#one day i will stop talking about oblivion probably

[i-am-but-a-beta-fish]

is this about the hok or myself? the answer is yes.

[kyletogaz]

poly!141 x plus-sized fem!reader

idk i was delirious when i wrote this, it’s terrible.

was thinking about therapist!reader who’s sleeping with four of her favorite patients, consequences be damned. :(

yes, you’re getting your back blown out by the boys. they don’t even know you’re sucking & fucking all four of them. and why would they??

the only person who needs to know the connection is you. the 141 does not discuss their therapy sessions with each other. it’s always, “how did therapy go?”

“it was shit.” of course it was kyle. he barely payed attention. he’s either staring at your tits or trying to catch a glimpse of your panties when you wear skirts.

they’ll get a gruff, “the usual,” from john and nothing more.

johnny, kyle, and john are lucky if they even get a grunt out of simon. he’s tight-lipped about his therapy sessions.

they’re all amused when they get a scowl from johnny, which is followed by an, “if i have tae talk about mah feelings one more time.”

they do know that they’ve been getting their dicks wet a lot lately, but not from each other (it makes johnny sad that he hasn’t sucked simon off or had kyle bouncing on his cock in a while).

johnny and kyle brag about you giving them the best and the sloppiest head every time they see you. simon likes to talk about how he always has you face down with your ass up, teary-eyed, and clawing at the sheets while he fucks you into oblivion. john tells stories about how you milk him dry whenever he makes you ride his cock. it’s a miracle none of them have run into each other while you were around.

but then simon asks you if you would join him for lunch. you like him a lot, more than you probably should, because there’s kyle, john, and johnny who you also like. it all comes to a head one day when you finally accept simon’s invitation. you almost have a damn heart attack when you spot him sitting at a table with johnny, kyle, and john.

shit.

since they haven’t spotted you yet, you think about making a run for it. as much as you hate lying, you’ll have to come up with some believable excuse for missing lunch. simon would understand, wouldn’t he? you’re already close to booking it, when a woman and her girlfriends kindly ask you to stop blocking the damn door. the moment you apologize and step aside to let them out, four sets of eyes are on you immediately, making you freeze.

it isn’t until johnny and simon are both saying your name in unison that it starts to register. they look at each other, then to john and kyle who are both staring at you like a lion eyeing its prey. you walk to the table, feeling anxious, like you’re being led to your death while you listen to them yap about how you’ve been fucking the whole task force this entire time.

the urge to run is getting stronger by the minute, but you ignore it and thank kyle for pulling out a chair for you instead. you sit between him and johnny, not even bothering to make eye contact with any of them. you’re too busy trying to figure out how the hell you were going to explain yourself.

the silence that follows is deafening. you stare at the table, while they stare at you. it’s kyle and simon who break first. they start laughing at the absurdity of it all, with kyle gasping out, “we’ve been sharing the same bird!”

you glare at him, before saying, “well none of you were supposed to find out.” you don’t find your situation funny at all. when you had arrived, you thought you’d only see simon sitting at the table, and not his entire team who fucks you six ways to sunday on a daily basis.

“are ye sayin’ ye knew we were on the same task force?” johnny asks. he’s eyeing you in disbelief, while his dick is getting hard at the thought of his bonnie girl fucking his team.

of course you knew. you’d received the task force’s files together in one big folder. when you started fucking them, you made sure their appointments weren’t on the same day, and that they never overlapped. “at the time, i was taking the necessary steps to keep any of you from finding out about each other.”

your eyes cut to john as he leans back in his seat, while stroking his beard with the same fingers he’d stuffed in your pussy the night before. he wore a thoughtful expression on his face. “how long did you think you could keep this up, dove?”

all you can do is shrug and say, “hell if i know.”

you eye john warily when he laughs. there’s no trace of humor in it. (he was definitely calling you a deceitful little minx in his head) you’re not given much time to dwell on it though, because kyle’s hand is squeezing your thigh. you’re not sure if he’s offering you comfort, or if he’s issuing a warning.

“didnae think it through did ye, hen?” johnny asks cooly, his pretty blue eyes full of mirth.

you don’t answer him. your eyes are on simon who’s watching you like a hawk, as he always does. this time though, it makes you feel a little guilty. but before it can fester, it vanishes completely. why should you feel guilty for getting dick from four different men every day of the week?

you deserve to have some fun. you can’t be a workaholic all the time.

you open your mouth to speak, but your waitress beats you to it when she stops by the table to take the group’s orders. you’re feeling grateful for it. the hell were you even supposed to say to them? no i didn’t think it through, the only thing on my mind was sex.

while the sex part was true, you really did like the entire task force. it’s not your fault your heart resides in your pussy :(

you relax a little when the spotlight isn’t shining on you anymore. everyone’s enjoying their lunch. the conversation is light and the food is good. you’ve had to smack johnny’s hand away from your plate several times already because he insists on stealing off your plate.

“let her eat in peace, johnny.”

johnny pouts at simon, but backs off. the waitress had taken his order after yours. john tells him that he should have just ordered the same thing you did. but none of them are even surprised when you cave and offer johnny some of your food in exchange for his. their chatter starts back up and john and simon are discussing something that you’re having a hard time keeping track of, because kyle’s hand is back on your thigh.

“you really weren’t going to tell us?” he asks in a low murmur, only made for you to hear.

“n-no,” you stutter, sounding a little breathless when he caresses your inner thigh. you slip a hand under the table to remove his, but he won’t budge. “we’re out in public, move your hand.”

kyle refuses and he tells you just as much while he rubs at your mound. your eyes then cut to johnny for help, but he’s ignoring both of you. he’s eating and happily yapping.

“don’t look at johnny, he can’t help you.”

you whimper softly when he slips a hand under your skirt and rubs your clit through your panties. the friction has you moaning loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. simon snorts when he sees your facial expression and kyle’s grin. johnny doesn’t even bother hiding his amusement when he looks down in your lap. john just sighs and gives kyle a stern look, before telling him to release you. his eyes dance with laughter at your whining when the hand holding you hostage finally retreats from between your plush thighs. you actually consider stabbing kyle with your fork when he coos at you mockingly and tells you not to pout. i’ll play with that fat pussy later, baby, i promise.

you don’t say another word until the plates are cleared and john is asking for the check.

“so what now?” you ask casually. no one says anything because they’re waiting for you to continue, but you don’t.

it’s simon who speaks first. “you giving us an out, dove?”

you nod.

“how sweet of you, but what makes you think we’ll ever let you go?” john asks patiently, waiting for you to come to your own conclusion.

it’s not hard at all. the way all four of them are staring at you makes tremble a little. what the hell have you gotten yourself into? “are you saying—but i’m not dating any of you!”

“is that so?” kyle chuckles.

“sweetheart you became ours the second you spread your legs and offered your cunt to us,” simon tells you. he says it with an air of finality, as if he dares you to disagree.

you couldn’t object when you’re the one who started all of this in the first place, knowing there are rules against fraternizing with your patients. morals and ethics went out of the window the day you let john bend you over your desk, and when you let kyle bury his tongue in your pussy in the couch your patients frequent. you didn’t have a care in the world when you buried your face in johnny’s lap and took his leaking cock down your throat, or when simon made you ride him while he sat in your chair. then there are the nights when they have you pressed into the mattress as they take their time worshiping every inch of your body, reveling in the sweet little whines and moans tumbling from those soft lips of yours.

there was no going back for you.

john pays the bill and leaves a tip for the waitress, while kyle and johnny leads you out the doors of the restaurant. when you step outside, johnny drapes an arm over your shoulder and tugs you into his side. he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “c’mon hen, i can’t wait to have yer cunt in mah mouth.” he looks over to kyle with a sly grin. “ye gonna ride mah cock too, garrick?”

oh.

kyle doesn’t answer johnny’s question because he’s too busy watching you to gauge your reaction. he relaxes and smiles softly when you link your fingers with his and pulls him closer to you and johnny.

the three of you are so caught up in your own little world, you miss the fond look shared between simon and john as they bring up the rear.

-

a/n: thanks for reading!

masterlist

[idolomantises]

One thing I'll never forget was when a Hazbin Hotel fan said that my Angel Dust redesign was bad because he "looks like Lady Dimitrescu"

you mean... the hot sexy vampire lady? thanks!

edit:

I do hope to stop talking about the fandom eventually (probably soon since it doesnt affect me as much as it used to) but I never appreciate people trying to police my feelings on the whole ordeal.

What I experienced genuinely traumatic, probably the worst day over a design I was just working on for fun. Not helped by these people not only refusing to apologize but doubling down by spouting off vile things my way. terrible fandom, terrible community is only going to continue to get worse and eat itself into oblivion if it cant get its shit together

Although I do think the Lady Dimitrescu complaint was funny like what bizarre criticism LOL

[gangplanksorenji]

Kinknuary Day 5: Degradation

Pairing: IVE Ahn Yujin x Male Reader

Word Count: 4,681

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

--------------------------------------

--------------------------------------

“That looks awful, Yujin.”

“Come on, daddy, you’ll like this!”

Well, the blending of her outfit composes an unorthodox harmony which makes you detest it but the beauty behind what lies within is the most important aspect—Yujin herself can pull off any style, even if it means for you to not like it. Yujin, a glamorous girl, never fails to look close to a goddess at any time possible, even when she’s totally sullied, she’s still the most gorgeous girl you’ve laid your eyes upon.

Even such harsh criticisms about her are meaningless, faulty and full of bullshit—she’s close to perfection yet you can’t really comprehend the beauty of her outfit right now and it’s really bothering you.

“It’s really weird, Yujin—no matter how much I gaslight myself to think your outfit’s good, it’s really not there—” 

“Maybe, but it’s your own opinion! My stylist really approved of this style!”

Sometimes, Yujin’s optimism is off the charts and it’s getting kind of on the verge of craziness, in a good way. Such uplifting energy being emanated by her is contagious and you love it, no wonder why the rest of members feel cheerful whenever she’s there as it’s evident. Not to mention, the days where you almost lost everything, Yujin was there to fuel your happiness and to cheer you up and you’re just grateful to see such a kind soul in Yujin’s heart. 

Well, well, back to where we were…

“Whatever, you still look beautiful, anyways…” You pull her wrists towards you, initiating into a torrid kiss in which she was caught off-guard, yelping and humming as the kiss was making her heart melt.

“Yah—daddy, someone may see us, let’s go in. Don’t want my daddy to get caught by those paparazzis…”

“You’re so sweet, Yujin—I don’t want that to happen to you either.”

With the fear of getting caught by those possible eavesdropping people, you let her into your humble home as the best of all things were just going to start.

---

“You wanted this all along, huh, Yujin?”

“I’ve planned this all out, daddy, isn’t it obvious?”

Bet it is like that. It wasn’t even a sweat finding it to be too conspicuous as visiting you means three things for Yujin: one, is that she misses you a lot that she couldn’t contain it anymore and wants your affection; two, she wants to talk about something that means a lot to her or, that piqued her interest truly and; three, she’s here for a quick fuck for her daddy.

All options were optimal and understandable and probably, all of the reasons were checked out on why she is here, at your place, with the most ruinable outfit imaginable.

“Yeah, no shit, Yujin—” You pin her down the wall, as you mutter a hot breath that sends down tingles up her spine as an admiration of her faultless beauty and then a faint snarl as you glare at her and continued, “—I bet your slutty pussy won’t even make a day without my cock plunged into it, isn’t it?”

That alone arouses her into oblivion, whining in response as you mark her neck softly, nibbling onto the porcelain skin with aims to let Yujin know where she belongs only, and that’s you. Struggling because of her sudden sensitivity with your touch, she lets out a series of moans in which you love but at the same time, your patience is running out quickly as you will soon be enraged with it.

“Answer me, Yujin—”

“Y-yes, daddy—I’m just s-so horny right now that even with o-our photoshoot earlier, I can’t think of anything besides only you, daddy…”

That thought prints a smile on your face as you were flustered about Yujin clouding her mind with you only, yet, it doesn’t stop there as this was just some obvious foreplay as the test was about to begin pretty soon.

“You’re cute when you’re needy, Yujnnie, but I want to ask you something.”

Yujin’s eyes lit up in anticipation and excitement as your words set the switch of her submissive and needy demeanor—by all means, she’s willing to take and answer whatever question you will utter, no matter what the consequences may be.

“What is it, daddy?”

You sit on the bed, facing up the ceiling and then letting out a sigh as worry paints her face, scared of what may trigger your possible disappointment even though they weren't any cause. “I’m not easily convinced if you really deserve to get fucked silly—you need to earn it first and will you do that for me, Yujin?”

Your stern look forces an immediate answer escaping her lips, willing to do anything that will make your life full of heaven and delight. It is true, you need to test her capabilities first and earn her desired grand prize—hard work pays off in the end, and you’ll let her know that. Spreading your legs for some clarity or rather, a hint of what she’s about to be tackling, she immediately knows what you want her to do as her clever mind never fails to make you smile. Falling down to her knees, lined up in level with your crotch, she makes the most endearing look towards you, her puppy-eyes flattering as she feels excited about what she’s about to do to you.

“Undress me, make it quick.”

“Yes, daddy.”

She is told what she’s told and immediately, she fulfills your command, quickly undressing each piece of your clothing as she starts unbuckling your belt, her fingers shaking a little bit for unknown reasons. You don’t know if it’s because of the nervousness injected right from the start, her lack of experience in which you doubt or something else that you don’t know—you didn’t care about it as she continues what she’s doing with no more interrogation. With her current sluggish pace of stripping your bottom half, you called her out and scolded her a little so that she can up the ante and to not disappoint you. She took this as a hit of a stride, further doing what she’s been told to as the cold air meets your skin, feeling your last bits of defense falling down to the floor, deeming useless. Well, it seemed like she succeeded on her first task as with the last bit of your iron wall protecting the beast within getting removed, you let out a sigh as Yujin was met with your already-erecting member, her eyes in awe and pupils dilating as she admires the beauty of it, inch by inch.

“Daddy’s getting hard, oh god—it’s so perfect.”

“Then do something about it—” You lift Yujin’s chin with your fingers, then glaring at her, voicing an intimate need that should be fulfilled by her and it’s a must. “—don’t you dare disappoint me, Yujin.”

Of course she won’t try to because the consequences are unbearable at her end. With your already erected end, she didn’t faze herself to ask what to do and immediately obliged to pleasure you. She looks in awe with your throbbing cock as she places her finger at the base of it, massaging it slowly and stroking it with fervor. It was sluggish and pleasurable but you didn’t want that, so glared at her as she was confused right after, scared that she may have provoked something that you didn’t want—it’s about time for her to know about that. 

