#my voice and my body don’t dictate my happiness

[rubyscarbuncle]

I’m trans, and that’s so fucking awesome.

“Oughhh but I feel awful and I face constant discrimination” not to minimize that, but maybe that’s not where the story ends, maybe my life doesn’t have to be about the shitty parts, maybe my life doesn’t just have to be the hurdles I’m jumping over and the people that I’m stuck dealing with.

Maybe I can love that i am a part of something bigger, that I am a part of a group of people that would rather etch their true name on their tombstone than be someone they’re not. That I am someone who has deeply explored themselves as a person and is constantly changing and growing and loving myself in new ways and with a sincerity and exploration that no one else can in the same way. I’m constantly reinventing myself and enjoying the person, not only that I’m turning into but that I am right now, albeit with the challenges that come with it. And fuck anyone else.

I’ve been spending too long focusing on my anxieties and trying to “become” a girl or “pass” as a woman. Too long saying that I’m not enough as a girl until I pass or treating transness as this “condition” I’ve been straddled with that makes me worse off compared to a cis woman, but I’m me, and I’ll live and breathe and love life to my own tune, and I will die to that tune, and i don’t care who the fuck doesn’t jam to it because it’s not their life. I have been given this opportunity to love myself and claw a home into this body of mine by force if I have to, and that’s something I can always take pride in.

I’m trans, and that’s so so so fucking awesome

[calisources]

𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋, 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on this meme have been taking from different media and sources. They all touch on the topics of romance, difficult and forbidden love, mostly setting in the political schemes of war and peace and royal court. Change names, locations and nouns and you see fit. Some lines might have foul language.

Sometimes we hurt the ones we love, but hurting ourselves to avoid it doesn’t make it better.

Could someone treat you badly and still love you? 

Even so, in the midst of this complicated love, there is a holy union.

Love is complicated. It’s sticky. It’s bliss and it’s a mix of emotions. It’s not easy.

I hated him now because I has loved him then.

 I'm not like you. I can't afford to be reckless.

When have I ever, since the first instant I touched you, pretended to be anything less than in love with you?

Are you so fucking self-absorbed as to think this is about you and whether or not I love you, rather than the fact I'm an heir to the fucking throne? 

You at least have the option to not choose a public life eventually, but I will live and die in these palaces and in this family.

She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

Your wish is my command, my queen.

You can always leave my service.

Don’t you see, Diana? If I did that, I’d break not one but two hearts. For I know you love me, though you haven’t said it yet.

You do know me. I love you so much, it sometimes terrifies me.

You are going to regret that, Your Magical Regalness.

Just because I am  a prince doesn’t make my life a fairy tale.

So kiss the others for all I care, but don’t hold back with me.

You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.

He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.

I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king.

 I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.

You, what are you? The brat of lucky parents who were related to a childless king.

Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.

There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.

You can't treat royalty like people with normal perverted desires.

We kings do develop a certain ability to recognize objects under our noses.

...alone is such a nebulous state when one is queen.

I respect you as my king, and I respect you as my father, but I do not respect you as a man.

You're the most important person I've ever met.  And I should have never met you at all.

Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.

I find that happiness can always be recollected in tranquillity, Ma’am.

It's almost impossible for those who have had an intimate relationship to return to a formal one.

I question if within you is any magic.

You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born.

The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son is a devil and should not.

For kings, the world is extremely simplified: All men are subjects.

A king deserves reverence when being addressed.

Yes, she had abused her title and station before, but for minor stuff, not to steal a warship.

You are a king worthy of their allegiance . . . with a queen full of fire and promise.

When God calls you into His Kingdom, your way of life will reflect royalty if you serve Him with loyalty.

My royal status is both a shield that protects me and a sword that impales my heart.

You know, for a pampered princess, you have a certain gift for violence.

I have to be seen to be believed.

Kings needn’t raise their voices to be heard.

That is your very own myth. The idea that how you are born or the name you are given dictate the sort of person you really are.

I know that names have power. That is why I cannot let her forget hers. 

You’ll have to face it, Princess. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough. And you can’t be this scared when the time comes.

A bad king revels in his importance. A good one hates his office. 

Crowns belong to those that serve.

She was their witch queen, and they adored her.

Beatrice is going to be queen someday.

Kings are only kings because one ancestor was quicker than another to place a crown on his own head.

Queen, do not allow a commoner to dethrone you. Own that throne. You are royalty.

A throne won in blood will soon be drenched in it.

My mother once told me that everything is fuelled by either money or sex, because both lead to power.

Even when she's dethroned by hardship, she still wears the sun as a crown.

She holds a nation’s fate within her shaking hands. She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

My reign has been anything but traditional. Let’s not start now, shall we?

Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky.

Every girl thinks about growing up in a palace. Few ever ponder living in a cage.

Climb up the family tree of any of them high enough and you’ll find a commoner who dared to take a chance.

Am I forbidden to do what all may do?

My arrival saved the kingdom, while his only reiterated that his blood would fill the throne one day.

Slow down there, princess. How do you know what kind of first impression you gave me?

So none of the young men we encountered during our season gave you hot pants for them?

If stubborness were all that was needed to be a good queen, I'd rule the world.

I’d decided that I was going to stop dressing like a princess and start dressing like a queen.

Don’t touch me. Don’t tell me how beautiful my eyes are, how soft my hair is, how you love to hear my voice. Don’t. Don’t pretend you are falling in love with me. 

I know you are lying, and every word you say hurts even more. 

Before the wedding, and the bedding, when I will have to take you as my lord and husband?

I may not be a king or a queen, but I'll be damned if I'm not treated like royalty.

He is fragile, like a prince of ice, of glass.

It is natural that men are going to gather round me, hoping for a smile.

Men only treat women like princesses when they want to use them like prostitutes.

You can smile when your heart is breaking because you're a woman.

I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't do anything but think about him.

Anyone can attract a man. The trick is to keep him.

To save my son, I would plot with the devil himself.

Only fools wait when their enemies are coming, to see if they may prove to be friends.

When a man wants a mystery, it is generally better to leave him mystified. Nobody loves a clever woman.

I wanted the heat and the sweat and the passion of a man that I could love and trust.

I am a fool to own it, but I am in a fever for your touch.

And you are the sort of mistress a man doesn't bother to marry. Sons or no sons.

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | x.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Panic ripples through you as Ethan’s body heavily drapes over yours, his lips stealing yours for yet another ravenous kiss. 

Hopeless, your fight or flight instinct kicks in. 

You bite his lip with all your strength.

The metallic tang of Ethan’s blood spills over your tongue. 

He hisses, jerking away from you. He lets you go and air finds shelter in your lungs again.

Ethan grips his jaw, his face scrunching.

When his tongue sweeps over the blood dripping from the cut on his mouth, a dark laugh leaves Ethan’s mouth. 

The look he gives you sends a chill across your spine.

You retreat to the furthest corner of your bed, bringing your knees to your chest.

A tremulous whisper rises from your throat.

“Ethan…I think you need to go. I d-don’t feel safe right now.”

You suppose you should try to get up, dash to the door. It’s what common sense dictates. But for some reason, you’re frozen in your spot, drenched in sheer denial of what just transpired - almost transpired - on your bed. 

“Don’t feel safe? I’ll be so good to you,” he defends, spreading his fingers towards you. Bile climbs up your throat. You recoil, making yourself even smaller to avoid his touch.

Hurt paints itself over Ethan’s boyish features at your reaction. 

A contemptuous laugh bursts from his chest.

“You think any of these guys ever cared about you, ever saw you, really saw you?” he asks, his voice deeper and scarier than before. Your mouth goes slack as he continues. “Do you think any of them cares what you think or how you feel? That they’re interested in you because you’re such a great conversationalist or because you’re so funny or smart? They’re not.” A shudder slithers through you. The crimson tear on his bottom lip shimmers as his mouth stretches in a slanted grin. “All of them only want you for one thing. They just want to show you off, use you, fuck you and then t-”

A slapping echo resonates across your room as your hand flies in the direction of Ethan’s cheek.

For a while, a deathly silence blankets your room.

Ethan’s reddened cheek pulses as his gaze widens.

His head turns slowly.

He gapes at you, seeming as stunned as you are that you struck him.

You can’t remember the last time you hit someone. Maybe you never did.

But Ethan’s cruel words sank into you like a knife, jabbing at your deepest insecurities. The fact that they poured out of a friend makes it all so much worse. 

“Get out of my room, Ethan, now. I mean it or I’ll…scream for help.”

He glares at you one last time before getting to his feet.

A sigh floats from his lips as he crouches to pick up his backpack.

You tense when he pauses on the threshold, his gaze on you unusually hard. 

“In time, you’ll understand. I’m the only guy for you…just like you’re the only girl for me,” Ethan says matter-of-factly.

When the door clicks shut after his departure, you jump from your bed. Wobbly fingers rush to snap the lock back into place. 

Your short-winded breaths fill the room, coalescing with the wild hammering of your heart.

As your legs weaken underneath you, you collapse against the door. You tuck your legs against your chest as tears skip down your cheeks.

You glance at your phone from across the room. It’s lying across the mess of rumpled sheets. The very same sheets Ethan pushed you onto.

Your insides lurch.

A fresh wave of tears gathers in your eyes as your lashes flutter shut.

There’s nothing you want more than to call your friends right now, hear a familiar voice, feel a warm embrace…but you can’t.

He made sure of that. 

So you let your sobs grow louder as you wrap your arms around yourself as tight as you can. 

It’s a blessing you don’t run into Ethan the following week. To your astonishment, he doesn’t attend any of the classes you two share, most notably Econ and Psych 101. You find yourself staring at the empty seat he used to occupy a lot of the time. Every time you do, a confounding blend of emotions stirs inside you, one you still haven’t fully untangled. 

Part of you is hurt, of course. You never imagined such a side lay dormant in Ethan. It was like he turned into a different person that night. And the things he said to you…your chest twinges whenever you remember the utter viciousness of those words.

Those are the kind of things you’ve heard from others before. But you never expected in a million years to hear them coming from him.

Yet another part of you…feels guilty. What if it’s like Mindy suggested one time? What if you caused that by leading him on, sending him signals without meaning to? 

You always tried your best to be a good friend to Ethan but maybe he misread things you told him or even the way you acted around him… and you ended up becoming a bad friend instead.

The heartbreak that glistened in his eyes that night is still etched in your mind. You hurt him, and you loathe that you did. Despite what happened, you can’t help but still care about him. 

You can’t forget the moments you shared together, how he was there for you when you needed it most. You hate the idea of one awful moment ruining your friendship. 

You also refuse to believe this is who Ethan is. It can’t be. His emotions must have gotten the better of him. Maybe he too feels horrible about the situation. After all, he's all but disappeared this week. Hopefully in time, you both can apologize to each other. 

One day perhaps. Because right now you can barely stomach the thought of being anywhere near him.

The events of that night are still so fresh. 

Engulfed in your gloomy musings, you bump into someone else. The books in your arm scatter across the hallway floor. 

You crouch to pick them up and so does the other person. 

“It’s okay. I got it.”

The sound of the familiar voice has your head snap up.

Emotions swell in your chest as a warm smile you’ve sorely missed crowds your line of sight.

“Hey, it’s been a while…” Anika gingerly remarks.

For a while, you soak in her presence. You grow overwhelmed, the plethora of things you wish you could say to her scorching your lips. 

Then the harshness of reality crashes upon you. 

You can’t talk to Anika. You can’t talk to anyone. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, on the cusp of scampering in the other direction but Anika’s hand on your arm stops you. You flinch at the light touch.

Anika’s forehead puckers. She retreats her hand and cocks her head sideways.

“Is something wrong?” she inquires, her soft tone laced with concern.

Hasty words roll off your tongue. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

Anika’s scrutiny prickles your skin. It’s obvious she doesn’t fully believe you, her stare lingering on the hickeys Ethan peppered over your neck. You self-consciously brush your fingers over them.

You’re thankful when she doesn’t address them and switches topics. 

“You know there’s a party for Chad and Mindy’s birthday this week,” she reminds, gauging your reaction.

“Yeah, I know.”

Of course, you know. How could you forget? Every year, you used to look forward to it. You even have an alarm for it on your phone. Before everything, you even discussed potential plans to go on a group trip to Chicago.

You can’t see yourself being a part of that now.

“They’re both really hoping you’ll be able to come.”

You nudge a feeble smile on your face.

“I’m late for cheer practice, Anika.”

“Whatever’s going on…You know I’m always here for you, right?”

You freeze. A terrifying echo in a deeper voice swells in your mind.

I’m always here for you, you know that.

Collecting your books from her hands, you rush past her as she tosses you a sad look.

“I gotta go. Tell Chad and Mindy I can’t make it. I’m sorry.”

You don’t glance back as you head to the locker room, afraid you’ll fall to pieces if you do.

You just changed into your cheerleader outfit when your phone vibrates. You sigh, hoping it isn’t Chad again. He’s been blowing up your phone nonstop within the last few days. You surmise he’s also trying to convince you to attend his and his sister’s birthday. 

You can’t even face him right now. What if he suspected something? You shudder to think how he’d react. You can’t see it boding well for Ethan. 

Chewing on your lip, you retrieve your phone from your gym bag. 

You swipe your thumb down to open the notification floating atop the screen.

A video fills the screen and your gaze bulges at what you see. 

Your fingers wobble around the device, your mouth falling open in horror.

A crying Quinn sits on a chair in a dusky room, tied up with thick ropes and her mouth covered with duct tape. Smudged mascara streaks down her freckled cheeks, her pleading gaze seeming to dive right into yours. 

Your breath hitches as you watch Ghostface skulk around her chair, his sharp blade tracing the side of her neck while she sobs. 

Dread twists your insides.

A string of messages appears below the video.

Come to this address alone right now or she dies.

Tell anyone and she dies.

Call the cops and she dies.

Tick, tock, princess.

You shake your head, a wave of queasiness clutching your senses. 

Not again. 

You frantically copy the address included in the message before pasting it into your ride-hailing app. 

The app indicates that your driver will arrive in five minutes outside the gates of campus so you make a beeline for the exit door.

You gasp as Alana blocks your path, standing akimbo in front of the door with a scowl on her face.

“Are you seriously leaving right now?” she asks, her shrill, accusing tone like a whip. “We’re about to rehearse the new routine. The next game is in three weeks.”

You shrink, your features scrunching apologetically.

“I’m sorry, Alana, but… something came up. Something important.”

She snorts and shakes her head. “Are you really…You know what?” She tosses her hands up in the air, stepping to the side to make room for you. “I give up. I’ve had it with you and your drama.” She narrows her icy blue eyes at you. “If you leave today, don’t bother coming back.”

“O-Okay,” you stammer, your gut sinking. Cheerleading was the one thing you had, the one thing that wasn’t going completely off the rails. Now you don’t even have that anymore.

Suppressing the budding tears behind your eyes, you take a deep breath and take a firm stride towards the door.

Alana’s jaw drops when you remove the bow in your hair and throw it at her feet.

She gave it to you when you joined the team.

You don’t look back as you brush past her and shove the door open.

“I want my uniform back on Monday,” she hisses.

Your chest clenches, but there’s no time to process yet another crushing disappointment, all your thoughts turning to Quinn.

She needs you right now. 

So you race across campus as if your feet were on fire.

You all but lunge inside the car waiting for you, mumbling a quick ‘sorry’ to the man who casts you a dirty look. You slip him an extra twenty so he drives a little faster, heart pounding wildly against your ribcage.

He ends up dropping you off in front of an abandoned theater.

You get the heebie-jeebies as you peer at the building with the crumbling facade and shattered lights. Diving inside it requires every ounce of courage you possess.

Fearful steps lead you to the lobby. The eerie stillness around you makes your nerves sing.

You steal a glimpse at the popcorn machine, the spider webs you spot inside sparking a shiver through your frame.

You slink through the wide open doors of the first hall you see. Stomach tight, you drag your feet forward. The freezy winds fluttering through the room skate across your skin as you enter. 

You rub your arms, nervousness growing at the sight of the empty theater seats.

You swallow the lump nestled in your throat. You truly are on your own.

After a quick survey, you find Quinn, bound to her chair amidst the center stage.

Relief floods your insides.

You sprint directly to her and climb onto the stage.

