#such a wide variety of toys there!

[ur-local-neighborhood-scene-kid]

I saw an “mlp G1 the movie” record at a collectibles shop and it said that DANNY DEVITO STARRED IN IT

I didn’t get a pic and I didn’t buy the record but MAN was I shocked. I think he played the elf/gnome guy that was featured on the cover, but I would have LOVED to see him voice a pony

[livvyofthelake]

it’s not that i think there’s anything wrong with the green brothers or the people that enjoy their stuff it’s just that like. john green doesn’t seem like he would write all the john green books. i don’t know how to explain that i just think there’s a disconnect somewhere there. well i guess i didn’t need to start the post as if it were going to be about both of them and then it’s only about john but whatever. meanwhile everything hank does seems like something he would do. sorry for talking about this it’s just i recently moved the Chair in my room and my bookshelf with what i call the dregs of my book collection in it is now visible so i can now see the fault in our stars from my bed. where i’m sitting right now. anyway. i’ve been thinking about moving around some of my books i don’t really feel like everything is in the right place. also i have literally nowhere to put the grishaverse boxed set i just got. i think she’s just gonna sit on this table forever idk where else to put it. i can’t put them on a shelf i think the box looks neat… unfortunately i have so many random little knick knacks and trinkets and things on every available surface so. there are like. no options without fully moving everything around. which i’ll need to do soon before i get fed the fuck up with this box just sitting on this table on top of other shit. i love stream of consciousness posting.

[neil-gaiman]

I found myself having, not exactly an argument recently, but a highly opinionated conversation with someone who did not believe my assertion that once upon a time there were official Hello Kitty vibrators. With the aid of the Wayback Machine, I found this article, and thought the world at large might enjoy it too...

Here's the text of the article:

The history of the Hello Kitty vibrator

By Peter Payne October 4, 2004

Sanrio is one of the top character licensors in the world, having more or less created the business model of doing business by creating something that doesn't really exist and licensing its use to other companies. Sanrio produces nothing -- all their characters, like the Little Twin Star, Minna no Ta-bo, Bad Batz-Maru, exist as legal entities and nothing more. Their most successful character, Hello Kitty, or Kitty-chan as she's known in Japan, is now now thirty years old.

One of the many companies that license Sanrio's characters for their products was a Japanese company called Genyo Co. Ltd. Genyo made a wide variety of products, from bento boxes to children's toys to chopsticks, many with the Hello Kitty character on them. They scored big in the late 1990's with an off-the-wall hit, a series of Hello Kitty toys which featured a different Kitty figure from each of Japan's 47 prefectures, each representing something the prefecture was famous for. (The figure from Gunma Prefecture, where we live, represented a wooden kokeshi doll.)

In 1997, Genyo designed a product that would live in infamy: the Hello Kitty vibrating shoulder massager, which really is a shoulder massager (trust us -- it says so on the package). Sanrio approved this design without batting an eye, and the product enjoyed modest sales in toy shops and in family restaurants like Denny's and Coco's. It wasn't until 1999 or so that people began to catch on to the fact that the Hello Kitty massager had other potential uses, and with amazing speed, they started popping up in adult videos in Japan. The next thing anyone knew, they had changed into a cult adult item, sold in vending machines in love hotels -- after all, what self-respecting man wouldn't buy his girl a Hello Kitty vibrator when she asked him for one?

The emergence of the Hello Kitty vibrator as a cult adult item caused friction between Sanrio and Genyo, and Sanrio ordered the company to stop making the units. Genyo refused, since it had paid a lot of money to license Kitty for their products. There seemed nothing Sanrio could do, since they had approved the item for sale (see the official Sanrio sticker on the boxes). The answer came when the Japanese tax authorities raided Genyo on suspicion of tax evasion. It seems that some creative accounting was going on between the president of the company, a Mr. Nakamura, his vice president, and the owner of the factory in China where the units were made. All three were arrested, and Sanrio had the excuse needed to yank Genyo's license. They seized the molds used to make the vibrators and destroyed them.

And so, the sad, weird chapter of the Hello Kitty vibrator is at an end. The last of the Kitty vibes are gone, so now what will the world do for wacky comic -- and sexual -- relief?

[lovelybucky1]

I think wade would be SUPER into sex toys, i can’t remember if it’s actually canon but I’m saying it is.

Anyways his favorite way to incorporate toys into sex is to cuff your hands to the headboard while he plays with your pussy with a vibrator. Also he’s so intrigued by how many kinds of vibrators exist and he’s down to trying them all out

it shouldn’t come as any surprise that wade wilson is fucking mean when it comes to sex. he’s cocky and a tease as it is, but when he has control of your pleasure, he becomes downright evil.

the two of you have collected numerous sex toys, but your favorites have to be your wide variety of vibratiors. big, small, powerful, weak, remote controlled, trusting, sucking, heating, cooling, you name it. you have them all, and they all get used pretty regularly.

every time you get a new one, you test it out in the same way. wade cuffs you to the headboard, which doesn’t do much to keep your body still, but it prevents you from trying to push him away when you’re overstimulated. you sit, propped up against the pillows with your legs spread to display your pussy to wade.

he starts off slow by manually warming you up. he fingers you a bit, strokes your clit, maybe uses his tongue to get you wetter. whatever he does, it won’t be enough to really feel good.

then he moves on to the toy of choice. he drags it up your legs, inside your thighs, over your stomach, chest, and sides until you’re begging him to pay your neglected cunt some attention. the first contact of the toy on your pussy always makes you jolt.

he plays with the settings, testing out the different speeds, patterns, and any other features it may have. he finds the one that makes you squirm and moan the most, and then he sticks to that one.

he brings you to the edge, then backs off entirely. he’s learned that he has to pull the toy away from you entirely, because even when the toy is off, you can still make yourself cum with it. he edges you like this until he thinks you deserve to finally cum.

wade isn’t entirely benevolent. once you cum once, he’ll push his dick inside your slicked up pussy and stay seated deep inside you to feel the vibrations of the toy for himself. he fucks you like that while the toy is wringing orgasm after orgasm out of you, overstimulating you and making you gush.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Modern library science has five key tenets that would also guide a future library economy. Developed by S. R. Ranganathan in his 1931 book, “Five Laws of Library Science,” these concepts are some of the most influential in today’s library economy. Let’s discuss these laws and how they would apply to the broader library economy. 1. Books are for use While preservation of certain original works is important, the purpose of a book is to be read. More broadly, a hammer’s purpose is to hammer, a tent to shelter, a children’s toy to be played with. Americans buy a lot of stuff, much of which spends more time idle in storage than in productive use. This law guides libraries to prioritize access, equality of service, and focus on the little things that prevent people from active use of the library’s collection. 2. Every person has their book This law guides libraries to serve a wide range of patrons and to develop a broad collection to serve a wide variety of needs and wants. The librarian should not be judgmental or prejudiced regarding what specific patrons choose to borrow. This extends to aesthetics of products, ergonomics, accessibility, topics, and the types of products themselves. 3. Every book has its reader This law states that everything has its place in the library, and guides libraries to keep pieces of the collection, even if only a very small demographic might choose to read them. This prevents a tyranny of the majority in access to resources. 4. Save the time of the reader This law guides libraries to focus on making resources easy to locate quickly and efficiently. This involves employing systems of categorization that save the time of patrons and library employees. 5. The library is a growing organism This law posits that libraries should always be growing in the quantity of items in the library and in the collection’s overall quality through gradual replacement and updating as materials are worn down. Growth today can also mean adoption of digital access tools.

[simpjaes]

renaissance man (p. js)

Taking note of the strangers you see day to day isn’t something you’d normally do. The only reason today is different is because the guy who made small talk as he rang you up for your intimate items was the same guy who showed up catering for your family reunion.  or the one where jay is a dildo salesman, a caterer, a self-titled mechanic, and also your ride home. he is not an expert in any of his jobs, but he sure is an expert in wit and well, other things.

minors dni!! | pls reblog to show your support!

WORDCOUNT― 14.6k

PAIRING― park jongseong x afab reader 

CONTENT― fluffy comfort smut, strangers to lovers like immediately, you buy a monster sized dildo, blatant talking of masturbation and toys, smut, cliche blooming an attachment to someone after (1) fuckening. 

!!ATTENTION!!― read this before? that’s because I run two blogs and like to re-vamp fics i’ve previously written for other groups! [@/ncteez is likely where you’ve read it from. THAT IS ME!!!] 

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― it’s kind of fluffy im so sorry i just have feelings for him, average cock size jay!!!![i am not of this belief, i think his cock is fat and huge], he is very much a service top, making out, hand holding, caressing, grinding, finger fucking, titty worship,  unprotected sex, sweet talking as a form of dirty talk, missionary bc i refuse to pretend he wouldn’t want that, back scratches (sexual)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Never have you been put in the position to make small talk about the sex toys you place on a counter to purchase. Then again, you guess it’s part of the job description that most people ignore or aren’t privy to actually doing. 

Never have you been informed of the wide variety of lubricants, additional toy-cleaners, or the bigger and smaller alternatives to your chosen toy. You don’t show discomfort though, because it’s not uncomfortable. Sex is normal, masturbation is more normal, and the man in front of you appears to be normal too.

“There’s twelve different color variants if you prefer something less fleshy.” The man says, standing at the counter with some sort of a permanent pout on his lips. 

“I’m fine, if you could just ring me up now I can get out of your hair.” You respond, glancing at the time on your phone and wondering how you got stuck with the only employee who actually does his job here.

“Are you sure you don’t want any lubricant?” The man adds, gazing at the size of your toy and then looking you up and down as if you clearly wouldn’t be able to handle your chosen toy without help.

The man with no name tag appears to be blissfully unaware of his invasiveness with that question as you tilt your head with a raised brow. Shocked at the very question, it’s actually quite laughable that he’s so monotone with the offensive comment. You imagine he’s done this for so long that he must be a manager trying to get the day over with, going through the steps in a bored mood with little to no regard as to how he must sound to strangers buying their first or twentieth dildo. 

With your assumption that he doesn’t exactly care about the level of wet your vagina is when you use this toy, you respond. “I think I know my body well enough and I already have lube, but thanks.”

He nods, not even sparing you much of a glance before giving you a total and bagging your item.

Now, despite Jay’s lack of interest toward the purchase of toys, he finds it comical that he’s grown numb to the very fact that he knows what everyone in this town’s kinks are after they step out of the shop’s door. Someone’s gotta do this job and keep those secrets…he likes to think he fits the bill perfectly. 

Lively as he may be outside of this shop, each job comes with a personality and this one calls for one of disinterest in your product but interest in the sale. He’s not one to lie to himself though, many times a pretty girl has marched in and bought toys far bigger than any man and he does tend to let his mind wander about it from time to time. When he first started this job, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, he found it hard to navigate a single sale without a flush of tints crossing his cheeks and ears. Now, he’s become a veteran at keeping his dick locked in place if he were to feel some type of way about a purchase and the one purchasing. 

Shy as he was when he started, it’s all lost now as he handles dicks and dongs, pocket pussies and anal plugs, even whips and chains. 

Shy. That’s definitely a word and surprisingly one that can describe him when he’s not on schedule within these walls of alien dicks and lime flavored lube to match the grotesque green color. At his other job, because he works two, he takes the praise of being the charming yet timid man who shows up with pans of food for events. 

The guests seem to love him and many times during weddings and company parties he has been offered phone numbers or asked for one simply because he appears to be that of a friendly face with a kind sense of being. Someone you’d wanna bring home to mom, some might say. 

It’s a stark contrast of jobs, and somehow he’s managed to dodge knowing many of the people coming into his night job to shop for ways to fuck themselves. The rare time it had happened, he was thankful to have another person in the shop to ring them up. Keeping up with two jobs is hard, and keeping up with two personalities is even harder.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hadn't thought of that guy from the sex shop even once until he showed his face at your family reunion. 

He noticed you before you managed to realize it was him though. Stealing looks in your direction as you chat with little cousins and elder aunts and uncles, mostly to double check in his brain if you’re really the girl who showed up and nonchalantly bought the newest dildo in stock. The fleshy colored one with rotating beads and a g-spot stimulator button. You know, the really fucking huge one. 

 Upon meeting his eye again for the first time, he could tell it really is you, simply because of the way you furrow your brow as you recognize him. 

Jay couldn’t help but smirk. He knew that eventually someone at an event would recognize him as their local sex-shop manager, he’s actually shocked it doesn’t happen more often. At least it’s you though, a woman who looks near his age and clearly has a very healthy relationship with her sexuality. So much so that you weren’t shy or nervous in buying the toy from him. Because it’s honestly pretty common to see someone nervous or uncomfortable while buying items far less telling than the one you bought.

His smirk doesn’t go unnoticed by you before you look away from him and focus your attention back to your family and by the time he’s prepared the food and is standing aside to explain what ingredients the dishes have, you’re walking up with your empty plate and an awkward glance. 

He follows you down the line of dishes, seemingly more interested in you than anyone else. You could argue it’s just an attempt to make you feel embarrassed, or perhaps even an attempt to ask you not to snitch on where else he works to make his money. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You ask, a knowing look telling him that you’re already very aware of that ‘somewhere’ you know him from. 

His pursed lips and snide hidden laugh at you is one thing, but the way he whispers to you over a pan of potato casserole is another. 

“I think you know who I am.” He says, crossing his arms as he leans back again with a flicker of a crooked grin. 

You leave it at that, looking him in the eye curiously and for some reason, smiling back at the strange second encounter with a man who appears to have a name tag now.

“Thanks, Jay. See you around.” 

Heading away from the tables of food and toward the table that contains all of your favorite cousins, you are immediately bombarded with a raised brow from one of them. Ah, nosy. 

“What was that about?” One of them leans over to ask, glancing at the man who is still overseeing the table of food and maintaining perfect temperatures. She doesn’t quite catch the way Jay’s eyes flicker back to you, over and over again, repeatedly. 

“Huh? He was just telling me what was in the potatoes.” 