It’s not too long for her to know what you want as she slowly parts her mouth in contact with your mushroom-shaped tip, swirling her tongue around the slit and then parting kisses in admiration of it. She continued with this as you suppress your moans, trying to silence yourself despite the intense pleasure she’s been putting you into. She didn’t up the pace and continued to suck you off with only half of your length in her tight mouth, growing the pleasure as she alternates it between strokes and suctions. You grew impatient with her sluggish endeavors as you slowly formed a tight grip on her head, forcing her down to take your whole length as her nose became buried down your abdomen. It caught her off-guard as constantly gagged on your whole length, tears seeping out of her eyes and then running out her cheek and when you’re satisfied, to let go of your grip as she ejects herself out immediately, gasping for air as her ruined visage is such a sight to treasure.

“W-what the—hah—f-fuck was that, daddy?”

“You’re complaining, Yujin?” You’re in disbelief as she tried to question you and immediately, she knew that wasn’t the right move. She liked your harshness but the shock is inevitable and you didn’t care about that.

“N-no, daddy…”

“Good—you fucking know I like it sloppy, what are you waiting for?” Your commanding tone forces Yujin to do what is asked as she parts her soft, luscious lips onto your tip again and immediately starts to suck you off with renewed fervor and determination, aiming to impress you truly with just her mouth. Inevitably, saliva seeps out of her mouth as your whole length is sheathed with it, with some dripping onto your balls. The pace was ridiculous as her gags were also constant too, bawling her mouth in every thrust she does of her mouth as more tears run down her cheek because of her own masterpiece. It may be a masterpiece for the others, but not for you as she lacks a lot of principles of a great, sloppy blowjob.

“Have you really forgotten what I taught you, Yujin?” Your words didn’t break what she’s best at, unfazed with your remarks as she continues to blow you as fast and as sloppy as she can. “I’m really not having this one, Yujin—again, you don’t want me to be disappointed.” She ups her pace, regardless on how much she gawks and gags as she does the best that she can, blowing you like no one truly could as her face gets sullied, her hair disheveled and her saliva creating an awful mess on her beautiful face and onto the vicinity of your raging length.

“Do I need to repeat myself? You're a pathetic slut—do I need to teach you something again? I might get to call Wonyoung to teach you about the basics, no?”

Having enough of your degrading antics, she pulls herself out of your length, catching a breath and asking a point to you. “Daddy, what do I e-even need to—gluck—mmfh!”

“Even forgot to fondle my balls and stare at my eyes—you’re better than this, Yujin, come on now…”

With such elements being unattended, worry expresses her face as she seemed to forget such simple things on a spectacular blowjob as with no time to waste, her dainty hands averted your attention towards you sensitive balls, rather than gripping your thighs harshly as a leverage to the pace she ensued with. It alternates and it’s better—those orbs shining with lust everytime she thrusts her mouth onto your cock is such the cherry on top as eventually, she maintains eye contact with you despite the current struggles she’s experiencing. It was better than what she'd done earlier and you’re satisfied with it but you mask your satisfaction with a stern look, prompting Yujin to up the challenge more. With an incredible task she’s been doing, you can’t help but let out faint moans and expectedly, the familiar knot in your loins, signaling your near release. Yujin noticed this, as the persistent throbs of your cock onto her mouth makes it evident and took this as an opportunity to milk such a healthy load from you. You knew this, she wants from you as you stop her advances, not wanting to paint her throat with her load as you have more plans with her and the both of you were just starting.

“You fucking greedy slut—trying to milk a damn load, huh?” You let her go as she immediately pulls out of your succulent meat, gasping for air as she frowned in disbelief, wanting your load to be tasted by hers as she didn’t approve of your commands but there’s nothing she can do with it as you have the higher authority, the omnipotent one.

“I c-can’t help it—I want i-it so b-bad, daddy—”

“You won’t have it because girls like you don’t really deserve it up in their throat…” You rose up from your relaxed position, approaching her as you stared at her eyes with such suspenseful intent. “They deserved it inside this tight, little cunt, do you understand?”

Yujin nods frantically with her eyes uneasy, fear emanating down every emotional chemical running up her body as she doesn’t know what to feel after her oral service. Nonetheless, she did a nice job but you want to let her know something that may snap her back to reality.

“B-but did I do good, daddy?”

You sigh, facing her, then looking back at her muttering, “I’m such a hypocrite if I lie yet there will be room for improvements, Yujin.” You sat back down to the bed, shooting up a stern look on your face as you commanded her to strip. It wouldn’t fall deaf onto her ears as she slowly get to work, undressing that stupid jacket off as the long-sleeve followed right after, the hypnotic sense of the show making the atmosphere even hotter as every clothing that gets off is a wondrous sight, and it’s much better because of that dreadful outfit becoming useless and stripped away. She seduces you like a vixen, her eyes constantly attracting you and her smirks letting you know how much she’s enjoying this. You’re just on that emotionless and serious demeanor, unfazed with her unparalleled hotness as with the last bits of clothing getting removed, you can’t help but be aroused with the sight of a god-like body. You weren’t  immobilized either, as you stripped off the rest of your clothing while eyeing and admiring her scrumptious figure.

“You liked this, daddy?”

“Of course—who can possibly detest and reject such a five-course meal in front of them, hm?”

She doesn’t need any questions about that, because every inch of her is perfection at its finest and meal to be savored and devoured whenever possible. You’ll never get tired of the taste of her sweet nectar and the delicious skin as every inch of her should be praised yet this is not where you should bless her with praises—you’re here to test her and conclude on your judgment.

“Thank god you got rid of that awful outfit. It’s mildly concerning how bad it is.”

“Yah, daddy—it wasn’t even that bad!”

“Shut your mouth, Yujin! You don’t get to talk back until I say so, do you understand?” 

Surprisingly, she obeyed your command, nodding slowly as she didn't talk back further, her eyebrows furrowed right after, full of fear and anticipation.

“Now turn around and bend over the bed, hand behind your back and with your foot still stepping on the floor, alright?”

Another nod ensues as she immediately bent her figure over the bed, her ass high up in the air. You take some moment to admire her backside, her thick thighs and it’s plump, spankable butt that’s all offered just for you. The black thong she’s currently wearing was such an arousing sight that it got your cock twitching constantly. You then gave her ass a harsh spank that reverberated around the room, the jiggle after the slap becoming the cherry on top as it hypnotized you but nonetheless, you didn’t give in and fought the urge. Yujin always moans heavenly and blesses your ears in each spank you do as it fuels you to tease her even more and you absolutely love it.

“You’re kinky, huh? Imagine doing a photoshoot having a buttplug up in your ass—you’re really a desperate slut, Yujin.”

“I can’t help it, da—”

You spank her hard again, in distraught as she breaks the golden rule and immediately, she let out a cry from the harshness of your actions.

“What did I fucking say? You don’t get to talk until I say so, right?” You retorted towards Yujin, gritting your teeth with a hint of anger being felt as you were getting disappointed with her disobedient remarks.

“Y-yes, daddy—I’m sorry—”

“No need to be sorry, Yujin—” You spank her as she let out another cry, feeling the intense sensitivity coursing down her veins as you hitch a breath onto her ear and whispered, “—you get to talk with this pussy. Take me well and you’ll be rewarded, do you understand?”

She frantically nods again as her thighs quiver in sensitivity, feeling the utmost pleasure as she’s now in a very defenseless state, prone with your attacks as she can’t do anything but enjoy with your masterclass. You smile with the fact that Yujin is powerless against what you could do to her, feeling the utmost delight inside but you still emanate an intimidating demeanor, scaring her still. With your still fully-erected member, you tease your tip onto her labia, making her moan constantly as sweat now forms down her back, feeling the hot air permeating all over her porcelain skin. 

“Imagine moaning this much with even just the tip teasing you—you’re such a desperate one—a pathetic slut, Yujin, that’s what you are…”

“I a-am a pathetic slut, daddy—ahh, fuck!”

Another harsh spank was drawn with your hands as the reddish sting is imprinted onto her butt, letting her know that the way she contravened you again was not the play. You chuckled upon the helpless predicament she’s in, feeling the utmost authority as you draw your finger up to her dripping core up to her puckered hole, teasing her repeatedly as she moans in pleasure driven by your dexterity.

“One more and you’ll see, Yujin—you’re such a worthless fucktoy for me to use, don’t you? You even struggled to take me in your mouth, what more into this tight, little cunt?” She lets out ragged breaths once you insert a finger up in her pussy, deeming it as her kryptonite as she almost fell down to her knees due to the intense pleasure and sensitivity she’s experiencing. 

“See? Even with just my fingers, you look like a helpless, little slut that lives only for my cock—I bet you won’t even last long with my cock buried balls-deep inside your pussy—hah…”

You continue pleasuring her with your fingers as she didn’t even care to suppress her moans, giving it absolutely everything to arouse you further. You then continue the pace of your fingers as you tip teases her puckered hole, letting out a series of cries from her on par with her angelic moans and the whispered into her ear, “Do you want daddy to fuck you real silly, hm?”

Yujin took seconds to respond, as the intense serotonin she’s experiencing was too much to handle as she nodded instantly and pleaded, “P-please, daddy—I need y-your cock—gahh—i-in my slutty pussy. Fill me u-up and show y-your slut who she be—ahh—longs too…”

You plant another grin as she’s right, you’ll absolutely oblige to that even though she knows where she only belongs to. With a couple more flicks of your fingers inside her pussy, you became contented on what you’re about to do to her as you let her have her desired prize—not really a prize, but rather proving something to her as she let out a muffled scream (it was subtly silenced thanks to your hands) from the warmness of your cock plunging right into her tight heat. Whenever she moans, it really gets you to up the pace immediately as it’s like a curse to lure into your deepest, carnal desires but you fight it, wanting to savor the tightness of her walls and to prove a point to her.

“Look at you, Yujin—look at how pathetic you look right now. My cock is barely even in and you’re this sensitive and weak? I knew better, Yujin—now take it whole, you slut.”

You immediately bury your entire length inside her tight walls as you feel it clench, the both of you then exchanging moans with Yujin letting out the most broken and sensual ones. You could feel her wetness enveloping your member, almost suffocating it as she’s incredibly tight—she was always tight and you love it truly and you’re so thankfully that only you will get to feel her, nobody else. With a newly profound arousal, you noticed how much Yujin is getting turned on with your degradations towards her as you noted it, wanting to show more of what you bring to the table. You then start to thrust with such a moderate pace as you harshly grip the side of her hips, hard enough to leave print but not bruises—maybe it can because of how you're holding it for dear life.

Of course, such spanking didn’t get forgotten here as every thrust or two you do, a harsh spank comes right after, resulting in a silent cry escaping her lips, voicing out her pleasure. With all of the perfection your eyes lay upon, such faulty inevitabilities are on the path, and you’re ready to voice it out.

“God, if you didn’t cut you hair short, I could have gone and pulled your hair while fucking you from behind.”

Yujin answers back, her voice still trembling from your pace and the pleasure running through her, “I w-wanted this, daddy—I thought y-you—gahh—would li-like me experimenting o-on things?”

“Yeah, I know but it’s alright, at least I get to spank you real good.”

You spank her again while maintaining a newly profound ruthless pace, now her bubble butt becoming imprinted with red marks because of your harshness and you smile just with the sight of it. With now your cock constantly ramming her pussy like it’s your last, her moans orchestrate music in your ears as screams come right after. You noticed how much your raging length makes her enervated as you can her legs partly giving out from the repeated onslaught of harsh thrusts in aims for your pleasure and not her—but still, she’s taking advantage of this as even thought you didn’t mind giving her the utmost pleasure, it’s inevitable considering how she’s having a good time and the constant clenching of her wet walls around your cock. It wasn’t anything new and still, it’s arousing as fuck—Yujin saccharine yet deep voice when moaning is such a blessing and disguise, and it’s hypocritical if you say that it doesn’t put gasoline onto the flames of peak arousal (of course you won’t because it’s always an eargasm hearing her soft, deep moans of need).

Such cruelty is ensued with your hips, and Yujin replies with such profanities escaping her mouth, voicing her satisfaction and the pleasure that she’s cherishing—and not so long after, she’s about to be gifted with such a blessing only her daddy can give, no one else can. Within your rapid thrusts and the harsh grips and spanks you’re giving her, you noticed something that was bound to happen, smirking in delight at the fact that it signals the fact that she’s loving your rough treatment despite the possible struggle she’s up into.

“What’s this, Yujin—already cumming onto my cock? Do you even deserve to do that when you could barely take me like a good girl?”

It is true—your whole length stretches her out so well that she couldn’t comprehend to think about taking you in like a champ but rather, fully give in and voice her satisfaction like she’s losing her sanity.

“I’m s-sorry—gahh—daddy—ofh fuck, y-you’re just too b-big—gah!”

She’s not sorry for that but rather didn’t mind it as you continue fucking her senseless. Yujin inevitably spreads her slowly in order for you to fuck her deeper and greater as it’s rewarding, fiding such intense pleasure and new depths that makes her cry in such intense pleasure, unable to take everything as it’s too much on what she wanted but loved this right away. Within your intense pace, you can’t just become a robotic entity programmed to just fuck her until she gives out, so you grabbed onto her small, perky mounds and kissed her nape while doing it, further letting her know the affection you’re giving to her as she moans in response, feeling too grateful to your enamored actions. You pinch the taut bud and massage those pillowy mounds as the heavenly tightness of her pussy sends you into overdrive—becoming too overstimulated as the pleasure you’re experiencing is now off the roof as it’s the same with her, the juices of her cunt forming a rivulet dripping down to your balls and onto the floor is a sign that the both of you are just too lost on the pleasure. Kissing her neck repeatedly and sucking onto the porcelain skin, you know you weren’t far off to reach your peak as you continue fuck her mercilessly, chasing your orgasm.

Such profanities and lust are now the paramount feeling coursing to your veins, so you voice your near-ending and your approaching euphoric disposition as you whisper on her ear, “I’m going to fucking cum inside you, Yujin and you better take it like a good girl, you pathetic slut!”

Now giving her pussy the last thrusts in concern for you pleasure, you flood her ears with moans as she took advantage of your pace and came again onto your cock, streams and streams of her nectar streaming down her thighs, your balls, onto the bed sheets and some onto the floor, staining it. You didn’t mind the sneaky orgasm she was in as you licked down the sweat that profusely formed onto her back, tasting the salty skin and for further arousal to chase your long-awaited orgasm.

Within your last rams, you groan as the pleasure coursed down you’re veins and the inevitable snaps, burying your whole length and filling Yujin up to the hilt as you shoot thick shots of semen deep inside her, painting her walls white as she lets out series of lustful moans because of the euphoric state that she’s in. You continue thrusting into her, further fucking your seed inside her and riding out your orgasm and once it subsided, you slowly pulled out to her, admiring the mess you’ve make inside her with some of it dripping out of her heated core, running down her thighs. You caressed her butt as you admired the sullied sight of Yujin, full of delight and satisfaction as you finally gave her what she wanted but to come up and conclude your judgment, you wanted to make one more thing as a final remark.

“Get up, go on your knees and clean up my cock, Yujin.”