The first thing you do is remove the duct tape covering her mouth.

“Quinn! Oh my god, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Her bright green eyes follow your motions in silence as you begin untying her, a little taken aback by how easily the ropes come off, requiring barely any effort to yank loose.

Once you’re done, Quinn stands up and rubs her wrists. 

“Quinn?” you repeat, worried by her strange quietness. Maybe she’s too traumatized to speak. 

She cracks her neck backwards, stretching it before her gaze lands on you again.

Her lips stretch in a slow, wide grin. 

She then bursts out in laughter.

Your brows knit as you fall back, confused. Your voice trickles out in a tremulous whisper.

“W-Why are you laughing?”

She slants her head to the side.

“You were right, big bro. She actually fell for it,” she says before letting out an impressed whistle. She chortles. “Not a very bright one, is she?”

“I mean, I told you she would.”

You whirl at once, shocked to hear the last person you’d expect to find here. You tremble as you come face to face with Ghostface.

Befuddlement has you blinking. You could have sworn you heard an all too familiar voice rising from behind the mask.

“W-What’s going on?” 

Ghostface chuckles then removes his mask. The air is knocked from your lungs when his identity is revealed to you. You feel as if the entire world just fell on top of you.

“What going on is that you’re fucked, princess,” Ethan states, a terrible smile spreading onto his lips. “Well, not quite yet…” His lecherous gaze drags over your quivering frame. “But we’ll get there eventually.”

Tears well up in your eyes. 

“Ethan? No…”

His smile broadens. “Yes,” he replies, seeming to relish your reaction.

Your lip quakes as a shuddering sob spills from your throat.

“You’re Ghostface?” you whimper.

He shakes the mask in your face before tossing it away.

“Well, duh,” he chimes. A glint of excitement bounces in his chestnut orbs. “You should have seen the way Connor and Tyler squealed like pathetic little pigs when I stabbed them over and over…” Bloodlust distorts his features. You back away, a fear like no other gripping your throat. “…And over. That was hilarious. Especially Connor. Fuck, it felt good to kill him. That conceited, condescending alpha bro.”

“Why?”

“Because they had no business touching what’s mine,” Ethan replies like it’s obvious.

Your eyes widen as it sinks in that Ethan’s referring to you. On instinct, you leap off the stage and start fleeing in the other direction.

Your mind short-circuits with the onslaught of troubling facts, the chaotic drumming of your pulse filling your ears. 

Ethan is Ghostface…and Quinn is helping him. They even appear related somehow.

You don’t want to believe it but there’s no denying what you witnessed with your own eyes.

Before you can get too far, an abrupt pain blooms at the back of your skull, sending you keeling over the edge of the stage. You wail and curl on the floor, the agony numbing enough to keep you from rising again.

Twirling a baseball bat in her hand, Quinn bends over you. Her form blurs in your sight as you groan.

“Oh, poor thing. I hope I didn’t hit her too hard. You okay, sugar? How many fingers am I holding up?”

She waves her hand in front of you.

“F-Four,” you mindlessly answer.

She perks up at that.

“Attagirl. She’s all yours, big bro. I’ll give you two some privacy.”

Ethan nods at his sister - a fact your mind still grapples with - before crouching next to you. He picks you up and cradles your head against his chest. You feebly punch him and he mutters against your temple, “Shh, princess. Don’t fight it.” A rag is suddenly pressed against your mouth, its cloying scent invading your nostrils. Your lashes turn heavy. Your punches grow even weaker till you slump against Ethan. “There you go. Good girl.” 

Spots of darkness creep the edges of your vision until it’s all there is…darkness, and the dwindling echo of Ethan’s sickeningly tender voice mooring you amidst it.

You awake in a strange and obscure bedroom, the only meager light coming from a single window above you. You wince, your head heavy as you move it. As soon as you try to shift on the bed, you realize something is restricting your wrists’ range of motion.

Gasping, you look up. Your stomach sinks as you take note of the metal cuffs binding you to the headboard of the bed.

Your gaze lowers. 

Panic swells in your chest when you see Ethan standing at the foot of the bed.

A smirk decorates his mouth as he watches you struggle.

“Ethan, why am I tied up?” you squeak, almost afraid to know the answer.

You tense as he climbs on the bed, crawling his way to you. Hovering above you, Ethan places his hand on your cheek. 

“It’s much better that way, princess, so you don’t hurt yourself trying to escape,” he explains like it’s the soundest logic in the world, despite how insane this is. 

“Look, Ethan…” you start, carefully pondering your words. Who knows what he’ll do if you say or do the wrong thing? He’s killed people and he could just as easily kill you. You force a quivering smile onto your face. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I had no idea. Please, let me go. I swear I won’t tell a soul.”

Caressing your cheek, Ethan hums, “Oh, I accept your apology, princess and I know you were too stupid to notice…” He bends over you until his mouth skims over your earshell. “But I’m still gonna fuck you.”

Ice spills into your veins. 

Ethan collects the single stray tear sliding over your cheek, bringing it against the seam of his lips with a wide, satisfied smile.

“No, Ethan, please, I’ve never…” you beseech, tugging at your restraints again. Utter helplessness engulfs you as you realize how trapped you are.

Excitement waltzes in his orbs, his eyes crinkling. He cradles your face and smiles down at you endearingly.

“Really? So I’m your first? God this is even sweeter.” He slots his lips over yours, ensnaring them in a slow, heated kiss. The salt of your tears coats both of your tongues. When he lets you breathe again, his forehead falls against yours. Elation drips from his deep, enamored timbre. “You really are my dream girl, you know that?”

He kisses you again, silencing every protest with his mouth. Ethan maps his hunger for you all over your body, sprinkling scorching pecks over your neck, chest and navel and slowly undressing you at the same time. He grabs your boobs and starts fondling them, his tongue swirling over your nipple. 

An uncomfortable heat begins to bloom between your legs, your breathing growing uneven. 

As you feel Ethan’s hard-on press into your thigh, adrenaline rushes through your blood.

“Ethan, don’t…” you beg, your helplessness reaching a peak as he slithers down your frame and parts your thighs. 

He slides your panties to the side. Your heart leaps.

Ethan’s gaze flares devilishly. You only get a glimpse of brown curls before he dives between your legs. 

Words falter on your tongue. Your mind blanks with pleasure as his tongue traces maddening patterns over your bundle of nerves, endlessly teasing it. Broken moans roll off your tongue.

Chest heaving, your back arches on the sheets.

“Fuck, your pussy tastes even better than I imagined, princess,” he lauds, the vibrations from his voice rocking through your core. Your breath catches as coils tighten in your belly.

Ethan devours your cunt until you see stars, coming on his mouth with a sudden shout. He greedily purrs against your folds and licks your arousal as it rains on his tongue.

Before you can even recover from your haze, Ethan sinks one finger inside your wet heat. Your breath hitches at the intrusion.

A sinister chuckle leaves his lips.

“You’re so goddamn tight. You really are a virgin, aren’t you?” He hooks his finger inside you, drawing a sharp hiss from you. He smiles down at your squirming form. “This is perfect. We’re gonna be each other’s firsts. Kinda romantic, right princess?”

Ethan groans, seemingly frustrated as he shifts against you.

He leans back and begins undoing his pants. Your stomach clenches. You kick your feet and sob, despair raging inside you. Ethan unleashes a deep, weary sigh before seizing your wrists and slamming them into the headboard.

A pain so intense rings through your bones, you’re shocked your wrists don’t shatter on the spot. You let out an ear-splitting scream. 

He cocks his head, pity flashing across his face.

“Stop moving so damn much. You’re gonna hurt yourself, princess.” You gape at him through your tear-streaked vision. How can he say that when he’s the one hurting you? A soft smile stretches his lips as he squeezes your wrists even more, making your bones grind against one another. “And scream as loud as you want, pretty girl. No one can hear you here.”

You whine as he releases your throbbing wrists. 

His thumb then traces your shuddering mouth. Ethan’s teeth sink into his lip. He cups your face and rasps, “Fuck, I wanted to take it slow…But my balls feel like they’re about to burst, princess.” His pupils inflate with lust. “Why do you have to sound so fucking hot?”

It’s all the warning you get before Ethan hastily lowers his pants and buries himself inside you in one blunt thrust. 

The searing pain steals the breath from your lungs. You feel as if you’ll tear, Ethan’s thick girth stretching you to your limit. The cuffs slice into your flesh as you yank on them desperately. 

“God, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he says, his voice hoarse with need. 

“Ethan, please, it hurts,” you beg, tears streaming down your face. 

He peppers tender kisses over your damp cheeks. 

“It’s okay, princess. It only hurts at first…I think.” He unleashes an awkward laugh. 

Ethan drags out of you before shoving inside you to the hilt again. You wail, your core burning at the friction. 

He starts moving, his rising grunts mingling with the wet slap of his skin into yours.

The bed rattles loudly underneath both of you.

Your watery eyes rise to the ceiling in search of a fleeting escape. But Ethan doesn’t allow you that, corralling your jaw so you’re forced to peer into his hungry gaze.

“Stay with me, princess,” he orders, squeezing your jaw painfully whenever you try to look away.

He wraps your legs around his taut hips, piledriving into you. You jolt as he hits a spot that makes your mouth part in a soundless scream. 

Forehead resting against yours, Ethan pounds inside you faster. He reaches between your bodies, pinching your clit. Your vision flickers, your legs turning liquid as you come apart around him. Ethan moans as your walls tighten around his cock. When you come back to yourself, shame fills you. You never wanted this. In fact you hate it. So why is your body surrendering to him so easily?

More tears flood your vision.

“I guess that makes us official,” he chuckles against your temple. “We’ll have to tell everyone the good news.”

He nuzzles your neck and you feel sick. 

His low tone vibrates against your flesh as he warns, “And don’t even think about trying to get away from me. Because if you do…” He pauses, his hips snapping into yours even faster than before. “I’ll kill every single one of your little friends and make you watch while I do.” He grins down at you, fondling your cheek. You choke on a sob. Ethan hums, fingers digging into your ass, “I’ll start with that bitch Mindy, then Anika…and then that asshole Chad.”

“Do you understand, princess?”

He fucks you harder and you whimper. When you stay silent, his large hand wraps around your throat, your pulse thrumming beneath his palm. 

Ethan’s jaw clenches, his eyes darkening.

“Answer me when I’m talking to you,” he rumbles, his bruising grip on your throat dangerously tight.

“I-I understand, Ethan,” you sputter. 

A wide smile blooms on his features at your agreement. His hold on your neck slackens. Soon after, his pace slows, his thrusts turning sloppier. He goes still above you, his dick twitching inside you. You shudder as a sticky warmth glazes your walls. 

Ethan nestles his head in the crook of your neck. He purrs in pleasure, still sheathed inside you as silent tears skip down your cheeks.

You wished he’d move away, let you process the horror of what he just did to you. Instead he rolls both of your bodies to the side and hugs you tight against him. You cringe as Ethan sprinkles soft kisses over your face, lingering on your lips.

He then traces the heart-shaped scar he carved on your chest during that awful Halloween night before placing a kiss on it too.

His knuckles sweep over the apple of your cheek, pure bliss painting his features. 

“Good girl,” he praises.

~

[elvhensinner]

Fuck Around & Find Out

Kwon Eunbi smut 4.2k words Tags: Honeymoon sex, (Just got) Married, "Soft" & "Wholesome", Roleplay, Musk, Bondage, Very thick Eunbi T/W: Noncon, R A P E, Mindbreak A/N: I had a hard time proofreading this so pardon some doodoos and lack of eloquence at some parts ✌️

"Hey there, hubby." Eunbi squeals at that last bit, unable to contain herself as she welcoms you to the honeymoon suite. You linger at the full smile she had on before your eyes devour tonight's entrée.

You think back to all the pictures you have of her. You can't imagine any one of them topping your view tonight; Kwon Eunbi in her wedding lingerie.

A fine white mesh barely obstructs the sight of her legs.

A garter belt that connects her girdle to her thigh highs.

The thinnest of lace straps holding up her lace bra.

Asides from 'wedding night', you detect a theme for her attire: 'Clothes so tight that she's popping out', evident from plump parts of her body constricted here and there, practically eating the straps enveloped by the pudge of her body.

'Dummy thicc' worthy of the name. You couldn't wait to rip off what little clothes she had.

Tonight truly was a magical night, for besides finally getting married, tonight of all nights was when she finally decided to succumb to your bondage kink.

“Nnngghhhh” Eunbi whines, snapping you out of your trance. Squirms, even, probably from the lack of action on your part. “Hubby, I don’t know if I could hold this pose any longer without combusting.” There it is, her fluffy demeanor that contrasted her dynamite body. You remember why this is the first time she's agreed to this. Her legs attempt to cover her crotch area, but all it does is tighten the ropes around her shins.

“Seriously, I’m dying of embarrassment here. M-maybe you can take a picture so it could last longer.”

You take out your phone and fill the silent room with the sound of camera shutters. All angles of her beauty splayed out were yours to capture.

Once you leaned in closer. Your nose was immediately enchanted with her fragrance. Probably lotion. So elegant and warm. Almond shea body butter, if you remember correctly. Probably even applied a little extra, judging by the sheen of her skin. You get carried away and produce an audible sniff, making her giggle.

You've had enough. Her scent was the final nail in the coffin. The heat in your loins dictate your movement. In A Flash, your monkey suit drops to the ground.

“Are you ready to start, hubby?” she didn't need to ask twice. With just your boxers covering you, you bring your knees up to the bed and inch your way between her legs.

Your raging hog was already aligned to her crotch area, ready to rip off all the fabric in between should it need to, until she interrupts you with a clear of her throat.

“O-oh you must be the plumber… M-Mister plumber, could you give me a hand?” She pled with such a submissive, squeaky voice, stopping you in your tracks.

You were fully aware of her roleplaying kink, but you didn't think she'd bust that out tonight. 'Happy wife happy life', you thought, getting off the bed so you could reach her side to indulge in her fiction.

“Woah, what's happening here?” You said with a distorted, indistinguishable voice. Her nose flared, probably due to the comedic pitch you chose.

Getting her bearings back, Eunbi gets back in character "Well.. you scared my boyfriend... he thought you were my dad so he fled."

"Mmhm... and he's the one who tied you up?

"Yeah, b-but only 'cause we were trying something out... Could you help untie me?" she said in the tiniest, cutest voice. Even roleplaying she cant help but be all soft.

"Sure, sure" you said, as your fingers finagle the rope securing her arm.

"He's a lucky fella for you to agree to this." Once you’ve had your fill of hearing her whimpers and her small voice thanking you for untying her, your hands abandon its play pretend and lightly touching her arm. Tracing her wrist down to her arm. This made Eunbi twitch in 'shock'.

"Well it seems like your boyfriend's not coming anytime soon, so maybe I could replace him-"

"No please." She says in panic "I just really need to be untied."

"Mmhm sure you do" Your hands travel to her exposed tummy and rub her mid section sensually, making Eunbi bend her body to avoid the plumber’s curious hands.

“S-sir… could you please just focus on untying me?”

You filter out her words, too busy with groping the glory of a tied up Kwon Eunbi. You decide to tease her main attraction; her boobs. A pair so voluptuous that merely pinching her bra strap and tugging on it caused them to sway around with gravity.

It was moan after moan for Kwon Eunbi, clearly enjoying this too much. She dives deeper into fantasy:

“No mr. plumber. Those... those are for my boyfriend.”

“Ngghh.. I wore this for my boyfriend, but the filthy plumber’s the one enjoying it”

“Please don't do this. I dont want to be a disloyal girlfriend."

Spitting out more and more words push you past your tilting point. You pry a finger on her bra strap and —unlike the playful teasing from before— you retract your hand hard, making it snap. With her tits in the air, you dive in.

“S-sir sir sir, please unhand my ooohhh fuckk…. please, not my boobs, they’re my boyfriend’s favourite”

“Mmmh I can see why” still by her side, you had to make do with just one tiddy. Your hand grips and kneads, focusing between fondling her globes, and using two front fingers to flick her nipples to kingdom come, earning bigger and throatier moans from the tig bitty lady.

“He must be the luckiest man on earth to be able to fondle these tits every night. Do I fondle your boobs that same way your boyfriend does?”

“Fuck, I love this so much, baby-”

“E-ehem” you try and snap her right back into sticking with the script.