She takes your answer as truth without issue, and the conversation falls away and into something else. College life, job life, family life. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, you’re trying to hear yourself out here. Are you somehow curious and interested in speaking with Jay? Yeah. Do you know why? Also yes. For one, he just sold you a fucking interesting sex toy last weekend in the most uncomfortable way possible, and now he’s here at your family reunion to remind you of what you do in your apartment when you’re alone. 

His personality seems different this time too. He wasn’t monotone, he was snide with you about knowing who you are. He probably thinks its funny that he ended up at your family reunion over any other event.

So yeah, maybe you find yourself going up to the table for seconds even though you’re no longer hungry. Maybe you definitely wait until no one else is at the table and he appears to be tidying up the space and wiping up spills before speaking to him again. 

“Just how many jobs do you have?” You ask in a sarcastic tone when you reach him, the table between the two of you creating a comfortable distance to poke and prod.

He jumps only slightly at your presence because he didn’t notice you walking up. The brief break he’s taken from stealing glances so he could actually do his jobs appears to be the time you feel the need to finally approach. Still, he’s smiling again, looking at you up and down. 

“Plenty. How much lube do you have left?” He answers before shooting back his own question and getting right to the point. 

You freeze in shock at his question, reminding yourself that his monotone voice from the late dildo purchase is no more and he now comes across as vibrant and charming to you. You check him out for a moment, taking mental notes of what may not or may not be to like about him. You can’t tell if it’s good news or bad news that you’re not finding anything to raise any red flags. 

He’s bold, confidence, charming, clearly has a decent work ethic– 

“I can’t imagine you have much left, that thing was a fucking monster. We have tons in stock if you wanna–” He pauses to cover his mouth, forgetting that he’s supposed to be timid and gentle during his day job. He’s not supposed to be himself.

You find yourself laughing though, leaning over the table and holding out your empty plate. Mostly just to get in closer to him without alerting your family of a new future husband or something. 

“Why are you so interested in my ‘fucking monster”’ dildos anyway?” You narrow your eyes. 

He pauses, easing up at the way you’re just as cheeky and playful as he is, despite being surrounded by your family. It’s mildly inappropriate, but it’s making his shift go by quickly. You’re making his shift enjoyable today, so he continues. 

“I think anyone would be interested, with all things considered.” He checks you out again with a brief pause, knowing the size of that dildo you bought by heart, and fully aware that it probably ripped you in half if you really managed to put that thing anywhere inside of you. “Correction, they should be worried.” 

“You’re different from before,” you comment, both of you now blatantly staring down each other. “I like this version of you more.” 

Something inside of him feels giddy at that. Not to be cliche but he wonders if this is what it’s like to instantly have a crush on someone. Again, he’s not one to lie to himself. You’re pretty and you appear to be confident. Confident enough to take time from your family reunion to have a discussion about your plastic cock intake anyway.

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime then.” He puts a hand forward, inviting you to shake it but you simply stare it down instead.  

“Yeah, maybe you will.” You smile, slapping his hand as if you’re low fiving him before swirling around and walking away thinking hard about the fact that…yeah, he might actually see you sooner than he thinks. 

Honestly, maybe within the next day or two because he was kind of right to ask about how much lube you have left, but it’s not like you’d answer that truthfully if at all. You might be running out after just two uses. He was right again about it being a fucking monster, because well, yeah. Maybe you’ll pop in and shop for bulk lube instead of rejecting his up-sale this time. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Unfortunately for you upon the reunion coming to an end, you get into your car and of course it doesn’t start. You drop your head to the steering wheel in a sigh and annoyed grunt.

The last thing you need is your father driving you home because he will lecture you about your car and how it’s got to be some fault of your own for it to not start. And you know, yeah maybe it was your fault. Why were your lights turned on during a sunny Sunday afternoon? Fuck if you know. Why were they left on for the entire nine hours you’ve been here at your parent’s house? You refuse to answer your own question.

And just as you go to accept your defeat, preparing to head back inside and take the walk of shame ten minutes after saying your goodbyes, a savior appears. 

That savior is none other than Jay,  walking up with his stiff button down shirt partially unbuttoned, hair now disheveled as he must have ruffled it up after the day of work. He watched you from his catering van for just a few minutes before finally getting out to offer his expertise. 

“The battery is dead.” He smiles, slapping both palms on your hood and leaning to look at you through the windshield. 

“Smart man, can you un-dead my battery before my dad comes out?”

Jay shakes his head apologetically. 

“I already checked the van for the cables, could be a write up on my part for not checking before leaving. We are supposed to have all sorts of shit to prevent breakdowns on a job. Not today though, apparently.” He scratches the back of his neck as he walks to your opened car door. 

“If you can hang tight for like ten minutes I can swing by after dropping the van off.”

Your eyes plead with him. You’d prefer this, yes. If he’s willing to help, you’re willing to accept.

“You sure I’m not too out of the way for you to do that?”

He shakes his head nonchalantly, waving you off as he leans into your car to pull your keys out of the ignition. He smells like food, obviously he does, but there’s a scent of something else on him that’s far more attractive. The dull scent of cologne that matches him all too well. 

“Don’t try to turn it on anymore if you don’t want your dad coming out.” He laughs. “I’m sure he would help you but if you’d rather I help you, I am more than happy to do it.”

He’s teasing. His little crush pushes him to want to help you, but he’s gonna play it off as casually as possible. 

“I’ll hang out here. My dad would lecture the fuck out of me.”

Jay nods, backing away and heading back to his van to fulfill his offer.

On another note, you’re shocked that your father didn’t hear the commotion, and even more shocked that he didn’t step outside once since the reunion ended. He must have been tired, and you know him, he sleeps like a rock and probably already hit the sack without even cleaning up the yard.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Oh, it’s dead dead.” Jay looks at you apologetically, peeking his head out from the side of your hood and through your window. 

“Define dead dead.” You comment, taking your keys out of the ignition with a huff. 

“Like, you need a new battery. This one is done for.”

You sigh loudly, knowing that now you’ll have to go ask your parents for a ride home. Knowing that your dad is going to add more to his lectures with each day your car is sitting in this driveway. This is so fucking annoying. At least you work from home though, so it’s not like you’re gonna lose your job over this or anything. 

Jay unhooks the cables and turns off his car, then stands there and watches you for a moment. You look frustrated and annoyed, and it’s very much like him to offer more help. 

Of course it is. 

“Would it be too forward to ask if you need a ride home?” 

You look at him confused, tilting your head and studying his body language much like before. You’re not one to decline someone making your life a little bit easier, and he is interesting to talk to. You nod slowly, then pause.

“You’ve worked all day, don’t waste your off-time helping me out.”

“I’m already wasting my off time on you though, might as well let me drive you home too?”

You stare at him. 

“Okay.”

The awkward silence sets in shortly after you seat yourself in his car. You fill that silence with small sarcastic comments about said car though, and soon it becomes easy to be in the space with him.

“Where did this sticker come from?” You ask, poking your finger into a sticker with its edges rolled from the summer heat, probably.

“Ex girlfriend, I couldn’t get it off without it leaving a residue so I’m just letting the sun do its job and melt it off.”

“Oh, harsh.” You laugh, wanting to prod further. “Why’d you break up?”

Jay pauses, you can tell by the way his foot lets up from the gas momentarily that he wasn’t expecting you to ask that. Then again, he’s said some weird shit to you too, so you figure it’s not an end-all question. 

“Was that too forward to ask?” 

“Not at all, just wasn’t expecting it,” He shakes his head with a small smile, nearly reaching his hand from the wheel to pat your leg in reassurance. He holds back, wondering why the fuck that urge felt so normal for him to do. “It’s been like a year, so I’m over it and stuff. She just thought I worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her.”

“Ouch, even harsher.” You smile in reassurance to him, also feeling it normal to want to do that for some reason. “Her loss, I mean, discounted dildos and food? Huge loss.”

He laughs at your comments, briefly looking over at you once he stops at a red light. Your eyes are shining with life, with interest even. At that moment, he feels something between the two of you. Which is quite strange considering this is your first time officially meeting him outside of his working hours. He can’t help the way his face softens though, it happens against his will, honestly, it does. 

“You’re kind of cute,” You blurt, breaking eye contact with him and shifting in your seat. “and fun to hang out with.” 

“Hang out?” He laughs at you, eyes now adjusting back to the road and lowering his speed just to have a bit more time with you. “This is hardly a hang-out, but if you’re interested, I’m more than willing to check my schedule to see when I’m free next.”

You feel confidence raise up in your chest, bubbling to be free in the form of a question likely too bold to actually consider.

“You’re free right now…right?” You comment quietly, glancing at him. 

“Hm?” He asks, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and feeling your eyes on him. He heard you, but he wouldn’t mind hearing you repeat it.

“I said, you’re free right now.” You repeat, this time with more confidence. “Would it be too forward to ask if –”

“Nothing is too forward to ask, I literally sold you a dildo.” 

You pause in shock, all thoughts leaving your head.

“Damn, alright,” You laugh, feeling kind of warm inside at how his forwardness matches your own. “If you’re free right now, we could hang out right now.” 

How lucky for both of you. He’s actually not catering tomorrow and only has to be at work at the good ol’ sex shop in the evening. 

“Alright,” He nods, glancing over to you. “Kind of fucked up we are hanging out after I met your entire family and still haven’t gotten a name from you yet though, wouldn’t you think?” 

Oh fuck, he’s right. 

“I’m sure you heard the kids yelling it all day. Don’t be dramatic.”

He laughs, already in love with the idea of spending more time with you. 

And you hear him echo your name, asking where it is that you’d like to go. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

If your parents were to ask why you’re walking through your apartment building with the caterer following behind you, you’d have no excuse. Then again, as an adult, you don’t think you need one. It’s strange despite how open and casual you are with making friends though, because you never just invite strangers to your place for friendship. At least, not without hanging out a few times first. 

You guess it’s not super awkward because it’s true that he already knows things about you that your family doesn’t. Such as, the things you penetrate yourself with when you’re alone. It’s a major ice breaker, and something that makes the friendship with him come easy even after barely talking to the guy.

The few words you have shared have been easy and fun, so it’s only natural that if your instinct is to want to be around him a little longer, you’d invite him in right? You weren’t really expecting him to accept your answer to his question. 

“Where to then?” 

You thought for a moment when he asked that. You don’t go to clubs or bars anymore, most places would have been closing within the hour, and it’s not like you didn’t eat to peak fullness during the family reunion so having a late dinner with him was out of the question too. You answered him so easily, and he accepted in a way that seemed just as natural to him. 

“We could just hang out at my place, I’ve got plenty of streaming services, a gaming system, and wine.”

“Sounds good.” 

It was so easy to become friends with him, and now with him following you up to your apartment, the typical awkwardness that should come with this type of thing isn’t swarming your mind at all. He’s even making small talk about the building itself after parking in your parking spot. 

“This building is way nicer than mine, you got a door code and everything just to get in.”

“Wasn’t always like this. Being a single woman in a city like this calls for safety measures though.”

A little box in his head checks out. He didn’t even have to ask if you’re single, because he already assumed you were with the way you so easily invited him over. And in all fairness, you’ve been trying to find a reason to slip in your relationship status to him. 

By the time you get to your door with him, he’s polite when he walks in and takes off his shoes. Polite in the way he looks around and studies your space, even polite in the way he walks into the living room and invites himself onto your couch and grabs your remote. 

“I was going to say make yourself comfortable but–”

“Well, would you prefer I sit on your floor?” He shoots back with a sarcastic tone in his voice. “Would you prefer I start digging through your cabinets for snacks? Would you prefer–”

“You’re so much more talkative when I’m not trying to buy something from you.” You comment with a laugh, dipping into the kitchen for two glasses and that cheap bottle of wine. 

“Speaking of, do you actually use that thing and like it? I mean, I see some weird purchases but that specific one is super popular with the fetish groups.”

For the first time, you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You should have known that the sex toy would be a point of conversation, considering the first time you ever met was buying it. 

“Yes, I use it. I’m surprised you find it shocking considering it’s literally your job to know what people like in terms of getting off.”

He smiles at that, because you’re damn right he knows. Most of the time he would prefer not to know, but he always did wonder if, on the off chance, he ended up hooking up with a customer he’d have some prior knowledge of how they like it based on toys alone. 

“You know, normally people don’t buy toys on a Monday at nine in the morning.” 

“I buy toys at nine in the morning on a Monday,” You chuckle, carrying the two glasses and wine into the living room and plopping down next to him. “Why does that matter? I’m sure you make your quotas even on the slow days considering how hard you were trying to up-sell me.”

He shrugs as he watches you pour him a glass. 

“It’s easy to up-sell when you know people’s kinks after a few purchases. I do that to everyone just to gauge what they need so if they come back I can make more offers.”

“A true salesman.” You laugh with a pitied voice. “What would you say my kink is?”

He studies you, looking you up and down without shame and thinking hard about your single purchase. 

“Well, considering that specific item is, again, usually looked at by a specific type of person or couple, I’d say–”

“Wrong.” You interrupt before he even tries to make a guess. “I don’t have a kink, I just have a really high sex drive.”

You take a sip at his silence of being beaten to the punch, and then he takes his own thoughtful sip. 

“Okay then, What do you think my kink is?” He asks slyly, cup still against his lips as he sips again. 

“Wha–” You narrow your eyes at him, trying not to stare at him for too long because goddamn is he handsome. “Hell if I know, you probably don’t even have sex after being in a hyper-sexualized space like that for hours on end.”

“Wrong.” He pokes his tongue into his cheek and looks away from you with another casual chuckle.

“Are you telling me you have a pocket pussy or like, a buttplug or something?”

“Three pocket pussies, actually.”

You don’t know why you’re shocked. For some reason his sex toys becoming the focus makes you feel more shy than your own being the focus. 

“I bet you named them.”

“Pocket 1, Pocket 2, and Jessica.”

“Jessica?” You raise a brow despite the sarcastic banter, wondering if maybe that’s based on his ex girlfriend or something. 

He nods in a matter-of-fact tone with a proud smile. 

You feel comfortable around him, never having a friend who openly talks to you about these things without any type of awkwardness. It’s the fact that he’s a man too. Usually they think with their dicks and he seems to have no qualms in admitting that it’s something he may do from time to time too. 