Even with her wobbly legs almost giving out, she didn’t hesitate to oblige, further servicing you with another oral assault as a conclusion on this steamy session. She plants her soft, luscious lips onto your lips and sucked the remnants of your seed and her nectar, cleaning up the mess the both of you made. She hummed in satisfaction as she finally tasted hints of your semen after being deprived for a month without it. After series of licks and swirls of her tongue onto your throbbing length, you let series of weak moans due to your sensitivity as she’s now done with her concluding masterpiece—your cock crystal-clear clean as you help her to get up, and then muttering up a proposition that she won’t deny.

“Want to clean up, Yujin?”

“B-but I want you up in my a-ass, daddy—want to g-get all my holes filled…”

You glared at Yujin, and then let out a chuckle from her needs, “Come on, you can’t even take me that good up your tight cunt, moreso on your ass? Don’t worry though—” You planted a kiss on her lips as you reassure her, “We’re just getting started, there’s more to do later so you better be prepared…”

And god, this will be one hell of another night, again…

[malehypnofantasy]

Muscle Head

"Morning, muscle head,"

"Ugh.....what do you want? I literally pounded your ass to oblivion as if that's my girlfriend's tight sloppy pussy last night, what else now?"

"Can you calm down for me, muscle head?"

"Y---yes, sorry about the outburst. I just didn't think you'll wake up this quick,"

"This is 9 AM, this ain't early, muscle head. I noticed the damp towel so you already worked out. Well, last night was great, but don't you think you need to eat again after that draining workout before going on about your day? My feet can get used to a passionate sucking,"

And just like that, the muscular bodybuilder dropped to the floor and grabbed the nerd's hazel brown feet. The bodybuilder sucked each toes with the utmost care and attention while moaning in delight on how delicious of a treat it is and the nerd just smiled proudly while holding his laughter due to the ticklish sensation of the handsome bodybuilder's tongue and saliva.

The whole feet worship lasted for about 5 minutes before the bodybuilder went on another body parts. He lost himself to his Master's barely hairy pits and thin arms while his Master caressed his hair and whispered sweet nothings to his ear. Eventually, he blew his Master's cock before going on about his day as he got some brand partnership talk with one of his sponsor during lunch before another gym appointment with two clients and his own coach throughout the evening. During the stretch of hours he's outside of the house, he behaved normally as if he didn't just swallow the cum of his nerdy loner of a neighbor earlier today

Around 8 PM, the gym is already quiet as the bodybuilder already asked his coach for a 1-on-1 session in his prep to Mr. Olympia so the gym is closed early. When he's doing his set, someone called his coach, so the coach excused himself to pick it up. It's an unknown number but against his better judgement, he picked up

"Hello dumb tool. You must be in the gym, this is your Master speaking, Tobias. Is Aaron still with you?"

And just like that, the Coach reverted to his tranced and enslaved self as he answered monotonously that Aaron is indeed with him and he's currently working on his muscle and poses for next week's Mr. Olympia

"Well, Aaron's little brain probably forget that he's also my subject even though he's out of the house and I told him to be back home before 8:30. That's not going to happen now since this is 8:10 already so I want you to punish him, dumb tool. This is what you're going to do---"

A couple minutes later, the Coach, Tobias, stared at his disciple.

"Are you done with all the reps?"

"Yes, I'm done. Who called? You spent quite some times," he said while taking out one of his earbuds

"It's none of your business, muscle head," said the Coach smirking while Aaron's pupil went wide as his consciousness started slipping away and his entranced self started to resurface once again. But, he's wearing one of his earbuds still so he resisted and started begging

"Coach, what the fuck? Don't say that word again,"

"What? Muscle head? Why? Aren't you a muscle head? Stop resisting and let that bitch ass power bottom out, Aaron. Our Master already told me to punish you for breaking your curfew,"

"Wait.....our Master?? Oh no...." he said, still fighting even though his Coach bombardment of his trigger word clearly made this a losing battle

"This is 8:25, muscle head. Don't you remember your Master's order? Maybe that's why our Master called you muscle head, because your little brain barely have an original thought of its own. You know what, kneel. Kneel to the floor and start repent, muscle head. Beg for your Master's mercy,"

Aaron didn't want to, but his Coach grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed his form as his trembling knee eventually caved in to the pressure. The coach also grabbed the still plugged earbuds and then smirked as he whispered Aaron's trigger word with his gruff voice. Aaron looked up and eventually realized how glazed his Coach's eyes are, and then he started to be pushed to his own subconsciousness as the other Aaron's fully resurfaced

"Now worship me, muscle head. Master is on his way to pick you up and he ordered me to train you to become the biggest slut in this year Mr. Olympia. So let's take this slow so we can still have something to show to our Master when he eventually comes around,"

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

One thing that has been bothering me a lot over the past few days is seeing all these RIP YOI, RIP IceAdo, Remember YOI etc. posts. As someone who discovered YOI later, I'm watching this unfold from the sidelines and I'm seriously worrying what this is going to do to the fandom. I understand that you are sad because the movie was cancelled, everyone has the right to be sad about such a thing, and I'm not trying to invalidate your pain. But, and I'm saying this with all kindness and my best intentions, and hell, I'm not even the first one saying this, but please hear me out:

YOI IS NOT DEAD.

It did not die last Friday. And it doesn't die because there won't be a movie. No story in human history has ever died because someone decided it was over. Stories are forever. They live in the hearts of the people. And so has YOI been living in the hearts of its fans since October 6th 2016, and will continue to live there for as long as we want.

Whenever I type "Yuri On Ice" into the search field of any social network, web archive, or search engine, I see hundreds of thousands of hits, most of them fanworks. Please take a moment to think about what that means:

In the 7.5 years since YOI aired, fans have made tons of art, written fanfiction and metas, cosplayed YOI characters, created fan videos, crafted all kinds of fan-made merch, and so much more. You are the ones who brought into being an infinite multiverse centred around an anime that is already larger than life. You have already created so much more YOI than Sayo, Kubo, MAPPA etc. could ever create even if they made one hundred movies. And even if every country in the world turns fascist and bans YOI, it will survive because fans will always find ways to preserve it and the power its message holds. Only stories that nobody no longer talks and cares about fade in oblivion.

You hold all the power to keep YOI alive, but, and this is probably the hardest pill to swallow, that also makes you the only ones who are able to kill YOI - be it by stopping to create or talk about it, or by shouting its death from the rooftops because you fancy yourself dramatic, or by turning the fandom into a hate-infested toxic hellscape, whichever will occur first.

And I honestly don't know which of these I fear most.

If you truly love YOI, please do your share and continue to keep it alive.

[spiceofvy]

Telling SKZ that you fake your orgasms

cw: gender neutral reader, angst with a happy ending, some nsfw, skz being insecure, bad communication from readers side, angry sex (chan), overstimulation (minho), me calling seungmin a petty bitch

Chan: With Chan, this situation could go either one of two ways. He will have a very mature conversation with you about this going into great detail about what either of you like and how to improve both of you pleasure in bed. Or he resorts to very angry sex. Fucking you into oblivion, overstimulating you until you are a drooly mess. And then have a mature conversation with you. He would hold you tight and pet your hair. He would probably feel not 100% comfortable with looking into your face so he lays your head on his chest. His voice is calm and low, letting you do most of the talking. Chan is a perfectionist and hates to disappoint. So he would do everything to make sure you don't have to fake it again.

Minho: Well, he's mad. You experiencing disappointing sex with him? Hurts his ego. You lying to him about it, not openly talking to him? Hurt his heart. He feels like you don't trust him which makes him deeply insecure in the relationship. Minho likes to act tough and strong but he still has very human emotions, and he cares about you a lot. But he hides it all behind some rough fucking. He will make you cum again and again. Asking you if you are enjoying yourself ironically. Afterward, there will be a very productive conversation about your sex life. Which leads to some soft cute lovemaking with him immediately following your advice and needs. Open for criticism at any time.

Changbin: Poor baby boy is hurt. After the confession, he will need some time for himself. He thought you trusted him enough for you to tell him the truth. Even if it hurt him for a bit. It may be a minuscule lie. But this messed with his head. He feels like he is not good enough for you. And that you don't have enough trust in him to confide in this with him. He will have an adult conversation with you after some time. Openly discussing the topic, not only your sex life but also secrets and lies like that. He tries hard to move on from this, but his insecurity will follow him for a while. When he returns to the bedroom with you you will have to take the lead and tell him what you want, he will follow your every wish like the good boy he is.

Hyunjin: He already had his suspicions. He is great with body language and always watches you very closely. Especially during sex. But he never felt sure enough to bring it up to you. After your confession, there's a lot of silence. He just stares at the wall for a bit, thinking some stuff through. Making plans on how to improve the situation. And shapes a plan. You talk him through how to pleasure you. No matter how dominant he usually is, you take the reigns. He wants exact orders and he will not stop until he knows exactly how to please you. He also now always takes time to have an in-depth conversation with you about your sex life. Making sure that this doesn't happen again.

Jisung: Thinks you're joking. I mean you are joking, right? How do you even fake that? It felt and looked pretty real to him. But when you don't start laughing too… ouch. He's hurt. He will play it off but his anxiety is spiking. What if you are also unhappy with the rest of your love life? Does he take you out on enough dates? Does he give you enough gifts? Does he always ask you how your day was? He is in his head about it and not coming out any time soon. You better reassure him because else he starts spiraling. Especially if you told him on a high-anxiety day. No sex for you for the next week. He just doesn't feel up to it. But when you do it's the slowest, softest lovemaking. Afterward, he holds you tightly and apologizes to you. But you talk it out and find a way to handle this situation.

Felix: Oh he is hurt deeply. Less because of your lie and more because he feels like he failed you. You deserve only the best but how could he be the best for you when he even fails at making you cum? He fights back tears as he asks you if he lacks anything else. Does he not talk to you enough? Why didn't you trust him enough to immediately tell him? What can he improve on? Are there any toys he could introduce that would help you? Does he cum too fast? Please just give him some way to make you happy. And even after you two had that conversation he will be insecure for a while. Letting you take control of the bedroom activities. He is also the one who's most likely to bring it up with one of the boys to ask for help. My guess would be Chan.

Seungmin: He is the least emotional about the topic. Not because he doesn't have emotions but because doesn't want to make it more important than it is. It's a hick-up in your sex life. Is he hurt you lied to him? Yes. is his ego hurt? Yes. But his obvious solution is for you to show him what you like. He will sit there calmly, watching you play with yourself. Making notes of everything you do. How you touch yourself, how fast. How slow. Where exactly. He won't forget it. Sometimes talks to you about the topic again. Asking for small check-ins. But Seungmin is still Seungmin and sometimes he is a petty bitch. Which makes him the most likely, to bring it back up later during a fight. Because if you lied to him once…

Jeongin: He has the least amount of experience so he is unsure how to react to this. So his first idea is to google the problem (please don't do that). After reading a bunch of articles some more or less helpful he just decides to start from the very beginning. Taking it slow. Relearning everything he knows about sex with you. Asks you a lot of questions during it. Wants to know exactly what feels good and what does not. He doesn't show a lot of emotions but he still blames himself a lot. Months later during a late night, he will confess his insecurities to you, whisperingunder covers, hoping for you to console him, and that there is no need for him to be insecure. That you love him anyway TELL HIM YOU LOVE HIM OR ELSE-

[squiddy-god]

chokeing (belphagor)

Re-upload from terminated blog squid-god-supreme, me personally idk if he killed me I want him. That being said uhhhhh this needs a bit of a warning lol

CW : chokeing obviously, slight degradation, afab reader, rough sex, safe word mentioned but not said, soft sex, possessive behavior.

Belphie definitely has a chokeing kink, haveing his hands wrapped around your throat, you at his mercy, the power rush makes his dick throb

That being said after the whole killing you thing, he’s very much opposed to the idea of chokeing you, he cant even hug you without thoughts of wether or not your scared in that moment, he killed you and even though he loves you and wouldn’t ever hurt you again, he doesn’t wanna lose himself and hurt you.

So he refuses to choke you.

But if you really try and convince him, listen to why he won’t, and then squash all of those insecuritys and fears? Then he will very hesitantly agreed to choke you.

Makes sure you know the safe word and tells you to start kicking if you can’t say it, any amount of discomfort will cause him to immediately stop. Bby boy doesn’t wanna hurt you 🥺

Once he’s in the moment, pounding into you, hands around your as you let out strangled moans (haha get it?) He gets a lot more comfortable

Now it’s not just about haveing so much power over you, it also about the amount of trust you have to put in him to let him choke you

Belphie fucking you into oblivion, hands squeezeing your neck as it gets a little harder to breathe. It’s probably the most awake you’ve ever seen him

Gets possessive when he chokes you

Like he’s already possessive and pretty jealous when it comes to your attention but he’s just pretty docile and sleepy so he doesn’t do anything unless really provoked

But when he’s fucking you and chokeing you?

He’s fully awake and he’s letting you know every jealous possessive thought, you swear he could take Levi’s title as avatar of envy. He wants to fuck the idea into you, your his and his alone

Normally sex with belphie is sleepy and lazy, when its like this happen doesn’t choke you and his dirty talk is filled with praise for takeing his cock so well and is overall a kind of sweet dirty

But when he’s fully awake he chokes you (if you want) and it’s a complete 180, absolute filth comes out if his mouth, he’s degrading you, saying how much of a cock slut you are, such a sinful little human letting a demon fuck you and fill you up with cum.

It’s not just wrapping his hands around your pretty little neck that gets him off, seeing you choke on his dick almost has him cuming down your throat immediately. The way it constrictes around his member as tears prick your eyes, but you keep going.

Belphie sleeping in his demon form because it’s just more natural for him and uses less energy is a hill I will die on. Because of this he’s almost always in demon form when he fucks you, but for different reasons.

Normally it’s because he’s just woken up or has been casually Lounging around in demon form, but durning the times he’s fully awake it’s because he’s going absolutely feral fucking into you, feeling your moans vibrate in your throat and against his hands.

Its cannon that belphie is actually always up at night because he can’t seem to sleep (it’s in one of his calls) and I don’t think people talk about that enough.

So it’s kinda like night and day. Day time belphie is sleepy and sex is lazy, night time belphie will wreck your shit and choke you as you cum.

After he’s done fucking you he turns extra soft and cuddly.

He’ll wrap his arms around you and just hold you in a hug, tell you he loves you, give you butterfly kisses and make sure you know he doesn’t actually mean the nasty things he says.

He may be being a soft boi™ but he won’t let you go. He’ll wrap his tail around you and smirk knowing his cum is dripping out if you

Honestly a filthy boy when he’s horny

[unhingedsquash]

(I wrote this in the break room at work and it’s short and on a cliffhanger bc that’s what I do best, but user @eleccy u hit my exact brand of fic preference. I probably will make this a full fic on ao3 soon if I get around to it.)

-

Oh.

Oh, it seemed so obvious now that it hit him in the face.