“I-I mean no. You don't do it the same way as my boyfriend. He usually kisses me while he fondles me…” her mouth tilts to your direction, already expecting your lips to touch hers. You fight off every instinct to give her plump, cherry-colored mouth a good frenching. You had other plans to escalate your night together.

"Y-you're not gonna fuck my face, now, are you mr. Plumber?.." She says, knowing full well that that was always how these nights of lust begin.

"Fuck it? Naaah, I'm gonna paint it." You reposition, having her beneath your wide-spread legs. It was too much for you. The lingerie, the roleplay, everything. You didn't mind an early exit, you just knew that your cock is gonna start ripping your boxers if you don't take it out and jerk it until your sweet release.

"Noooo my boyfriend never paints my face. Please don't do it mr. Plumber, sir. Anything but that, I hate ittttt." with your knowledge of her preferences, you knew she kinda meant that. 'I guess I'm fulfilling two of hubby's fantasies tonight... but he better pay me back later' she thinks to herself.

She hears your wet cock being jerked just above her face. Wanting to encourage you to make her eat your dick instead, Eunbi extends her neck to reach your member with her mouth. She only manages to place small kiss on it, however. This makes her she gasp and break character "Oh my..... You're so hard that its throbbing so so thick, baby."

You didnt have time to reply, your prejac instantly jets out to warm Eunbi's face. Wanting to respond in a manner that's genuine to the roleplay, Eunbi sounds out 'distress' and 'no's', but at the same time.

You moan through your high and finish covering every inch of her face with white. Eunbi's tongue curls to your dripping cum to get a taste of your addicting cum, but

"You must have skipped the pineapple juice tonight, huh, hubby?" she breaks character yet again, but this time you pay no mind, you had your heart set on which hole to paint next.

"I hope you like missionary." You knew she liked it. Loved it, in fact. Her doubts wash away with how her heart skips a beat. Her giddiness skyrockets when you remove yourself from bed and position right between her tied up legs.

Hiking her panties to the side, you make quick work with clipping your fingers inside her cunt to search for her beloved pleasure spot. Once you find her rough spot, you double, triple, down on it. Even using your bicep to bring her to bliss as fast as you can.

Kwon wails at this point. Slowly breaking her voice to show you how much she's close.

"You remember how I got into my bondage kink?" you suddenly ask out of the blue

"Y-yeah... mmmmhnnngghhh" Eunbi's cunt was a freeflowing faucet of wetness at this point "Your friend-- fuckkk-- he told you all about it and-- and..." she loses herself in pleasure, so much so that she slurps the mixture of drool and cum weighing down near her chin. "And you've been into it ever since-- Tell him I said thank you."

With one hand you continue murdering her cunt, while another reached up towards the tits you love.

You knew exactly how she liked her chest being played with: Using your index and middle finger to play with her nipples. Similar to rubbing a clit. Exactly the same fashion you fondled her breast a few minutes ago. Such knowledge over this woman was how you knew that her contorted face wasn't one of pleasure, but of discomfort.

You were all the way hard again, in a position to penetrate her soon. This makes you feel excited —finally this honeymoon suite will see some real action. This idea couldn't help but excite you, turning your gentle massage into an eager peppering. Using your thumb and index finger, you pepper away at her nipple. You were amazed at their elasticity. Too amazed. You tug and tug to no end, wanting this night to never end.

“Oh my… mr. plumber, that's not how my boyfriend usually does it... ughhh..... fuckk.... you’re so different from him and… Fuck…. mr. plumber’s being so rough with my tits. My boyfriend... h-he loves to treat me soft, but youre doing such a better job” She said in the most unconvincing of tones.

"Oh my.. you're ruining my body mr plumber- ohh.. oh-okay... wait.. fuck... ZUCCHINI"

You were surprised, she uses her safe word. It was quite a while since she had used it, but you knew exactly what it meant, so you retract your hands.

"Aww but we were getting to the good part, little miss helpless girl."

"You can drop the fake voice... ah fuck.... that one was.... that one was a little too much, Paul" She finally states a name. After her confusing mixed usage of mr. Plumbers, babys, boyfriends, and hubbys, it was quite refreshing to finally hear her mouth produce a name. Eunbi was panting, and had sweat building up on her forehead. She was set on wanting to throw in the towel with fulfilling your fantasy.

"Help me take off my blindfold." She said.

Not wanting this to end, you place both hands on her chest to pleasure her nipples the right way "No... nngghhh, Paul, its not about my tits. You've been acting weird all nigh-" she was interrupted.

Eunbi feels an inch of your cock enter her, as should husband and wife on their wedding night. Fireworks go off in your head, feeling her perfectly primed pussy on her wedding night. You were stunned. At a loss for words. This was amazing, until Eunbi had to ruin it with grunts of pain.

"you're not Paul......" she asks with labored breaths, trying to accommodate your size

"Shhhh with how well I know your body so well, I might as well be-"

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU???" Eunbi starts to squirm, trying to get you off. You give her the respect of seeing who you really are.

"Let's just say, Paul's had pretty loose lips recently."

"What the hell do you mean? Who the fuck are you?! GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME. PAAAAUL! PAAAUL, WHERE ARE-" you grab her cheeks with one hand, squishing them to make her stops.

"How the hell do you think I know how to touch you?"

"Paul put you up to this?" Eunbi had pleading eyes looking up at you.

"Well yes and no... In his defense he was just trying to brag about how much 'you melt from his touch'. With accompanying pics and videos, I might add. Your man sent one too many pictures that it wasn't hard to track you down. You'd be amazed by how easy it is to find things via reverse image search. From that point, its simple math. Tux + Wedding + some alcohol for good ol' Paul."

"Where's, Paul?" she said in an assertive voice

"Shhh, its not polite to talk about other people in bed. Don't worry, with how much I know about you, you might as well continue roleplaying."

"Untie me, you pig." she says

"Not a chance, cow" you grip her tits hard, making her nipples bugle out off the gaps of your fingers. With some micromovements, your skin teases her nubs of sensitivity, making her go still.

"You... you're the reason Paul suddenly wanted this out the blue..." she pieces together.

"Hey, Its not my fault he's such a copycat. But hey, I ain't complaining"

With a clear painting, Eunbi's brain fires off at every direction, feeling every emotion, and wielding rage like a steel hammer. Eunbi doesn't care if you tease her nipples anymore. With all her might she sways her body, powers her limbs, screams at the top of her lungs, everything she needs to get herself out of the ropes she put on herself. This made you unhand her and simply sit back.

"I don't see what the problem is. I know your body. Just pretend I'm the same size as your new husband's and it would be like I'm Paul-"

"You shut your mouth. Your cock is nowhere as big as Paul's." she bites back, not even bothering to take a gander at the snake between your legs before continuing her struggle.

It was quite a sight, the woman who left nothing for your imagination was squirming in vigor, producing a sight of nothing but pure sex. The way her tits sway and her pussy clenches was magnificent in and of itself.

With the lack of intervention from the outside world, it seems like Paul wisely paid extra for the soundproofed room. Easing the final worry of your crime.

You give Eunbi a chance, sitting down in between her legs and allowing her to walk out should she succeed in breaking free.

With a smile on your face, one of the reasons you loved bondage unfolds itself in front of you.

There was nothing more delicious than seeing the fighting spirit of a woman. Mustering what little ounce of hope they could, wishfully thinking that Yes. I can get out of this.

You thank the heavens for convincing Paul to opt for the premium ropes. They were certainly holding their own against the thrashing of a grown woman.

You palm Eunbi's pussy, making sure that each one of her struggles would cause her thick labia to grind agaisnt your hand.

"For someone who claims they wanna get free, you sure are grinding your pussy on my hand hard. Hahahaha" Eunbi has grown deaf and numb from your games. She only had one thing in her mind right now.

Your phone camera reads 30 minutes. Watching her go through the motions of anxiety and action has lost its charm. With a final attempt to break free, Eunbi flexes all her muscles to no avail. She drops her limbs, defeated.

You hear her huff and puff, probably exhausted from her hour long clenchings.

Having your fun, and having little to no action for yourself for the past half hour. You get back up on your knees and close your phone.

"Hey, A for effort." you said, laying flat on her body as you hug her, cusping her cheek and looking at her straight in the eye. The fury in them lights a fire under you. Your first attack shall be on her neck. Diving right in, you inhale her scent and mix her sweat with your saliva.

She smelled so good just earlier, but now she reeked of her natural musk. It was like her profuse sweating pushed all the fragrance out of her skin.

With how hard you pressed your face to her body, you could feel the pores on her skin. From her jaw to her armpit to the area around her boobs, you had to make sure you inhaled every essence of her porn body. Your exploration took you to every curve of her torso, every divot, every crevice, smelling the fear and pheromone that pierced through the lotion she wore for Paul tonight. Eunbi squeals to no end, graciously adding background music to your manic deed.

"Where are my manners" Your hand glides around her top, gathering spit and sweat. Well lubricated, you insert 3 fingers inside of her in an instant. Eunbi's body tenses up and makes your hear the beautiful sound of ropes tighten once more.

"You sick fuck" she says in a weak voice, obviously trying hard not to give you the satisfaction of her moans. You knew her body, so you knew how to touch her.

"They say that some rape victims often forget everything that happened to them due to the trauma. Here's to hoping you don't forget how good I am in bed." you laugh, as you continue to violate her birth hole.

After teasing her; bringing her to the edge and then stopping, edging and edging and edging, you decide that its time for your own pleasure.

'Missionary, her favorite.' You think back to Paul's notes, as you take position. “Now lets see just how deep I’ll get"

You lay your cock on her, your base rests on her entrance. while the cockhead all the way up, sizing up how far you'll reach. Eunbi’s eyes almost pop out upon looking down and seeing how the tip of your cock easily reached her tummy.

"Please... stop..." she said as you got off her and aim your cock on her leaking cunt.

"You should have told your husband that." You take your phone and show you all the pictures and videos that Paul had been sharing to you all this time. The delicious trust that he had for you was endearing. Or was it ignorance? Perhaps the anonymity made him think he was bulletproof.

Distracted from your phone, was the best time to pierce Kwon Eunbi, “Don’t worry. If it wont fit, then I’ll make it fit.” Applying pressure, Eunbi groans and starts to let you hear her weeping.

"Heey hey..." You comfort her pretty little head, wanting her to calm down before you say "Remember to open those legs wide for me, Eunbi. I’m not as big as your husband, remember?” you chuckle, a glint of mercy shows from your joke, one short-lived as your patience grows thin. You spread her legs yourself, so far off to the point of pain.

You wanted her to be tight, you wanted her pussy to grip your dick so hard that it could turn to diamond. But what Eunbi had in store for you? Was much. Much. Better.

Your cock laced with precum only had to push past her puffy labia. From then on, your cock was a key that perfectly fit the lock of Eunbi's pussy. Amused, you leave her pussy, and try entry again. Paul's woman weeps from this, again and again you repeat your actions, as if she were built for nothing but your amusement. Seeing her, you wipe her tears and give her a smile. With your cock withdrawn from her depths, you nod your head, as if asking a question. Eunbi shakes from left to right. You sigh and exit her tasty cunt. Looking like you were discouraged.

Such a ploy paved the way to seeing her fill up with hope and drain back out. You weren't letting go of this one. Eunbi's pussy has got to be one of the fattest pussies you’ve ever pounded. Her pussy was perfection. The little bend of your cock allowed you to grind your swollen cockhead to what little gap her filled pussy had left.

Eunbi started to ease her agitated expression. In fact, the both of you did. It felt Like Heaven for the both of you that you two had a couple of dumb, mindless faces.

"Heey, look who's here. Its your hubby~" you snap her out using another one of your ploys, a bait she gladly takes as her head flicks to the door.

Your free hand guides her head to face yours. “He's in front of you, silly~"

"No no, you're not-" you spit on her face

"Yes I am. Go ahead, call me hubby”

“n-no…” preparing to spit once more, you decide consent was nonsensical at this point.

“But wifey~" disregarding her disapproval, you go ahead and steal the moniker from their relationship “Its our honeymoon~”

She had nothing but eyes filled with fear and tears whilst staring up at you. You slow down your ravishing, eventually putting it to a halt.

From the moment your cock entered Eunbi, you've been noticing how much her volume increases whenever your cock kisses a certain part of her insides.

Face to face, you watch her react to your ace in the hole. Its not like your were jackhammering her. No. You simply pressed your cock hard on her special place. Same position, same angle, full sustained strength. You swear you could feel her wall bumping outwards with how much your cock was pressing on it.

Like a madwoman, Eunbi shouts with the entirety of her being. The escalation from calm to panic was exquisite, from her eyes shooting open to her screech pushing past her throat.

"NOT THERE! OH PLEASE DEAR FUCKING GOD NOT THERE!!!"

she screams lies past her teeth. Eunbi's reaction was so visceral. As if possessed, her body lifts off the bed, not mindful of her arms and legs secured. You graciously accompany her upwards, making sure to stay connected.

Her disgruntled moans were continuous, leaving a constant gap on her mouth. An invitation you gladly accept, sucking out both breath and spit; as if you needed anything more to remind you that you own her tonight.

Cock in. Mouth together. Your fingers reclaim its rightful plush throne atop her boobs.

Your core was about to give out with your current position, still applying pressure on her sweet spot. A few more swipes on her nipples were all it took for you to finally reap her sow. It looked cute, the way she orgasms. A muscle from the V lines of her hip spasms in and out. Your cock was compressed to no end when Kwon Eunbi's cream tries and tries to push your member out of her. Her condensed nectar engulfs her cunt and then your cock.

"Hu...bby....." Eunbi finally says, with her body still suspended mid-air. The line between love and hate fades, and along it, Eunbi's sanity. Nevermind the fact that she was calling for help, you choose to believe she's finally yours.

You guide her bum back to bed, seemingly necessary with how her face and body froze, and her pupils vibrate. After much consideration, you decide it was time to meet Eunbi in heaven. Your hips only had one goal: To resume fucking her. Thankfully, bucking your hips forward didn't make her squeal anymore. No whines nor moans were left. Just anguish 'love'.

It seems like she's finally broken 'warmed' up to you. Without restraint, you fuck her glorious pussy, still ladened with her own cum, bottoming out so hard that what little voice she had left couldn't be heard over the squeaking bedframe.

"Since Paul loves these so much. I'm gonna help them grow. Even. Bigger." You grip her tits. Grip. Truthfully, no word will ever do justice to the roughness your hands show her tits. Using them as handles, you chase after your orgasm. Wanting to finally pay back Paul for all the times he's sent you pictures of Eunbi, each one leading you to this moment. A gift that will reveal itself 9 months later. A gift that will make Eunbi's already-bountiful bosom blossom. The gift of life.

Lights almost go out as your virile cum pushes past her cunt and squirts straight into her womb. It was fireworks. The perfect punishment to Paul's mishap.

You lay in bed. Using one of Eunbi's meaty arms as your pillow. She was still tied up, but that didn't stop you from cuddling the woman as if she were yours. You look below, thankfully, hiking her panties as high up as the fabric can hold prevented your baby batter from leaking out.

You trace her belly, excited about how much larger it will be in a matter of months. Looking at her face devoid of emotion —no will to live whatsoever— you give her a kiss goodbye, and a rub on her head for doing a good job at being such a good toy for you tonight.

You leave, with your number on her phone, and her state a shriveled husk of a woman.

You pass by the room you had put Paul in before making sure he was drunk as all hell. It wasn't even locked. Bastard was just out of it.

You scoff. Walking a little taller as you think to yourself

'Fuck around and find out.'

Reason why I wrote this smut: For the Nth time, my close friend has bragged about his "catch of a girlfriend". I didn't think jerking off to his gf's pics (the ones that he himself sent) was enough of a punishment, so I wrote a fic about it too. As I'm writing this, I am intoxicated with the idea that everyone who jerked off to this fic is in a way jerking off to his girl 😋 Whenever I was stuck in this fic, I was totally thinking of how I'd fuck his girl.