You imagine he needs this type of personality to work such a job though, being casual about sex can be so difficult for your average joe because for some reason, it is embarrassing. It’s hard to talk about even to sex-shop employees. You like to think he’s probably someone who makes others feel comfortable about their sexual habits though, because you feel comfortable. 

“I’m lying by the way.” He cuts through your thoughts, “I only have two.” 

You nod energetically with a laugh. 

“Variety is good.” You continue, not mentioning the array of toys you have stashed away. 

“Yeah, I think experimenting with different things is good. I only really liked the two I kept though, I guess.”

“And yet, you’re shocked about my single dildo purchase without knowing of my other items of interest? I could have just been trying something new too, y’know.”

Another sip of wine, and another glance away from him because you were looking a little too fondly at that little scar on his nose, the birth mark on his neck, the way his lips crease when he swallows his drink and– yeah, you definitely glance away.

“No one buys that as a first time experience.” He comments, tapping the cup against his lips and looking at you.

You’re a little stunned by him, never having met a man so open to speaking like this, with a woman he barely knows no less. 

“Okay, enough about my dildo. I actually have a question about something you might have in stock but I’ve kind of been too embarrassed to ask until now.”

He nods, his personality shifting only slightly into that as the manager of the sex-shop.

“Oh? Embarrassed? Since when?” He jokes at first. “What is it then?”

“Do you guys have like,” you pause, unsure of why you’re even trying to ask. Again, it’s not like masturbation is embarrassing, nor is the purchasing of toys. Asking for a specific item is a bit too intimate to you though, seeing as how you usually just buy those things online. “Okay hear me out.”

“Tentacles? Furry buttplugs with tails attached? Bondage rope? Paddles?”

“No…” You pause at his spewing of different types of toys. “I know you have all of that.”

He pauses, studying the way you make yourself a bit smaller compared to just minutes before.

“Do you guys have sex dolls for women? You know, like, just a doll with a very normal dick?”

Jay fucking snorts. How mundane. 

Unfortunately for you though, Nope. 

“Nah, the owner tries to cater more towards men and fetish stuff. We’ve got fem tantaly dolls and all sorts of blow up dolls but he’s never brought in just like, a torso with a cock, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You shrug. 

“Guess sticking it to the wall is all I can do for now then. But like,” You pause, realizing that you’re actually going into detail at this point, which might be a little uncomfortable for him? Maybe? “It’s really annoying to have it sticking to the floor, and you’re like, riding it and it just pops off and stabs your thigh slipping out mid-orgasm.”

He snorts again, that pretty smile you’ve seen time and time again echoing the most attractive laugh you think you’ve heard in a long time. This time, his smile doesn’t fade as the seconds pass, no. He’s unable to stop laughing at the image of whatever orgasm instilled the frustration in you to even mention that happening. He tries to stifle his laughter with the last sip of his wine before choking it down and pushing his glass at you for more. 

“Noted,” He snorts, nodding his head and almost hiding his face from you. “I’ll tell the boss we need male sex dolls so the women don’t get dick-stabbed where they don’t need it mid orgasm.”

You glare. 

“Wait, no, because it actually hurts.” You frown at him. “I just wish your shop catered a little more to women who just wanna ride a dick without the dangers of riding said dick.” 

“Maybe you should slow down next time so the full force of your–” He pauses, realizing how sexual the image in his head is of you right now. “Um…” He trails off uncomfortably, unintentionally adjusting himself in his jeans by spreading his legs slightly against your couch. 

“Okay, wait. I’m sorry, is this conversation too much right now?” You ask, looking him up and down and giving him a new glass of wine. “You’re blushing.”

He tries to play it off. 

“As if you could make me blush.” He laughs at you, downing half of his glass in one go. “To make up for our lack of product though, and if you don’t tell anyone, I’ll give you a discount on your next purchase just for embarrassing yourself telling me that.”

“Oh, I was supposed to be embarrassed?” You counter, knowing that all you need to do is point out that he got flustered to shut him up. You opt not to because still, the two of you barely know each other. Instead, you opt to laugh along with him, letting your gaze fall back to studying all of those features he has that you didn’t quite notice before.

While you did notice he was handsome before, it’s not like you paid that thought any mind. There are a lot of handsome men out and about after all. It only starts to matter when they allow you to get close enough to appreciate it more. Not to mention, in your experience at various sex shops, most employees of them are mundane and nonchalant. Some are strange old men, or cool old women. Jay though? Jay.

Hmm…how to explain him?

With his messy hair that covers his eyes every time he whips his head toward you in a laugh, with his sharp jawed smile and pretty eyes. The little marks and celestial kisses against his skin that shows you of a life he’s been living. He feels…warm. Like everything about him looks comforting, smells comforting, sounds comforting. And now, even compared to when you met him at the shop, even at the reunion just this afternoon…he’s so much more handsome in this moment. 

Learning his personality, hearing his voice say your name, having him take the time to not only help you but befriend you? 

His shoulders are broad, and he’s just… you don’t even know how to explain to yourself the attraction you have toward him at this moment. Handsome is one thing, and you would have continued calling him that if it weren’t for the fact that he’s laughing with you on your couch about a ruined orgasm. 

“You know, Jay,” You start, looking into your glass and swirling the liquid inside, then you look up again and make eye contact. “I’m really not usually this forward but like,”

His brain stops for a moment at the serious tone in your voice, his expression softens and you can tell he’s listening. 

“I know masturbation and stuff is normal, and like, you see and talk about these things all the time but I never really talk about it to other people, they always get weird about it.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I can’t say this is the most normal hang out I've ever had. Usually we talk about our favorite movies or books or something.”

You wave him off. 

“Yeah, that’s a good point. We could talk about our favorite movies but I find myself, um–” You stop for a second. 

“Is talking about it making you realize that it’s uncomfortable?” 

“No, the opposite actually.” You laugh, now actually feeling embarrassed. “I keep thinking about you mentioning the other things you’ve bought and experimented with.”

“Oh? You’re curious?” He laughs, now feeling a bit shy himself because he’s pretty sure that’s you asking him to put images in your head. “I mean I could go into detail but it actually might be too-telling right now.”

You nod, unsure of why you even suggested.

“Maybe next time?” You change the subject with a smile, one that does seem slightly disappointed. 

“There’s a next time?” He smiles, setting his glass down on your table and shifting toward you.

“I don’t see why not? I’m having fun, plus you offered me a discount.”

He nods, looking around the room and checking the time. 

“I should probably head out then? We’ve both had a long day.” 

You nod back to him, feeling a bit sad. 

“When are you free next?” You ask, grabbing your phone in a way that seems a bit too excited. “Can you give me your number?”

He obliges, exchanging phone numbers and promising to contact you with his next free day or night to hang out. Just as he goes to leave though, for some reason both of you feel as though the satisfaction of this hang out wasn’t reaching full potential. 

“Hey, um,” He stops before he puts his shoes back on. “Would it be too forward to say I’m not tired and wouldn’t mind–”

“Staying for a bit longer?” You finish his sentence for him, patting the couch as if that was also on your mind.

He doesn’t even respond, and instead makes his way back onto the couch where the cushion is still warm, unable to help the fluttering feeling in his chest.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's almost two in the morning by the time he offers to leave again, and yet, he stays at your clear disappointment of the offer. Another hour later, the two of you are sitting contently and pretending to watch some shitty tv show in comfortable silence. 

“We should say something.” He blurts, mid episode.

“What do you mean?”

He turns toward you. 

“We should talk about this.” He motions at the space between the two of you. 

You’re silent while you try to build up the confidence to meet him half-way again. 

“You can correct me if you’re not interested but I actually really would like it if you kissed me or something.” He adds as you continue to process what he seems to be getting at.

You’re taken aback by his forwardness for some reason, and instantly you knew he didn’t communicate this earlier for your own sake. Thankfully, you’ve tried to make it easy for him to read you and he ate it up like his favorite meal. The content feeling between the two of you was buzzing up to this point. Very loudly in your brain where you were thinking of how to kiss him before the night is up. Even as just a “thank you” if he were to turn away from it. 

“Oh yeah?” You ask, tilting your head and seeing him scoot closer. “Kiss you, or something?”

He nods his head, looking at you without much issue and searching for a reaction. 

“Are you interested in me like that, in any way?” He asks, looking for confirmation.

“Oh, most definitely.”

The smile that spreads across his face is one that you can argue will be unforgettable. It’s an expression you hope to bring to every person in your life, one that seems to express nothing but relief, excitement, and maybe even a hint of bashfulness.

“You thought I'd invite you inside without being interested?” You smile at him, feeling a little bit fuzzy in the head at the admittance. 

“I thought you were just being nice, or like, just interested in friendship,” He rambles on, stopping himself short to give more context to that statement. “I mean, it would be fine if this was all for friendship and I'm happy with that too but I can admit to coming into your apartment with maybe, uh, a small crush.” 

“I can admit to inviting you in with a small crush, maybe.” 

“Maybe.”

“Are we being too forward?” You ask, emphasizing the repetitive way that word seems to appear. “Even though you’re in my apartment at an ungodly hour and both of us are giving any and every excuse to keep you here?”

He smiles this time in a way that appears to be self-soothing, and you can imagine you are too. It’s always nerve-wracking to walk on eggshells with another person, the threat of wondering if you'll fall alone or fall with them into a new version of partnership. 

You don’t think about the lack of knowing him past a purchase, a quick conversation at a family reunion, or the past several hours he’s huddled up with you on this couch. You simply don’t think it’s strange at this point. After all, you’ve met people online and invited them over without much more than a name, age, and quick conversation about what they want sexually. How is this worse? How is this strange? 

“You’re right. Maybe we should stop being so polite when the reality of it is that I’ve been imagining what you’ve done with that toy since the day you bought it.” 

Okay, maybe that was too forward but all is lost now as your image of him changes drastically within the mere seconds it took him to say that, not in a bad way either. Again, of course he’s comfortable admitting it, the dude stares at dicks and holes all day. But now he’s staring at you, and talking directly to you.

Your silence makes him shift a bit, shaking his head apologetically. 

“Found the boundary, got it.” He shames himself with a timid voice, looking away from you and back to the tv with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m not lying though.” He adds after a few more minutes of your silence.

“Not much of a boundary if I admit that I was blatantly asking you earlier what you’ve done to experiment with your toys.”

“Aha! So I was right in thinking you were straight up asking for mind-porn of me?!” He feels instantly comfortable again, turning his entire body toward you as he folds up one of his legs to sit on with a little bounce. 

“Maybe, but what do you mean you’ve been imagining since I bought it? You barely made eye contact with me that day.”

“Oh, I was checking you out the whole time you shopped. Imagine my face when I knew exactly what toy you were reaching for.”

You shove him by the shoulder with a laugh, realizing that this is the first bodily contact you’ve ever had with him, but he actually leans into your shove rather than out of it. Meaning, he barely budges. 

“If I looked you in the eye at the register, you would have thought I was some pervert.” 

“You are a pervert. You said it had, what? Twelve other colors?” 

He shrugs with a pained smile at how cringe he must have sounded to you. 

“You seemed more like a sparkly pink girl rather than a normal flesh tone girl. Then again, this was before I knew you were looking for a literal male sex doll for super normal pretend-sex.”

You shove him again, your laugh coming out more forced now at the way he jokes with you. Once again, he doesn’t budge. In fact, he’s leaning in closer. 

“Now hold on, you didn’t mention anything about one having glitter in it.” You joke, wiggling your brows. 

“You trying to fuck a man or a magic unicorn?” He laughs yet again, all of it coming out more forced as the two of you drag out information just to hear the dirty words in a voice you’re only just realizing you like far too much. 

“A man.” You dead-pan, this time not laughing, looking him dead in the eye and trying to pretend you don’t notice how close the two of you have gotten. “Why else would I go for more human skin tones?”

“Fuck if I know, I haven’t met a single man who has vibration settings or rolling beads though.” 

You snort. 

“Shame…but also, why do you think I’m on the hunt for the most mundane sex toy a woman can buy now? The rolling beads almost had me passing out.” 

“Was it too much?” He asks seriously, hoping to god it was. 

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I can imagine you want something to feel real after that.”

For some reason, his words hit you straight in the gut. Your stomach drops as your attraction heightens, and suddenly you’re just staring at him as you respond. 

“I can imagine so, yeah.” 

He stares back, almost no space between the two of you as the banter only brought you both mentally and physically as close as possible without becoming twisted together. 

“When was the last time you felt something real?” He asks against his better judgment, wondering if you’re on the same page with him. Wondering if all this banter was leading to somewhere or nowhere. Because he could have sworn admitting to wanting you to kiss him, and you’ve yet to do so. 

“A month and a half.” You respond dryly, suddenly needing something to drink. 

He glances down at your neck when you swallow around your words, then stares at your lips before breathing in a sigh. One that was supposed to relieve the tension in this moment, but only building it more because he knows you see him do it. He knows you see him wet his bottom lip too.

“Are you going to kiss me, or are you planning to wait another month and a half to get what you want?” He continues on his streak of boldness as if to distract you from noticing the sexual tension, feeling his heart skip beats at the intensity of the moment. 

“It’s not like we have anything better to do.” You start, leaning in and still looking straight into his eyes.

“Are you suggesting that I’m boring?” He narrows his eyes as he feels your breath against his lips, still sweet from the wine that did close to nothing in terms of altering the brain. The two of you are totally planted into reality, if anything, a little drunk on the other. 

“Not at all.” You adjust your words from earlier, there, hovering just over his lips. “I’m just saying that nothing is more interesting than kissing you right now.”

Oh, the fluttering in his belly is so fucking intense right now. No eighteen inch alien tentacle dildo on a shelf could scare him as much as you do at this moment. Intimidatingly outspoken and aware of your wants and needs. His eyelashes flutter just like his stomach does, closing them slowly until he can feel your lips on his. 

Your stomach, on the other hand, has been doing flips since the first instance he admitted to wanting to stay. All of the tension, all of the comfortable silence, all of the glances, the smiles, the laughing, all of it was leading up to this. The moment your lips hit his, they feel much like you imagined they would. 