All Klavier could think about as Apollo’s crackled voice mentioned his father over the phone, attaching an image in their text messages, was of the guitar.

The guitar Lamiroir had gifted him so graciously when he had visited Borginia. She had traced her fingers delicately at the base of the neck of the guitar until they landed on a small carving. She explained that she’d had the guitar for so long that she forgot where it came from. She didn’t play the guitar, and was struggling to learn—partially from her loss of sight, mostly from her inability to have time to herself and no one to teach her.

“Your guitar playing moved me,” she explained. “The melodies are so lovely… it almost feels familiar. I don’t know where this guitar came from, but whoever played it before… I think, must’ve played as beautifully as you. I would like you to have it.”

And, of course, with great honor, Klavier accepted. It was such a sentimental gift, he felt the need to protect it. On top of that, the guitar was such high quality and in such excellent condition, it felt like he’d won the lottery.

Alas, it was unable to be saved. The incident in the summer of 2026 ripped the precious gift from his grasp before he could even put her to safety. But he was able to save a single, singed piece, with a barely legible carving, from the base of the neck of the guitar.

Now all he could do was stare at the cased up piece of wood with J.J. carved into it sitting in his guitar display as Apollo rambled on about his days in Khura’in, while the name Jove Justice rung through his head, and the all-too-familiar guitar stared back at him in an old picture of Apollo’s father.

So many instances played through his head. From the first time she reconnected after the incident, to their semi-regular coffee get-togethers where she would make comments that started to click. Things like, “How is Apollo doing? And Trucy?” and the hesitance, then denial every time Klavier offered to deliver mail or extend a phone number. And comments about remembering her past, but the resistance to provide details.

It all started to make so much sense, and Klavier wondered… did he know?

Subtly, as Apollo continued to talk, Klavier extended a text to the singer to ask what she knew. To ask for clarification. Did she know? Did she remember?

And god, what was Klavier going to do now that she admitted she’d known everything? It felt wrong not to say anything. Especially with Apollo right there on the phone, talking in total oblivion. God, Klavier even heard him mention how “they said they couldn’t find any information on my mother. It’s too bad. I hope I can find her one day—“

“Apollo.”

God, he needed to stop. It’s not his place to be doing this. He doesn’t need to be a hero right now.

“Your mother is Lamiroir.”

It’s quiet. It’s so quiet that Klavier can hear the silence. And it’s screaming at him that he should not have done that.

“What do you mean?” Apollo’s voice broke through the phone speaker again. “Klav, that’s not funny.”

Another beat of silence. More silent screams of shame and guilt.

“Please don’t get quiet after saying that, what do you mean?!”

“The guitar. Your father’s guitar?”

“…Yeah?”

“I have what’s left of it.”

[abbyromanoff]

id like to request beefy g!p natasha x reader nat is a mechanic and has her own garage and has clients and all that. she’s damn good at what she does. she has 2 or 3 other workers, can be random ppl or like tony steve and bucky. reader surprises nat at her garage with some lunch for her and the boys. the boys love her and always welcome her when she comes. reader sees nat finishing up on a car all sweaty and dirty, muscles strongly showing with gray sweatpants on where her bulge looks big. she gets all hot and bothered. nat is excited to see her so they go into her office in the garage and reader sits on her lap and they eat and ends with them having sex in her office. some cute fluff then some dirty smut at the end 😁

Your mechanic

Parings: g!p Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: going to see your girlfriend at work was supposed to be a sweet time, until it ended up with you on your knees

This took soooo long because I accidentally deleted the story the first time 😔

Word count: 953

Warnings: smut, blowjobs, boot humping, small bits of fluff, terrible writing, degrading, praising.

No one is permitted to steal, copy or reblog my work as their own!!

Finishing up the five little lunches you headed to your girlfriends shop. You often made her and her coworkers meals, knowing that they probably didn’t eat much throughout the day. You learned to cook for them, wanting to make healthy and delicious lunches that they’d love. The guys appreciated what you did for them, you’d make them food and in return they’d fix your car for free whenever needed. Walking into the dealership you you saw Steve and Bucky working on one car and Nat along with Tony on the other. Nat was under the car, meaning you could see her large bulge through her grey sweatpants. You bit your lip as you remembered all the times she used her long cock to fuck you into oblivion. The three guys rushed over to you and took their own containers, walking over to the large table to eat after sending rushed thank you’s. Nat rolled out from under the car and stood up to walk over to you, stopping to give you a kiss and grab her own chicken sandwich with mashed potato’s, asparagus and a water bottle. Seeing her in her dirty tank top covered in oil turned you on more than it really should’ve. Her biceps were out and you admired them, wanting to reach up and grab onto them. The sweat covering her forehead made you think of her like this in a different setting, a less pg setting. She walked the two of you into her office, telling the guys you both were going to eat in her office. They nodded, not really listening as they were too engrossed in eating. She closed the door behind you two as you sat down on her desk, legs swinging over the metal table. Nat closed the blinds as she went to sit down on her squeaky desk chair. She put her hand on your inner thigh as she ate, occasionally looking you over. You were so turned on with all of her touches, her outfit and all of her teasing, you wanted her to take you right here right now.

Catching you staring she lifted your chin, making you look her in the eyes. “My eyes are up here baby.” She said with that raspy voice of hers. She could see your embarrassed face from being caught making her laugh. You both sat in comfortable silence as you ate. She started talking about her day and the card she was fixing, even if you didn’t understand a thing she said you still listened just as much. You both talked about anything that came to mind and just appreciated being with one another. You still were horny as ever and wanted her, you wanted to suck her off so bad. You decided on trying to tease her to make her want you, getting off the desk to sit on her lap.

Once you were seated you started fanning yourself, acting as if it was hot in there. “God it’s hot in here.” You say as you go to take your shirt off. Nat watches in desire as she goes to grope your chest, feeling herself getting hard as she manhandles the plush skin. You let out exaggerated moans as you rolled your hips, hitting her cock with every movement. This went on for a few minutes, her head rolled back as you continued to grind on her, her touching your tits all over. You got off her lap much to her dismay and went on your knees infront of her. She realized what you were planning on doing and gave you a supporting grip to your head, grasping your hair in her large hands. You cupped the now large bulge, teasing her length under the confinement. Pulling down her pants and boxers you were met with her cock now springing free. Moving forward you licked her tip and jerked off the rest of her.

Nat got tired of your slow licks and urged you to continue, “Come on baby, suck my dick. Swallow my fucking cum.” She pushed you down until you were gagging. You tried to fit as much of her in your mouth as you could, but with her large length it wasn’t easy. You could feel her twitching as your tongue licked every vein and ridge.

Her legs were shaking and she new she was going to burst soon. “Fuck baby, gonna cum! You’ll lick it up all won’t you? Yeah you will, my little slut.” Her degrading words made a wet patch form in your underwear, you used her shoe to help you get off. Grinding your pussy against her work boot, occasionally hitting her leg caused you to moan around her dick, sending vibrations through her. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she exploded in your mouth. Her moans only grew louder when she finished, watching as you sucked up every drop just like she asked of you.

“Shit, you take it so good. Wanna fuck your mouth every second.” Honestly that didn’t sound like a bad idea. You loved sucking her off almost as much as you loved her, most mornings you’d wake her up with head and when she returned home you’d blow her under the kitchen table. She said she loved your mouth more than anything, as much as she loved your pussy your tongue licking her up would always feel better. Once you swallowed all of her cum you leaned back, you thought she was going to offer eating you out or fucking you but she only leaned back and said, “Why don’t you go home and wait on your knees for me. I should be done in an hour.”

[thedeviltohisangel]

“Are you actually blushing?” “No! Shut up.” & “awww did I flustered you?” For Cass/Bucky please

BLUSHING PROMPT ERA

when you all aren't requesting pow camp angst, you all want more of cass and the egan family. my gift to my few fluff lovers.

Penelope's wails had quieted to tired little whimpers as John paced around the backyard of his childhood home. Her and her brother had been perfectly well behaved on the flight from Virginia to Wisconsin but while Gale had fallen asleep during his bedtime bottle, Penny had decided to test the capacity of her lungs in the midwestern air.

"It's okay, my sweet girl. I know you've had a long day. You must be so tired," John cooed to his baby daughter as he bounced her gently. Her teary eyes were looking up at the stars as he pressed gentle kisses to the side of her head. He hoped Cass had fallen asleep. They both had been running on empty since they became parents three months ago.

"Coming out here always use to work when you were as little as her." John turned to see his mother standing in the doorway to the back of the house, watching her son and granddaughter with a smile on her face.

"Did she wake you? I'm sorry, ma, I tried to get her out here as quick as I could." His mother shook her head and reached for her granddaughter, John passing her off and collapsing into a lawn chair as she took over the calming, rocking movements he had been trying for what felt like hours.

Penelope looked at her grandmother with curiosity and slowly went silent as she grew comfortable in her arms. "How come you and my wife can just look at them and they stop crying but they make me work for it all night?"

"Maternal instinct, Johnny. Cassandra seems to be adjusting to motherhood quite well." John nodded as he took the sleeping baby back from his mother and held her against his chest.

"She's a natural. Barely blinked when the doctors said there was another one right behind Penny." John had been in the hallway raging at the medical staff that was trying to keep him from seeing his wife. His mother didn't need to know that part.

"And you? I remember that one summer you helped with a baseball team, you were so good with them."

"I think I'm getting the hang of it. The half of them they get from me is causing us the most problems but that is to be expected." His mother laughed and he let it wrap around him like a hug. "I never thought about a future that looked like this until I fell in love with her." John kissed the top of his daughter's head and pressed his finger into her little palm that was resting against his chest, her fingers curling around his and his heart skipping a beat.

"I'm glad. I was worried after the last time you were here." His mother hadn't mentioned their time in Wisconsin when she had come with his sisters to South Carolina for the wedding but that doesn't mean she hadn't thought about it.

"That was...we were in a dark place. I didn't mean for it to boil over here but I saw that photo and got that letter and..." He hugged his daughter tighter. He had stormed out of his parents house that night without his wedding band. With the intent of helping Cass book a one way trip to South Carolina to be rid of him and their marriage and the mess he was causing in her life. Had said a million things he regretted and had drank himself to oblivion at the local bar over the idea that he had finally fucked up enough to lose her.

"But now you've got these little blessings. And that absolutely wonderful little dog, John, he really is so handsome." Butter was probably on his half of the bed upstairs as they spoke, sleeping like a rock in Cass' arms. John hadn't even tried to fight bringing him on the trip and hadn't looked at the final cost of bringing a dog on the airplane. His wife assured him it was pennies for the joy it would bring her and the kids to have him tag along.

"Butter? He's trying to replace me."

"Well, I'm sure Cassandra appreciates that he doesn't talk back." John looked up at the sky and prayed for strength. Why did all the women in his life have to be against him?

-

"Oh, Cass, he's such a handsome little devil just look at him!" Gale giggled as one of his aunt's kissed his cheeks and tickled at his sides. "How on earth did he come from someone like my brother?"

"Your brother is plenty handsome," Cass offered with a smile as she adjusted Penny in her lap, the little girl chewing on the foot of one of the stuffed animals she had just been gifted.

"Don't tell me he makes you do all the work during the making part."

"Yeah, John, your wife deserves to be lavished more often than you do!" his other sister chimed in. He poked his head out from where he was preparing bottles in the kitchen.

"You have no clue how often I lavish my wife!"

"She could always use more." Butter barked in agreement.

"Are you actually blushing?" John asked with a smirk as he offered Cass one bottle and his sister the other.

"No! Shut up." It wasn't that Cass was some kind of prude when it came to talking about her sex life with John. She just didn't want his mother overhearing any conversations of baby making and lavishing.

"Did I fluster you, baby?" John nuzzled his nose into her neck to make her laugh as she lovingly looked on at Penelope eating her second breakfast.

"Just got me thinking about lavishing now is all."

"Yeah? You in need of some?" John said, his voice dropping an octave. She bit her bottom lip and nodded, leaning in to nip at his lips. "Fuck. Yeah, I think you need some real bad, baby."

He was never happier to have his sisters around to baby sit than he was on his knees in the backseat of his old car, his wife's legs over his shoulders and his face buried under her skirt.

[whositmcwhatsit]

An Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

AN: Hi, remember me? Yeah, it's been a tough few weeks, but I'm back on track now and free from soul crushing work, so my brain is free to wander.

The usual warnings apply.

Previous chapter

Chapter 9- Open Your Eyes

Chancy woke up in yet another hotel room. This one had striped wallpaper and heavy flocked curtains. She blinked and smoothed her hair, trying to remember what day it was. With no obvious days and nights, time turned shimmery and difficult to grasp. There were the shows, of course, but sometimes there was one and others there could be two in a day, it was an unreliable unit of measurement.

After a couple of minutes she decided that didn’t matter. Then she tried to remember where she was. Texas? Washington? Ohio? That probably didn’t matter either.

The bed was otherwise empty, which was unusual. She was used to waking before Elvis, having that moment of grace where she could breathe and marvel at him close up. One of the highlights of every day was curling beside him as he slept, her head on his pillow, stroking the back of her fingers down the side of his face and smiling as his lip twitched into the faintest curl.

While he was asleep, he was safe, he was calm, he was predictable. All was well.

Sighing, she threw back the covers and padded across to the bathroom to make herself presentable. As she passed the door that had been left ajar, she heard voices coming from the living area beyond, and she paused to make them out. Elvis’ was unmistakable, of course, but there was also Jerry’s near monotone, Lamar’s nasal twang, and Ricky’s uneven pitch. She also glimpsed Sonny’s broad shoulders through the crack in the door.

 “I don’t know, man, I’m just saying you got your work cut out for you,” Lamar was saying somewhere off to the right. “She’s real sharp, you know. Plus she knows you so well, she’s got you bang to rights, son.”

 “Well,” Elvis replied, his voice soft and slurred. “We’ll see, I guess. Maybe- maybe that’s what I need.”

 “It’s what I’ve been saying for years,” Jerry intoned. “You always need a challenge, man. When you’re working, you rise to the occasion, so why not in love too, you know?”

 “You worried about me being able to ‘rise to the occasion’, Jerry?”

 There was a chorus of guffaws. Chancy rolled her eyes and smiled at them talking about relationships like they always teased the girls for doing. She didn’t want to think about who they might be talking about. There was no good answer to that.

 The list of things she was refusing to think about was getting long enough to warrant a scroll rather than a page of a notebook. The tour would be coming to a close soon and they had not talked about what would happen next. Chancy would be going home to her job and her family and he would presumably be getting ready for his latest stint in Las Vegas.

 Standing in the shower, she told herself that she had only signed up for the tour, and that she was only equipped to be there for the tour. No doubt he already had someone lined up for Vegas, and probably someone else for the rehearsals in LA beforehand too. And that was for the best.

 “I tell ya, no need for windows when I got a view like that!”

Chancy whipped round and had to throw out her hands to stop herself from skidding on the slippery tiles, peering through the shampoo suds trickling into her eye.