Welp this certainly took a dark turn... I am honestly shocked at myself with how this one turned out. And I say "turned out" because this had a different draft and story line before I moved it over to Tumblr to polish it. I think the pressure of not wanting the storyline/ending to be same the as Doggy Cam's (where its revealed that the idol actually likes) got to me. Lol! But hey, at least I got noncon off the list now! Hoping to move on to a fluffy smut after this cause it was legit "...oof what did I write" for me by the end of this one 😅

[sstormyskyess]

Hello lovely moot! Can I send a request? Need some more Gaz content please, there’s not enough as we well know. How about something steamy, stolen kisses and an intimate moment when the rest of the team are busy elsewhere. Gotta keep it quiet so no one catches you in the act and blows the secret. Happy with your choice of reader gender identity but top Gaz please 🖤🖤🖤

Undercover

author's note: hi beloved moot and fellow gaz lover!! i will always write gaz content til the day i die, i will populate the gaz x reader tag myself if i have to 💜 thank you for the request!! [and apologies for the wait, finals season is kicking my ass 🥱]

cw: smut, semi-public sex, fingering, unsafe sex [wrap it before you tap it!]

word count: 2100+

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick / Fem!Reader

Gaz had been getting on your nerves for the past hour now. He must be pent up from the last mission; there would be no other reason for him to be practically begging for your attention when he had plenty of other things to focus on. Mainly, the mission brief that was currently being held. The one that would be dictating the strategies you would be employing for the next mission.

But instead of taking in that crucial information, Gaz was squeezing and kneading at the meat of your thighs under the table. You shoot him yet another glare but his eyes remain forward, albeit unfocused. Your face was warming up exponentially, despite the cold winter air drifting in through the door.

“Soap, Ghost. This is need to know, follow me.” Price nodded to the door and all three of them left the room, leaving just you and Gaz in the makeshift meeting room that had been fashioned in the safehouse. Your gaze snaps to Gaz, a frown on your face. “What is wrong with you?!” You whisper-yell, your face heated up all the way down to your shirt collar.

He puts his hands up defensively, a cocky smile playing at his features. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart.” You groan, rolling your eyes and rubbing your hands over your face to calm yourself down enough to not strangle him half to death on the spot. “Were you paying attention to the brief at all?” You groan, exasperated by his antics.

Any further protests you were planning on raising were swiftly cut short by Gaz’s lips on yours, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip. You latch your hand to his shoulder, gripping tight and trying to push him off, your frustration fighting to keep your desires under control. He only deepens the kiss, leaning over you and pushing you back against the table. Ultimately, the heat between your legs won out, your body letting him lay you on the old wooden table, covered in important documents that most certainly weren’t meant to be tampered with or damaged in any way.

You let out a little whine into his mouth as his hands started to palm at your chest through your clothes, the soft plush of your breasts squishing under his touch. His hands slip into your sweater, pushing your bra upwards to get better access to your warm skin and perked up nipples. It doesn’t take long for him to lean down and shove his head under the hem of your shirt and wrap his soft lips around one of your hardened buds.

You gasp, grabbing onto his head through the thick fabric making up your sweater. “Gaz, they’re right outside!” You squeak, wiggling in his grasp. He just continues his cruel machinations, pulling you closer even though he was already practically laying on top of you. “I guess we better stay quiet then, yeah?” His voice is muffled by both your skin and the cover of your sweater over his head.

He holds your hips tight to stop your squirming before his fingers start to unbuckle your belt and slip the hem of your cargo pants down. They get shucked off, falling to the ground in a heap, leaving you in only your sweater and your underwear. Your legs instinctively try to close to stave off the cold air against your dampened panties, but Gaz catches them before they can.

He licks his lips at the sight of the wet spot your pussy had created on the soft fabric covering it up, a near ravenous glint in his eyes. He had to force himself to calm down, though; he didn’t have time to bury his face between your legs until your legs were shaking. That would have to wait for later. But he needed you, now.

You let him pull your panties to the side and glide his fingers along your slit, a shiver going down your spine at the feeling. “God, you’re soaked, love.” He smiles to himself, slipping one of his fingers inside, another fitting in beside the first quickly. You bite down on your bottom lip, barely able to suppress the needy moan that bubbles up at the way his digits wormed their way into your tight heat.

He starts to pump his fingers in and out, your hips twitching upwards in response with a sharp inhale. “Fuck—!” You slap your hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet, your eyes darting to the door for fear of the other three returning and seeing you in this position. Gaz would have none of that, he decided before he grabbed your chin with his other hand and turned your eyes back toward him. “Eyes on me, darling, c’mon.”

Your breath hitches at the hungry look he gives you. You look him over through the fog slowly clouding your brain, taking note of the straining of his pants trying to hold his aching cock back. You’re brought back to reality when his fingers press against that spot that only he can reach, your back arching off the table. The spongy flesh melds around his middle and ring finger, a sharp jolt of pleasure shooting through you. You whine, wiggling under his touch. “Gaz, just hurry up!”

Gaz simply smirks, finally undoing his belt and pulling the zipper of his pants down with his free hand, the outline of his bulge visible behind the fabric of his boxer briefs. You gasp when he pulls you toward the edge of the table, your core pressing up against his clothed cock. He grips your hips tightly, grinding into you and putting delightful friction on your clit through your underwear.

He takes a little while longer to work you open, his fingers spreading your walls open. You clench around them, a tiny whimper leaving your pursed lips. “Gaz, c’mon..!”

“You think you’re ready for me?” He taunts, his smug face making a wave of frustration roll through you. “Yes, I’m ready! Hurry, please!” You whine at him. He shakes his head, laughing quietly. “Alright, alright.”

He lets go of your hip to fish his cock out of his underwear, stiff and leaking at the tip. You bite your lip at the sight, watching him intently as he pumps himself a few times and milks a few more drops of his pre-cum out. Your eyes dart between that delicious sight and his face, feeling your cheeks warm.

You hardly notice his fingers sliding out of you and the head of his cock lining up with your pussy, gliding through your folds. Before you know it, he’s pressing into you, stretching you open. It rips a moan from your lips, a moan that’s just a little too loud.

He jerks up to put his palm over your mouth and continues pushing himself inside. The rest of the moans you let out are muffled by his hand, and he chuckles imagining how loud you would be if he let you sing for him out loud. Maybe later tonight. “You know how much I love your voice, but you have to stay quiet, sweetheart.”

You shoot a glare at him, your eyes shouting at him, ‘If you didn’t want to get caught, why did we do this in the first place,’ but your wordless complaints are stifled when he starts moving his hips. Your back arches at the pace he sets off the jump; it’s obvious he was done playing around now, something about being enveloped in your wet cunt fully awakening his desires.

You cry out behind his hand, putting your own hand over his in an attempt to subdue your own voice more than it already was. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix over and over, the pressure in the pit of your stomach building up with each thrust. He leans over you, hands firmly planted on the table, hitting a different angle than before. A better angle.

Kyle grazes across your sweet spot, your entire body jumping in response. You practically scream his name into the palm of his hand, your eyes rolling back. “Fuuuck…” He groans at the way you tighten around him, his hips stuttering before continuing his quick pace. You whine, hips canting upwards to meet his thrusts.

Your eyes widen when he removes his hand while you were mid-moan, your own hand slapping over your mouth to replace his. He doesn’t let it stay there for long, though; he takes your wrist and pulls it away from your face, leaning down to put his lips on yours in a heated kiss. You let him slip his tongue into your mouth to dance with your own, covering up your lewd noises.

The table legs scrape along the floor with every one of his thrusts. You claw at his back through his shirt, tugging on it. “Gaz—” You have to bite your lip to stop your words from devolving into a moan, before continuing, “S-Slow down, they’re gonna hear us—!” You squeak when all he responds with is a particularly rough thrust.

“D-Don’t care if they hear, fuck—need to feel you cum on my cock, c’mon, do it,” He mutters and starts pulling you into his thrusts, groaning at the feeling of your pussy clenching down on him as you neared your climax.

He takes a moment to lean back and look over your body, a slight sheen of sweat gracing your skin and your eyes glassy. You feel his cock twitch inside you and your hips jerk; you stifle your whine, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer, desperate to finally cum.

“Christ, love,” He pants, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. “You’re so fuckin’ tight—” He bites into his fist, groaning into it. His hand shakes as he drags it to your clit, rubbing quick little circles into your sensitive nub. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth and muffle the string of moans that leaves you as your orgasm finally hits.

Gaz braces his hands on the table’s surface, nearly collapsing under the overwhelming feeling of the walls of your tight cunt fluttering as you cum. It only takes a couple more pumps of his cock for him to finish, his cum sending a pleasantly warm feeling through your body and eliciting a moan from you, not caring about the volume anymore.

Your breath shudders as you try to regain your bearings, your mind a bit fuzzy. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, You suck in a quick breath when he pulls out, your cunt oversensitive from his relentless onslaught he laid into it. He smiles and leans down to kiss you sweetly, his hands caressing your sides.

You sit up after a few moments, noticing that Gaz had pulled your panties back in place. You grimace and sigh when you feel him leaking out of you, which is bound to get the seat of your pants wet. You hoped at least you’d be able to escape somewhere to change soon.

“Are you satisfied now?” You grumble, sliding off the table and attempting to hide the way your legs were shaking. He just chuckles, kissing you on the cheek with a smile on his lips. “I am. At least until later tonight.” He plants another kiss behind your ear. “Thank you, love.”

You roll your eyes and playfully push him away, smoothing down your sweater and pulling your cargo pants back up, but not before Gaz grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes. He laughs when you squeak and swat his hand away, your cheeks puffed as you frown. “Stop that! And put your dick away, they're bound to come back in here any minute now.”

He does as you ask and tucks his softening cock away, zipping up his trousers. “Looking forward to later tonight, sweetheart,” he says with a cheeky little grin.

Soap leans against the wall next to the door to their makeshift briefing room, chuckling quietly to himself. Ghost and Price were less than amused, but they could at least acknowledge the absurdity of the situation. They left for five minutes and you and Gaz managed to get into each other’s pants within that short span of time.

“Remind me why we aren’t going back inside?” Ghost grumbles, arms crossed. Price shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not interested in seeing my sergeants shagging like dogs in heat, Simon.”

Soap hides a louder laugh behind his fist, taking a second to compose himself. “Come on, L.T., no need to ruin their fun.” He barely held back the overpowering urge to reach over a few inches and jiggle the door handle just to spook the two of you. Just barely. Ghost rolls his eyes. “Should’ve picked a better time to have their fun, then.” He huffs.

“It’ll be fine. I can tell them off later.” Price chuckles at Ghost’s drawn out, dramatic sigh and patiently waits for the sound of squealing table legs to quiet down.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[world-of-aus]

Safe With Me - II

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky x MobDaughter!Reader

Warnings: Angst. Feels.

Author's Note: I am so sorry that this has taken me so long to get out! But here we are installment II of Safe With Me. I am looking at two more parts total for this small series. I hope you all enjoy this piece, happy reading Buns!

The tension was overwhelming, the silence deafening as you and your father stare one another down. Bucky stands frozen at the door, face void of any emotion as he awaits further instruction from your father. There’s an ache sat in your chest from the night before that he was here for him, his job, and not you. 

“Are you going to say anything?” you almost dare the gray-haired man before you. 

Bucky watches as your father shakes his head, his frown glowering further, “what would you like me to say,” he snips eyes burrowing further into yours. “Rumlows out of your life a year now yet you still allow the bastard to dictate it, still allow him to play you like some pawn!”  

“You’re one to talk, he plays you all the same.”  

Bucky catches the moment your body jolts in fear at your old mans fist meeting the desk “Watch your mouth daughter, you are my blood, you are my next in line, this,” he gestures to the office, “is to be yours, do not let him take this from you!” 

“He’s not taking anything from me because I don’t want to be the next in line!” 

Your words have stunned your father into silence, pain and betrayal pulling at his features. “What did you say?” 

The scoff slips past your lips “you’ve never been one to hear me. I said I don’t want this, I’ve never wanted this, you and Nico have decided my fate time and time again, I have had no say, have had no voice!” 

“Don’t you dare!” he hisses chubby wrinkled finger pointed at you at the mention of your late brother.” 

“Be real for once father,” you argue back, “I was never your first option, I’ve probably never been, but you were left with no choice, you dealt your own cards!” 

The second the chair flies into the wall as you father stands in fury Bucky is behind you his hand resting on your shoulder. An anchor of comfort. “How dare you,” your father hisses, “I am your father y/n and you will respect me as such!” 

You’re defiant now that Bucky is there to ground you, “why should I, did you respect the wishes of Nico, my wishes? This life got him killed, and you’re resigning me to the same fate. If it wasn’t for begging, no pleading you to see what Rumlow was doing to me I would have met the same fate! I begged you for a year, a year father, and no number of bruises laid upon me could get you to see, to hear me. It wasn’t till Bucky found me that night, the night you miraculously seemed to think of me that you finally saw me.” 

Bucky visibly tenses at the mention of that night, his jaw locks, and the hand that isn’t rested against your skin clenches into a fist at his side. Rumlow had every intention of ending your life that night, and had he not arrived when he did, he doesn’t even want to imagine. It was almost like fate that he got to you just in time, he had been your only hope at escaping the grasp of death.  

Some nights he can still recall your weakened grip, your barely there pained cries as he all but pleaded with you to hold on for him. Those nights he holds your hand a little tighter, brings you closer to make sure you’re still there, that you’re safe. Safe with him. 

“Rumlows moved on y/n, he has a wife, a child on the way, he’s just trying to scare you, that’s always been his tactic when he feels threatened.” 

You want to scream because he’s doings it again, he’s not hearing you. 

“With all due respect sir it would be wise of you to listen to your daughter.” Bucky speaks up from beside you. You fight the urge to glance up at him, eyes locked on your fathers gaze which has found the eyes of the man that stands tall beside you.  

“Not you too,” your father mutters, the urge to scream intensifies. 

“You’ve been witness to what he’s capable of,” Bucky reminds, “on not only one occurrence but a second as well, do you really want to take the risk?” 

“You say I’m not hearing you, but it’s like you’re not hearing me either, that is my blood,” he points again. “My line, my legacy, she is made for this, to take over it, you’re asking me to give it all up for what? An empty threat?” 

“An empty threat? Is that what you think of Nico’s death?” 

Your dad’s eyes flicked to yours, and you know that if you hadn’t been his blood there would have been a hole shot right between your eyes. “What do you want from me? Have I not given you everything? Have I not lived up to what you wanted?” 

No. You think. 

He’s given you nothing, but he’s taken everything.  

“I want you to find someone else.” 

You’re sure your father’s considering grabbing the gun he has nestled in his drawer. He flicks his hardened gaze between you and Bucky. “Leave us y/n.” You gape, “excuse me?” his eyes land on yours, “I said leave us, I need to talk to James alone. Go.” He admonishes you when you don’t move. Bucky gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze his way of saying you’ll be okay. You stand wordlessly ducking your head as you move towards the door, heart hammering in your chest, a knot lodged in your throat as you step out into the hallway.  

The door clicks behind you softly, your back pressed against the wood as you will your ears to hear. The only sound that can be heard though is that of your shallow breathing and the racing of your heart. It’s gone quiet in the hallway, the only sound now is that of your pacing too loud for your ears as you go one way, only to go back and re-track your steps the other way. 

Minutes tick by with no sign of your father or Bucky to be heard behind that closed door. You’ve lost count of the times you’ve retraced your steps in the narrow hallway by the time that door pulls open. There was only one time that you can recall not being able to read Bucky and that was on your first meeting with the brunette, it’s strange now to look at the man you’ve come to know, come to trust so deeply, to look at him and not know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. 

He pulls the door open wider, you take a step forward wanting to ask if he’s okay, if everything was alright, but hesitation sat heavy. Each step taken into your dad's office feels weighed down by a cinder block. The waiting chair is execution, and your dad the jailer waiting to deliver the lethal dose.  

You take your seat, bucky feet behind you, your father doesn’t speak as he slides a paper forward. Your eyes catch on the word Contract at the top of the page, they flick up to your dad, “what's this?”  

“Read it.” 

You lean forward fingers pulling the contract closer, the office is quiet, suffocating as your eyes scan the words printed on the document. Your heart plummets when you see the signatures bonding the contract. Your eyes meet your dads, “what is this?” You ask again needing clarification that what you’re reading on the page before you is real. 

“You wanted me to hear you.” He answers. 

“I – and you think this is hearing me, signing away my hand?” 