Soft, plush, warm. The thin lipped grins he’s given you all day now laying flat against your own lips, no longer grinning, now just wanting. And he’s gentle, so fucking gentle with it. Never has a man asked you to kiss him. Usually they close the gap to try and swoon you. It appears you’re both being swooned by each other at the moment though, and his soft kiss only pulls back momentarily before he leans forward, closer.

The third touch, save for you shoving him, his lips on yours, and now…his hand on your cheek. Caressing so gently as he deepens the kiss with ease. The heat rises up and through your skin at the simple touch. You think he must feel it with the way he chuckles into the kiss and starts peppering them against your lips over and over again. A split second between each lay of his lips, and then another solid kiss. One where you finally start moving yours too.

It’s slow and languid in the way he kisses you like this, barely even darting his tongue out but focusing more on your cheek against his palm. He can feel your jaw move as you kiss and can’t help but love what’s happening, and when you’re the one to lick against his lower lip, he falls in so easily. 

That little movement from you, that little feeling of your tongue experimentally prodding his lips open releases the last bit of tension holding him back. He pulls back to look at you and you’re not backing down even slightly. 

“Does this feel more real for you?” He asks in a snide way, swiping your bottom lip with his thumb of the glistening saliva before tilting his head with a smile. 

You very nearly roll your eyes at him for that. And by very nearly, you do roll your eyes at him and can’t help but smile yet again. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” He says, palm still against your cheek, tips of his fingers toying with the baby hairs on your hair-line. “because I can imagine that the toy couldn’t ki-”

You shoot forward to kiss him again, only just realizing how awkward the positioning is considering neither of you were probably expecting more than a first kiss. 

He laughs into it, knowing you were silencing him of something that could arguably be the most cringe-worthy thing he can say after kissing you. His laughs start to stifle though, as you press forward and somehow manage to have his back against the seat of the couch and you planting yourself on top of him. 

“Can you shut up about the toy now? I thought we got past that,” You argue as you pull back, your cheek already missing the feeling of his palm against it. “You can’t just act like this and then say some dumb shit like that.”

You’re joking, he knows it. If anything, you’re complimenting him right now and he eats it the fuck up as he stares up at you. 

“Was I wrong though?” 

You take a moment to look at him, realizing that this is the man who you just kissed. With his hair a mess and fanned out on the cushions, strands falling in front of his eyes, but mostly swept back and exposing the entirety of his forehead to you. 

You reach forward and brush a strand from his eyes. 

“Actually, say whatever you want.” You correct yourself and manage to ignore his question.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” He half-chuckles as he brings his hands up to sit against your waist, hoping you don’t pull out of the intimate position the two of you are in. 

“I don’t know, I was just looking at you and thought it would be stupid for me to try to argue with you right now.”

“Why’s that?” He prods for more compliments, feeling himself twitch at the way you look hovering over him. 

“Are you trying to argue right now?” You tilt your head, adjusting yourself now to sit directly on his thighs and lay forward, both hands cushioning your chin on his chest as you straddle him. 

“Would it be so wrong to admit that you’re fun when you argue with me?” 

You can feel him breathe under you, nearly rocking you further and further into whatever headspace Jay seems to put you in. It’s too comfortable, and it almost feels as though you’ve been with him for years now. You barely know him, yet you’re lying on him as if you got married two years ago. Insane how this works. How the heart works, or the brain, or whatever drives the arousal you’re feeling right now. 

“Will you argue if I ask to show you my room?” You start, lifting back up and away from his chest, now scooting forward a bit. You don’t dare sit on it yet, but you very much would like to if he were to suggest not moving at all from this couch. “My bed.”

He stutters and quickly quiets his excited words, replacing his voice with a nod and a sharp inhale.

“Hah! Telling me to argue and instantly buckling the second I mention my bed.” You laugh, pulling yourself up and sauntering out of his view.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, in a daze over just how much he likes you. He wonders, would you be shocked to know he hasn’t had sex in much longer compared to you? One and a half months for you? That’s nothing to him. He’s been besties with his right hand for at least six months by now. Trust him when he says that it truly was difficult to not turn into a hormonal idiot when he saw you in the shop that day. 

Finally, he shakes himself out of the spaced out horny brain staring at your ceiling and stands to his feet. He’s quick to adjust the bulge in his jeans, uncomfortably shaking his leg before looking toward where you walked off to.

“Um.” He stops, realizing you were watching him, looking directly at the spot he just adjusted. “I mean,” He tries to start again, adjusting again as he feels it slowly move out from its tucked place. “Listen,”

“No, I get it.” You say, snickering at his embarrassment as if he somehow doesn’t know you were suggesting at least some foreplay by moving to your room.

“Of course you do,” He drops his head, now blatantly shoving his hands down his pants to adjust before looking back up and taking a step forward. “You’re the one who sat on me like that.”

“Please, I didn’t even sit on it.” 

“Didn’t need to.” He shrugs, now coming up to you and waiting for you to guide him through your space and into your room. 

Once the two of you get there, him not even attempting to hide that he is very aroused at this moment, you’re very quick to turn and face him once he comes inside. 

“We are on the same page, right?” You ask, looking at his lips and the way they still look so kissable. 

“As far as I know, with all things considered.” He responds, looking down at himself and how pathetic he must seem in getting so aroused by nothing more than a kiss and a position change. 

You smile, reaching for his hand and watching him tumble forward to you. Now standing mere inches in front of you. 

“Do you want to see it?” You ask, a cheeky smirk on your face as you turn away from him and run to your bedside table. 

He has no idea what the fuck you’re referring to until he sees it. There, in all of its non-human glory. Jay ticks his tongue, curiously straining his neck out to peek at what else is in your drawer as he walks closer. 

You make no attempt to close the drawer and instead pull out another one, and another one, another one.

“If you keep pulling out toys I’ll start to think you were lying in saying you wanted to feel something more, um–”

“Real?” You say, turning from your presented line-up of toys to look at him. 

He nods, gazing over the toys, four dildos all far bigger than he is. 

“I can admit that men can’t vibrate, nor do they have those little rotating beats but,” You chuckle at the conversation, scooping the toys up quicker than you laid them out and tossing them back into the drawer. “They’re not warm, or attached to someone that can kiss me. They’re also not witty.”

You study his expression.

“They don’t make me laugh before getting me off.” You continue, wondering if you may actually be too forward about this now. 

He’s rendered a bit speechless, which is rare for him in any given situation. He always has a quick response, not at this moment though as he looks at you. He wonders if you pity that obvious act of self-doubt upon seeing your toys. 

“They’re not attached to you.” You add, this time stifling your chuckle, because it’s a pretty funny conversation if you look at it from the outside but you can imagine he must be feeling some type of way to be so quiet.

He thinks hard about it, knowing damn well where this was leading and pushing for it himself. Hearing you now though, so confidently say these things, all doubt erases from his mind. 

“Before we do anything,” he starts, his shaky voice coming out more confident as he continues. “Is this just a hook-up to you or are you feeling the way I’m feeling right now?”

You look at him with a question in your eyes. He was kind of shocked that you didn’t finish for him this time, actually. 

“Like, you know if we do this, I’m going to be calling to take you out to dinner at some point unless you say you don’t want me to, right?”

You hadn’t thought of anything past him since you’ve gotten here. You didn’t think about anything more than hanging out with him, and now, kissing him, and maybe you know, feeling him. For some reason though, despite the lack of sex you’ve had lately, him saying that only arouses you more. It’s been so long since you’ve intended to sleep with someone and have them want to stick around after. Some of the people you’ve been with didn’t even ask for your number. Is this what adult relationships are actually like? 

“As in, you’d want to see where this goes in the–”

“Future, yes. I’m not just going to fuck you and pretend I didn’t when I see you again.”

Shockingly, that’s a first for you and you like the feeling it gives you. Plus, him implying that he’s about to, or very willing to, fuck you sends a wave of fondness through you.

“Alright. Let’s not call it a hook up then.” You say, the playful arousal from before stifling out at the idea of being intimate with someone who is making you aware that you’ll see him again, now being replaced with…feelings? Arousal with feelings?

“What should we call it?” 

“A date?” You say back immediately, sitting on your bed and finally closing your bedside drawer. 

“Oh, you fuck on the first date?” 

You laugh at how quickly his wit comes back, especially with the way he crowds up and stands in front of you. 

“With you? Looks like it.” You smile wide for him, feeling the tension bleed away and replace itself again with the arousal of him standing and looking down at you. 

“How did we not meet earlier?” He asks, leaning down a bit as if to kiss you.

“Fuck if I know, I bought all of those toys at your shop.”

“Ah, right. Nine in the morning on a Monday. I don’t usually work mornings.”

“Guess I got lucky last time then.”

“I guess you did.” He adds like a period to a sentence, finally kissing you again and making no effort to hide the fact that he’s attempting to lay you down much like you did to him before. 

You let him, falling back on your bed and feeling him nudge your legs to spread. Again, you let him, feeling your heart begin to race with excitement in the way he kisses you now versus how he did it earlier. 

There is clear intent behind it this time, as he positions himself between your legs. Your heart only races faster when one of his hands slides down your arm and he tangles his fingers with yours. It’s all very intimate to be coming from a man you officially met today, but you really do feel lucky. 

Lucky that he works two jobs, lucky that your family throws lame ass reunions every five years, lucky that you left your headlights on during a sunny sunday afternoon, lucky that your battery died. 

It’s so normal already to smile into the kiss and feel giddy inside. Never have you smiled into a kiss save for laughing when a leg cramp happens mid-fuck. You can’t believe how much you’ve smiled and laughed today, and you can’t believe he’s making you react this way just by holding your fucking hand and kissing you this way. 

He laughs when you react though, probably feeling at ease on your bed with you under him, squeezing your fingers tightly each time he licks against your tongue. And when he pulls back to breathe, you just look at him and the way his hair hangs in front of his eyes. He looks so pretty at this angle, even when he’s moving slowly, even when his other hand remains planted beside your head to hold his weight from falling onto you. 

It’s not been since highschool that you’ve laid with someone simply making out, fully clothed, giggling. You’re unsure of how he’s pulled this out of you, because usually when a man is on top of you, you’re already trying to get his clothes off. But this? This is something that you want to last. You want it to be slower than a usual fuck, because you like when he’s here with you. Whether on top of you or not, there was a reason he’s stayed this late already and you already know it wasn’t solely to fuck you.

“Did you expect to be on top of me someday?” You ask between kisses, and he takes that as an invitation to laugh against your neck and tickle your cheek with his messy hair. 

“Expect it? No,” He starts, leaving a kiss just under your ear before lowering his lips to the collar of your shirt and kissing there too. “Hoped I could, though.” 

Your heart swells up at that. You realized he must have meant it when he admitted to having a small crush on you. Only now do you realize that the curiosity that brought you back up to the food-table during the reunion may have been the start of a crush on your end too. 

You don’t say anything more after that and instead fall into the feeling of his lips kissing along your collar. For some reason the sensation of his lips pushing the fabric out of the way so he can kiss new exposed skin makes you feel incredibly wanted. Maybe it’s the pace, or maybe it’s just because you really really like him, and want him to want you. 

“Do you want to take it off?” You ask after a few more of his kisses, wanting to control yourself but also very much wanting to feel his lips everywhere else too. 

You can feel him nod in the form of his hair tickling your cheek more. But he doesn’t move from that spot at first, continuing to kiss you the same way and in the same places. You let him, up until he finally sighs and pulls back. 

Looking at him now, even compared to a few moments ago, he looks even more pretty. His eyes are now soft, you can almost see the lines from where he’s smiled for you all day. His lips, looking more kissable than they did the past two times you thought they looked as kissable as they ever could. His eyebrows, showing no signs of tension but permanently arched in a way that makes him appear constantly moody. 

You’re staring and you’re not intending to hide it. Even as he lifts your shirt from your waist and starts to pull it up. You barely budge as you stare, and stare, until you can’t because he’s trying to pull your shirt over your head.

“If you’d stop staring for two seconds maybe I could get this off of you–” He smiles knowingly, finally pulling it off when you arch your back and then prop yourself up slightly with your hands. “There.”

He sighs when he says it, going silent and almost frozen at the image of your nearly-naked torso. You watch him stare now, a smirk forming all too quickly.

“Now look who’s staring.” You chuckle, noting that his eyes still don’t leave the newly exposed skin or the fabric of your bra.

“Yeah, I am.” He admits, wetting his lower lip again and then flicking his eyes to you. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Suddenly, that eye contact makes you feel shy. You’re more naked than he is, despite mostly being dressed still.

“You know,” you start, avoiding his intense eye contact just to get the words out. “If we just take all of our clothes off now, it would probably be easier.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle at you but nods, already lifting his shirt off and going for his zipper and button.

“There’s no rush, but if you’d prefer we do,” He scoots back and away from you, standing to his feet to shove his jeans down his legs. “I don’t mind.”

You watch him undress and lose all ability to act on your own for a solid thirty seconds before you finally start panic-shimming the rest of your clothing off. Save for bra and panties, and he, now standing there clad in only a pair of form-fitting briefs. 

You’re glad he isn’t as shy as you at this moment though, or rather, he appears to be entirely infatuated with your body and doesn’t look away from it for even a moment to feel embarrassed himself at standing on the side of your bed nearly nude. 

“No rush?” You ask, when he finally trails his eyes up to you and takes his position between your legs from earlier. Except now, you can see his biceps and the way they flex, now, you can feel the immense amount of warmth radiating from him. Now, his hair is even more of a mess.

“I can try,” He says quietly, balancing on one hand and lowering his lips to yours once more, trying to ignore how dangerously close his length is to bumping against your core. “No promises now, though.”

You smirk, wondering where he lost his self control within that short span of time where you got undressed. He cuts your chuckle off mid-way though, now kissing you again and moving his hand up and down your waist. It tickles and causes goosebumps to form all over you, to the point that you can’t help but sigh into his kiss. 

He continues, still holding his hips back from grinding against you, kissing you as good as he can until trailing back to your neck again. 