 “You scared me!” she replied. He had opened the shower door slightly and was peeking in with a sneaky, boyish smile.

“You don’t ever need to be scared, baby, not with me around.”

‘Most of the time you’re the one who scares me!’ she wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, she tilted her head up to catch the spray and rinse off her hair. The waft of cooler air hitting the steam made her glance back over as he pulled open the door, shrugged off his robe and stepped into the cubicle in his pyjamas.

“I don’t think you understand how showers wor-” His lips swallowed her words as he ducked down and kissed her, pulling her against him.

“See, I got ya,” he mumbled, his hands sliding down her slick skin as the shower soaked his hair to his face. “I’ll always protect you.”

“You’re crazy,” she murmured, clumsily unfastening the buttons on his pyjama jacket as her mouth chased his. He leant down to allow to her peel off the sopping top, grimacing in discomfort, but grabbed hold of her again as soon as she flung it over the screen.

“A real man’s gotta be ready to protect his woman any time, any place,” he informed her with childlike earnestness.

“And who or what are you protecting me from right now?” she asked, playfully inching down the waistband of his pants.

“Honey,” he mumbled into her mouth, “you never know.”

As soon as she got his pants down past his hips, he surged forward, pressing into her, and the sudden pressure almost took her off her feet. Trying to help, he grabbed her in a bear hug and almost went with her.

“Shit, this was a much better idea in my head,” he murmured wryly, biting on his luscious bottom lip as he pushed his hair from his eyes.

“It was an amazing idea,” she assured him, fruitlessly trying to swipe away drops of water from his brow to stop them trickling into his eyes. “But I think the only thing I need protecting from right now is gravity and these darn tiles. Can’t fight science.”

“Aw, faith beats science every time, you know that,” he replied, resting his head on her shoulder and turning his face into the crook of her neck. The pattering of the spray against her skin, combined with the soft touches of his lips and the scrape of his stubble and teeth at her throat, was almost too much.

“And common-sense beats all,” she told him, carefully stepping backwards. “Come with me?”

She reached down to grab his waterlogged pants and toss them out of their way and when she looked back his gaze was heavy but loving as his eyes slowly travelled down from her face. She withstood this as long as she could, legs trembling, and then she turned and stepped out of the shower.

“Damn, I’d follow that ass anywhere,” he murmured, catching her when she paused to grab a towel, and pulling her into him. She could feel his excitement against the curve of her ass as he practically lifted her, nibbling her neck like a hungry vampire. When she tried to turn to hand him a towel, he just squeezed her tighter and they half-walked, half-stumbled back into the bedroom.

Something felt different, there was an urgency about his actions that hadn’t been there before, and she wondered if he was thinking about the end of the tour as well. Without preamble, he manoeuvred her onto the edge of the bed, flipping her at the last second so that she was looking up at him. When he swooped down, fitting himself against her like they were made that way, she slid her fingertips up his arms where they twitched against the ripple of muscle as he held himself up over her on his elbows.

“Are you okay?” he asked directly against the shell of her ear, his damp cheek pressed against the side of her face. She went to nod but shivered instead, digging her nails into his shoulders. “I can’t- I…” He pulled back, but couldn’t meet her eye, his cheeks pink. “I want-”

She nodded this time, gritting her back teeth as pulses of tension radiated out through her body. He pulled away from her with a grunt, leaving his hand splayed out across her chest to hold her in place and she clasped her own hands over it. As he looked down, the fingers of his other hand slipped and slid into her, testing her readiness. She writhed slightly against them and his frown of concentration faded into his boyish smirk, his eyes glittering in that irresistible way that made all the girls swoon, Chancy included.

Having learnt her lesson, she didn’t push or urge him on, but scraped her nails up his soft sides, making him twitch his whole body and glare at her with playful ire.

 “Don’t play with me, baby, you don’t wanna know what I’ll do to win,” he warned in a silly, deep voice that had her giggling. Her laughter cut short as he plunged a finger inside her, biting his lip against a smile as she inhaled sharply.

 After a minute or so of this, he nodded absently and took hold of himself, his other hand moving down to her stomach as he positioned himself at the right angle. When he thrust up, she gasped and he sank down and scooped her up with his forearms. His forehead pressed against hers as he drew back and then pushed deeper, filling her with an aching heaviness.

“You’re okay, baby.”

All of her senses were in overdrive, she could feel the droplets of water from the shower still on the  middle of his back as she wrapped her arms around him, trying to tug him in tighter, closer. His chest hair scraped against her skin, the weight of him crushed her ribs and hips, and she wanted more. It was never enough.

“Wait, wait a minute!” he exhaled, pulling up and releasing her onto the mattress. She was hanging half off the bed, and the beaded edge of the mattress felt scored into the skin above her tail bone.

Wordlessly, mindlessly, she watched him rise to his feet and view her pensively, his hands hooked just below his hips. He seemed unaware of her eyes as he thought, his erect cock glistening with her and his soft, round belly rising and falling with his breathing. She marvelled at how intimate and safe they had come to feel around each other in such a short period of time.

“Are you okay?” she asked finally, curling upwards towards him. He started slightly, like he had forgotten she was real, and smiled.

 “Uh, yeah, let’s get you more comfortable, baby.”

He scooped her up into his arms like he was a groom about to carry her over the threshold (She shook her head at her stupid brain making that comparison.) and placed her in the centre of the bed. Face intense, he climbed on after her and slid his hands underneath her head, drawing out her hair and fanning it around her face.

Beginning to feel the chill and aching inside, she lifted an eyebrow and asked, “Are you done? Maybe once you finish dressing the set you could give me a script?” His eyebrow twitched as he considered the thought with faraway eyes. “You are so bad!” She tossed a pillow at him, hitting him right in the middle.

“Hey, watch it!” he retorted, grabbing her wrists and pinning them on either side of her head. He wriggled his hips so that he was lined up perfectly against her and rolled them slowly as he pressed her hands into the pillows. She craned her neck to kiss him, but he moved back slowly, a slow grin spreading across his face. Almost effortlessly, he slid into her, and her breathing hitched as he finally lowered his head, devouring her mouth.

Once he had picked up where he had left off, his pace was relentless and his hunger undeniable. His mouth rarely left her, pulling away only to gasp a breath before he was kissing and biting and just pressed against her again.

The pressure rose as the ripples of pleasure glided out from her centre, her muscles contracting and aching and tingling all at once. She shivered and shuddered beneath him and reached up to cup his face with her hands.

“Baby,” she whispered, “open your eyes.” He did, blinking a little at first like he had trouble focussing on her, before a filter of complete adoration came over his face. And she came in such a rush that it was almost painful, her clenching and moaning sending him sinking into her with a groan.

They lay catching their breath, plastered together, the silence loud and thick.

“Well, damn.” His voice was muffled deep in the pillows and she laughed, wiping her hair out of her face from over his shoulder.

“Now I’m gonna need another shower,” she remarked, as he peeled himself away from her with a wince.

“Let’s have breakfast first,” he murmured, dropping onto his back and resting his arm across his face. “Need to regain my strength. You’re relentless, woman.”

“What can I say, I just can’t control myself,” she returned, giving him a nudge in the side. She caught him smiling underneath his arm.

It was pancakes for breakfast again. At this rate, Chancy reflected that she might be able to write a book on the range, variety and edibility of pancakes served by hotels across America. These ones were good. Not Grandma level good, obviously, but soft and fluffy and just absorbent enough to take in the syrup without sucking it away never to be seen again.

“I didn’t realise there were so many factors to consider,” Elvis remarked after her review. He picked up a strip of charred bacon between his fingers and chewed on it, holding back his smile.

“Of course there are. Pancakes are a work of art.”

“Well, you’d know.” She watched him dip his next strip of bacon into the jug of syrup and shook her head with affectionate disbelief.

“What? C’mere a minute. It tastes good! Here, try it.” She shook her head and he leant over, rubbing the bacon on her lips and coaxing her in baby talk to just try an ‘iddle widdle bit’. When she didn’t crack, he ate it himself, shaking his head at her refusal. She stuck out her tongue and let it flick over her bottom lip, tasting the salty grease and sweet syrup together, but she refused to admit it was good because he didn’t need the encouragement.

“Gotta make the most of it,” he shrugged, munching through the bacon. “Gotta go on a diet as soon as we get home.”

 The look on his face was positively mournful and she stopped herself from pointing out that if he ate less bacon dipped in syrup now then he wouldn’t have to spend so long on a diet later. He wasn’t stupid, but there were areas in his mind where logic failed to stick and eating was one of them.

“You know what would finish this off perfect?” he commented suddenly, brightening. “Something cold and sweet. Baby, can you call down and order me some ice cream?”

 “For breakfast?!” Her laughter was caught between amusement and disbelief.

“It’s six in the evening,” he pointed out with that mischievous boyish smile.

“Are you serious?” She thought back to times when she had witnessed someone question his eating habits and how promptly they had been torn down and tossed out. It made her tense before she gently added:

“Sweetie, you can’t still be hungry.”

“Pwease, Cha-Cha?” He stuck out his bottom lip and she knew that she would give in, as much as she didn’t want to. She was inwardly cursing her weakness as she picked up the receiver, keeping her back to him so that he couldn’t mouth any more requests while she was ordering.

By the time the ice cream arrived, Jerry and Joe had appeared to check in and talk about arrangements for the show. They side-eyed Elvis’s breakfast without comment, knowing better, while Chancy shifted uncomfortably. She knew should have tried harder to talk him out of it, though it was likely she still would have been unsuccessful at doing anything but putting him in a bad mood.

Gradually, as the evening wore on, more people arrived at the suite, the usual faces, but also some locals. There were the beautiful young girls, as always, some local police officers that Elvis had got talking to in the hallway while they were moonlighting as security, (She hoped they were not as zealous as that one cop that had strong armed her in the elevator.) and more of the guys.

Elvis was evidently in a very social mood since he seemed to be making it his mission to talk to every single person as though he was their best friend, leaving her doing her best to not look awkward. She was usually better at this, better at striking up random conversations, but after her first attempt when she had made a joke about Sonny’s shirt and Charlie had come rushing over to laugh hysterically while also giving her a panicked shake of the head, she had retreated to an armchair.

“Hey CC, you okay?” Chancy blinked and stared up into Jerry’s concerned face.

“Sure!” she trilled. His expression didn’t change and he didn’t move away.

“Can I get you anything? You want a drink?”

“No, I’m fine, thank y- You know, actually, a drink would be great.” She looked over to where Elvis was joking around with Joe and Red, shoving at Joe’s shoulder as he burst out with his deep belly laugh. “And, you know, if you wanted to pour a drop of vodka in the Pepsi, I would not be averse.” Jerry winked and nodded.

A few minutes later, she discovered that he did not know how to quantify ‘a drop’. She almost spat out her mouthful, but forced herself to swallow it down, burning all the way.

“Wow, look at you!” Sandi remarked, giving a low whistle as she glanced over at Charlie and the rest of the guys with Elvis. “You’re really looking the part.”

Chancy peered down at the white silk sheath halter dress that Elvis had asked her to wear, wiping her fingers, wet with condensation from her glass, on the geometric sequined shapes that cut into the sides in different shades of blue.

“My arms are cold,” she replied numbly. Sandi nodded, her eyes narrowing.

“It’s a little chilly in here. Are you okay?”

Chancy looked up into her wide, blue eyes and remembered the teenager with a headband and little hair flips like Lesley Gore standing giddily by the gatepost of Elvis’ LA house every time a car drove past her. She reminded herself that she was living Sandi’s teenage dream.

“I’m fine, honey,” she replied, forcing a wide smile. ”You know, you look beautiful, that outfit looks so good on you.”

“Thanks, it’s from Bullocks,” Sandi replied, swishing the skirt slightly. “Cost more than my rent.”

Chancy studied her face, unsure whether that was intended to be a dig at her sitting there in her Elvis-bought dress with her Elvis-bought underwear and her Elvis-bought jewellery. Intended or not, it smarted. She smiled politely the way her mother had taught her to do through awkward situations and glanced down at her half-finished drink.

“Hey, baby, you gotta look up now and again. I’ve been trying to get your damn attention for the past ten minutes.” Elvis squatted at her feet, leaning on the arms of her chair and caging her in. “I needed you to come rescue me from Sonny telling us the story of how he almost made it with that chick Sylvia from last night.”

“Almost?” she asked, recalling the way that the girl in question had practically shoved her silver hot pants in Elvis’ face as he sat talking to some karate instructors he had met the last time he had played there.

“Hell, no, don’t make me retell it, baby. It was boring enough first time round.”

“Does it end with her telling him that she’s holding out for you?” she teased. He grinned, biting on his bottom lip.

“Naw, she said she had a boyfriend.” He rubbed his nose ruefully and reached for her glass. She only remembered why that wasn’t a good idea a second before he took a big gulp and choked on it.

Grimacing, she waited for him to stop coughing and wondered how much trouble she was going to be in. She had a flashback to the time that Elvis’ cousin Junior had given her a glass of some spiked punch at a party and Elvis had yelled at her in front of his family.

His face like stone, Elvis grabbed hold of her by the wrist and marched her into the bathroom away from any nosey onlookers. Slamming the door shut, he emptied the glass down the sink and tossed it onto the counter. She was surprised to see it bounce rather than break.

“Baby, what’s going on?” She had been expecting anger, so his sigh and soft question threw her, leaving her clutching for a response amongst all the defensive, appeasing replies she had already prepared.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” she said finally, slightly defensively. He nodded, lowering his head as he stepped closer, sliding his fingers down her palm until they entwined with hers.

“You know, people are sending out messages all the time, sending and receiving, without ever even realising it. Their souls are communicating on a higher level that they are usually not even aware of.” He squinted slightly as he gazed down at their feet. “It’s like waves, you know, o-o-or television or radio signals. And some people, I’m talking heavy, spiritual types, gurus and holy men, heavy mothers, they train for decades to learn how to master the skill of- of communicating soul to soul.”

His eyes flickered up to hers and he had a mischievous, wry look on his face. “Now, don’t go panicking, honey, I’m not saying that I have that power, not completely. I know everyone thinks I’m crazy, but I’m not that crazy, yet. All this to say, you might have a fan-fuckin’-tastic poker face, baby, but I receive more than you think I do a-a-and if you try and lie to me it’ll only make me fuckin’ paranoid.”

“You just made a whole meal out of calling me a liar,” she observed. He laughed, rocking on the balls of his feet so that his chest nudged into her.

“Well, one thing I do know is how to turn everything into a performance, right?” Giggling, she swivelled one of his pendants that had gotten twisted in the opening of his shirt.

“I’m okay, honey, really. I’m just a little tired.”

He brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek, his mouth lifting into a small smile, before stepping around her and reaching for his black case. She rolled her eyes at the wall and turned to follow him more slowly.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” he said gently once he had drawn out the pill bottle he was looking for, “so can we just pretend that we already went through the whole damn script already, and you can take one of these?”