Your father scoffs, “there’s no pleasing you is there? I’ve done what you asked me y/n, you don’t wish to be next in line, so I’ve made it to where you don’t have to be, like you’ve asked of me.” 

You’re unsure of what to do, what to say, you look over your shoulder the unreadable expression on Bucky’s features now makes sense you think. “And you agreed to this?” He nods stiffly, the bile rising in your throat, you turn back to your father, “I won’t agree to this, you can’t make me.” You barely get out. 

He settles back in his chair, “unfortunately your name isn’t on the contract for you to be able to make that decision. My hands are tied daughter, this was the only way I could give you what you wanted, while still ensuring my lineage was taken care of.” 

“You think this is what I wanted, what he wanted?!” 

He looks down at the contract that took minutes to draft up and seconds to sign, “his signature is on the page is it not? Besides, there’s no one I trust more. I trusted him with ensuring you safety for a little over a year now, I think that qualifies him enough, he’s taken care of the thing most precious to me.” 

“Do you not stop and think?” Your fathers looks surprised, “have you ever stop and thought of anyone other than yourself?” His surprise slips, cold demeanor returning. “I will not let you take the one thing I have worked for my whole life y/n; I will have my lineage continued; I will have a next in line.” 

“So that’s it, neither of us have a say?” 

Your father rubs at his chin, “I think enough has been said, it’s time to move forward, by the next meeting you shall adorn a wedding band and a new last name, and I will have my next in line.” 

You want to argue but your father wastes no time in ‘moving forward’, “James I will take of everything for you and my daughter, make sure she is tended to tonight, it is obvious her feelings are on a fritz.” 

“Of course, sir.” Bucky answers and you had never imagined there would ever be a time that you wanted to scream at the brunette.  

Your father sees the two of you out, Bucky leading the two of you to the car. Neither of you speaks as the engine starts, your father's home a speck in the mirror the farther you drive. 

You had only ever been to Bucky’s cabin one other time, the wooden lodge a home away from home for him. It’s still as breathtaking as the first time you laid your eyes on it. The scenery that you watch from the windows seems to be the only thing that has calmed you since you arrived hours ago. 

Neither of you has spoken yet, unsure of what to say, where to start. Should you scream, cry, damn everything to hell? Would anything fix what your father has done? 

You know the answer and it’s not one you like. 

You shut your eyes leaning your head against the cooling glass, this wasn’t how you imagined this would go. In an alternate universe you’d have fallen to your knees in tears, cries of joy leaving your lips at the thought of marrying Bucky Barnes. But this wasn’t that universe, the universe where you fell in love. This was your father once again taking eveything, but this time he wasn’t only taking from you. 

A hand on your shoulder pulls you from your mind, your eyes opening to the breathtaking scenery once more. His hands guide you, turning you softly till you’re falling into a warm embrace. Your hands curl around his back, head finding his chest. His lips press to your head, you were safe. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes into your hair. 

His apology takes you by surprise, and you pull back slightly to meet his eyes, “what ever are you sorry for, if anyone should be apologizing it is me.” 

He shakes his head, “I went against what you wanted this afternoon, I thought of nothing else other than your safety when I put that pen down on that paper. I should have stopped to think how you might feel, I took your voice away.” Your head shakes vigorously in return as if the action might show him just how wrong you thought it was. “The only person who went against my wishes was my father, when I called this meeting with him, I was not expecting him to make the demands he did, he had no right, he may have taken my choice away but he took yours as well.” 

The brunette's brows furrow in question, “you didn’t ask for this Bucky,” you answer, “you were given the sole task by my father to protect me for as long as you could, and you’ve done just that, I could never thank you enough for it, but that should have been all that this was. Now he demands that you take my hand, he’s ripping away that choice from you. He’s taking your choice of a happy future by making you take my hand, and his lineage.” 

“Would you have chosen differently?” 

You want to say yes, you would. You would have changed the way you met him, would have changed his role in your life. You would have done it all differently, and you tell him just that asking him the same question in return. 

His answer surprises you, “I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Because I'm not sure you and I would have ever crossed paths otherwise, and I don’t want to think of any other possibility.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you might not be in it.”  

[yumizurueleonora]

idk if you still want to take requests for the angsty sentence starter thing, but maybe 1 for akitoya, and then 13 and 17 for toya and harumichi? you can pick one or all of them haha

YES YES I AM THANK YOU GREAT PROMPT CHOICE I LIKED THIS :DD

1: “I’m just so afraid.”

Fuck. Fuck.

Akito can’t breathe.

He has to practice. He has to keep going.

The night stretches out, and that’s just another reminder of how Akito can’t stop.

Chasing that moon. That… gorgeous, delicate moon.

There’s so much fear in his chest. It’s suffocating.

That gentle voice is ringing in his head, saying words that make Akito’s heart shatter. Cutting him every time he tries to pick up the pieces.

“Don’t you think it’s about time you grew up and stopped chasing some tiny event that no-one’s even heard of outside of this town?”

It was a long time ago. Akito knows that. But…

But it’s still ringing in his head. He can’t stop it.

And that face is in his vision. Bruised and cold.

So cold.

He’s a terrible partner.

That voice keeps ringing in his head no matter how hard he sings.

And it’s only getting louder. Louder and louder.

“Akito!”

It’s almost like… he’s here…

His eyes flutter shut, and there are suddenly arms around him.

He doesn’t even need to see them. He knows those manicured fingers and long arms.

“…How’d you know?” Akito asks, and Toya chuckles softly.

“Partner sense.” He responds, but then his tone changes. “What are you doing, Akito?”

“Practicing.” Akito sighs.

“That wasn’t practice. That was… dangerous. Violent. Your voice was a honed blade.”

“Oh, come on. You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?”

Akito stays silent, and Toya sighs.

“I’m afraid, Akito. I’m just so afraid for you.”

There’s another pang in Akito’s chest, and…

And Akito doesn’t know what to do.

So he just stays silent. In Toya’s arms. Feeling the pain that’s shared between them.

“Come home with me. My parents are out, we can play Pokémon or something.”

And Akito wants to tell him that he needs to keep practicing. That he’s also afraid. That he’s scared that Toya will leave him again, for good this time.

But he knows his partner. He won’t let that go.

So instead he just laughs softly and opens his eyes.

“Okay.”

And again, the pain continues. But that’s alright.

It’s alright for now.

13. “You never listen to me.”/17. “I have to leave.”

It’s always so… messy whenever Harumichi and Toya get into a fight.

Toya’s pacing the floor back and forth, an intense expression on his face.

It’s like looking in a mirror.

“You never listen to me!” Toya starts, his eyes flashing with a cold fire. “Why?! Why can’t you understand, Father?!”

“You’ll understand when you’re older.” Harumichi simply says, keeping his own temper under control.

It should come like second nature, but there’s a strange bubbling in his chest.

He’s a child. There’s no reason to yell.

But Toya keeps going, and he can’t keep repeating the same thing over and over again.

“Insolent child! You’re so stubborn!”

“Pot, meet kettle!” Toya snaps back. “Yes, I’m so stubborn! It’ll lead me to ruin! Then to my ruin I shall go! Why do you insist on dictating my life?!”

“Because for us, there is no other path for happiness than classical music!”

“No other path?! If someone told you that your only path to happiness was to be a doctor, when you can barely stand going to the hospital to see Saki, would your heart not strain to be free?!”

That sentence… breaks something in Harumichi.

And there’s an echo in his head.

That grating voice.

“Worthless, worthless, worthless! God, why did I have to be cursed with a child like you?!”

“That’s different.” Harumichi says, almost robotically, and Toya’s entire body tenses up.

“You don’t even care, do you? All you want is for me to be made in your image! I need to leave, I’ll be at the Tenmas’!”

Toya walks out the door and slams it behind him, and Harumichi collapses onto the couch.

He’ll never understand, will he?

That this is the only path for their family. It’s what they’re meant to do, and people will try to pull them away from it all their lives.

And they’ll go, for only a pinch of that sweet thing called love.

Fate has decided it long ago.

And all Harumichi can do is try to drag Toya back from that pain, that torture before it’s too late.

[thecameronchronicles]

Selfish

TW: Smut. Angst/arguments. Language. 

SUMMARY: Sarah’s reaction after finding you, her best friend, with her brother. 

WORD COUNT: 1100

REQUESTED

Anonymous asked:

Sarah walking in on reader (her best friend) and rafe and she gets mad because why would you date rafe after she told you how bad he is and why would he date her best friend but you get mad at her too and before Rafe can defend you you tell her she’s being selfish and that it’s her fault that she started hanging out with rafe because she hasn’t seen her at all since she started dating John b and rafe is like yeah fuck you sarah and enjoying seeing her gf mad at his sister and he thinks is kinda hot

Selfish

The way he felt pistoning in and out of your sobbing sex was enough to ignore the warnings made against him from his sister and your best friend, Sarah. You weren’t a stranger to his reputation for being intense and reckless, but it was also a large part of what it was that drew you to him to begin with. The sensation of his breath stealing your own through self-serving kisses had eradicated the wrath you knew he could harbor behind those same fingers now rushing over your curves as he sunk himself deeper inside of you. 

“You feel so good, baby…” He groaned into your shoulder as your nails ate into his while you brought him further into you. Your bodies came together in a perfect collision of need and relinquishment, one folding as the other consumed. It always existed this way as you seemed to truly feed off of one another in every circumstance, but no more than when nude and driven solely by lust. 

His nails ran down your back as you rocked against his hips as those eager fingers now wrapped at the back of your neck. 

“You’re gonna make me come…” He grunted, “you feel too good…”

“Don’t I always?” You teased. 

“Yeah,” He groaned, fingers tightening into your skin. “But this time it’s gonna be-”

“What the actual fuck?!” Sarah’s voice boomed behind you as Rafe was quick to ignore and allow his annoyance to broadcast over his face as you felt a twinge of guilt when seeing the betrayal in her expression. But you couldn’t deny how a part of you was relieved she finally knew.

“After I told you to stay away from him? God, are you that desperate to get fucked that you’ll just take it from anyone?” Rafe went to defend you, but you would beat him to the punch, climbing off of his lap and wrapping yourself in the sheets, as he dressed behind you. 

“I have a right to be with who I want, just like you do with John B-”

“What does this have to do with him?!”

“If not for you ignoring me this last summer,” You motion between you and Rafe, “THIS might never have happened. But it has, so just get over it, Sarah-”

“You have no idea what I’ve been through-”

“It’s ALWAYS about you. I keep trying to be a friend-”

“Yeah some friend, fucking my brother behind my back.”

“You’re just selfish, Sarah. Thinking that you are the only one who can be happy-”

“HE makes you happy? What? With the lines of cocaine or threatening me and my friends?”

“God, do you hear yourself? It’s always about you!”

“Just fuck off, Sarah.” Rafe groaned, his hands pulling you back towards him at the edge of the bed as you were taken into his lap. The shameless display of care and sensuality made her even more enraged. 

“Then don’t expect me to give a shit when he breaks your heart.”

“I wasn’t because he won’t.” You shot back as she shook her head. 

“You two are perfect together. Both idiots.”

“Fuck you Sarah!” You finally spat. “I’m so tired of you always tearing me down and dictating my life. I was there through John B, Topper, even the ones before them. I have given up dates and weekends-happiness all to be a good friend and I’m actually happy and you tear at it because you know you and John B are doomed!”

“You have no idea-”

“I don’t? How far do you think it’s gonna go when the excitement wears off and reality sets in? You don’t belong on The Cut and he doesn't belong in Figure Eight. You will go off to college and meet someone else and he’ll hold you back and you’ll let him. Don’t be pissed off because the world stopped revolving around you, Sarah. And grow up…” You managed to walk her into the hallway outside of Rafe’s room as you spoke. “Now if you’ll excuse me, you interrupted something-” You shut the door, locking it this time, before turning to find Rafe standing in the center of the room. 

“Get the fuck over here…” He groaned as his words and expression had taken you completely off guard. “Get on the bed. Hands and knees right fucking now…”

“That turn you on, Rafe?”

He forced your hand to his cock, feeling him at attention for you once again. 

“Ass. Up. Now.” You bit your bottom lip, dropped the sheets, and crawled before him. A single slap to your left cheek would make you gasp before you felt him return to his home between your thighs. 

“So fucking sexy all proud to be mine. Let her fucking hear it.” He ordered as he pulled your hair so your face was no longer buried in the pillows in front of you. 

“YES! RAFE! DON’T STOP! DON’T FUCKING STOP!”

“Yeah baby? You wanna come on my cock, right?”

“I’M SO CLOSE!” You belted as he scoffed behind you. 

“I can feel how close, baby. Let me have it…come on sweetheart…let me fucking have it.” You nodded, a series of groans, grunts, and pleas leaving your lips as he brought you to that edge, just as your body served as his outlet. And yet, as you expected him to pull himself out to face you, he only pulled you to his chest. 

“You’re gonna squirt for me baby…I’m not stopping until you’re fucking shaking-”

“I already am…”

“If you can still talk, still walk, then I’m not done…I want all of you, all spent out for me. Call me selfish…” He shrugged, finding irony in his words as this had been one of the warnings she had offered you, only realizing that all of those threats she made had only been in your benefit. A benefit he used thoroughly, frequently, and with a continuously satisfying result…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @bethoconnor @belcalis9503

[matryosika]

Day 10: Thigh fucking + Body cumshot with Changbin

Wordcount — 2,267 words.

Includes — Step brother!Minho, Brother's best friend / best friends' sister dynamic. Forbidden relationship!au, exhibitionism kink (mild and if you squint), teasing, dirty talk, use of petnames, making out, thigh fucking, body cumshot.

Author's note — Ha, day 10 of kinktober (and it's October 18th. I apologize, alright?) Anyways, this is a forbidden relationship au sort of thing, so yeah. This is entirely and completely between Changbin and mc, and the (step)brother does not play a role in any of it (except for the fact that he could caught both characters during the deed lmao). Changbin and mc are on their own world, Minho too and the only reason why I included this sort of relationship is for the sake of portraying the whole "forbidden bond" between both characters. Now that that's out of the way, please enjoy! Remember that english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes in advance.

If there's one thing Minho would kill for, it's you.

Changbin knows that much, judged by how your step-brother speaks about you.

“She has been having a really rough time with the breakup,” Minho had explained one time the two of them were hanging out at his place, noticing how it was a saturday night and you hadn’t left your room all day. “Minjae was truly an asshole to her, for once I’m happy they broke up but I just don’t like seeing her cry over any man”. 

Changbin never asks too much because he knows Minho is a smart man —Changbin is so transparent-like and Minho can always see through everyone. 

Clearly, someone has always been at a disadvantage. 

So he always marked distance with you —you were his best friend’s sister, and he thought he valued Minho’s friendship over whatever his primal instincts dictated.

That all was, of course, before you started wanting to shorten that distance that Changbin always insisted on lengthening.

“Please,” Changbin groans when your tongue brushes against his, your arms wrapped around his neck while his hands are groping your ass, pressing you harder against him to the point of getting to feel how desperate he is. “Just one time”.

“Minho is home,” you whisper in between kisses, getting drunk on his lips. “Do you want us to get caught?”

“That surely didn't matter when you were bending over in front of me with that fucking dress, letting me see you are wearing nothing underneath it,” he shoots back, leaving a wet trail of kisses from your jawline to your neck. “Why does it matter now?”

All this time, all Changbin and you did was fool around.

What started with an innocent kiss at a party turned into endless teasing every time you are together, which always happens when Minho is around.

Then, when Minho isn’t looking, you two sneak out to make out and get closer to that thing you both want, but are too afraid to admit.

“He could hear us,” you murmur again, hissing when his teeth nimble the soft skin on your neck. “You know how loud I get”.

Changbin’s cock twitches inside his pants when he remembers how sweetly you sound while coming, chanting his name over and over again until you stop to thank him for making you feel good. 

He could ask you to be quiet tonight, but that's not really what he'd like. What he likes is hearing you moan, and cry, and beg for more; he likes the contrast in your voice when people are around and when you're just with him —how whiny and sharp it gets, how it trembles every time you try to say something while having his fingers deep inside your cunt. 

The first time he gets to fuck you, he wants to hear you. That’s for sure. 