It’s not until you run your fingers through his hair that he sighs himself. That relief and heavenly feeling of your fingers scraping the back of his neck— such a simple touch can literally send him straight to hell at this point and he wouldn’t care a single bit as long as it’s from you and your hands. 

He lowers himself more, just to prevent his hips from intruding into this moment only to lock his lips onto the mound of your breast, other hand lowering so he can lay down and push your bra to the side a bit. 

The cold air that hits your nipple is short-lived when you feel him immediately suck it into his mouth with a deep breath. You continue to scratch through his hair, now using your other hand to nearly hug his head in place as you feel the sensations shoot straight between your legs. Each flick of his tongue sends signals to your brain to go! go! go! But much like him, you hold back, even though your legs still manage to squeeze his body between yours in an attempt to find the friction he isn’t yet offering. 

He continues this for a few minutes, and then works his fingers under the bra on the other side of your chest before switching his lips to that one. Perking them up so perfectly that he can graze his teeth against either nipple and feel your legs react to it. All of it is turning him on beyond belief, it’s dangerously attractive to him now too, to know that you have several toys that could have already gotten you off by now, but you choose this. You choose his lips playing with your tits, and your legs doing an amazing job of showing him your lack of control. After all, toys can’t give you the foreplay that he can.

His lips continue their work, up until he’s trailing further and further down, making your sighs hitch higher and higher in pitch. He kisses your waist, just above your belly button, then just below your belly button before leaning back.

There, he looks directly at the seat of your panties and smiles at the wet spot there. He plants a kiss right in the center of your mess  before climbing back up and caressing your cheek again. 

“You’re wet.” He comments in a huskier voice than he normally uses, balancing yet again on his other arm.

Goddamn, if this is how he sounds when he’s with a girl then you feel more lucky than before. You can’t imagine the amount of women who have fallen completely in love with this guy. And, before you can actually respond to him with another cheeky comment, his hand on your cheek disappears and is instantly between your legs, cupping you there and even scooting you up the bed with the force of how he grabs you.

You hitch out a sigh and look at him with a smile.

“Obviously.” You say back, rolling your eyes playfully before unintentionally bucking your hips into the pressure his palm offers against your clit. 

“Cute too.” He adds, lifting his palm to run his fingers up the wet spot on your panties before pressing in slightly. 

You can feel the fabric stick to you uncomfortably, but it still feels so fucking good. Any amount of touching from him feels good, if you’re being honest. 

“And you’re teasing me.” You argue, looking away from his smirk as he plays with the wet fabric against his fingers. 

“Just ask. I’m not teasing you if you're not telling me what you want.” 

You shoot your eyes back to him, a mixture of curiosity and shock in your eyes. It’s true though, you are a little shocked. Most men really just do what they want, and so do you. Never have you been asked what you want. 

Your eyes trail down as far as they can, what his hand is doing is mostly hidden between your legs but you focus entirely on the way his arms flex as his fingers travel up and down your panties. 

“You want me to ask?” You question, hips bucking up again unintentionally. 

“Not so much ask, but like, tell me what you want.”

He nods to himself as he says it, licking his bottom lip and pressing the fabric of your panties in yet again. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to do what he wants right now though, definitely not. He just figures you know your body far better than he does, and he’d rather not make assumptions and embarrass himself when you could just ask him or better, guide him. Who is he to assume you want his fingers right now anyway?

“I’ve never…” You start, swallowing your words as your brain goes back to focusing on his fingers momentarily. “I haven’t–”

He knows what you’re trying to say, so he attempts to make it a bit easier for you. 

“Do you want me to pull your panties to the side?” 

You sigh with a nod, looking at him and allowing him to guide you through telling him what you want.

“Do you want me to touch you?” 

You nod again, pushing your head back against the mattress out of frustration that you, for some reason, can’t find the words to just tell him yourself. 

He listens to your body though, more than your weak nods and frustrated sighs. The way your legs shake when he asks, the way you react to the air hitting your folds when he does push your panties to the side. He can’t bear to look down yet though, because he knows for a fact that if he were to pull back and look at you in full, he’d no longer be asking you what you want. He’d be embarrassing for sure. 

You can feel his fingers now sliding through your folds though, bare pussy out and on display but not yet being looked at, only being felt. And arguably, all you can do right now is feel too, as he leans forward to kiss you in this silent moment. 

His fingers continue to explore as he kisses you, collecting all of your arousal and swirling it around your clit before sliding back down and prodding at your entrance. You make a sound at that, kissing him a little harder than before when he lets out a hum.

“Hm?” He hums against your lips, and you nod to him. 

There, he dips a finger in only slightly. Your arms reach around his neck at the feeling and pull him closer to you. To the point that you can feel him struggle to angle his hands right to slide in deeper, but you pay no mind to it. At least not until you kiss the fucking daylights out of him.

That, you do. Kissing him with full-force and making a show of how turned on you are for him. He feels it, with or without your kiss bruising him. The wetness on the tip of his finger only becomes wetter, and when you release your grip around his neck, he still doesn’t leave the kiss.

He goes back to gently kissing you, focusing more on his fingers than what his tongue is doing. He slides that same finger in all the way now, feeling your walls clench almost instantly and beg for more. Chuckling at the feeling, he fucks his finger into you experimentally before pulling them out and adjusting two fingers at your entrance. 

“Hm?” He hums again, and you nod again.

So, two fingers slide in and you’re releasing a soft moan against his lips. Already out of breath from focusing so hard on how he feels when he touches you. Your lips fall slack just to catch that lost breath, and he doesn’t argue, going right back to that spot on your neck to kiss as he picks up rhythm with his fingers. Effectively fucking you open with them as you cling to him.

You hate to say you didn’t pay much attention to his hands until now. Having not noticed how deep just those two digits reach inside of you, and good fucking lord does he know how to use them too. Curling them up at just the right moment to have your legs shaking. 

Never have your legs fucking shook for a man. This only happens with the g-spot stimulating toys. God, you open your eyes to look at the ceiling in thought, and it has you wondering if he even knows he’s doing it. 

“Keep doing that–” you urge him, and he hums at you finally at least trying to tell him what you want. 

He finally lifts from your neck to look at you, now placing his weight back on that one free arm that had been toying with the ends of your hair this entire time, and he’s fucking floored. Even if he pictured you before with those toys, none of those images came close to this. And it’s just his fingers? No where near the size of your toys, no where near as expensive, or warm…or alive.

Oh. You want to feel someone who wants you. 

“I’ll do anything you want.” He says, doing exactly as you asked except a little faster, still hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly that you’re moaning out now. 

He tunes in entirely to the sounds you’re making, the faces you’re making, and the way your pussy clenches around just those two fingers. He is aching at this point, pulling back from hovering over you to sit now between your legs, fingers still keeping pace, and sliding his other hand down his briefs. 

You don’t notice at first, too enthralled by the feeling of his curling fingers inside of you, but when you do–

“God,” You moan, rolling your eyes at the image of him out of breath, both hands working to pleasure both of you. “Come here.”

He listens, already pulling his hand away from himself but keeping his fingers in you, in a daze as he takes his original position of hovering over you.

“No, I mean, come here.” You say, looking at him as you reach between your bodies and pull his fingers out of you, then reach to grab between his legs. 

He immediately moans at the feeling, his hips pressing harshly into your grip with a whine as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes just to feel it. 

“Pull it out.” You continue, slowly becoming more and more comfortable telling him what you want. 

Just watching him do what you ask is insanely hot. The way he pulls his cock out seems so natural to him, you suddenly imagine what he must look like all alone while getting himself off. Thankfully though, he’s not all alone right now, he’s with you, and you intend to be getting him off. 

You look at him, between his legs, and then back at him once more before grabbing it again and practically pulling his hips to you by the cock. He groans all the same at it though, and only holds his breath when he feels your legs spread further and essentially press his cock between your folds and hold it there from the head. 

“Grind.” You say, still holding your hand in place to keep the pressure against him, which also puts pressure against your clit when he does grind up.

You both shiver at it, and he still looks down at you, fucking smiling through his sighs of relief regarding the new sensations you’re offering. 

“You’re actually fucking perfect.” He compliments, fucking his hips up and coating his cock with the dripping of your needy cunt. 

Out of everything he’s ever said to you up to this point, out of everything he’s fucking done to you, that’s the one thing that has you spiralling into a world of fire. It makes you feel so warm, especially with the head of his cock bumping your clit. He has barely gotten any friction and he is still calling you perfect? Sign you the fuck up, forever, actually. 

“Don’t be stupid,” You start, waving him off between moans and gripping his shoulders.

He grinds up harder at your words though, now propping himself up on his elbows and grabbing your face on both sides. 

“You, don’t be stupid.” He says clearly, pointing his thrusts directly at your clit and moaning only slightly as he looks at you.

You swear, at that moment he could see your entire life. Everything about you. Everything you love and hate. The way he doesn’t look through you but at you? 

“You’re actually insane.” You laugh, crumbling to his pointed gaze and thrusts, your legs automatically shooting up to wrap around his waist. 

He seems proud of being called insane right now. Mostly because he can come up with at least fifty reasons as to why this is anything but insanity, but he remains quiet at the feeling of your legs squeezing around him. 

Such a girl was looking for mundane sex toys to have normal sex with? Lucky you, this is his fucking favorite. Plain ‘ol missionary? Check. Legs squeezing around him, almost pulling him in? Check. Looking directly at the face of the person he wants to make feel good? Check. 

You barely notice his lack of control by this point, the closeness alone feels like you’re already having sex but you realize you’re entirely empty still. This is fine though, until it’s not.

When does it not become fine? When his confident moans turn to soft sighs, and you notice his arms shaking a bit to hold his weight above you, and when his eyes go dead staring at you. You can tell he’s focused entirely on the feeling between the two of you, doing nothing more than aggressive yet…weak grinds? 

“Jay,” You say, slightly out of breath. 

“Hm?” He responds half-heartedly, releasing his weight from one elbow and dropping his head between your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck me.”

It’s like you can feel the switch in his head go from losing sanity to gaining it back in an instant at those words. He felt like he was pleasuring himself against you for so long, with so much friction between your hand and his abdomen constantly pressing into it. He could have gotten off from this, if you wanted him to anyway. It would have been an intense orgasm after working up for so long too, but now? 

He doesn’t even say anything, he doesn’t even move his head from between your neck and shoulder. Instead, you feel him expertly adjust his hips and press in without much trouble. He finds exactly where he belongs so fucking fast that is has you spinning and clenching immediately. 

“Shit,” He drones out with a long sigh, slowly sinking his cock into you. “You’re throbbing.” 

You chuckle, because yeah. You definitely are, but so is he. You can feel his thick length spreading you open inch by inch, until he’s fully planted into you and twitching. Then he doesn’t move again.

“This alone could do me in,” He chuckles against your neck, breathing in a deep sigh and attaching his teeth to your lower ear lobe. “Honestly, I can't believe I didn’t already cum  just from having my fingers in you.”

You’re both flattered and shocked by this comment, before you can even think to respond he’s talking again.

“You’re so tight, so wet.” He soothes himself through the feeling of your walls clenching around him by explaining how good your pussy feels, not yet wanting to move and just wanting to feel what your body does to him on its own. “It’s so hard not to move right now.”

“Please,” You manage to get out, struggling to focus on just one thing with the way he’s talking and the way he sits so perfectly inside of you. “Please, move.”

And he does, instantly. Pulling out and sliding back in so easily that the slapping sound is muted entirely by the matching moan you both release. You can feel his voice vibrating against your neck, and you can imagine he might be able to feel yours through your pulsing walls, because it feels like every sound, touch, and sensation is sent straight there for him to enjoy. 

It doesn’t stop either. Both of you shamelessly moaning at the feeling of him snapping his hips into you at perfect speed, with a perfect voice, and a perfect hand moving up to grip your chest. 

He’s practically blanketing you with his body, your legs holding him in this spot, his hair still finding a way to tickle your cheek with each thrust in. It’s so fucking much. It’s so good, and so…comfortable.

You’re comfortable. So comfortable you don’t even feel the need to rub your clit, you don’t want to chase the orgasm, you just want to feel him. And apparently, he’s still on the same page with you. 

When he lifts his head, kissing the bottom of your chin and then your lower lip, still the two of you are groaning at each deep thrust in, but he manages to talk through it, somehow.

“Don’t stop,” he says, despite you barely doing anything. “Keep doing that.” He continues as his thrusts pick up pace. 

Only now do you realize that you were doing something. Without noticing, your hands were nearly tearing his back apart. Not literally, but your nails may have dug in a few times. Normally, once you notice doing that, you would stop because normally men don’t want the trace of another woman on him. Jay though, he’s in love with the idea that you’ll leave a mark. 

Obsessed with the sting of it, really, loving the idea of going to his night-job tomorrow and staring at all of the toys that don’t offer you a back to hold onto like this. 

You do as he asks much like he does for you, gripping him so tightly that your nails have no choice but to leave half-moon shapes on his skin. Each thrust drags your fingers up, down, up down, and with each thrust it somehow feels deeper, harder, hotter.

When he releases your chest from his other hand and puts it back to your cheek, caressing much like he has each time he’s focused on kissing you, you think you’re a fucking goner. 

As expected, he kisses you at that moment and thrusts once, hard, before holding himself there.

“I’m really close,” He whispers apologetically between kisses, “tell me how to get you there with me.”

You smile when he kisses you again instead of letting you answer, but you fall into it much like he does and you opt to grab that hand on your cheek and guide it to your clit. 

Instantly, he’s rubbing harsh and sloppy circles around it, and you reward him for the perfect work of his fingers yet again with your fingernails digging into his back. He softly moans at that, and you swallow it up all too easily. 

Tensing your muscles, his fingers on your clit work you up so quickly that you barely warn him of your oncoming orgasm, even as his cock sits leaking and heavy inside of you. You don’t even know how to tell him, all you can do is frantically moan out shortly.

“I’m–” 

Instantly his hips are back at work, barely even thrusting but instead remaining buried into you for the most part. He pulls out an inch and slams back in, wanting your orgasm to get him off more than his own movements. And fuck, it does.