“What is it?” she asked warily.

“Just a little boost of energy.” He stroked her side like she was a skittish horse. “Just an itty bitty one for my itty bitty girl.”

“I don’t know…”

“I know you don’t, that’s why you got me. I know, so be a good girl and do what you’re told.”

Gingerly, she took the pill from him, thinking about ways she could dispose of it without him noticing, but he rinsed out her glass and refilled it with water, watching her intently.

Hesitating all the way, she slipped it onto her tongue and took a sip from the glass. As soon as she did, he emptied out several more into his own palm and threw them back. He winked at her as she stared and he pretended to think twice before taking the water from her.

“Nearly killed me last time,” he muttered. “No more drinking, honey, okay? You know I don’t like tasting it on ya, a-a-and it ain’t good for you anyhow.”

He threw the pill bottle back into the case and then pulled open another drawer. When he turned back he had a little smile on his face and something shiny in his hands. He took her wrist and pulled it up, leaning over so that she couldn’t make out what he was doing until he had clasped the bracelet. It was one of his, the rolled gold thick and heavy against her bones, with his initials spelt out in diamonds and one sapphire in each letter.

“There, just a reminder for anyone who forgets.”

“Who you are?” she asked, confused.

“Whose you are,” he replied, gritting his teeth as he clasped her jaw and brought her in for a tender kiss.

It was hard to make the right face after those words, but she gave it the old college try.

“Oh my, this is too much, baby! It’s beautiful, but- but- but it’s yours.”

“Was mine,” he corrected, grinning down at it. “Looks prettier on you.” She threw her arms around him and leant in, finding it much easier to focus on infusing her voice with joy when she didn’t have to concentrate on making the right face as well.

“You are the sweetest man,” she whispered into the shell of his ear, twitching her nose as the sideburn tickled. “I love it, thank you!”

When they walked out of the bathroom, Elvis had a self-satisfied smile on his face and Chancy could tell from the way some of the guys were eyeing each other and exchanging smirks that they thought he had just gotten lucky. She was too unsettled to play along.

The pill began to kick in as Elvis dressed for the show. She was gradually aware of her heart pattering at the inside of her rib cage and her scalp prickling. Her arms and legs felt incredibly restless like they might run off without her if she didn’t get up and move. Her fatigue, which she had felt for days now, melted as lightning, sharp and cold, filled her veins.

She cast her eyes about for someone to talk to, feeling in desperate need of being part of a conversation, as if she might sink between the atoms of the room if she didn’t keep moving and talking, reminding her body that she was a living human being. She spotted Jerry standing by the window talking to a couple of men she didn’t recognise. They were all wearing sunglasses at night like a gang of blind vampires.

“I just want to let you know that you are a lousy bartender,” she murmured, touching his elbow to get his attention.

He glanced over his shoulder and she was gratified to see him smile when he registered her. It was funny how quickly things could change when you were forced to interact with someone at close quarters at all hours of the day and night.

“It’s not a career path I was looking to pursue,” he shrugged. “Seems to have brightened you up though.”

She worked to maintain her smile as she didn’t correct him. She was ashamed to admit that she had taken what Elvis had offered, though she knew that she was by far not the only one to do so.

“Didn’t realise I was so dim before,” she countered, lifting an eyebrow. Like a gentleman, he introduced her to the two men he was talking with, but she found it hard to follow the conversation. Something about a deal, maybe a movie or a concert, percentages, the Colonel, promotion… She moved on again.

Her eyes lit upon Sandi and Charlie standing by the stereo system that had to be unpacked in every hotel room when they arrived. He was switching records now as Sandi gazed over at Elvis while she sipped her drink.

“What’cha putting on, Charlie?” Chancy asked, leaning against the shelving unit.

“Why, you got a request?” he countered with a grin.

“No, I trust you. Just as long as you don’t put on something and then play it over and over and over.”

“Hey, you know I don’t have no control over that,” he replied pointedly, gesturing over his shoulder with his chin to where Elvis was entertaining the masses.

“Then put on something he’s not hung up on.”

“And you know I can’t do that neither.”

Red and Sonny were chatting with a small group of girls. Chancy could have called them women, but she would have needed to do an ID check first. She recognised the guys’ smiles, the boisterous way they were nudging each other with their shoulders and puffing out their chests. She had seen it all countless times over the years. The only things that changed were the girls’ faces and names. Even the hair colours stayed the same.

Joe was standing by the door, walking himself round in a little circle, folding his arms and then unfolding them to check his watch before folding them again. He didn’t look so cool, calm and collected at the moment, no quick smile and charming quip ready to deliver. He glanced up and caught her eye, raising his eyebrows in irritation. There was a message there, a challenge. She found herself nodding like an obedient soldier and moved across the room to where Elvis was talking to a man with a hairstyle that belonged back in the 50s.

“Well, that’s kind of you,” Elvis was saying. “I appreciate it, really. When I first started out, none of them big-time promoters and radio stations wanted anything to do with me, really. It was always the smaller- the ones who actually went to the shows and knew what the kids were into- they were the ones playing my records and getting us out there and everything. Without ‘em I’d still be playing small towns in Texas, or driving a truck most probably.”

Chancy tried to imagine it, but the picture dissolved in her mind each time. He was too big, too stark, too loud to fit into the scenarios she created. When she thought of the truck, she put in an excitable, strange-looking boy, quick to smile and always fussing and fiddling with something, eager to be on his way to the far-off future that awaited him. This man didn’t belong there, wouldn’t have existed there.

With this stark realisation clanging about her brain, she hooked her pinky around his, wincing slightly as he tightened his finger and his ring pinched her.

“Are you coming to the show?” she asked the man standing before her. He hadn’t looked at her once and still didn’t now as he answered in the affirmative. She was impressed since most of the guys had raked their gaze across her cleavage at least once that evening. “Do you know a short-cut, because I think we’re all gonna need it at this rate!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Elvis murmured to the man. “You won’t miss it. Ain’t no show until I get there.” Chancy felt Elvis release her finger very deliberately and let her hand drop and she knew that she had made a misstep.

Minutes later that was confirmed when he snapped at her in front of everyone:

“You don’t have no right, no right, to tell me when I’m done talking. These people, they put me where I am, gave us all we got, and all they want in return is to shake my hand and get a fucking autograph. It ain’t your job to tell ‘em to move along, or me for that matter. You understand?”

The simmering heat in his gaze somehow made her feel icy cold as she stared up at him, knowing better than to try and defend herself or explain.

“Yes.”

“Because if you can’t handle that, then I will send your ass back home so fast you’ll be half buried in that fucking town before you know what’s happening, you get me?”

“Would-” She hesitated as his eyebrows rose, but squared her shoulders and pushed on through. “Should I go and apologise?” He searched her face like he could sense her defiance hiding somewhere, but she had been raised by a gambler and his mistreated wife, she knew how to bury her thoughts and feelings and sharpen them like weapons for later.

“Ain’t no time. We gotta go.”

The rest of the evening, Chancy got a helpful reminder of why people went out of their way not to annoy Elvis. When you upset them, most people might stew in it for a while and then you got past it. Elvis was no different, but when you lived in his world that meant you had dozens of people giving you the same treatment. It could sometimes feel like you had ticked off the whole world.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it will blow over,” Sandi said as they took their seats, the lights immediately going down since the intermission had already run ten minutes over.

“I’m not worried,” she replied, inwardly cringing at how defensive she sounded.

“Good for you,” Sandi murmured, patting her on the knee.

After the first song, Elvis made a barbed comment about being late because of “complications, yeah, that’s about right.” He shot JD and the rest of the backing singers a sideways look, and apologised to the audience, assuring them that he was happy to be there and he would do his best to entertain them. 

Chancy began to seethe, knowing that she didn’t deserve this level of punishment for trying to help. If it wasn’t for her they might still be back at the hotel, Joe pulling at his receding hairline, and the promoters considering having to refund tickets.

After that, the show continued as normal. Needless to say there were no song dedications that night, but the worst part was the looks that Sandi kept throwing her and the supportive, condescending pout on her face as she tilted her head and rubbed her arm.

Elvis didn’t speak to her in the limo, even when she handed him his sunglasses and joined in with the chorus on what a good show it had been.

Back at the hotel, Joe caught her arm as she trailed back to their room.

“Hey Chancy,” he began, and her stomach dropped. She knew that tone, that fake pally smile and easy amiability. “You know, the girls were saying that they haven’t had the chance to have a real catch-up with you yet. They were wondering if you’d come down and visit with them.”

To stop them from betraying her with a wobble, Chancy’s lips twisted into a knowing smile as she reflected that at least she was important enough to warrant the big guns and that Ricky hadn’t been tasked with telling her to get lost for a while. She glanced down, rubbing at her goosebumps as the chemical energy fizzed endlessly inside of her.

“Can I at least get my coat?”

“Oh, you won’t need it. They’re just downstairs and I think they’re planning on coming back up here later.” Oh, they had it all figured out.

“In that case, uh, could you take this and put it somewhere safe in the room?” She unclasped the heavy bracelet around her wrist. “I don’t want to be walking around flashing this about. It might as well spell out ‘Rob me’.”

The way Joe’s smile dropped from self-satisfaction into disquiet was truly delicious to Chancy. In fact, she had to shove down the laughter that bubbled in her belly as she imagined him plodding into the suite with the bracelet in his outstretched hand. She wiggled her fingers in a cheerful goodbye and turned towards the elevators.

The Sweet Inspirations, the female soul group that provided backing for Elvis, were staying a few floors down with the rest of the stage crew. When Chancy arrived at their open door, they were riffing on how they should probably be grateful that Colonel Parker hadn’t put them in a motel by an off-ramp. Estelle nudged Myrna who was making the crack as Chancy wandered in.

“What? Everybody knows what I’m talkin’ about,” Myrna retorted. “He’s the kind of man who’d invite his mama to stay and then charge her rent.”  

“No, he’s not,” Chancy said. “He’d never invite his mama to stay. And she wouldn’t wanna come if he did.”

“Come on in, girl, you’re our kind of people!” Myrna called, beckoning her over to the sofa.

Soon, the music was turned up and the drinks were flowing and Chancy almost forgot about the mess she had left behind. She almost forgot that Elvis was mad at her, that Joe was probably mad with her now, and she relaxed. Kathy the soprano joined them with the rhythm guitarist, and some of the Stamps were wandering the corridor and stuck their heads in to say hi. It was almost like being back home again.  

“So, you see Jerry tonight, Estelle?” Sylvia said with a mischievous grin. “He was looking fine in those tight little jeans, wasn’t he?”

Chancy grinned, watching Myrna shooting them all murderous looks before she started to giggle.

“You shut your mouth about them jeans,” Myrna retorted. “Don’t you be looking!”

It was fun spending time with the women of the crew. Chancy always had fun with the Inspirations, who never ran out of things to say and knew how to have a good time. They had a few drinks, put on some records and gossiped about people they knew. They tried to interrogate her about what was going on between her and Elvis, but she shrugged it off, pointing out that if she was his girlfriend, she would have been up in his suite and not there with them.

An hour or so later, someone must have called down, because people started making their way upstairs. Chancy considered staying where she was just to make a point. She was sure that she could find herself a spare bed for the night after hearing about what some of the crew were getting up to. But she was also weak. Part of her just wanted to be back with him, in spite of how mad she was about the way he had spoken to her. It didn’t feel right being away with him, knowing he was mad at her.

Sonny opened the door to the suite when Myrna knocked, turning back to make a joke to them. Myrna didn’t spot the look of panic on Sonny’s face as he took them in, but Chancy did and a wriggling sick feeling filled her stomach.

It was almost like the crowd parted as she walked through the door. She vaguely felt someone knock into her with their shoulder and was rubbing the throbbing part of her arm as she focussed on the girl in Elvis’ lap. Having strode across the room, Sonny tapped Elvis on the shoulder and then turned away smoothly like he probably had a dozen times before, fading into the background so that he didn’t get caught up in the mess.

The vague impression that Chancy got of the girl was blonde and tall like a model from a Coppertone ad, her legs gleamed golden from the hem of her tiny skirt to her strappy wooden heeled platforms. She glanced up at Sonny as he whispered to Elvis and a perfectly straight curtain of white-blond hair obscured her face. Chancy inhaled as Elvis raised his head, and though the tinted lenses of his glasses hid his eyes, she knew he was looking right at her. There was a self-satisfied curve to his mouth.

If Sandi had even tried to pout and pat her arm in sympathy right then she would have punched her. As it was, the girls shot each other looks and said something about going to get a drink. Chancy forced a smile and joined them, almost counting the seconds as she watched her glass get poured and she sipped it down in big gulps. She refused to give him the reaction he was looking for, refused to titillate all the onlookers waiting for a scene.

Eventually, when it seemed like a good amount of time had passed, though it had probably been only ten minutes, she slowly and calmly made her way across to the bedroom. It took all she had not to slam the door of the bedroom behind her, but she held it together, trying not to think about everyone whispering on the other side.

Even if she hadn’t felt the weight of his gaze the entire time, it was obvious that he had been watching her when he immediately followed.

“What are you doing?” he asked as she pulled clothes from drawers and from hangers in the closet. It annoyed her that someone kept unpacking all her things like irritating little elves every time they arrived at a new hotel.

“I don’t really need to answer that, do I?” she asked, trying to fold a silk shirt that kept slipping and sliding in her shaking fingers until she balled it up and rammed into her case. He put a hand up to his forehead and winced like thinking of a response hurt his head.

“You sore ‘cause of what happened earlier?” he mumbled finally.

Chancy paused and studied him, noting the way his head was hanging and the way he seemed to be listing to the left.

“Yes,” she replied curtly. “You didn’t have to yell at me in front of everyone.”

“You were out of line,” he replied, his tone light and teasing even as the words slurred together. “Being all pushy, like a little bossy baby.” He knelt on the edge of the mattress and bit on his bottom lip as he gazed at her through the dark pink lenses of his sunglasses.

“I’m not playing right now, Elvis,” she returned coolly, turning away from the bed and snatching more clothes from hangers.

Echoing her in that high pitched cartoon voice he knew she hated, he carried on crawling across the mattress and he grabbed the dresses she had just put in her case and slung them behind him.

“Cut that out.”

“Nope.” He waited until she returned to jam more things into the case and then reached out and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her towards him. “You gotta stop being a widdle bossy girl, trying to tell your man what to do.”

“Elvis, I mean it, I’m not- Just leave me alone!” She wrenched herself free more out of luck than anything else. He almost fell backward onto the bed and grabbed the headboard to keep himself steady. His eyes lit up with an icy glow.

“Who in the hell d’you think you’re yelling at, huh?” He jabbed out his foot and kicked her case off the bed, where it overturned and emptied all of her things on the floor. “Waltzing in here all worked up like you didn’t start all of this with your fuckin’- your little show out there earlier.”