“You’re driving me insane,” he sighs against your neck, grinding his hips slightly against yours. You know that, you can even feel it. “I am dying to fuck you”. 

Changbin is not alone on that. You are just as desperate as he is, every night stuffing your cunt with a dildo while you close your eyes and pretend he is the one fucking you, the one making you feel good.

“I need to know how it feels to be inside you,” he continues, making you tremble with each dirty word. “God, I know you could make me come in seconds”. 

For some, it would be awful to have the man coming in seconds. For you, though, it’s almost like a compliment. 

“Yeah?” you purr, “where would you come?”

“Wherever you want,” the raspiness in his voice only makes you more and more aroused. “If you want me to come inside your pussy, I will. If you want me to come in your mouth, I’ll make you kneel and give you what you want”. 

“Want it all over my body,” you murmur, sneaking a hand between your bodies to touch his bulge. “Want you to make a mess, come all over my thighs and face, take pretty pictures and have them in your phone with you”.

The mixture of your words with your hand tracing the silhouette of his erection makes him even harder, bucking his hips against your palm instinctively in hopes of getting more friction.

“You are so fucking filthy,” he curses under his breath, repressing a loud groan when he feels you wrapping your hand around his bulge. “Minho thinks you are still heartbroken, yet here you are, crying out for me to fuck you like you deserve it”.

“I've learned what it's worth crying over,” you breathed, brushing your lips against his. 

He knows you shouldn't be doing this with Minho around. Shit, he knows you shouldn't be doing this at all. 

But the thrill of the forbidden has always been Changbin's weak spot —not for nothing is infatuated with you; of all women, the only one he knew he couldn't have.

“You’re killing me,” he scoffs with a trembling breath, his loud heartbeats resonating through your whole room.

“If you are patient,” you plant a wet, loud kiss on his lips, still massaging his crotch just to tease him further. “We can have fun later, when he leaves for practice”. 

The logical, rational part of him thinks it's a good idea; you get to have the whole apartment for yourself and he gets to have you just for him. But the dirty, perverse side refuses to accept the deal. He wants you now, and all that that implies. 

“Please,” Changbin scoffs bitterly —at this point, patience is the least thing he has. “You're acting as if this whole thing isn't turning you on”. 

You look at him defiantly, one eyebrow arched while the corners of your lips rise in a challenging smirk. 

“What makes you think that?”

“Sometimes it’s like you want us to get caught,” Changbin wraps his arms around you and presses you tightly against him, his voice growing hoarse and deep. “You are always so careless, teasing me when you know you shouldn't. It’s almost like you know I have no self-control when it comes to you, and you are just testing me to see how far I can go without putting my hands all over you”.

“Are you projecting yourself onto me?” you murmur, caressing the sides of his face. “Perhaps you are the one that wants to get caught; always looking for excuses to touch me indecently in front of whoever”. 

“Maybe I do,” he groans, the tip of his digits rolling up the hems of your spring dress until you feel your dripping cunt somewhat exposed. “Maybe I want everyone to know what a whore you are for me”.

Changbin pulls down his pants just enough to release his erection, fist wrapped around it while his other hand pulls you closer.

“Fuck,” you sigh, feeling his hand on your hip. He parts your legs with his knee, lowers his body just slightly so that his crotch is almost at the same level as yours, his fist guiding his cock between your legs without actually thrusting it inside your wet pussy. 

“See?” he groans, placing both of his hands on your hips while your thighs close around his dick. “This turns you on more than you want to admit”.

He pulls away from your thighs and spits on his hand, smearing the drool all along his length just to repeat the same action again. The saliva, mixed with the leaking precum and your own fluids create the perfect friction for Changbin to buck his hips back and forth while having his cock between the flesh of your thighs. 

“T-thought you wanted something else,” you murmur, hands gripping the collar of his shirt. “Thought you wanted to fuck me”.

“What?” he fakely pouts, a cocky grin plastered on his face while he drowns a couple of moans. “Are you upset because I didn’t give you what you wanted?”

You bite your lower lips, feeling your cunt clenching every time he dragged his cock between your thighs. 

“I’ll fuck you later,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, one of his hands leaving your hip to pull down the top part of your dress and denude your tits. “But I won’t let you get away with how much of a tease you have been all fucking day. It’s only fair I get something from it, don’t you think?”

Changbin looks desperate, but he can’t begin to care —you are so wet, and warm, and the hot skin of your thighs feels so good around him that the perversion of such an act can make him come in seconds. 

“Binnie-” you whimper, your erected nipples brushing against his chest. “Please- fuck me”.

The dark-haired scoffs bitterly, a few quiet groans escaping through his lips every now and then. “See, you are so nice when you act sweet with me,” he continues bucking his hips back and forth, pinching one of your nipples while doing so. “Calling me like that, asking things so politely. If only you were like this all the time”. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, squeezing your thighs on purpose and making him groan.

“I know you want to,” you whisper, clinging to him. “I am soaking wet, your cock will go in so easily…”.

“No,” Changbin groans, shaking his head. “Not tonight”. 

He wants to fuck you, but not in a place where you have to keep quiet. He wants to hear you gasping when he first enters you, hear your whines and cries while you get used to his dick inside you, hear your pretty moans and pleas while you ask him to fuck you faster. 

“Are you sure?” you query with a whimper, feeling his whole body tensing as you tease him further. 

“Is your cunt that greedy?” he groans, thrusting his cock faster. “Are you jealous I’m not fucking your hole?”

You bite your tongue and furrow your eyebrows —all the teasing throughout the night has gotten into his nerves, and you know better than to keep playing this game where he has proven to beat you every time. 

“Binnie,” you exhale again, hiding your face in the crook of his neck while he continues fucking your thighs. You want to ask for something, anything, but it seems like you can’t form a coherent thought that doesn’t involve the feeling of his cock twitching between your legs. 

The friction never ceases because you keep on getting wetter and wetter —the more he uses your body to get off, the more aroused you get. And although he is groaning and whimpering every now and then, the sounds he is making aren’t loud enough for anyone outside the room to hear. 

“Be good for me, yeah?” he groans through gritted teeth, feeling his climax approaching. “Squeeze your thighs together- just like that”.

You do as you are being told, tightening the grip around his cock while he thrusts his hips sloppily against yours. There’s something filthy in letting him use your body like that, just to help him come.

But you are too aroused to care, and all you want is for him to finish. After much teasing, that’s the kind of relief he needs.

So you start kissing his neck slowly and sensually, sucking on his skin to leave a couple of red love bites, squeezing your thighs together while he fucks them.

“You’re going to make me come,” he breathes, trying hard not to be too loud. You whimper into his neck, leaving wet pecks on top of the bruises while you press your breast against his chest. 

“Come for me,” you whisper, his hands moving from your hips to your ass. He gropes it harshly, using it as leverage to slide between your legs easily. “Make a mess, leave me covered with your cum”. 

He kicks his head back and increases the speed of his thrusts, making a mess between your thighs by smearing your own arousal. Then, you start feeling a sticky, hot sensation that only increases the friction between your bodies, all accompanied by a guttural groan escaping through his lips.

“Fuck,” he hisses, still moving your hips with a decreasing pace. His cum is dripping along your inner and the back of your thighs, decorating your legs with the proof of his arousal. “I came- so much”. 

You look down where your bodies meet and realize it is true —your skin is beaming with his semen and your own wetness, and even your dress is a bit stained with fluids. You pull down the fabric to cover your exposed and dirty cunt, not bothering to clean up the mess he made, and fix the upper part of your clothes too.

“I like it,” you murmur, with your heartbeats going at a thousand miles per hour. “You always come a lot, but I love it”.

Changbin stands there, reaching out for a tissue to clean up his length before fixing his clothes. When he does so, he approaches you with a clean one to do the same for you, but you stop him with a teasing smile. “Thought you wanted everyone to know how much of a whore I am for you,” you mumble, hand wrapped around his wrists while he intends to kneel and clean you up.

He smiles back with just the same amount of complicity.

“Come on,” he tells you, wiping away his arousal from off your legs. “This is our secret and I intend to keep it that way”. 

[officialchristiancagebbgirlblog]

2: “try and get some sleep baby”

34: “shh, it’s okay. I’m here now”

Hopefully this is okay, I made it into a sort of nightmare in which the reader wakes up to a caring Christian Cage. Any feedback is appreciated! Hope you enjoy! 🩵

Tag: @brideofinfamy

Warnings: none

Theme: angst and fluff at the end

Word count: 1407

Link to masterlist

Happy reading 🖤

“I know it’s not easy, but try and get some sleep baby.”

For the last few days, you had been really struggling to get to sleep. You weren’t sure where the problem was starting but all you knew is you were sick of sleeping so late all the time. Christian laid behind you, spooning your body while one of his cats happily nestled behind his knees. He mumbled sweet nothings into your hair, trying to help you get to sleep. Even though he was half asleep he still tried his best to get you as relaxed as possible before he drifted off into his own dreams.

“I’ll try, babe…” you sighed, feeling him plant a soft kiss on the back of your head and pulling the sheets higher up on your bodies. You went to say goodnight, but by the time you turned your head towards him, he was out like a light.

The clock by your bedside table read 2:13am. It wasn’t the time you wanted to see at all, having tried for hours to get to sleep. Strangely enough, you were tired enough to get to sleep but your brain was just refusing to shut off for the night. It’s not like you had even done anything crazy that night anyways! At best, you and your boyfriend, Christian, had just had a quiet night cooking dinner, watching a movie. Being in his later years, he preferred to stay in and hang out with his girl. There was nothing he needed to prove to anyone by bringing you out, showing you off to his friends to prove that ‘he’s still got it!’ He didn’t need to prove to anyone that he was still worthy of being loved by younger women. So he chose to spend his nights relaxing with you instead. He knew you didn’t enjoy going out and partying until the early hours of the sunrise, so it never took much convincing to get you to stay home with him.

You envied Christian for being able to sleep so quickly. As soon as you guys had got yourselves tucked in he fell asleep. Snoring away behind you, his sounds were oddly relaxing. They were loud, occasionally a little bit squeaky but it was just enough to help lull you into a restless sleep.

Once your eyes finally closed and you melted into the sheets, you found yourself standing alone in a hallway. Wide awake.

‘Strange…’ you thought aloud, ‘where is everybody?’

Wandering down the hall you could hear faint, illegible voices that went up and down in both tone and volume. Almost like a weird song? You couldn’t quite pinpoint who the voices belonged to but it definitely sounded familiar. Deciding to stop, you pressed your ears against a closed wooden door on your right to see if you could make out what they were saying. But weirdly, as you got closer you heard more voices that made it so hard to hear as you got closer to the wood. They were loud, distorted, and almost angry. But after some head movements, you found the sweet spot on the door that allowed you to make out at least some words. Sadly, though, it might’ve just been better to ignore them.

“She’s just so…and I don’t…why would he go…someone as young as…she’s just in it…for the money…he could do…so much better…”

‘Oh my god,’ you gasped, ‘is…is that what she thinks of me?!’

It took you a moment to figure out who the voice might belong to, and you felt your heart drop when you realised it was one of Christians friends. It could’ve been Shayna, or possibly Beth but you weren’t fully certain on which of the girls. You swallowed thickly, and with a tightness on your chest you continued down the hall. On your left, this time, was a new wooden door. Except this one was painted Green with a little peephole looking into the room. You could see the back of someone sitting, typing furiously on their phone and dictating loudly what they were writing. Whoever they were, they were practically shouting their words of hatred:

“What does he even see in her…why on Earth…date a younger…she deserves to be-“

Quickly and clumsily stepping back, you tried to spare yourself from hearing the end of that sentence. You felt the cool wall slam against your back as you stumbled down to the floor.

‘Oh my god, what’s going on?!’ You thought to yourself, head buried in your hands, body trembling. The tightness on your chest started to feel more like a weight. Like something was sitting on it, hot and kind of fuzzy? It almost felt like it was merging with the inside of your throat. After what felt like forever, you found the courage to lift your head only to be met with an open doorway. Looking in, sat on a lone chair in the middle of an otherwise empty room sat Christian. Staring at you. With no love in his eyes.

He didn’t say anything, just watched as you shakily lifted yourself off the floor to walk towards him. With each step closer, his expression became more sour and angry.

‘Baby, it’s…it’s me. What’s wrong?” You questioned, lips quivering. Still, he stayed silent and unmoving.

‘Please just say something! Anything!’

Slowly he stood from the chair, eyes trained on you with a scowl plastered on his face. He took a step forward towards you and placed his hands on your shoulders.

‘You disgust me…’ he spat out, beginning to shake you violently. With each shake, he shouted disgusting comments at you, spit flying all over your face as he closed the space between the two of you. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t even breathe. The man that you were in love with stood before you shouting abuse at you. Tears streamed down as you stared at his greying face, his cheeks burning a bright red of hatred. Everything felt like it was shaking around you, and you had the odd sensation of being lifted from the ground. But, his voice kept you distracted from everything around you. You barely even noticed his expression soften, his voice suddenly quiet and soothing.

“Hey, wake up!”

Sitting up in a panic, you almost shrieked. The heavy feeling in your chest quickly disappeared as his cat (who was previously cuddled up on your chest) tumbled down into your lap with a gentle meow in protest. She hopped away from the bed, unhappy with the level of respect. Apparently she didn’t much appreciate rolling down somebody's body. Looking around the room that was just barely lit with the lamp beside your boyfriend you realised where you were. Back in the safety of his bedroom. It was just a horrible nightmare. It still didn’t stop your sobs and violent shakes as you fell sideways into his awaiting arms.

“Oh baby, shh. Shh, it’s okay. I’m here now…” he mumbled, face buried in your hair, hands caressing your arms. You tried to speak but you just couldn’t get the words out between sobs.

“No it’s okay, sweet girl, you don’t have to say anything. I know you had a nightmare. You don’t have to tell me what happened.”

His reassuring words helped you calm down quicker, his soft hands acting as a fantastic distraction from the sadness. Finally you were able to calm down again. The tears had stopped flowing, the shakes were less violent. But that didn’t stop him from continuing to hold you, rocking you side to side. You looked over to him to see him flash you a warm smile.

“Are you feeling better now?” He held an open bottle of water to your lips, trying to get you to have a few sips which you gratefully accepted. Still feeling too upset to properly talk, you gave him a nod before laying back down under the covers. He placed the water down and turned off the lamp, plunging the room back into darkness. There was a brief moment of anxiety which quickly washed away as he nuzzled in next to you.

“Th…thank you.” You managed to mutter out, just loud enough for him to hear. Another kiss was given to you but this time on your cheek.

“I’m here for you sweet girl, whatever happens. Try and get back to sleep if you can, okay? I promise I won’t let go of you tonight.”

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

october is AAC awareness month!! happy AAC awareness month!!

personal review of all high tech, robust, symbol based AAC apps i have tried, some tried longer than others. own opinions (can’t emphasize this enough). different AAC users have different preferences n needs so opinion n review will be different from mine.

am a full time AAC user, minimally speaking all the time. not a life long AAC user. autism apraxia aphasia autistic catatonia w deterioration. and other physical psychiatric disabilities. deteriorating motor skills.

proloquo2go

my primary app. is probably The Face Of symbol based AAC.

think good for core vocabulary. fringe vocabulary makes sense for people who already know how to read & spell & know how to categorize things (e.g know that “wish” is a thinking verb).

for people who knows to do all these things, getting to right fringe word needs thinking and intellectualizing (“is push a thing verb, body verb, or having verb?”), takes more effort and discourage use. but at least have A-Z folders for verbs and adjectives. so, good core vocab, fringe word organization is iffy. fringe words needed lots of editing to make sense to self.

don’t like how when press a button with long sentences, cuts off message.

give lots of options for grammar. but have to manually do the grammar conjugation, which i am used to and like, but others may not.

what dictates amount of vocab that is automatically there is the vocab levels not grid size, so can decrease grid size (for motor purposes or prevent overwhelm) without sacrificing vocab.

even in most advanced vocab level, words of genitals or even the button “private parts” are not there. which means no vocab to report SA

ios only

TD snap

prefer p2g’s core vocab to TD snap’s.

didn’t understand where each fringe word’s folders are located when first started (“all word lists” “personal” “descriptions” “topics” all lead to different locations for fringe words).

overall like p2g more. but td snap have more language beyond the typical big western languages, like have chinese and japanese. i use td snap for language.

automatically conjugate grammar for you

at least in most advanced level, have entire topic folder for sexuality! with phrases to report STI and wants and “no”s and concerns and stuff.

cheapest app out of all of these. td snap is a lil less than 50 dollars full price and the rest of them is like 100 200 dollars at least

touch chat

only played with it for a little bit, but overall confusing.

so many different types of boards (they call it “vocab”), some of them are NOT robust and fails the AAC user in long run, yes even nonspeaking AAC users who just started who don’t know how to read developmentally delayed etc.

if use most robust board i can find (word power 140), don’t understand organization for home page/core board. 1/3 to half of the board is for pronouns and variations of to be & can & will & to do, which in my opinion for me takes up too much precious space, rather have more verbs like eat think see finish work help.

