

Yuuji gasps. “You wouldn’t!”

Fushiguro’s eyes narrow. “You sure?”

Yuuji opens his mouth to say yes, but…he can’t. Even narrowed like this, there’s too much white in Fushiguro’s eyes. He looks a little crazy, just in a cute way. Yuuji definitely shouldn’t tell him that.

But he does need to tell him something so that Fushiguro won’t get any ideas about the scissors on his table.

“Your dad would think that’s foreplay,” Yuuji states confidently. “And we don’t want that.”

Fushiguro makes a noise. “What the hell, Itadori?”

“Yeah, I’ve been saying that a lot too,” Yuuji mutters, gesturing at his crotch.

Fushiguro’s eyes drop and dart back to Yuuji’s face, wider and wilder than a second ago. “Itadori!”

“I can’t get off anymore,” Yuuji blurts out in self-defense. “No, I mean—I can. I could, with him. But I can’t jerk off properly. It gets hard, but I can’t, y’know, finish.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Fushiguro asks. His tone is kinda weird; Yuuji can’t tell whether it’s despairing or curious. Incredulous either way, just like the way he’s looking at Yuuji. “How are you telling me this?”

“Huh?” Yuuji slides down till he’s lying fully on Fushiguro’s bed. For good measure, he turns onto his front, keeping his dick out of sight and snipping distance. “You’re a guy too. I figured you’d get it.”

“I don’t,” Fushiguro says repressively. Then, after a long moment of very loud silence— “What do you mean you can’t…finish?”

“I can’t come.”

“I got that.” Fushiguro sighs, putting his book away and leaning forward in the chair, all his attention on Yuuji. Usually, Yuuji would sit up straighter in response—Fushiguro can get really intense—but right now, he’s more interested in protecting his dick. Plus, this mattress is comfortable. “I have no practical experience with sex, but I’m fairly sure doing it with someone doesn’t mean you can’t give yourself a hand. That’s basic biology.”

“Yeah, I thought so too, and it’s not like it’s been like this the whole time, just…” Yuuji blinks, realizing several beats too late what else Fushiguro just said. “So you are a virgin!”

“Not the point!” Fushiguro snaps.

“Alright, alright. Hey, I’m not judging you, I swear. I also didn’t—”

“Itadori,” Fushiguro cuts in sharply, “focus.”

“Right…” Yuuji thinks for a moment, trying to find words that won’t spook Fushiguro—or piss him off. He’s already almost glaring. “There wasn’t anything weird at first, even after I started fucking him. Doing him felt better than my hand, obviously, but I still jerked off all the time. More than usual. I was horny all the time. I’m still horny all the time.”

“You sound like some sex addict,” Fushiguro says with a grimace. But his cheeks are a faint pink.

Yuuji shrugs. “Maybe. Kind of. It’s not the sex, it’s—”

It’s the place. That church. Except not really. Deep inside, Yuuji knows that the church is just set dressing. It’s the priest who’s the problem. Everything Sukuna is, everything he makes Yuuji feel—addiction isn’t really a wrong way to put it. Yuuji’s never felt anything like it before; he’s never wanted anything like it.

Sometimes—a lot of the time, more and more often this last week especially—it’s a physical need, a hollow ache that haunts his gut and his bones.

His dick too.

“It’s…?” Fushiguro prods after Yuuji’s silent for a while.

Yuuji blinks at him, refocusing. “It’s him.”

Fushiguro makes a noise in his throat, like he was expecting that answer but doesn’t like it much. Yuuji can’t blame him. He doesn’t like it either.

“You really like that guy so much?” Fushiguro asks.

“Ugh.” Yuuji shoves his face into the mattress, suffocating in the darkness for a few blissful seconds. Then— “No. Hell no. He’s an asshole. Nobody would like him.”

Yuuji still doesn’t understand why he’s apparently popular among the churchgoers. He’s never brought it up with Fushiguro and Kugisaki after telling him he’s fucking a guy because he wouldn’t put it past them to put two and two together. They’re both weirdly intuitive, and together, they’re worse. Plus, Yuuji’s not the best liar.

But Fushiguro’s looking at him like he’s lying right now, and that’s very unwarranted.

“It’s true,” Yuuji insists. “I never ever want you guys to meet. He’s that bad.”

Fushiguro blinks very slowly. “And this is the guy you’re dating?”