The way you clench when you reach your high, slack lips against his own, he releases at what he could argue is the best possible time. Your tenses muscles work him up perfectly, gently massaging his cock as he releases in full without too much overstimulation. 

And you. You have never gotten off with a man staying mostly still inside of you. Actually, you’ve only gotten off that way with toys because nothing beats getting off while completely full. Jay really is something, or, someone. 

The two of you release together, and his lips fall slack just like yours do. The kissing turned to that of desperate, orgasm-fogged moans into the other’s mouth. For some reason, it was incredibly hot to you that you both reacted that way. So insanely drunk on the other that nothing felt embarrassing.

Even the way his fingers moved on your clit through your orgasm, he somehow knew when to go and when to stop. 

Even now, as your orgasm tapers off, you are so blissfully aware that you want to immediately fall asleep even with him inside of you. Jay is polite though, and gently pulls out with a small apology of the mess. 

When he looks at you, looking so sleepy under him, maybe it translates to him too and he instantly yawns but tries to be strong for both of you.

“We should clean up.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

There wasn’t even a question in your head when he slept over that night. He didn’t even hint at leaving. Nor did he hint the morning after as you groggily opened your computer for your daily work. 

He did hint that he would miss you when he eventually had to go to his own house and get ready for an evening at the sex-shop. He also hinted a few times at feeling like, when he looked at you, you weren’t a brand new person in his life. Part of you wonders if that’s because maybe you want to be permanent in his life from now on.

Later that night, he came back. Bright eyes and a stinging back.

For some reason, you feel it’s safe to say that neither of you can stand being apart for too long. So yeah, maybe this is what a normal relationship is like. If, you know, you were in a relationship with him.

Ironically enough, only a few days later that relationship is established in the form of a new car battery and a bottle of lube that he bought for you. 

Not that you need it. (The lube.)

[ruthlesslistener]

Okay having now seen Jurassic Park in full I can say:

a.) Everybody telling me not to bring back the dinosaurs because they're dangerous is full of shit, all these animals are attacking people because they are VASTLY underfed and understimulated. The entire movie was the animals toying with them bc they were bored and likely hungry, not because carnivores just...do that. The entire animal care team and handling was a goddamn disaster. C-

b.) The geneticists were fucking stupid, who the FUCK would patch AMPHIBIAN DNA into REPTILES, they're as distantly related to them as amphibians are to us!! Use bird DNA!! Or DNA from other reptiles! Fuck!!!

c.) On the same note, whoever thought to use all female dinosaurs was huffing paint thinners bc fucking. DAMN IT. PARTHINOGENISIS IS A THING IN REPTILES. YOU DONT EVEN NEED FANCY AMPHIBIAN DNA FOR THAT I AM RATTLING THEIR GENETICISTS BY THE SCRUFF OF THE NECK WITH MY TEETH ARE YOU ALL FUCKING IDIOTS

d.) The lysine contingency plan wouldn't have worked as a useful failsafe because it would have taken too long for the animals to run out of lysine to halt their metabolisms- the killswitch idea is excellent tho and is a legit tactic used for transgenic organisms so A+ for them implimenting that there. I don't exactly have an alternative method either bc I'm not good with metabolism, I just know that depriving them of lysine would likely be bullshit

e.) All the kill scenes were waaay too censored and way less people died than I thought :( major salt to my dad for not letting me watching this as a kid because it would be 'too scary' or 'make me violent' bc this shit was a letdown for how tame it was. Still a good movie but very much not a horror movie

f.) This is an outstanding movie about the hubris of man but I see now why people would think that the moral of the story is 'playing god and bringing back dinosaurs bad' when its really 'billionares are fucking idiots and should trust a wide variety of scientists'. Hammond chose a bunch of fucking idiots to help run his park and trying to monetize living creatures is never a good thing. This is why peer review exists!! This is why its important!!!

g.) this film reminded me that i will never see a living non-avian dinosaur irl and i am sad :(

[thelostconsultant]

Instant dad - part 1

pairing: Oscar Piastri x ex!reader

summary: You have no choice but to tell Oscar he has a five years old son. Now he wants to be a part of his life to make things complicated...

note: Oscar is in his early 30s, so yeah, there's a time jump.

[pilot]

A bit over a week later Oscar was sitting in his rented car in the school’s parking lot, thinking about how this conversation could go. According to you, they were aware of the fact he had not known Oliver existed until recently, so he hoped they didn’t expect him to talk about what he was like. Sure, over the past week he asked you about him, he wanted to prepare for meeting him, but they hadn’t met in person. How could he know what to say? After taking a deep breath, he got out and went inside, feeling more nervous than he did when he was getting in the car before a race.

If he was this nervous now, what would he feel like before meeting his son? 

Spending years in a boarding school prepared him for this meeting, and the principal was everything he imagined him to be. He was polite, not making a fuss over the fact he was–let’s say–famous. He even apologized for the mess he caused, saying he understood it was probably quite a shock for him, but this was the protocol, and they couldn’t make an exception. Oscar kept nodding, even assuring him it was okay, although deep down he was still confused and unsure of things. 

All of this despite his conversation with his mother, who had been overjoyed when she saw a video of Oliver, saying he was truly just like him, and she couldn’t wait to have the chance to meet her grandchild in person. But she also told him maybe this was the best thing that could happen to him. Having a child is truly an experience, and since he was still five, they had the chance to have a wonderful relationship. “You say he loves F1. Just imagine how happy he would be if he could go to some race weekends with you. You could teach him so much about racing, and you could bond over that,” she said. 

After he parked in front of your house in the afternoon, Oscar went to the trunk to get everything he brought with himself. From signed merch from both himself and Lando–just to be sure–to toy racing cars, he had a wide variety of gifts. Something will hopefully become a favorite, an item that he would keep close to himself. Maybe he went overboard, maybe he could’ve brought only one thing, but he had no idea what Oliver liked, so he couldn’t pick just one item. 

“Please, don’t tell me you brought all this for him.”

He looked up with a questioning hum, only to find you standing next to him on the sidewalk. Seeing you again brought back memories of your time together, of all of your little adventures during the short time you spent together, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you fled because you found out you were pregnant. If you didn’t leave him so suddenly, would things be different now? Would you be a big happy family? 

Clearing his throat, he flashed a sheepish smile at you. “I couldn’t choose,” he admitted as he grabbed the duffel bag and followed you to the front door. He couldn’t help but wonder what he could expect, and he had to ask you the most important thing. “Did you tell him that he was meeting his father today?” You nodded. That was good. “Is he excited?”

You bit on your lower lip as you watched him, clearly thinking about how to answer the question. But after a short break, you let out a sigh. “He’s a little confused, I think. My boyfriend, Alejandro, met him when he was only two, the three of us spent a lot of time together, and he moved in last year. Oliver��� He assumed my boyfriend was his dad, which in a way he is, but we had to sit him down and explain the situation to him,” you said, looking sad all of a sudden. 

It was clear now why you were so against telling Oliver the truth. You wanted him to be close to your boyfriend, and you were probably afraid things between them would change once he got into the picture. Maybe you were even afraid things between you and your boyfriend would change too. He couldn’t blame you for that, but now that he knew he had a son, Oscar wanted to be a part of his life. He didn’t want to be some asshole who ignored his own blood. 

Once inside, he put the bag on the floor and followed you to the living room where Oliver was watching some cartoon on TV. Now that he saw him in person, he felt warmth spread through his body, because this kid looked exactly like he did at his age. You cleared your throat next to him to get your son’s attention, and when the kid noticed him, his eyes grew wide from surprise. He got off the couch and slowly walked over to them, his eyes never leaving his face as he tried to process who their guest was. 

“Hello, Oliver,” Oscar said as he crouched down. 

“You’re Oscar Piastri!” he yelled excitedly. 

Oscar couldn’t help but chuckle at this. “I am.”

You reached out to ruffle your son’s hair, then leaned down to be on somewhat eye level with him. “Honey, remember when I said your daddy was going to jump in to see you?” The little boy nodded. “It’s Oscar. He’s your dad,” you told him softly.

Suddenly the excitement was replaced by disbelief, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of you as he tried to process what he’d just been told. The corners of Oscar’s lips curled into a smile as he watched him, waiting patiently for the child’s decision. 

“So he’s my dad?” Oliver asked, earning a nod from you. “Does this mean I’m a Piastri?” It was Oscar’s turn to nod. “Mom, why am I not called Piastri?”

His eyes moved over to you just in time to see you gulp, clearly having trouble figuring out what to say to that. He couldn’t blame you for your confusion, it probably hadn’t occurred to you that one day you would have to respond to this question. With a kind smile, he put a hand on your arm, then turned to his son. “Because I’ve been away for a little too long. But I’m here, your mom and I can discuss if we could change that if you want,” he finished, barely daring to glance up at you, expecting to meet an angry look in your eyes.

But you didn’t look angry, if anything, you seemed relieved that he came to your rescue. There was a glint in your eyes, though, that told him you weren’t happy that Oliver brought up his surname. As he thought about it, it occurred to him that you had mentioned how you considered your boyfriend to be his father in a way, so maybe you would have rather given him his name. 

You placed a soft kiss on your son’s head, then informed him that you would leave the two of them alone so they could get to know each other. Father and son watched you leave the room, then he turned back to the child with a smile. “I brought you some things. Wanna see them?” he asked him, and when the little boy nodded, he went to grab his bag. 

As he opened the zipper, Oliver stood by his side, watching his every move with a happy smile on his face. Oscar pulled out the gifts, one by one, and couldn’t hold back his laugh as he watched his son proudly wearing his new baseball cap and shirt as he examined the toy car in his small hands. He began to talk about the last race, excitedly recounting the most memorable moments, including the end when his father crossed the finish line first. His big brown eyes turned to him, then he said that he was so happy he was here. 

When he wrapped his short arms around him, Oscar did the same and even pressed a kiss on the kid’s head. There was undeniably a certain connection between them that he couldn't explain, but they both knew it was there, otherwise his son probably wouldn't be this chill with the idea of being alone with a stranger. Okay, that and the fact he was his favorite driver.

They sat down in the middle of the living room, and Oliver decided to talk about his favorite books, proudly telling his father that he knew how to read, and that according to you and your boyfriend he was really good at it. “The other kids can barely read yet,” he said with a smug smile, “and I'm already learning math!”

“Do you know how to play chess?” Oscar asked him, but the boy only shook his head. “I should teach you. I started when I was younger than you, and my mom refused to play with me after a while.”

“Because you were so good?” 

With a shrug, he stretched his arms above his head. “I don't know, but I guess I was better than her. Not sure about other people, though,” he admitted with a warm smile.

Oliver let out a thoughtful hum. “Is she as awesome as my mom?” he suddenly asked, looking back at him. 

A laugh escaped him at the thought, which made his son tilt his head to the side in question. “That depends on who you ask. She loves to embarrass me online, which isn't always a good thing, but I love her, she's the best mum I could ask for. And there are a lot of people, especially my fans, who absolutely adore her for this gentle bullying,” he added with a laugh.

“My mom would never do that,” Oliver stated, his little nose scrunching at the thought. “She loves me too much.”

The two of them spent the next hour or so talking, sometimes stopping when the little boy got distracted by something he caught on TV. But he seemed interested, he wanted to learn as much as he could, and it was true the other way around, because Oscar asked a lot of questions too. He hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed until you walked in to tell your son it was time for dinner, a statement that came with the question whether or not his dad was allowed to stay. 

You didn’t let him stay, saying he was probably tired from traveling so much, then gave him a begging look to make him speak up too. Oscar let out a sigh and forced a smile on his face. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be back tomorrow. I’m staying for a few days and your mum let me come to see you every day,” he said happily. “In fact, I’ll be looking out for you tomorrow while she’s at work. How does that sound?”

Oliver squealed from happiness before he hugged you both, thanking you over and over again for letting him come over. “Can we go to the zoo?” he asked with bright eyes as he looked over at his father. 

“Sure, whatever you want,” Oscar responded with a nod. 

“Okay, time to wash your hands, Alejandro will be home soon, so we can start to eat,” you asked your son. Once he said goodbye to Oscar and disappeared, you turned to him with a forced smile. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

With a sigh, he stepped closer to you. “You were right, he’s a lot like me,” he began quietly, then stopped to consider what to say. He knew deep down that you wanted him to stay away, you didn’t want him to ruin the balance of your little family, but how could he give you that after getting to know his son? Oliver was his blood, he was truly a mini version of him, there was no way he would turn his back on him now. 

You knew. After all these years, despite your time together being so short, you still knew him well enough to know what was going on in his head. “Just don’t break his heart, okay?” you asked, earning a nod from him. “Thanks for… everything. Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow. Have a good night.”

tagged: @hc-dutch @nxlx96 @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @laanswife @chunkpiboli @pakotrzl @1800-love-me

important: the taglist is closed. in fact, this might be the first and last time i'm doing this, because leaving someone out accidentally stresses me. sorry.

Anyway, what do you think? Should I continue?

[goddessjade1]

Your search for the Perfect Dominatrix Mistress is over.

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I do not offer sexual services or nudity of any kind and on any suggestion I will stop the session and you will be blacklisted.At the moment I am running my sessions in a well equipped attic “Dungeon” set up in a domestic environment.

My kinks are edging, pegging, sissification, anal, JOI, CBT, face sitting, spanking, electrics, cuckhold, CP, ball busting, tease & denial, role play, chastity, feet, caging, pet-play, humiliation, whipping, diapers, and a lot more......

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[starhotchgf]

A innocent Woman

Y/N is a virgin woman at 29 years old, but she never imagined that a gift from her best friend would make her get fucked by her co-worker, with whom she also shares an apartment. But I wouldn't be able to complain about the feeling of being completely ruined by the genius Spencer Reid.

warnings: use of toys, use of pet names, rough sex, overstimulation, unprotected sex (don't do it), squirting and brief voyeur.

English is not my first language, so forgive any mistakes!

ps: Penelope is the best friend in the whole world.