(wordpower 140) don’t understand the organization for the letter buttons. not ABC and not QWERTY either very weird. think it’s by most common letter used???

haven’t found the button to search for buttons yet???

i remember (or misremembered) people calling this a motor plan based app and i didn’t find that true?? it is more like non motor based apps like p2g and TD Snap than motor based apps like speak4yourself & LAMP

avez

the voice justin is really really nice

actually my first AAC app.

think it good to use on phone, but if you’re using a tablet as AAC, there are better organized apps for same or similar price…

same fringe word organization issue with p2g (eg verb divided into get verbs, tell verbs, body verbs, think verbs, sense verbs, etc) but without p2g’s alphabetical folders.

still qualifies as robust technically but i think less robust than other apps.

no sex/genital/private parts words automatically i think

can add buttons in bulk: type all the words/phrases you want added in a window separated by commas and the app adds them all at once. this was really really nice i wish other apps have it

have subscription based and life long liscence

cough drop

i don’t remember this one much tbh but really good long trial period (2 whole months). have subscription based and life long liscence

i do remember editing the buttons was a painnnn in the butt comparing to avez’s bulk add but it may be the same compared to other apps.

speak for yourself/speak4yourself

motor plan based app. all buttons within 2-3 taps, no repeat words. this fixes a big problem non-motor based apps like p2g and td snap have of so many folders and the same word have many different locations.

but motor plan based apps also means that it may make less sense intellectually to those who can read and do associations etc. like to get to tools (ax, plunger, wrench), you need to click on the word “do”. inside “work,” you have verbs like print and hire but also ones that “ok it makes sense why it’s here now that i think about it but i would have never guessed,” like risk and force and (hilariously) hate.

have. so much available vocab. so much advanced ones too. even ones i had to go like “i have no idea what this means” “oh this object is called this!”. i see this a plus because AAC good language learning tool and AAC users deserve as much language as mouth words people do. AAC users should not be just limited to basic/casual conversational words.

so motor plan based apps good for those with motor troubles like apraxia. organizations may confuse people who can read and do word associations already, but not really a problem for kids who are learning to read and do word associations at the same time.

have a “hold that thought” feature if i remember correctly, where you store the message you made and can use later.

LAMP words for life

on the same boat of speak4yourself, also a motor-plan based AAC. think organized a little differently? i haven’t tried it so i have no real review, but really want to try because of my worsening motor skills, think may like it more than speak4yourself.

[female-malice]

Opinion | Women are leading a revolution in Iran. When will Western feminists help?

By Masih Alinejad

A new popular uprising is taking place in Iran, and this time women are in the lead. It’s incredibly inspiring to see — for the first time I can remember — unveiled women marching at the front. They have overcome fear and are challenging one of the main pillars of the Islamic Republic of Iran: compulsory hijab.

These women are marching shoulder to shoulder with men, chanting against the whole regime. They are facing guns and bullets and demanding an end to a system of gender apartheid.

Mahsa Amini was only 22 years old. She wasn’t uncovered; only a few strands of her hair showed. And yet she was arrested by the so-called “morality police” and packed off to jail. Three days later she was dead. Many Iranians are convinced she was killed —a belief reinforced by countless individual experiences with the brutality of the security services.

The news of her death has triggered outrage throughout Iran. Tens of thousands of demonstrators are defying security forces to ask why an innocent young woman lost her life to religious radicals who merely wanted to show off their militant male power. The compulsory hijab is not just a small piece of cloth for Iranian women; it is the most visible symbol of how we are oppressed by a tyrannical theocracy. Now, by drawing attention to that injustice, Mahsa’s death has the potential to serve as a new turning point for Iranian women.

They deserve the support of their Western counterparts. Yet so far we see little evidence that women in Europe or North America are willing to take to the streets to show their solidarity for a women’s revolution in Iran.

Recent experience has been discouraging. Over the past decade, we’ve seen female politicians from democratic countries — including Ségolène Royal from France, Catherine Ashton from the United Kingdom, and Federica Mogherini from Italy — don hijab on their visits to Iran. All these female politicians are quick to assert their feminist credentials in their own societies — but when it comes to Iran they go out of their way to show deference to the men who have elevated misogyny to a state principle. A regime that abuses and harasses millions of women each year does not deserve our respect. To do so makes a mockery of all our talk of universal human rights.

When the Women’s March took place in Washington, D.C., in 2017, I was happy to join. Along with the rest I chanted: “My body, my choice.” Some women might well choose to veil their faces and bodies in accordance with their religious or cultural beliefs — but that should be a matter of their own choice, not a rule imposed by the whips and clubs of men. Yet Western women seem only too happy to succumb to the standards dictated by the male tyrants in countries such as Afghanistan and Iran.

I don’t consider such feminists to be true advocates of women’s rights. The true feminists and women’s rights activists are those in Afghanistan and Iran who are stepping forward, at great cost, to resist the Taliban and Islamic republic. They are the true feminist leaders of the 21st century, risking their lives by facing guns and bullets. They will go on fighting against the regimes, and we who have the privilege to live in free countries should actively amplify their voices. This is the moment for women in the West to stand with Iran’s mothers, daughters and sisters.

I will not remain silent. I will continue to speak out until compulsory hijab laws are abolished. Like the women now taking to the streets in my home country, I, too, have been targeted by the regime. I have chosen to speak up despite that regime’s attacks on my family, and its attempts to have me abducted or killed. In this, I feel deep solitary with the thousands of women protesting in Iran. I will continue to do what I can to support their struggle, to help them achieve their rights.

My wish is for all of us to be louder than the tyrants. I call on the free world to join the protesters in calling for an end to the murderous regime of the ayatollahs. Iranian women are fighting to recover our dignity and exercise our personal freedoms — so that, one day, all Iranians can finally choose our government in free and fair elections. We shouldn’t be afraid of the religious fanatics and the jihadists. They are the ones who are frightened. It is why they seek to keep women down. Women in the streets are paying with their lives for change. But too many in the outside world are shaking hands with our murderers.

I am asking all Western feminists to speak up. Join us. Make a video. Cut your hair. Burn a headscarf. Share it on social media and boost Iranian voices. Use your freedom to say her name. Her name was Mahsa Amini.

[camillemontespan]

the memory of us [drake x camille AU] [part two]

@sophxwithers​ @katedrakeohd​ @saivilo​ @burnsoslow​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @gardeningourmet​ @kingliam2019​ ***************

Camille stared at the man standing before her. He was tall, around six foot four, and his body was broad and muscled; he looked strong. His dark hair was tousled and he had deep brown eyes. 

Eyes that were filled with pain and horror at this very moment. 

‘Camille..’ he whispered, his voice breaking. ‘Wha-’

‘How do you know my name?’ Camille asked. She gripped hold of the duvet cover. ‘Where am I?’

‘You’re in the hospital.’

A lady dressed in a doctors uniform stepped forward. Her hands were clasped in front of her and she looked extremely concerned. 

‘You were involved in a car accident,’ the doctor went on, ‘and you suffered a head injury.’

Camille blinked. ‘I don’t remember the car accident..’

‘What do you remember?’ the doctor asked softly. 

Camille looked at the man who was watching her. He was physically trembling, his hands clenched into tights fists by his side. 

‘I… I remember working a shift last night?’ Camille said hesitantly. ‘I work as a waitress-’

She broke off when the man let out a choked sob. He turned and stumbled into the corner of the room, his head in his hands. He leaned against the wall; his shoulders started to shake as he quietly cried.

Camille felt confusion and guilt. Who was this man and why was he so broken up about this? About her? Was he a witness to the car accident? She didn’t know him from anywhere. 

The doctor sat down on the edge of the bed. Her lips were pressed together. This didn’t look good.

‘Camille.. I think you’ve suffered some memory loss-’

‘SOME MEMORY LOSS?’ the man burst out, pushing himself away from the wall. ‘Doctor, she thinks she’s still a fucking waitress! She doesn’t know who I am!’

Camille’s eyes darted between the doctor, who was trying to calm him down, and the man who was shouting. 

‘I’m sorry…’ Camille said quietly. 

The man made his way back to the bed and crouched down on the floor in front of Camille. She looked down into his distraught eyes. Without a word, he took out his phone and showed her the screen. 

The screensaver showed a picture of Camille cuddling a little girl and a baby.

‘I’m your husband,’ he told her, his voice sounding detached. ‘And these are your daughters.’

*******************

Panic surged up in Camille. ‘What?!’ she cried. ‘No no no.. I’m sorry, that has to be photoshop and you’re a stalker or something - I’m not married! I don’t have kids! I’m just Camille Montespan from New York!’

Every word she said seemed to break the man apart even more. Eventually, she stopped speaking all together when she realised how upset he was. 

‘Your Grace..’ the doctor murmured to the man.

Camille pointed at her. ‘Why is she calling you that? WHO ARE YOU?’

The man sighed and rubbed his eyes with his hands before fixing her with a steady stare. ‘I’m Drake,’ he said bluntly. ‘I’m the Duke of Valtoria. In case you don’t know, Valtoria is a duchy in the European country of Cordonia. Cordonia is tiny and our delicacy is an apple-’

‘Your Grace..’ the doctor cut in, her voice like a warning. But Drake kept talking, his voice monotone, as if he was reading from a script. 

‘We have been married for five years,’ Drake said. ‘We met at a suitor competition in which you were competing to marry the prince of Cordonia- now the King- who is called Liam. He is my best friend. We caught feelings for each other though and that made everything with Liam very awkward, can’t say that was surprising. Anyway, he proposed to you but you said no -’

‘Your Grace..’ the doctor cut in again, her voice like ice. ‘Stop it-’

‘So I proposed to you instead and you said yes. I was so happy-’

Drake DID NOT sound happy in this moment.

‘So we got married and became the Duke of Duchess of Valtoria. If it was up to us, we would live in Texas, where I’m actually from, as we actually hate the nobility and rules that dictate our life. But we get on with it and you are actually an incredible Duchess. The people love you. They tolerate me. We have two daughters. Lily is five and Luna is ten months old-’

He broke off there. Thinking about the two girls seemed to have caught Drake off guard. Camille swallowed, watching him warily.

‘I can’t do this..’ Drake croaked, looking at the doctor now. She looked furious. Turning, Drake strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The doctor looked at Camille, bowed quickly, and rushed out of the room after him.

Camille flopped down against the pillows. Her heart was racing. This had to be dream. There was no way this was real. A Duchess. In Europe. Married. Two kids. 

She saw Drake’s phone lying on the duvet. Quickly, she reached out and pressed the button. The screensaver of her and the two girls came up again. 

Camille studied the photo. She was cuddling the girls; the older one was laughing while the baby was looking up at Camille with wide eyes. Camille herself looked happy. 

It wasn’t photoshop; the older girl looked like an exact copy of Camille. Genetics were strong. 

Camille let out a sob and dropped the phone. If Drake was telling the truth - and the doctor was right-, this was her life. She felt so guilty that she couldn’t remember any of it. She couldn’t remember the two little girls who looked so in love with her. 

*************************

‘Your Grace-’

‘Just call me Drake, please.’

‘Fine. Drake.’

The doctor had found Drake down the corridor. He was sitting on the corridor floor, trying to calm himself down. The doctor sat down beside him. 

‘You can’t shout at her about everything she can’t remember, it’s too much,’ Doctor Santiago said. ‘It’s not her fault.’

Drake closed his eyes. ‘I know it’s not,’ he replied. ‘I just.. I feel helpless. I got too emotional. I just can’t believe that she doesn’t remember who I am.. Who our daughters are. This morning, she was getting Lily ready for school and kissing me, and now she looks at me like I’m a total stranger. It’s terrifying.’

Doctor Santiago nodded. ‘I know,’ she said gently. ‘This might not be permanent. Her memory could come back, it’s happened before.’

Drake looked at her. ‘What if it doesn’t?’

The doctor looked down at her hands. ‘I will be honest, I’ve not had this sort of case before,’ she admitted. ‘But all I can suggest is you take Camille home. Get her into her normal routine and that might help kickstart some memories. Nothing too big to begin with. And with time, she might start to remember.’

Drake nodded slowly. ‘How do I deal with my daughters?’

The doctor winced. ‘For now, I would tell them that Camille has had an accident and may not be very good at remembering things. Kids know, Drake. They’re intuitive.’

The two of them stood up and looked back towards Camille’s door. ‘I’ll keep her in for a few nights for observation,’ Doctor Santiago told him. ‘And in six weeks, she will have another brain scan.’

The doctor went to file Camille’s documents, leaving Drake alone in the corridor. He looked at Camille’s door and prepared himself to go back inside. 

*****************************

Camille looked up as the door opened. She wiped her eyes furiously, trying to appear normal. As normal as the situation would allow, anyway. 

Drake awkwardly came into the room. He gave her a slight nod and sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘I’ve got to go home and see Lily.’

Camille had a feeling he meant the older daughter. 

‘Lily..’ she said, sounding out the name. It was pretty. 

‘What about.. The other one?’

Drake swallowed. Camille felt guilty, knowing every question was a knife in his heart. 

‘Luna is also there,’ Drake told her. ‘The girls are being watched by their Uncle Leo and Aunt Olivia,’ Drake explained. ‘They’re our best friends. Surprising considering me and Liv used to hate each other..’ 

He looked down and shook his head. ‘That’s not important. Anyway, Leo picked up Lily from school as soon as the news broke about your accident and Liv is looking after Luna. I need to tell them what’s going on and try and explain to Lily about the situation. You’re being kept here for a few nights for observation.’

There was a long stretch of silence between them until Camille broke it.

‘Can I meet them?’

Drake blinked in surprise. ‘Who?’

‘Lily and Luna,’ she said. ‘My.. our daughters.’

Drake smiled softly. ‘Of course. I’ll bring them to you tomorrow morning.’

Camille looked anxious about this but also like she desperately wanted to please him. ‘Um.. what does Lily like? I’ll need to talk to her so would be good to have some pointers.’

Drake studied his hands, which were still shaking. 

‘She loves Disney, particularly the film Tangled,’ he said, ‘and her favourite character is Flynn Rider, she’s obsessed with him. She’s very girly so if you mention how much you like her outfit, that’ll get you brownie points.’

Camille smiled. ‘What about Luna?’

‘She’s ten months old, very quiet,’ Drake explained. ‘Always watching everyone around her.’

Camille nodded, making mental notes. Drake sighed and got up from the bed. ‘I should go,’ he told her. 

For a long moment, they stared at each other. He looked like he didn’t know how to say goodbye. Clearing his throat,  he reached out and gently took her left hand. He kissed it; the silver ring on her wedding ring finger glimmered in the light. 

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 Who knew that a pentagram birthmark would be the source of Imperator's pain and biggest secret?

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 Pentagram.

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬) Past Sister Imperator x Papa Emeritus Nihil, Cardinal Copia/Papa Emeritus IV x GN!Reader.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 Suggestive at the start but no actual smut, Imperator slapping Nihil, Nihil is an asshole, Copia is oblivious about who his parents really are but reader kinda figures it out, open ending because it's fun getting others to think about what could happen.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1252 words.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 My final Ghosttober 2022 fic! Time sure does fly, huh? Been catching up on JJBA on Netflix which is part of what gave me the idea for this fic. Also please don't ask for a part 2 because it's not gonna happen lmao I'm bad at commitment huh? I don't think I used gendered terms or anything for reader but please let me know if I've missed any! Oh, and by the way HAPPY EARLY HALLOWEEN BABES!!