“We’re not dating!”

Shockingly, that doesn’t seem to help.

“Having sex then,” Fushiguro says, his frown deepening. “That’s worse. Makes it sound like—”

Yuuji waits, pushing himself up for his forearms for a more level view of Fushiguro’s expression. It’s twisted into dark lines; Yuuji can recognize displeasure and disapproval, but there’s more there, he can tell.

“Fushiguro?”

Fushiguro lowers his eyes, scowling at the floor. “Never mind.”

“But—”

“Are you being safe?”

Yuuji’s jaw clicks shut. “Um…”

Fushiguro’s eyes snap back to his face. “Itadori!”

“Define safe?” Yuuji ventures.

Fushiguro drags a hand down his face, skin catching on skin in a way that makes Yuuji wince in sympathy. “How do you get into these situations? You’ve been here for less than six months.”

“Hey, you make it sound like I do dumb shit all the time!”

“You do,” Fushiguro says mercilessly. “At least you admit this is stupid.”

“Yeah, well…” Yuuji flattens himself against the bed again. “The sex is really good though.”

“How would you know? He’s your first too.”

“That’s true. But he’s kind of a freak. I didn’t even know—”

“No,” Fushiguro interrupts, his tone flat but still cutting. “No details. I don’t want to hear this.”

“Fair enough,” Yuuji says, but then something occurs to him. “Is it because he’s a guy?”

“Huh? What—” Realization widens Fushiguro’s eyes, which narrow right after. “No. That’s not it. I’m fine with that.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“I am,” Fushiguro says more firmly; Yuuji can see his fists clench. “I’d be a hypocrite otherwise.”

Yuuji frowns at him, trying to— “Oh. Oh. So you’re—”

“Yes. Still not the point.”

“I don’t think we have a point anymore,” Yuuji muses. He sits up, finally, shifting to perch on the edge of the bed, mirroring Fushiguro’s pose on the chair. It’s as close as he can get to the guy without walking over there, and the way Fushiguro’s staring at him says he might bite if Yuuji does that. “Thanks for telling me, Fushiguro.”

“Oh, for—” Fushiguro looks away furiously. “It’s not like you couldn’t guess anyway.”

“I…didn’t really think about it? I mean, there’s all the stuff your dad says, but—”

“Shut up,” Fushiguro hisses. “Go back to talking about your sex addiction.”

“Do we have to?”

“You brought it up.”

Yeah, fair point. Yuuji’s not sure what he was hoping to achieve. But Fushiguro’s pretty much the only person he can talk to about it. The internet wasn’t helpful. Hell, parts of it were trying to say his balls weren’t working because of cancer or something. Yuuji’s not opposed to calling Sukuna a kind of disease, but it’s not literal.

And thinking about Sukuna is a bad idea because there’s a lot to remember, most of it not innocent, and Yuuji’s dick is on a hair trigger these days. Heat pools between his legs, and Yuuji grabs the nearest pillow, putting it on his lap.

Fushiguro’s confused for only a single second. “Are you kidding me?!”

“I haven’t come in a week,” Yuuji whines.

“You—” Fushiguro looks pleadingly at the ceiling. But nothing there seems to help him any. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but just…go fuck the guy.”

“I can’t,” Yuuji whines again.

“Why,” Fushiguro grits out, “not?”

Yuuji tries to figure out how to put it without giving away that he’s going to the church to fuck its weird, creepy priest who may or may not be infesting his dreams.

He settles on, “He’s only available at night. And Nanamin’s back now, so I can’t just leave like I used to.”

“But you don’t have a curfew or anything.”

“Yeah, but—” Yuuji gestures. “He’d have questions if I came back in that state. And it’s his house. I don’t want to be rude.”

Fushiguro’s expression softens. “At least you have some sense.”

“Hey!”

[yuseirra]

onk spoilers (161)

Sorry, I really can't keep quiet about this because this series has been my brainrot for the past couple months and this is pretty..;; hehe.. depending on how it plays out, it will determine how I'll feel about this entire work completely. So bear with me for the next few weeks!

There are a few panels that really stand out in terms of expressions that really bug me, this guy could be acting. Putting the rest in the read-more, I'm vagueposting but still, I feel it's better manners to do so.. I'm sorry for being unable to keep to myself. I hope you understand though, I've been drawing something for this series almost every single day!