Y/N was a virgin and that was a secret that only her best friend Penelope knew. She had known for less than a week, but she was still the only one who knew it besides her mother, who didn't act like a conservative mother like the others, because she was always trying to arrange sexual encounters for her daughter. She was already 29 years old, but she had never gone beyond kissing and touching herself with her ex-boyfriends. It wasn't something she saved for the right person, she just never saw the right opportunity to let her virginity go.

You weren't surprised when a package arrived at your apartment door on the morning of your weekend off. It had a note from Garcia. You smiled as you picked up the box and took it to your bedroom, imagining it was just a stupid book about sex and its health benefits, but your eyes widened when you saw what was inside the package. You hadn't been wrong to think of it as a book. There really was a book inside, but what caught your attention the most was the wide variety of sex toys that were also inside the box. She ran her fingers over one of the silicone vibrators and took it out of the box, startled by the size of the thing she was now holding in one hand. She looked at the details and felt her cheeks burning. She mentally thanked her roommate for not being there. Spencer would certainly think things about herself. She wouldn't have the courage to look him in the eye if he saw what she had in her hands.

She threw the sex toy on the bed and picked up the book, opening it to the page marked by a small iron clip. There was another note from her best friend inside. She felt like burying her face in the floor and never taking it out again.

I think you might like some of the things in here, but everything is better when tested with someone.

I hope you enjoy my gift. I'll want all the details. Don't hide from me the incredible pleasures that life gives us

You sat on the bed with the books in your hands, but not before closing the bedroom door. You flipped through the pages marked by Garcia and felt your breathing become labored at times, causing you to cross your legs automatically, your heart beating faster than usual. Your skin felt hot and knew it was red, but you didn't hesitate to take off your clothes and lie down on the bed, leaving the box with the other toys on the floor, the forgotten book on the dresser and the silicone vibrator in your hands, running it over your skin until you reached the place that was throbbing with anxiety. You had never felt anything like that before.

“Oh shit” You moaned, passing the toy over your wet lips, you felt like you were dripping, but that sensation wasn't enough. “Oh my God” You whimpered, pressing the vibrator to your aching clitoris, your eyes rolled back automatically, your legs opening and giving even more access to the light vibrations of the dildo. “This feels so good, yes”.

You couldn't think of anything coherent at that moment, just rambling with low words and a tone almost like crying in your voice, small, soft moans escaping through your parted lips. It was as if all your limbs were too heavy, your brain seemed to melt and your body convulsed, your eyes rolling and closing with the pleasure that spread throughout everything.

Your ears felt like they had cotton balls, which prevented you from hearing any sound other than your own moans. Your phone that was constantly ringing on the bed was forgotten, your boss worried on the other end of the line, but nothing other than your pleasure mattered at that moment, not when your body begged for an orgasm immediately.

…

“Dr. Reid” The man answered the phone, stopping the car on the side of the road so he wouldn't get a ticket. He had just left a lecture on serial killers in a criminology class, the students seemed too entertained, he had completely lost track of time, answering questions and doubts about the cases he solved in the BAU.

“Reid, it’s me, Hotch.”

“Oh sure, Hotch, is there a problem, do we have a case?” He asked, preparing himself for whatever his boss was going to say, even though his body was already begging for at least a good night’s sleep that weekend. “Do you want me to go to the headquarters?”

“No, we don’t have a case. Y/N isn’t answering the phone, I’ve called more than five times, then I remembered that you two share an apartment and I thought it would be best to ask for your help. Do you know why she’s not answering?”

“I don’t know, I’m not at home, I had a lecture this afternoon, but I’m already heading back to the apartment. I’ll check on whatever it is, I’ll call you to let you know, Hotch.”

“Thanks, Reid, I’ll be waiting for your call.”

Spencer quickly turned off his phone and started the car again, hoping he wouldn't break any traffic laws as he ran to the apartment. Y/N didn't usually leave her phone off, she was always the first to answer Aaron when the man called, he couldn't imagine what could be happening. It took him 8 minutes to get to the apartment, fumbling with the set of keys as she opened the door with some desperation. He looked around the living room and everything was in its place, the woman's keys on the coffee table, her cell phone next to it, the lost flames appeared on the screen, but the device was still on. Spencer walked down the hallway and looked in his own room, which was still organized as when he had left, he turned around and walked to her room.

"Y/N? Are you there?" The man asked, knocking on the wooden door. Some murmurs didn't go unnoticed, Spencer arched his eyebrow, knocking on the door again. No response, the woman wasn't listening and the worst-case scenarios went through the doctor's head, who didn't hesitate to turn the handle and open the door.

The agent's eyes froze as he looked at the scene in front of him, his fingers still holding the doorknob and an expression of shock. Y/N was lying on the bed, a sheet thrown over her belly, her legs spread and her head thrown on the pillow, her lips parted in low moans and pleasurable murmurs. Her skin was sweaty, shining in the room's lighting, her hair spread and stuck to her forehead, her cheeks red and her toes curled.

"Holy shit," Spencer said, letting go of the doorknob. The woman opened her eyes in fright, pulling the sheet to cover her body completely, the man turned around, closing his eyes. "Sorry! Hotch was calling you and you didn't answer, we thought something had happened."

"Oh my God." You moaned embarrassed, throwing the toy on top of the wet sheets. Spencer just mumbled an apology and locked the door again, leaving you alone, with nothing but the embarrassment of being caught red-handed in that situation.

…

You didn't know how long you had been in the room, but you knew you couldn't stay locked in the place all day. A robe was thrown over your body, all the toys were thrown inside your wardrobe and the sheets were on the floor. You opened the bedroom door begging it not to make any noise, but the creaking of its lock was obvious throughout the apartment, as if it was seeping into every possible room, it was no different with the noises of the wooden floorboards, which creaked when you reached the living room.

Spencer turned to look at you, a cup of coffee in his hand and a small smile on his face, everything seemed normal. You adjusted the robe on your body and walked to the sofa, sitting a few inches away from the genie, who pointed to the cup on the table, the liquid was still hot. The man seemed to have guessed when you would leave the room, even after all the embarrassment from hours before.

“I already told Aaron that everything was fine and I fixed your report, it was just a wrong date, nothing too worrying, a typo.” The man said, taking another sip of the hot coffee. “Everything is fine between us, right? I’m sorry I came in, it’s just that I knocked and you didn’t answer, I thought you were hurt.”

“It’s okay, I should have locked it anyway. It wasn’t your fault, I think it was mine actually.” You laughed, your cheeks turning red as you remembered the look he was giving you. The agent just nodded, laughing at the thought that they would never be able to tell anyone about that.

“Are they new? There was a box in your room,” he said, so distracted that he at least measured his words before speaking. “You don’t have to answer, I didn’t think before I asked.”

“Okay. Yes, they’re new, they were actually a gift from Garcia, I guess she doesn’t have many filters when it comes to gifts, but it would be rude to refuse the act of affection.” You replied, crossing your legs in a way that moved the fabric of your robe over your skin. The genie didn’t hide his gaze, the smile on his face growing as he went up and met your eyes.

“Well, I guess you can’t say you didn’t like it. It would be a big lie, Y/N.” He murmured, drinking more liquid from the cup. “I would be a witness to your lie.”

“And I would be a witness to how paralyzed you were when you opened the door, Dr. Reid.”

“It’s not every day you see a needy little thing like you like that, it’s no surprise that I was paralyzed.” You spoke confidently, smiling and placing the cup of coffee on the table, so that he could stand up and stand in front of you. “Tell me, how many times did you cum with the help of that toy? You were so wet.”

You were staring at the genie with your eyes still, almost wide open as you realized the sexual confidence that Spencer exuded at that moment. He was looking at you with a sideways smile and dark eyes, so dark that you could get completely lost in them. The man touched her on the shoulder, the sleeve of her robe falling gently, revealing her unmarked skin, ready to be decorated by him and only him.

“Spence?” She asked, her eyes rising until they met his completely. “What-” Your speech was interrupted by the man, who bent down in front of you, his fingers touching the fabric of your robe until your skin was fully exposed from the waist down. Your intimacy was still wet, your previous orgasms still showing on your legs. You were embarrassed, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to look at the genie.

“Open your eyes, darling. I want you to watch as I devour you and make you cum in my mouth, I want to take every drop of pleasure from inside you, do you want that too? I bet you're so anxious, you can't even control yourself, so pathetically needy and hot.”

Your fingers flew to the man's hair as kisses began to be placed on your thighs, his hot breath hitting your intimacy only made you yearn even more for what was to come next. Spencer smiled, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your skin, just having fun with your anxiety. The agent wanted to test how devoted to him you could be when you were anxious to feel the least bit of pleasure he could give. You hoped the man didn't realize how much you would accept anything from him at that moment.

"Spence, please!" You whimpered, pulling the strands of your hair, bringing the man's face closer to your intimacy. "I need you."

"Do you need me?" He mocked, seeing a few anxious tears appearing in the corners of her eyes. The genius was being so mean to her, she felt like she could go crazy if he didn't put his mouth on her pussy soon.

It was only two seconds before a scream echoed through the room. It had come from her lips when the man finally started sucking on her intimacy. He seemed hungry, passing his mouth over each spot, leaving her even wetter than she already was. Her sensitive clitoris ached deliciously, her body writhed with the pleasurable sensation of having his lips on her needy pussy.

“Oh fuck, you’re so good at this.” Her eyes rolled back, her lips parted, with a trickle of saliva running down her chin. She felt like her brain was melting from the amount of pleasure she was feeling at that moment.

The man stuck his tongue inside her pussy several times, extracting every drop of pleasure that dripped from her entrance. But it was when his fingers found the spot that she felt her vision darken. It seemed like there were little stars in front of her, which grew larger as the genius curved his fingers inside her, hitting places she didn’t imagine possible.

The warm feeling in your stomach warned you how close a new orgasm was becoming, tears streaming down your eyes and joining the saliva that came out of your lips, everything seemed to be a big mess at that moment. But nothing mattered except the growing feeling that you were going to cum again, you writhed on the couch, scratching Spencer's shoulders and neck. The man moaned against your intimacy, sending vibrations that brought new things to your pleasure. Fuck, you felt like you were going to die at any moment.

“I'm-” A loud scream interrupted your speech, a squirt escaped from your intimacy, wetting the man's entire face and chest. You whimpered when he didn't stop, cleaning all the liquid that was still left on you at that moment. “Damn” You gasped, looking down, met the agent's surprised gaze and a small smile on the side. “It's my first time, at all, I've never done this” You confessed, closing your eyes in shame, you felt your cheeks heating up and knew you were blushing.

“No need to be shy, you just squirted in my face and because of me, you being a virgin only boosts my ego more. Fuck Y/N, can you even imagine how hot this is? Can I be your first?”

“Yes, I want you to be my first, please,” she begged, opening her eyes to meet the man’s. Spencer just smiled, standing up to pull her up, hard enough for her to jump on his lap, her legs entwined around his waist and her face close to his. The man had never looked so attractive as he did at that moment.

“Your first time won’t be on a couch, darling.”

…

Your back touched the soft mattress of Spencer’s bed, only the bedroom lamp was on, the curtains closed and the door ajar. The man smiled as he stood up, taking off his shirt, wet from his internal orgasm, and throwing it on the floor, leaving only the gray sweatpants he was wearing. You were enchanted by his lean, attractive body, his strong arms, but not so apparent, he was completely gorgeous, you felt like your eyes could be shining when you looked at him.

“Do you like what you see, darling?” He whispered, finally lowering his sweatpants. Only then did she realize the agent's lack of underwear, he had been without underwear the whole time. You were startled by how big he was, your lips parting in an anxious moan, she would be able to beg to have him inside her. "You need to be fucked so much, don't you? So needy, but I'll take care of you, just me" he said possessively, climbing onto the bed and crawling until he was between her thighs, her intimacy was still sensitive, but she longed for the man's cock inside her.

"Fuck me, I need you so much" she confessed, moaning at the end of her speech, she could no longer stand that heat of need and anxiety. "Inside me, I need you inside me" she begged when she saw that mocking look on Spencer's face, she knew exactly what he would ask if she hadn't said that right after.

"So smart, baby, so good for me. Begging like that makes me want to ruin you completely." He whispered, his lips touching hers tenderly. A kiss was initiated, a good enough distraction for the pain that slowly spread through the woman's intimacy. She closed her eyes and moaned between the kiss, tears pricking her eyes at the uncomfortable sensation. "Shh, it will pass soon." The minutes passed slowly, but she couldn't identify when the pain turned into pleasure. The man moved slowly, only slowly undulating his hips, delighting in the moan of pleasure that escaped his lips. Your eyes met in the middle of the movements, your lips opened in beautiful moans and small whimpers. You tried to move your own hips against his, but the man's hands on your waist prevented you from doing that. Spencer was having fun doing all the work there.

“You look so beautiful around me.” He moaned, hitting the bottom of your pussy with a stronger thrust, that took you to heaven and pulled you to hell in the same proportion. A scream escaped your lips when one of the man's hands went to your clit, making small circles and rubbing, increasing even more the stimulation that he felt with his cock. “If I knew it would be like this, I would have fucked you so long ago. Fuck, I haven't been able to take my eyes off you since you arrived at the BAU, always so beautiful, your eyes so innocent, I always knew what you were looking for.”

“Spence-” You moaned, choking on a sob as you felt so stimulated, your eyes spilling more tears down your red and wet cheeks. Your crying was pleasurable, your body contorting as if you were getting closer and closer to a new orgasm. You were going to milk the man's cock so well, every second would be worth it, all you wanted was to feel his cum inside your pussy.

The thrusts increased even more, their hips moving together, their moans echoing through the room and reverberating off the walls, they felt like they could wake up the entire neighborhood in that vulgar and pleasurable way.

She felt her vision go blurry when their lips met in a sloppy kiss, full of saliva, tears and disconnected moans from the pleasure that increased even more through her veins. Spencer didn't stop playing with her clitoris, while her nails scratched the man's back and neck, leaving obvious red marks.

The agent lowered his lips to her neck, biting and sucking wherever he could reach, covering her with marks that were impossible to be covered by any makeup she had. Her eyes closed when another orgasm took over her body, making her legs tremble and her arms completely lose their grip. Spencer didn't need anything else, he came inside her, moaning muffled against her neck.