“My what? I was- We were running late and everyone was getting antsy and I was just trying-”

“You don’t need to be tryin’ to do nothin’. What d’you think I pay all those motherfuckers out there for, huh? No, I don’t need no more managers and lackeys thinking they can tell me what I can and can’t do, ain’t your job.”

“My job,” she scoffed. “Do I have a job? What is it?” Bed warmer? Human teddy bear? Placeholder until you get someone better?

“Well, it ain’t to be a bitch, that’s for sure!” he spat back. “I- I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into you, I really don’t.”

Chancy raised her eyebrows in disbelief and dropped to her knees, righting the case and trying to shove everything back in. She scrambled round the bed to retrieve the dresses he had tossed.

“Uh huh, the silent treatment. Right on goddamn cue.” He stumbled off the side of the bed and slid the case under the bed out of her reach. When he clumsily stood back up straight, his face was aglow with a weird cruel, playful energy and his eyes were opaque, he was so high. She looked away as he took hold of her biceps, steering her onto the bed.

“Just sit down for a minute,” he murmured, like he was the reasonable one. “We’re getting ourselves all worked up over nothing. It’s silly, honey. I know you were trying to help, you always help.” He knelt between her legs and pressed a soft, gentle kiss against her collar bone.

As if he had hypnotised her, she felt the anger and tension drain in an almost painful wave down her body, her brain instead filling with calm and anticipation. She took a deep breath and let her head sink against the side of his as he kissed his way up to her neck, but as soon as she closed her eyes, she saw the leggy blonde being nuzzled in almost the exact same way. Something inside her crumbled.

“You should let me go,” she said, looking past him and focussing on tiny details in the room to clear her head. “I’m sure that girl is great at helping too.”

“What girl?” he murmured after a long pause, nibbling on her earlobe.

“The girl you were kissing when I came in. She was real pretty: tall, blond, probably had gorgeous blue eyes like you like.”

“No, I don’t think so, weren’t me,” he replied, shaking his head slightly as he continued pressing breathy kisses across her cheek. “I like teeny tiny brunettes with big brown eyes.”

Chancy sighed, put a steadying hand on his shoulder, and scrambled backwards up onto the mattress. She dropped off the other side and leant down to retrieve her case.

“You know what you’re doing?” he asked, his voice gritty and deep like he was playing a role. “You better not be playing games, woman, because you walk out that door, I ain’t chasing after you.” He rose to his feet and glared at her across the bed. “You know I hate this kind of dramatic bullshit!”

“Ha, yeah, that’s why you always set it up this way!” she returned, angrily scraping the tears from her eyes with the top of her wrist. “All of that was on purpose, I’m not an idiot and your tactics never change!”

“Just go on, get out!” he sneered, waving his hand. “You’ve had your foot half out the door since the beginning anyhow, don’t even try and deny it!”

“I haven’t!” She was suddenly furious at how breathless and weak she sounded, pathetic. “How can you say that?!”

“Maybe because I got fucking eyes!” He lobbed something in her direction that hit the doorframe with a metallic clink and dropped onto the shag carpeting. She looked down and saw a glint of gold.

“Because I won’t wear a ton of gold on my wrist when I’m all alone in a strange hotel?”

“That ain’t why you threw it back in my face,” he retorted scornfully. “Don’t give me that bullshit! I know when pushy women don’t get their way they get spiteful.”

She snorted mirthlessly and nodded, letting her case hit her against her calf.

“Yeah, just women.”

“Goddamn your smart fuckin’ mouth!” he stormed towards her and grabbed her wrist, yanking her out the bedroom so fast she almost lost a shoe. He was yelling for Joe, who suddenly popped up from out of nowhere like he had been waiting. He probably had. The rest of the suite was empty as if it had been raided.

“Get this bitch a ticket and make sure the fuckin’ plane leaves tonight!” he dragged her forward and released her hand, sending her into the back of the couch with the force of the momentum.

“Don’t worry about it, Joe!” she yelled, even though he was standing feet away. “I’ve got my own damn ticket!”

The bedroom door slammed shut and she heard it repeating over and over in her head. Her eyes were throbbing with the pressure of the tears behind them, but she refused to give in.

“You, er, want me to call down and see if I can get you a room?” Joe asked smoothly. “He’ll probably cool down in a couple of hours and want to see you. You know what he’s like.” She laughed, a couple of loose tears spilling over the edge of her lower lids.

“Yeah, I know what he’s like,” she returned, choking on the sobs and bitter laughter in her throat. “That’s what makes this so pathetic. I’m going to head to the airport, but thanks.” She looked down over the back of the sofa, hating the heavy feeling in her stomach, glaring at the cushion where Elvis and the girl had been sitting.

“Has he got her stashed somewhere?” She looked at Joe sideways, her mouth tilted in a wry smile. “Am I gonna get on the elevator and find myself face to face with a giant pair of legs?”

Joe didn’t say anything, but Chancy laughed at her own joke, before wiping her eyes with the heel of her palms. She walked out of the suite without looking back. 

@thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny, @missmaywemeetagain, @from-memphis-with-love, @richardslady121, @dkayfixates, @c-rosenn, @fallinlovewithurlove, @notstefaniepresley, @heartbrake-hotel, @freudianslumber, @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters, @prompted-wordsmith. @literally-just-elvis-fics, @eliseinmemphis. @lookingforrainbows, @stylespresleyhearted, @amydarcimarie, @returntopresley, @savedrebelcreation

[swampgallows]

(fyi you are under no obligation to answer this at all. thought i'd ask bc youre THE garrosh person (iconic!) and i dont recall seeing anything related to this? or mobile is being dumb) me + a friend on twitter were talking about garrosh and the stonetalon mountains questline and how blizz came out and said that apparently that whole questline was a mistake, yadda yadda. i was wondering if you did have any thoughts on that, even in general or like specifically @ blizzard or about garrosh's characterization during that zone.

hi, thank you so much for the question! I always like talking and answering questions about he. as such, this will be quite long...

here is the interview where alex afrasiabi declares stonetalon's creation as "miscommunication". personally, it's very hard to believe that among all the different teams necessary in a zone's completion—quest designers, quest writers, environment designers, prop designers, voice actors, QA, and so on—absolutely no one stopped at any point and went "hey, uh, what exactly is this that we're building here?" unless it's Marvel-levels of secretive where they filmed fake scenes or prohibited actors from reading the full script to allegedly prevent spoilers, or Oblivion-levels of convoluted where they compiled voice lines in alphabetical order, i figure that eventually someone somewhere down the line MUST have pieced together that all the blind mice had discovered an elephant.

that elephant in the room however, now in 2024, is afrasiabi himself. in the wake of all that had been revealed in the activision-blizzard lawsuit of which afrasiabi is a main offender, i think we now have more context for why cataclysm might have been a "pretty crazy time". i don't have any concrete evidence for this of course, but considering afrasiabi's track record a la sylvanas torching teldrassil, one has to assume that he simply took the reins on what he, personally, wanted for garrosh—"Garrosh was my guy"—and brute-forced it to make it happen. just as entire teams were beholden to sylvanas burning the tree—engineering quests, designing gear, animating and storyboarding and scripting and voice acting the Warbringers cinematic, not to mention the entirety of the following 2 expansions that hinged on that action—the labor for a throwaway zone like stonetalon is a drop in the bucket in comparison. stonetalon was probably finished in a handful of weeks. recording garrosh's voice lines probably happened in an afternoon.

i don't have any text-based evidence for this either as it occurred in an open Q&A session over discord, but ex-wow dev john staats also remarked that in the early days of wow's development, individual teams were kind of left to their own devices. it was really easy for devs to simply publish whatever they wanted into the game (innocuous things like the happy face under karazhan intended to be seen only by map designers, or the karazhan crypts with the infamous upside-down sinners). for instance, one employee was adamant about ogres becoming the fourth playable race for the horde until they decided on trolls, hence why ogres have several unique animations as well as a dance, all animated by the same one guy who was passionate about it. sometimes events and items were completed in single weekends; staats said a couple of dungeons (iirc stockades and rfc) were implemented this way. these topics might be touched on in staats' book The WoW Diary, but i dont have it.

i think cataclysm as a whole is a monument to blizzard's growing pains and to afrasiabi in particular bucking against the corporate restraints of wow's astronomical success. cataclysm is tonally abhorrent in a number of different ways and it's not always easy to point fingers at who is responsible for what, but it's undeniable the amount of leverage afrasiabi had. even if it wasn't him specifically, it's evidenced by both the details of the lawsuit and the game itself that certain elements of what was prominent in 00s gamer culture and the general "boy's club" wolf of wall street atmosphere at blizzard heavily influenced cataclysm's execution. the boys were resting on their laurels from the skyrocketing popularity and success of wrath, getting tv spots, mtn dew collabs, and so on, and felt empowered to infuse even more of their indulgences into their unstoppable juggernaut. wow had enough power in the industry to dictate what made a successful mmo and and who these games were "For", leading to a circuitous perpetuation of toxic masculinity by creating a game that catered to that kind of audience and thus propagating that mindset within it. no one could challenge WoW nor the people at its helm, be they industry competitors or blizz employees themselves.

at the same time, however, bobby kotick had just recently become CEO, simultaneously tightening the ship and imposing new structure as decorum slipped and hedonism flourished. the old guard lost some freedom to the demand for an overall throughline and schedule of what content to expect and commit to and when to release rather than the loose "jam sessions" of previous patches. as such, afrasiabi couldn't just drag and drop his blorbo wherever he wanted into their digital playground. he says others didn't get the memo, but he is probably the one who got the memo of "our fanbase of millions of players hates your idiot character and we would like to phase him out please" and disregarded it. he admits to wanting to turn garrosh around, and in his mind might view stonetalon as a last stand to prove the worth of his character, but it was in opposition of what was most likely decided upon at an executive level, a cog in a number of different turning cranks to get cataclysm done on time and off of shelves.

afrasiabi says "there was a little bit of miscommunication on my part that kind of led to Garrosh going down another, darker path. So there's an interesting tidbit for you." i imagine this "miscommunication" to be along the lines of 'fine, people can hate him, but he stays'. i feel this is also why the team instantly leapt at the chance to permanently eradicate garrosh—along with anything else tainted by afrasiabi—after he was quietly fired in 2020. i would not be surprised if the team was essentially forced by contract or social pressure or otherwise to keep garrosh in the game as long as afrasiabi held the whip. again, this is all conjecture. i don't actually know what went on behind the scenes at blizzard.

unfortunately the end result is that, yes, thanks to stonetalon we DID end up seeing a garrosh that could have changed for the better, just as afrasiabi wanted, but ultimately would have been—"from a story character development perspective" (well said, alex. lol)—banal and redundant for wow. i assume afrasiabi just wanted his self-insert alongside metzen's (thrall), which is a level of meta that i do not feel like unpacking tonight. so while it does add a little more glimmer to the theory of garrosh as "the horde's arthas", stonetalon's impact mostly serves as fodder to stoke endless Garrosh Did Nothing Wrong ragebait on twitter.

much like arthas, what makes garrosh so compelling to the majority of (non-fascist) people who like him is his fall from grace. despite his efforts to free himself from the shackles of his lineage, garrosh steps in it over and over to a point where he is instead encouraged to deliberately emulate the legacy he had spurned and embrace his rage. knowing that a character has the capacity to be honorable and good and instead chooses with full conscience to be evil makes for a much more interesting character than a clueless crying fawn that clumsily ambles its way into becoming prince of gumdrop forest. of course it's more satisfying for afrasiabi to have his self-insert get both a rags-to-riches story AND 2.5 expansions' worth of gary stu headpats; for everyone else, gristle mcthornbody uncritically absolving the sins of the father and dunking on the cursed prophecy while flexing and spouting edgy one-liners as he overpowers and outsmarts everyone is downright cartoonish. it's the lecherous tiefling bard who wants to remain in the tavern to hit on npcs instead of engaging with the campaign your dungeonmaster created: fun for him, and an interminable bore to everyone else deprived of the adventure.

in afrasiabi's hands, there is no greater narrative to garrosh hellscream. he's a big buff warrior because afrasiabi wishes he were a big buff warrior. garrosh is a racist, sexist scumbag because afrasiabi is a racist, sexist scumbag. garrosh has tattoos of no specific shape or meaning because afrasiabi only has a superficial appreciation for tattoos as something badass and cool. he kills people and blows stuff up because that's alpha sigma tiropita and badass and cool. the history of the orcs and fel was retconned so that garrosh could be a Shiny. grom and thrall had a special bond all throughout warcraft 3, but here comes grom's secret son to usurp the title of #1 favorite orc!! and he's just like grom but actually he's even MORE cool and badass??? this is 'playing power rangers at recess'-tier character development. it is transparently afrasiabi's wish fulfillment independent of the ongoing storyline, which at minimum is not befitting of a multi-million dollar AAA gaming franchise.

the inverse to garrosh's story being a fall from grace is that it is a story of unmet potential which is, both in a doylist and watsonian sense, exactly the oedipal kind of destiny afrasiabi ushered in for his doomed character. garrosh was doomed from the start to be a lackluster simulacrum of grom, both in azeroth and at blizzard, grasping for nostalgia for the RTS days while actively refusing to engage with the culture and landscape of modern day WoW. the more afrasiabi meddled, the more it illuminated just how hollow his vision of this character was and the failure to reach the potential of the kind of character garrosh could be. afrasiabi says "Garrosh was my guy" but his own ego will forever prevent him from understanding all of the dimensionality to his character that he threw away. and this, too, in true afrasiabi fashion, is reflected in garrosh's character. his ego overshadows his ability to listen to the people around him and results in his inevitable, shameless downfall... because that's exactly what afrasiabi would do. did.

so, no, alex. garrosh is not your guy. he's mine. he's all of ours. because world of warcraft belongs to all of us. and because i engage with the character of garrosh hellscream within his narrative, i can look at the beginning and end of his story and say that stonetalon is canon. because despite the years of frustration and confusion, there is so much closure for me in knowing that the reason he sucks so bad is because his creator—grom, afrasiabi—abandoned him, his story, his soul. trying to pare him down and sand his edges and curdle him into something he was never meant to be. he was never meant to exist, and he shouldn't exist, and that's what makes him so irresistibly, infuriatingly compelling, and why i love him so. garrosh hellscream is the only character in the entire story, both within the narrative and without, from beginning to end, in any timeline or on any planet, who is acutely aware that he is not meant to exist.