There are a few really genuine-looking ones and those.. could be interpreted as him being concerned over Aqua, it's not really my wishful thinking because he's actually persuading his son to think of things he must live for, regardless of what thoughts and intent he has behind it. He DOES want Aqua to live, and when Aqua says he'd give up on that, he has the exact same face he had when he fell in despair in the movie arc (when Ai said she'd leave him/when Airi gaslit him). I think that expression IS real. And he's really shocked when Aqua.. yeah, does what he does. So I don't think he likes the idea of Aqua dying.

I've been looking at this character a lot, and came to a conclusion that his smiles are masks. I've mentioned this a few times in my earlier analyses regarding him and in one post, I wrote:

That smile he floats is consistent through the entire time he's shown in the story and the only times it breaks is when it has to do with Ai and when she sees him through. And it starts to break the moment he sees her talking about him. Every expression he makes when he sees Ai in the video are his true feelings. His smiles, on the other hand, are his coping mechanism and are all masks.

so I actually feel this is the case this time too, the author wouldn't have made this guy a genius actor who's TAUGHT Ai to act for nothing... The whole chapter starts out with his expression being expressionless, then forming a smile, just before he starts saying everything onwards. And by doing this, he IS actually talking to his son to forget about killing him and go on living his own life while sounding pretty evil...

but that means we can't believe the god or whatever she says either, so that's why I don't know. She was wrong about Ryosuke and "a middle school boy" having gone to the hospital once if Kamiki never went and it was really Nino, but would she be TOTALLY off in this case? I have no idea. That's what makes it confusing for me and have a lot less hope on how things will unveil, but the expression cues do say something... if it weren't for her, I'd say he's acting.. but the things she mentions about him are just too...that of a third-rate villain and it's so nonredeemable. If that is right, the whole idea of Ai having wanted to help him is sort of thrown out the window. They DIDN'T need to make her say that... it was so WISE of her to leave a guy like him, and all her visions of him were wrong, you know?

So I'm just.. wondering how much we need to trust the crow.

I thought I could trust her, but how much does she actually know?;

Or maybe it IS true that Kamiki's done some hideous things the way she's depicted it, and yet he doesn't want his SON to be the same way.

If there's one thing I can pick up from this chapter that's going to be released... it'd be that Kamiki doesn't want Aqua to die. He thinks there's many reasons for Aqua to go on living. If you pay careful attention to his speech, that's what he's actually talking about... he actually looked a little relieved when Aqua agrees he has a lot to live for and that breaks when Aqua still refuses.

Yeah.. I think.. I'll stick around a bit more actually. The part that REALLY bothers me is what Tsukuyomi says, if that's really true.. ehh.....it's a huge let-down for me I don't like that. It's not a very good way to use this character. It's really dumb and I don't think it works but if the author says so; okay?? but I won't feel the need to collect the physical volumes any further if that's true. That's just me though.

[kimbapchan]

Hi Kimi

I've been a fan of your art since the villain with days. I was sad when you announced that you'd decided to leave the series (more because I was invested in the plot of the AU itself, I'd long lost interest in bnha as a whole. XD)

But I moved on to other series and eventually ended up a fan of heaven official's blessing because my friend convinced me to watch the show. (Said friend convinced me to watch the founder of diabolism and I recently gave scumbag villain self-saving system a try)

So I was really happy when I saw you start posting art of it a few months later. (Your art is part of why I decided to give svsss a try. I needed context for some of the stuff you were saying XD)

Your art has come a long way since the villain waifu deku days but I still love it and can't wait to see what other future series we'll both end up enjoying (though I do hope you stick around with heaven official's blessing and svsss for a while longer)

Also you don't need to earn your right for your art to be in a community. Everyone's art is welcome in any community they find themselves a part of. It doesn't matter if it's art as bad as mine or art as amazing as yours, as long as you enjoy making it, it will always be a valuable part of the community.

Thankyou for your kind words it really means a lot to me! And it’s amazing that you and a handful of my readers from back in my bnha days are also now into danmei. It’s nice to see you guys here!

Thankyou guys for always reminding me what’s important. To have fun and self-indulge. Impostor syndrome, Self-doubt, and rejection can be painful but thankyou for helping me remember to do this for my love for drawing and storytelling 🥺 and these hot ancient chinese fantasy men.