Imperator first sees Nihil’s birthmark the morning after their first night together. His back is turned to her as he sleeps, the sister rubbing her eyes as she wakes up. He’s snoring loudly but she doesn’t mind. It means that he’s real and he’s there and she didn’t just imagine the wonderful night they spent together. The way he kissed her, touched her, made her see Satanas himself from how many climaxes he drew from her, none of it was a dream. The man that lies before her, Papa Emeritus Nihil, had fallen into her bed just as she’d fantasised about for so long now.

He spots the peculiar birthmark on his left shoulder and hums with a smile. This is the first time she’s ever seen a pentagram as a birthmark, but the odd sight doesn’t faze her. To Imperator, all it means is that he and his bloodline are chosen, and Nihil is the one she’s been looking for. Her instinct about him wasn’t wrong.

As her pink-tinged fingertips delicately trail over the birthmark, her new lover begins to stir. She quickly withdraws her hand and watches him turn over to face her. His mismatched eyes flutter open, and he grunts as he pulls her body up against his. He’s already half hard, much to Imperator’s delight.

“Why don’t we continue what we started last night, hm?” he asks, voice gritty with sleep.

The sister connects their lips and rolls the two of them so that he’s on his back and she’s straddling him, her tongue exploring his mouth while his hands massage circles into her hips.

***

Imperator’s palm stings as the slap echoes through the empty room.

“How could you say something so cruel?” Her tone is venomous as she glares at him.

“Someone needs to talk some sense into you. You cannot keep it,” he replies, his own voice level and betraying no emotion along with his face. He looks like he couldn’t care less about the news or her. The only thing that’s changed in his appearance is that his papal paint has been smeared by her striking him.

She clenches her fists by her sides. “You don’t get to dictate what happens with my body. You may be Papa, but I could dispose of you easily if I so wished. Or have you forgotten what happened to the mother of your other children?”

Nihil grabs Imperator by the back of her habit and starts dragging her towards his office door. “Get. Rid. I won’t be responsible for raising another man’s child just because you couldn’t keep your legs closed.”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” she spits as she shoves him away from her, leaving him taken aback at her strength as he tries not to fall over. “You cheat on me, go around kissing and fucking other women, and then you accuse me of being unable to keep my legs shut? You’re pathetic. You’re not worthy of the title of Papa.”

He narrows his eyes at her but doesn’t get the chance to retort. Imperator slams the door as she leaves, caressing her pregnant stomach as tears streak down her face. She doesn’t want things to end like this, but she can’t allow her love for him cloud her judgement. Her mother raised her alone, she could raise her son or daughter in the same way. She didn’t need Nihil or his help.

That didn’t make the separation hurt any less.

***

Of all the places to raise her son, the abbey was the last place Imperator would’ve chosen. She had turned up on their doorstep a month ago in labour, nowhere else to turn and nobody to help. She’s been desperate and her Dark Lord had guided her to the place she once called her home. The sisters had been surprised, but immediately brought her in and took her to the medical bay to assist her in giving birth. It was as she screamed and gave a final push that Nihil turned up, panicked and fearful. In her daze, Imperator had hoped that perhaps this was her former lover stepping up to the plate after realising that he was wrong, but the moment she awoke after giving birth he was gone again.

She hates the way the sisters throw her sympathetic looks in the corridors.

The new mother is currently bathing her baby boy in a plastic tub that one of the sisters had procured for her. As she gently moves him so she can wash his back, the little pentagram birthmark on the back of his left shoulder brings a tear to her eye. She knew from the moment the pregnancy test came back positive that her child would be Nihil’s but having that little symbol of confirmation meant more to her than anything else. He cared little for the boy, believing wholeheartedly that there’s no way they could be related, but that’s okay. She and Lucifer know and that’s all that matters.

***

You’re massaging Copia’s shoulders after a long, stressful day of being Papa. He melts into your touch, your fingers divine against his skin and sore muscles. You pepper kisses across the expanse of his shoulders when you’re done, wrapping your arms around his torso as you kneel behind him. Your teeth graze against his birthmark and he shudders.

“Tesoro, you tease me,” he moaned, making you smile.

“You know how much I adore your birthmark. Perfect for such a devoted Papa,” you reply. He kisses you when he turns his head to look at you, cupping the back of your head and moving so that you’re laying down and he’s hovering over you.

“Sister says the same,” he says, referring to Imperator.

You frown at him. “Are you saying she’s seen you… naked?”

He laughs, a sound that sends warmth through your chest. “Not in the way you mean it. She raised me from the moment I was born. My mother died during childbirth, she tells me.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“No, no!” He rests on his side beside you and pulls you into his embrace, caressing your face as his mismatched eyes meet yours. “You didn’t know. I don’t talk about it a lot. There is never a good time to tell someone that you don’t know who either of your parents are.”

Your fingers comb through the hairs on his chest. “Maybe one day we’ll be able to find your parents. Do you know anything about them?”

Copia shakes his head. “Ah, I do not. I used to think when I was a boy that perhaps Papa Nihil was my father, but Sister has since told me otherwise.”

“What? Why did you think that?”

He shrugs, a wistful look on his face. “Well, Terzo also had the same birthmark. I think his brothers did too. I asked Sister about it, but she said it’s a birthmark that a lot of families who have sworn themselves to our Dark Lord have. Perhaps my father is from another abbey. Maybe he is a papa in another abbey.”

When Copia has finally fallen asleep a while later, the first time he’s fallen into a deep sleep in what feels like weeks, you slip out of bed and dress yourself in the clothes he’d peeled off your body earlier and quietly leave his room to find Sister Imperator’s chambers.

Your Papa may not have connected the dots, but you know it can’t be long until it finally clicks.

[otter1962crystalball]

Pride and Spirituality

June 2, 2024

Happy day two of Pride. The idea of spirituality came up in my blog yesterday and I also engaged in a conversation with a fascinating person on FaceBook who read my blog. So, here I go with my take on spirituality - a collection of memories that shaped my beliefs. I’d also like to discuss how this relates to our pride celebrations.

My mind has always been in the clouds. One of my earliest recollections was around three years of age. My mother told me that she came out of the house where we lived at the time and saw me lying on the sidewalk, face up. Her initial response was, of course, alarm seeing her child in such a state. It turned out that I was motionless, intently watching a bird circling far above me. Knowing my habits, I was definitely contemplating something - I have no clue what it was, but I know that I’ve found myself always thinking about many abstract things. That includes spirituality.

In my early years, God was in the same category as Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. He was a bigger than life image in my head based on what I knew at the time. I saw him as a friendly soul that loved me for who I was. As I grew up, I discovered these imaginary friends were made up. Gone were the times of joy when Santa came, or when I found chocolate eggs magically appearing or a quarter under my pillow after losing a tooth. God, however, stayed an friendly enigma - until one fateful day in Sunday School.

We moved to a farm in Southern Ontario when I was around four years old. The closest church was a tiny wooden church belonging to the Free Methodists. Their religion is based on being committed to the authority of the bible and live the life of loving religious integrity. As an adult it sounds rather enticing; until I recall my first wake up call in Sunday School around the age of five.

Our teacher was this severe looking middle-aged white woman dressed in farm clothing sitting in front of us children. We were resting on the cold floor listening to her. She looked down on us, her glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her message was clear and I can still hear it ringing in my ears more than 50 years later: “If you children don’t behave, God is going to wipe your name out of his book!” Her actions were as severe as her voice. Her hand wiped across an imaginary book with so much fervour that is scared the shit out of me. She didn’t say exactly what it meant to “behave,” but the wildly imaginative me absorbed it and created a totem of fear.

Methodism dictates that believers should be free of sin and live the life according the bible. To be a true Methodist one needed to be someone of perfection signifying the completeness of the Christian character. One would have freedom from all sin, and have possession of all the graces of the Spirit, complete in kind. To a five year old, this gave me nightmares - how could I go to heaven? I was a bad boy!

I didn’t actually belong to the church of the Methodists. We went there for convenience. I was later baptized in a Pentecostal church in town, along with my brothers and sister. While the Pentecostal beliefs aren’t as severe as the Methodists, it was still a place of fear for me.

So here I was, a five year old boy knowing in his heart that he was different than the other children. I didn’t have a name for what I felt - I had a fascination with the other boys and a total disregard for girls’ bodies. I did, however, hang out with girls - but that is a story for later. Everything in my heart said that I was going to hell and that God had already wiped my name out of his book.

I can remember a time after this happened where I questioned God’s motives. Mother was driving us home in the evening after some event in town, when a man my mother knew, approached the car and rattled the door and said hello. He was clearly drunk and mother locked the doors, hunched her shoulders and put the car in gear to leave. I looked out the window and saw the drunken man standing there watching us depart. I asked my mother whether the man would go to hell or not because he was drunk. If I remember correctly, Mom said something to the effect that it was between the man and God. Now, I knew that I had to face God for all that I did or would do.

My parents didn’t go to church. They sent us off on our own. I still don’t really know what their beliefs were as I never asked them. I didn’t think much of their position until they gave me permission to choose whether I wanted to go to church or not at the age of twelve. I believe they were being kind and letting me make the decision. I did make it; not in how they thought I would work out my beliefs, but out of sheer horror that I was a sick, disgusting creature that was going to hell for being interested in boys.

In my years childhood and most of my teenage years, I felt alone and faced all the things that the world threw at me - the bullying, the idea of the bad boy, and shame for being who I was, would be and so on - the tortured soul bound for hell. There are so many stories from that time in my life that I could write about later. Suffice it to say, religion was out of my reach and I avoided it with earnest. 

I can tell you that in all those years since I quit going to church, I’ve been in one a total of three times: one for a midnight Christmas mass with friends alone over the holidays, an Easter service because a friend had seen the light and wanted to go but not alone and a recent visit here in Nova Scotia. Last year I went to an Anglican Church, not far from where I live, to say goodbye to a friend who was the music director there. He was leaving for Ontario and they were celebrating his work with them. The church was also becoming a LGBTQ friendly church and had the celebration on that same day along with their gay pastor. The service was really friendly and non-judgemental. Here was a place that actually welcomed people like me. Quite the surprise!

Now here comes the part about my spirituality. I feel that my beliefs are closer to the First Nations of North America. The idea of Mother Earth and all of us being part of nature makes sense to me. As a gay man, I am not seen as a mistake or an evil thing. I am who I am and whoever the creator is, accepts me as such. To me, there is something that guides me, but doesn’t judge me for my humanly actions. What this exactly means to me is still not clear and I will probably ponder it for my entire life. All I know is that the hatred being spread by religious means is something that frightens me a lot. Dangerous beliefs can be dangerous weapons in the hands of hypocritical believers who preach love - as long as you are like them. If not then we are less than holy. You get my drift...

I no longer feel like a mistake or should be punished for being who I am. My spirituality is my belief in myself, self love and that I can genuinely be who I am without being judged for being gay. The bible pounders and the religious haters have no room in my life. I’ve even thought about attending a few services at that local Anglican church because they are a friendly community and that is what pride is about for me - community - supporting and loving one another; even though we are all so vastly different. What better reason to celebrate: our differences and our diversity?

Happy Pride, everyone. Carpe diem.

[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 65 - Part 3 of the apple pie baking session

Lol, Tessa info-dumping and Jon is totally overwhelmed.

"Magnetic tape. Everyone thinks it’s analog, but it’s digital." - I mean, not all magnetic tapes are digital. Digital tapes came up in the 80s, but before then they were analog. Especially the kind of tape we usually associate with TMA, the "Compact Cassette", is analog. Look it up on Google pictures! And then compare it to it's digital successor, the "Digital Compact Cassette". Looks different. Mini- or microcassettes used for dictation are also analog (I think, there are digital minicasettes?). And yes, it's STILL in use for that. We use analog minicassettes and I have a tape recorder standing around, catching dust, on my desk at work in case the system's getting a service update and is not accessible for a longer period of time.

"the units of data that a computer works with are by their nature discrete and definite, while the words we use are clumsy, vague things, always at the whim of interpretation and decay." - unless you're working with a printer… They are also clumsy vague things XD

"I have a blog, actually, but I haven’t posted for almost a year. Almost too embarrassed to, now…" - info-dumping and oversharing! Jon is in for a ride…

Holy shit, she's constantly talking over Jon, it's so funny xD

"I mean, yes, there’s drug stuff on there, but it’s mostly just paranoid geeks who don’t want to be caught pirating Photoshop." - Deep Web's a bit overkill for that mumbling. If this was written in 2019 it would be "it's mostly Youtubers buying overpriced trash advertised as 'Deep Web Mystery Boxes' or faking them themselves and needing an excuse to give them a spooky backstory" xDD

I love how this is just a creepy pasta!

"Whatever version you’re told, the story goes that it actually worked, and the police found a pile of floppy disks full of impossible code next to the mutilated body of Sergey Ushanka." - Remember when floppy disks could destroy/save the world?? XD (insert Sailor Moon, Gargoyles, Street Sharks, Ninja Turtles pictures here)

"it was only for a moment, but I could have sworn I saw some of the symbols twitch?" - oh speaking of oversharing earlier - so when I'm not doing good mentally or also when I'm simply sleep-deprived I see all kinds of movement and shadows out of the corner of my eye. When I drew my fanart for "Statement Remains" in October (the dark shape of an Eldritch monster Jon with 7 green-glowing eyes in front of a tape recorder…) I saw all 7 eyes blink. I know it's just that quirk of seeing shadows/movement but it was sooo eerie and fitting.

"there’s no feeling, but the no feeling hurts" - Makes me think of the people in the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead. I don't know if they weren't able of feeling things, but they were basically just a memory (which could be seen as similar to Ushanka uploading himself) and that this existence hurt.

Jon's interaction with statement-givers back in S1 versus now in S2 is also very binary xD ("You are crazy and just imagined everything and I don't believe you" versus "I understand you have experienced something horrible and I believe you")

Tim and Jon arguing is so hurtful to hear. It was different in the intervention but now it's really personal. There is not just anger in Tim's voice I think, there is also hurt. And Jon is just so paranoid and he's right to be paranoid, he just doesn't know why and where it's coming from.

TIM "we didn’t kill Gertrude" - not including Elias, true. (cont.) "and no one wants to kill you" - not true…

TIM "No, no, you listen for once. I was fine in research. Happy. Then you asked me to be transferred here, and suddenly it’s all monsters and killers and secret passages, oh my!" - That's not Jon's fault though? I'm pretty sure, Tim could have said no to the transfer and the stuff going on with the Archives is even less Jon's fault.

TIM "like I didn’t suffer the worst right alongside you." - I really think, this is it. This is not about the actual act of stalking, it's about the betrayal of why Jon did it. Tim was there with Jon, probably also for Jon. And then he suspects him of murder and of his own betrayal against Jon.

JON "Well, excuse me if my experiences have made–" - Well, while in conflict solution and prevention it is advised to talk about yourself and how you have experiences things rather than accusing others, it is not a good idea to shuffle the conversation to yourself while the other one is pouring their heart out about their difficulties in such an angered manner. I know, a lot of people do this to show the other party that you can relate (I do this myself) and in that case it often works out, but I don't think that's what Jon's aiming for here and it seems rather dismissive of Tim's problems. It looks like both are fighting over who is the most miserable here and no one ever wins that fight. There's only losers if you make misery a competition.

TIM "Fuck you, I got eaten by worms because of you!" - And there we have it. It escalates and heavy blame get thrown around. And it's, again, not Jon's fault. How could any of them be at fault that Prentiss attacked the Archives and Elias wanted them to get hurt.

JON "Jane Prentiss was not my fault, I did not bring her to the archive–" - Tim started unfair blame, not Jon has to defend himself and getting defensive is not helping the situation.

I think Jon already suspected that they were bound to the Archives? It sounds like he already thought about offering Tim to transfer but somehow couldn't do it. Now he tests it, if Tim can leave by his own free will.

JON "I’m sorry, Tim. Truly I am. But I cannot and will not trust you." - It's hurtful, for both of them, Tim and even Jon himself. But given the situation Jon's in I think it's kind of fair. He is influenced by a Stranger's presence. He knows something is wrong, he knows the Archives are not normal. TMA is a lot about making decisions based on the knowledge you had at hand at that time and at that particular time I think it was actually best for Jon to stay wary and watch his back.

Tessa is a queen of oversharing, and I am sad for Jon.