[thehopelessexception]

how can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22 (almost 24)

warning: im writing this while im on my period and eating ice cream.

i've been dissociating for what now? half a year maybe more. i dont recognize reality. i feel im floating in this sea we call society and i've been feeling the wilson of the story here. i assume everything that's happening around me is real, ofc. but that doesnt make it any less a convenient arrangement i build for myself to try to act like a real person and not freak out. i am feeling out of reality. like the part of the game where you let the sim on auto-mode. i am the sim on auto-mode. and i don't know how to stop this stage of oblivion.

to make a vague introduction, the thing with me is that im a living paradox of a full time contradiction. i am flamboyant but i hate being perceived. i like to speak up for myself but i hate people thinking about me because of it. i have my own process of how i understand things. i trust logic and i question everything. im quite skeptical over things when there's no empirical evidence. i seek for knowledge. critical thinking, data analysis and the whole stuff. i know myself. i sometimes look like i am too obnoxious, frivolous, morally corrupted (people have told me that), when i obsess over something —because i sometimes treat people like they are stupid (not my intention really)—; but probably the only thing im completely sure of is myself. i tend to be a confident person, to have an ego, to not let the guard down, to calculate every single move. and lately i am noticing myself being impulsive, insecure, nervous, weird, saying stupid shit, nonsenses, feeling small. and i don't know how to make it stop. the thing is i put my whole self-esteem backed up by my intelligence, however im not sure of anything anymore. i don't know if the reason behind not recognising myself lately is the fact i have somehow a new crush —or a new hyperfixation for that matter— or just the natural act of growing, also known as the quarter life crisis.

i have this thing where i hyperfix on random stuff, i've been like this my whole life. one of my friends even made a powerpoint of all the things i've been obsessed with over the years. and the issue here is that this things never last that much, or maybe they do? i actually never though about it. the most random ones i remember are probably me buying ice-cream cakes of this specific brand every week for two months. i also got obsessed with eating too many scrambled eggs all day every day for a very long time. then it was that turkish telenovela on an airing channel. then ofc succession, and it grew into watching every single movie kieran culkin was part of. the world cup. mbti —im intj by the way—. red white and royal blue (i watched it five times in a day), then nicholas galitzine —did yk he has a lineage that comes all the way from the romanovs?— and his entire filmography. and also politics, i got way into politics; election campaigns, follow up candidates, history, economy, the law, etc (my candidate lost tho) (we're succumbing to disgrace) (like literally we collectively, as a country, haven't had any kind of good news since then) (please help me). and etc etc. but the thing is, i also hyperfix on random people, or not so random i guess. it doesnt happen very often tho, im quite picky, but the procedure is this: i meet someone, they draw somehow my attention, i want to know everything about this person, i talk to this person a lot (medium to long term) (week to months), and then this person becomes my friend or i get bored and completely ignore them for the rest of my life and move on.

but this time is different, or im feeling it different. i find myself questioning everything i know and i was convinced of. i dont know if it has something to do with the fact that i met someone, probably the first person wise enough to make me question if i was ever correct about anything. maybe i am hyperfixating on this person, idealizing them. but it's truly amazing how much more data this person has about everything i know of. and right now i feel way too insecure, because even if this person told me they find me smart and they enjoy talking to me, i am always thinking that if i say something not completely fact-checked they'll think im stupid. it's absurd. it's a boohoo situation, i know. and it's a process im having about who am i, or what am i supposed to be. some months ago the whole context around my life changed or i think it changed? i dont know how to explain it, —i mean i know how but i would have to talk about other things not related to this (politics stuff, things happening in my country, etc). i'll probably will make a new post about it someday—. but the whole issue is, i dont know myself anymore. and everything is crumbling.

im afraid the person i build for myself it's a fraud. or doesnt exist anymore.

i remember myself at 18, and i was this marvellous whole person. independent, smart, focused, driven. that girl spent their whole days outside her house. did everything she wanted to. wasnt scared of anything. and i look at myself now and think how? the pandemic has a lot to do with it i guess, but when i first heard taylor saying that in nothing new i thought "that wont happen to me". guess what, i was wrong.

for my fellow girlies being 23 —in my experience— is exactly how they say it will be. the worst age of your life.

next month is my birthday and im pushing 24. and i have to say my life is a mess. but i dont know if i can call it a mess because it is truly a mess or because i am a complete drama queen. because people probably have worse problems than mine, and i am what you call a white girl, only poorer —and a third world country citizen—. the issue is, i am almost 24, almost 25. almost 27. ALMOST 30. and i did nothing with my life. absolutely nothing. my mom had me at 29 for god's sake.

and by nothing i mean everything i do is not enough to feel it worthy of a life well-lived. should i look for a job and work while studying just to say i am extremely occupied because i have somehow a life? just to feel something? even if that makes my stress situation and anxiety even worse? should i somehow save enough money so i can move from my parents house? even if for my whole generation it's close to impossible? is studying something i (kinda) like enough to not feel like shit about myself? i've never had a boyfriend, nor girlfriend. shoud i look for one? get myself one? even if i dont think any of that would make me happy? i dont think i know happiness as a state of mind, nor the concept of it.

i dont feel like i have many anecdotes to tell in my future. should i measure the life-worth by anecdotes? my friends feel the same way i do, but they have a more organized life. jobs, boyfriends, careers, plans for the future, one of my closest friends move to the other side of the world with her boyfriend (!) in the blink of an eye. but they aren't much happy nor they have many anecdotes either. and i dont have the money or the guts or the available friends to create any.

every day i understand fleabag a bit more.

my favourite anecdotes about my life are from when i was about 13 and 15 years, also known as the worst time of my life. i didnt appreciated it back then, probably none of us did. but when we were teens everything was possible and we didnt have a care on anything other than mundane stuff or rebellious stuff but nothing more than yelling at people, drinking and smoking weird shit (i never had weed tho). not a real responsibility. being careless, free, avoiding consequences that mattered. i think that girl hates me right now. and i am not sure if that's the feeling i should have or if it's just utterly pathetic.

[anavatazes]

Learn to be a Texas Southern, From Austin.

Ok. First of all, I love you all. I truly do. I adore my fan fic writers, especially if you write my Joel crack... um, stories. *cough* The man keeps me in a bear hug and refuses to let go. Not that I am complaining ;).

BUT, for the LOVE of all that is holy and good and Joel, STOP using any American TV show or movie for reference to how things are in Texas as far as the food, the way they talk, the way the weather is, how and what a BBQ is, and I swear if I see another one with snow...

Like I said, I love you all. Yes, fan fiction is fantasy. You can write what you want. How you want. That's what is so great and wonderful about it. Get creative, get wild. Go crazy! But don't sit there and act like you do your research and are an accurate little miss that can do no wrong. Nuh-uh. I will find a slew of little old ladies that will Bless Your Hearts from here to Oblivion if you call Ribs with BBQ sauce proper BBQ in Texas. Believe you me. Every State in the Union has their own form of BBQ, and in the Southern States, it's a fucking religion akin to College Football and Jesus.

American TV and movies are pretty generic when it comes to the accuracy of our own culture and will take great liberties when trying to pass off one area for another. This includes accents, ways people speak, and how the areas they are in truly are. I touched on this briefly when I went over the whole Bless Your Heart phrase and how it does not mean what you think it means and it can get pretty offensive quick. American TV likes to go for the shock value, and the drama more than it likes to go for the accuracy and really doesn't care who it offends in the process. And older shows, like Dallas, Southerners don't talk like that anymore. Except maybe a few left in Kentucky... Maybe. Watch play-throughs of the games if you want a feel for how Joel speaks. Especially the first one. Stay away from the second one if you are trying to avoid season 2 spoilers for the show.

No Outbreak!/Pre-Outbreak!Joel will spend Saturday mornings with Sarah hiking. And there are next to no hills (unless man-made) in Austin. It's all flatland. No mountains. A few rivers, and Lake Travis isn't far away. A lot of trails all around Austin from 1999 to 2013, depending on when you wanted to have Outbreak Day if you wanted it at all. They'd probably go to one of a trillion restaurants in Austin for lunch, depending on their taste. It is canon that Joel can't cook. Tommy, Ellie, AND Sarah all bring it up in Pt. 1 and Pt. 2, if you know where to look. I would say one of their favorite places would be Home Slice for some great pizza. Or maybe even Torchies for a wide variety of tasty Tex-Mex food. Maybe even pick up some Brisket (Texas BBQ) to take home to get ready for an afternoon spent watching the University of Texas football game on the TV, if we're in August to January. Honestly, May through the beginning of October, they probably aren't doing too much hiking. The temperature of 100° plus (in Fahrenheit) is all the rage at this time. And you might have high humidity one day, with non-stop thunderstorms that might seem like a hurricane, and can spawn a tornado, but really isn't a hurricane. Then the next day, be the dryest heat that you've ever experienced in your life. Though, from what I've heard, the latter rarely happens now. More humid days are common now.

Texas BBQ.

If you are ever in the Southern United States, do yourself a favor, and just do not call anything related to the grill BBQ, ok. You will be better off and have a nicer visit, and life overall. If you like to live dangerously, go ahead and call the grill a BBQ. Call a cookout a BBQ. Go ahead. I'll wait. I'll have the tissues ready and waiting for the passive-aggressive politeness from the ladies and the open hostility from the not-so-gentlemen. You have a Cookout, or you Grill out. A BBQ is a way of life and means something different in each state (and will start a war in North Carolina because they are so special, they have two kinds of BBQ). Most everyone in (at least the South) can agree that BBQ food is some sort of slow cooked meat. In Texas, almost 99% of the population agrees it's Brisket, and the rest are wrong. (That's another Southern thing, they are right, and everyone else is just wrong. Drives me nuts when they use it in an argument). Now, they will have different ways of preparing it, and they will have fights over it (have witnessed several), but they all agree on Brisket.

Being close to the Mexican border and Texas' history as a part of Mexico once upon a time means that there is a heavy Mexican influence in Austin. As much as Texas likes to claim to be white bread, it really isn't. From the food to the people to the names of streets, cities, etc, there is a heavy Mexican influence. The idea that, somewhere, that Joel and Tommy have Latino blood is not far-fetched. Especially on the show. At the very least they would have a basic understanding of Spanish. That is being from Austin, regardless if they share any Mexican heritage or not.

Politeness and the True Southern Gentlemen.

I hate to break it to you, but there is no such thing as the great Southern Politeness and Hospitality. In fact, if a guy comes up to me and says he's a True Southern Gentleman, I'm running the other way. That "Gentleman" is 9/10 times a walking sexual assault case. This is not to say there are no nic+e and polite people in the South, but it is no different from any other place in the US. But, I will tell you, from the upper middle class on up, they can be some of the most passive-aggressive mother fuckers you will ever meet. From the Mid-Middle Class on down, the more hospitable they will be, and they fit the stereotype the upper class has somehow gotten. It's a mess.

Religion

Not everyone in the South is Christian, or devout, but will say a phrase that will make you think they are. I touched on this in my Bless Your Heart post. As God as my Witness, Good Lord Willin', Christ Almighty, and others are common phrases you will hear in the South. It DOES NOT mean the speaker is religious by any means. Trust me.

That's all I have for now. I could go on, as there is more. And please remember, fan fiction is fantasy, it's creative. Write what you want. This is just to help out those who are looking for more accuracy. And as it has been a while since Austin for me, and you are from Texas, and more specifically Austin, and you wish to add more info, and/or correct anything, feel free, please. There are a lot of differences among the Southern States, and it can be a pain to keep it all straight. So I have no problem in receiving help to keep in all in line :).

[doom-dreaming]

Cheerful Oblivion

Thought that I was hungry for love… Maybe I was just hungry for blood. **********

I met a woman in a club once. Years ago. Can’t get her out of my head. If I didn’t still have the napkin with her number on it… Well. Would’ve been easy to assume I dreamed the whole thing up.

It was a miserable night to be out. Rain was coming down in buckets, flooding the streets. Could almost hear it over the music, pelting the roof. But there she was. Filling the entire doorway. No coat. No umbrella. Nothing but a black tank top and jeans that looked too tight to be comfortable. Soaked to the bone, dripping wet, faded blue-raspberry-bright hair plastered to her neck. She looked like she’d dragged herself straight out of the ocean. In hindsight, maybe she had.

********** England is only ever gray or green. The girls glitter, Striding glorious and coatless in the rain. I remember falling through these streets, Somewhat out of place, if not for the drunkenness… It makes my chest hurt to think of it, Not of regret, but of missing that… …cheerful oblivion… **********

I remember the way she stood there, caught under spotlight rays of blue and green, the rain on her face sparkling like diamonds… She looked like an angel. Could’ve been. Probably wasn’t. More than likely…something else.

She didn't belong there. In the club. I don’t mean that in a judgmental way. Maybe philosophical. She didn't really seem like she belonged anywhere. But I could see it in her eyes, almost fluorescent blue under the lights. To her, it didn’t matter where she belonged. What mattered was where she wanted to be. And she wanted to be there. In that club. On that night.

I’d never been afraid of being noticed by a beautiful woman. I craved it. Don’t we all? This was different. She was different. Never felt my blood run colder than the second our eyes locked. It felt like being hunted.

********** It was not all pain and pavement slick with rain, And shining under lights from shitty clubs, And doing shitty drugs, And hugging girls that smelled like Britney Spears and…coconuts… **********

She flowed through the crowd like water, parting the proverbial sea, leaving a wake of awestruck stares. If she knew she was the center of attention, she didn’t care. She was a full head taller than anyone else, a titan amongst mere mortals. Muscles rippled when she moved. Wet skin shimmered. I tried not to stare, I really did. Couldn’t help myself. I could’ve watched her for days.

She swept ashore at the bar, smelling like petrichor and oil slicks. Ordered a drink. Smiled down at me, sitting so small a million miles beneath her. There was nothing human about that razor-sharp flash of teeth.

She asked if I wanted another drink. Hadn’t realized I’d finished the one in my hand. I nodded. Couldn’t find my voice. Tab’s on me, she’d said. Not here for long, least I can do. After tonight, you’ll never see me again.

********** And with your mermaid hair and your teeth so sharp, You crawled from the sea to break that sailor’s heart. You only get one night upon the shore, So dance like you’ve never danced before. And the dance floor is filling up with blood, But, oh Lord, you’ve never been so in love… **********

I asked her where she was from. She laughed, a harsh bark of a thing that ripped out of her throat like it hurt. Nowhere. I asked for her name. She didn’t answer. But that animal grin flashed back, a bright white scar across her face. For no reason, I thought about moths. And flames.

We stopped talking. Kept drinking. Started dancing. God, the way she moved. Like a machine. Like a predator. Like a ballerina. Equal parts precision, power, beauty.

I couldn’t keep up. She didn’t seem to care. I was a prop. A plaything. An entertaining little toy, something to keep her distracted. From what, I didn’t know. But it didn’t matter. It felt like an honor.

********** And the mermaids they come once a year, They climb the struts of Brighton Pier, They come to drink, they come to dance, To sacrifice a human heart. And the world is so much wilder than you think. You haven’t seen nothin’ ‘til you seen an English girl drink… **********

I do still see her. Sometimes. In my dreams. In those hazy amber-clad memories. It’s hard to know what was real. Don’t know who she was. Or what she was.

Never did call that number. Not sure she’d really wanted me to. Probably for the best. I get the feeling that if we’d been in that club alone together… She would’ve eaten me alive.

And I think I would've let her.