Her body fell to her side, her panting breathing slowly regularizing. The man looked at her, taking a deep breath as he spread kisses across your face and shoulder. You moaned in satisfaction, curling up against his chest, resting your head lightly, your eyes closing in exhaustion.

“That was perfect,” she said, her voice hoarse from how much she had moaned, her eyes closed and her lips red from the kisses and bites. You were a work of art in his eyes.

“I’m afraid I won’t let you be anyone else’s, darling.”

“I don’t want to be anyone else’s, love.”

[daydreams-after-dark]

SMUT WARNING // MDNI ⚠️ scientist!Chan (Chris) x test subject fem!reader

Scientist Chan Masterlist

Part 1 of ∞

Scientist Christopher is doing experiments on making pussies come. He has a range of devices (vibrating devices) that he uses on his subject each night, and you’re his favourite subject.

Approx 5 minute read

Unhinged level 🤡🤡🤡

CW: master/sub type role, sex experiments, sex toys, praise, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, cream pie.

Every night he sets you up on the bed that’s situated in his office and gets you to spread really wide, sometimes putting your legs in stirrups. It always starts with a “hole inspection” before moving onto the “stimulation phase”.

Sometimes he uses a small and intense vibrating device on your clitoris, with no other stimulation, and he doesn’t take it away after you come.

Sometimes his goal is to make you come as fast as possible.

Other times he sees how long he can edge you, using a variety of devices. He watches intensely, taking notes on how the stimulation affects you. It usually reduces you to a whimpering, begging, mess.

And sometimes he wants to see how many orgasms he can get out of you. The record is eleven.

But tonight when you arrive he wants to try something completely different. Instead of having you lay on the bed, he gets you to sit on his desk, legs spread wide for him.

You notice he looks unusually disheveled and flustered tonight, as he lowers his chair so his face is at a better level to view your pussy.

“As usual let’s start by seeing how wet you are. Prop your feet up on the desk.” He taps the top of the desk. You comply. You’re so exposed, as usual. And you’re wet, as usual.

“Fuck!” Chris whispers as he spreads your pussy lips apart and runs the pad of his thumb against your opening and dragging it up to your clit.

You moan and lean back on your elbows. “Fuck, Sir… feels good.” You whimper.

Chris looks up and meets your gaze and you can’t help but beg with your eyes for him to make you come.

“You know,” he says quietly and licks his lips as his eyes go back to your dripping pussy. “There’s still something we need to check that we haven’t checked before. Do you know what that could be?”

“N-no… I don’t, Sir.” You stammer.

Chris slides two fingers inside your cunt and starts to dig against your gspot. You cry out at the sensation. It immediately brings you so close to climaxing.

“We need to see if this pussy can take cock.” He said matter of factly, removing his fingers and leaving you feeling empty. Empty and fucking desperate.

“I need to see if it can be done? Can we try?” He asks. He always asks when introducing a new stimulus.

You nod profusely. “Yes sir… please… see if it can take cock.”

Chris stands up in front of you and unbuckles his belt. You have never seen his dick, but you’ve seen the bulge in his trousers countless times before when he’s worked his experiments on you.

Your eyes widen when you see it. Thick. Long. Full. Veiny. How the fuck was it ever going to fit?

“We need to go slowly to ensure you stretch properly. Just relax for me. Can you do that for me?” He says gently stroking your inner thigh with one hand and the other pumping his cock.

“Mmm-hmm. I’ll try..” You say.

“Good girl.” He replies lining the head of his cock up to your cunt. He doesn’t penetrate you. He knows how your body responds to sexual touch. He knows it won’t take long to prep you enough for penetration. The question is, can you take all of him?

Chris reaches into the top drawer of his desk and brings out his strongest bullet vibrating device and places it over your clit. It only takes a moment for your body to respond. You are already starting your tremble. Your arousal is leaking onto the desk.

Chan hums in approval as your pussy clenches and releases as though it’s trying to suck him inside.

“I-I’m going to push inside… ready?” The usually composed Chris was showing signs of desperation. He’s imagined what it would feel like to have you wrapped around his cock for a long time now. How would feel? Warm? Wet? How tight would you squeeze him? What would your pretty little hole look like with his cum oozing out of it.

“Please…” you squeak, bringing Chris out of his thoughts. He won’t have to wonder any longer.

He squeezes the head of his cock into you. Just the tip, and pauses. The stretch is intense already.

“More… please… need more.” You cry. Chris raises an eyebrow “So this is what babygirl needs, hmmm. To be filled with cock.” He puts the vibrator on the desk, then pushes the underside of your thighs wide with his hands to give him as much access as possible. “I need to see if you can take the rest in one go. I’m going to push in the whole way.” His eyes flick up to meet yours for consent.

“Yes. Fill me up, Sir.” You have no hesitation. You need him.

“Okay. Relax for me.” And he pushes his entire length into your cunt. “There you go. There you go…big stretch…that’s it…good girl.”

It’s the best pleasure-pain you’ve ever felt. Chris’s cock stretching your walls and kissing your cervix is nothing like you’d imagined. He is so deep inside you. His hips pressing against your body. Connected so intimately.

For a moment Chris remains still. “Very good… Your pussy can accommodate cock rather well.” He states looking down to where your bodies are connected. “Now we need to check how hard your pussy can take it.”

Fuck! Just that sentence alone makes your insides burn and you involuntarily clench around Chris’s cock. He smirks, taking a mental note of your reaction. He knows you like dirty talk from previous experiments, but he wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it with him buried inside of you.

“Ready for me to move?” He inquires. He’s using all his self control to wait until you’re ready. You sit up, taking Chris by surprise, and reach up to the buttons on his shirt. Your faces are so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek. He looks down to watch your hands unbutton his shirt and pull it off his shoulders, tossing it to the floor. You gasp at the sight of his body and explore his toned muscles with your fingertips. Chris is as still as a statue and hard as stone inside you.

You slowly lift your gaze to find he is staring at your lips. Your hands find the back of his neck and you bravely bring your mouth to his. Chris moans at the softness of your lips. You slowly push your tongue into his mouth. It’s your turn to explore him. He knows your body so well, but this - kissing, fucking - it’s new to you both.

Chris kisses you back fervently and pushes you to lay down on the desk, him still attached to your mouth and your cunt. He starts to move inside of you. Slowly withdrawing and sinking back in. Slow and deep. His hands slide underneath your t-shirt finding your bare beast and he groans as he squeezes it. His mouth kisses every inch of skin on your neck. It’s like the floodgates have opened and he can finally show you how he feels. That you’re his favourite test subject.

Your moans and whimpers echo around the room. You’re desperate for Chris to ruin you.

“Y-you need to f-find out how h-hard I can t-take it.” You manage between heavy breaths.

Chris stops kissing you and leans up to take a good look at you. “You’re right.” He stands up and pulls you closer to the edge of the desk. “Let’s see how hard you can take it.”

You aren’t prepared for the intensity - the brutality - of his thrusts. Each one knocking the breath out of you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, babydoll. So wet too. You should see the cream on my cock.” He grunts.

All you can do is cry, pant and moan as you have your brains fucked out. His thrusts push you across the desk.

“No baby, you’re not going anywhere.” He growls grabbing your legs and pulling you back towards him. Bending your legs to fold you practically in half, Chris continues to pound against your cervix. He brings a hand to your stomach and presses down to apply more pressure around his cock. This in turn allows his cock to press against your gspot.

“F-fuck!” You arch your back off the desk. “I’m so s-so close.”

“Hold your legs up for me pretty girl.” Chris instructs. Then you feel vibrations on your clit. The vibrator. Your eyes roll onto the back of your head as your legs shake and your cunt pulsates. “I’m fucking coming!” You scream, and as your orgasm hits you squirt all over the vibrator, Chris’s hand and his cock.

Chris doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow down. He doesn’t remove the vibrator. He just fucks you even harder. The overstimulation brings tears to your eyes, but the impact of Chris’s thrusts dull the discomfort, and after another moment you find yourself coming again, making you cry out even louder than before.

Chris grunts and growls and then finally stills. Then you feel it, his cock pulsating inside of you as he paints your insides with his hot cum.

He pulls out while you’re still catching your breath, and crouches down so he can watch his cum seep out of your swollen pussy. He hisses through his teeth. “So fucking hot.” Then with two fingers, he pushes his cum back inside your cunt.

“You need to keep this inside of you okay. Let’s not let it leak out too much or I’ll have you keep filling you up.”

You sit up, making the cum ooze out again.

“You did that on purpose.” Chris’s tone is unamused, but there is a smirk on his face.

“Whoops. You’re going to have to repeat the experiment, fill me up again.” You taunt playfully.

“Hmm. I think you’re ready for us to move on to the next phase of the experiment.” He said, ignoring your brattiness. “Next time we will see how your pussy takes it in various positions. Then after that perhaps seeing if it can take two cocks at once. I have a fellow scientist who I think will be perfect for the job.”

…

Part 2 In this installment, he explores your reaction to various sexual positions, and introduces anal penetration while on a video call with Professor Lee Minho

This is a slight rework of an older story I wrote. It may be familiar to some.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina

@wolfennracha @chuuchuu1224

If you’ve been tagged twice I’m so sorry, but I’m having tumblr problems with getting tagging to work.

@3rachasdomesticbanana

@palindrome969

@xxkissesforchanniexx

@fun-fanfics

[mamayan]

🎃 Happy Halloween 🎃

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader

Good girls should just stay home, lest something goes bump in the night.

cw: NSFW • Implied Murder • Implied Serial Killer • Consensual Non-Consent turned Non-Consensual • Noncon • Dubcon • Abuse • Fingering (F) • Oral (M) • Deep Throating • Rough Sex • Attempted Murder • Hair Pulling • Degradation/Slight Humiliation • Dacryphilia • Yandere Themes • Kidnapping • a little OOC • This story possessed me and basically wrote itself • Barely proof read tbh

wc: 7k+

Something must be wrong with you.

Or at least, that’s what you imagine the world would think if anyone knew what you were doing.

The room was dark aside from the blue glow of your computer screen. The black web browser with red lettering almost ominous as your eyes scanned the consent form again. It was a consent form just to access the full website, on the surface serving only as a dating type of situation for the BDSM community. Beneath it though were layers deeper than what the simple description actually provided. You only found out about it through a deep dive into multiple sub-threads of Reddit. It was a basket case of crazy, the majority of information or advice, but you managed to dig up one reliable looking source.

This website you were currently on. L@ce&R0pe.com happened to provide a wide variety of goodies, from sex toys to actual published books on shibari, there wasn’t much you couldn’t find. Except like all websites not swallowed up by the deep web, there was never any section like the one you wanted so desperately.

Except this one, because your mouse didn’t hesitate to shift and hover over the drop down section for MEET, where you could link up with real people for whatever your heart desired really. You trailed down to NEW FRIEND, and clicked. A new tab opened, this one themed differently than the main website. It was light blue and pink, almost like a baby shower, except the only thing on the page was a single drop down menu, and clicking it made your head ache. There were thousands of options, but thankfully it was organized alphabetically, so you could easily scroll mindlessly until you hit the C section.

You found what you wanted, clicking it as your chosen option and hitting GO.

The screen changed, this time it looked similar to a dating profile fillable. You worked quickly, efficiently even, as you typed all your information in.

Not your name or address, nothing silly like that. Just your measurements, your favorite foods or beverages, the color of your eyes, your hair color, your height, and even the style of your nails. It asked if you liked to brush your hair everyday, how often you showered, what shampoo or body wash you like. You answered them all, as invasive as they soon became, you never wavered. What brand of deodorant do you use? How often do you clip or file your nails? To what length? Do you shave your pubic area? How often? What style? How many sexual partners have you had? Where have you had sex? Which hole do you prefer? Are you a crier or a screamer? Does blood turn you on? Do you like physical or mental pain more? Have you ever been raped before?

They got more personal and physiological as you answered. You felt hot and stuffy despite the window being open and the cool autumn air blowing in. You kept answering even as your throat got tighter and unease nestled into your clavicle.

Do you want to know who your new friend will be?

This time you do hesitate. Knowing would make it feel safer. Knowing would give you some semblance of control. Knowing would be the smart choice.

You clicked “no” and submitted the form, sealing your fate as your hands shook and adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You set the date for October 31st. Now all you had to do was wait and show up.

A notification hit his phone, lighting up the screen as cigarette smoke billowed around him in the back alley. A quick glance was all he needed to unlock and fully see the entire screen. The leather of his jacket rubbed against the brick he leaned against.

Halloween was probably the best time for such fun, crime rates skyrocketing and parties being loud and wild really left a big gaping hole for any type of heinous activity to occur. He grinned as the information poured onto his screen. His dick already becoming painfully hard as he read all your supplied information. You liked breath play, having someone spit in your mouth, even being slapped around. He was always amazed by the lack of shortage for sick freaks like you, but then again, he was one of them too. Licking his top lip, tongue piercing flicking out to rub against his cupid’s bow, he clicked “ACCEPT” on the notification. He had all your information, the when and where, and your adorable little comment of “Please don’t degrade me.” What more could he ask for? His smile is sinister in the low light off the neon sign of the bar, casting a purplish hue on his skin as he chuckles and shoves his phone away. Flicking his cigarette butt onto the dirty ground, he cracked his neck and knuckles before going back inside to finish his beer and round of pool with his friends.

He’ll see you on Halloween. He might even dress up a little for the occasion.

It’s cold.

It’s nearly November so you hadn’t expected warm weather necessarily, but it seemed chillier than usual despite your fairly insulated dress.

You dressed up as an angel, the irony not lost on you at all but it felt fitting almost for the occasion. The pristine white looked off in your surroundings. It was nearly midnight, but despite that the sidewalk of the park was filled with a fairly regular crowd of people passing through, on to the next party or home to sleep off all the alcohol. Really, you weren’t too out of place, in your white stockings and black heeled boots, the fluffy ruffled white babydoll dress that barely covered your ass or tits and the wings which were strapped around your shoulders and jutted out behind you. On your head was a slim clip which was attached to a white shiny halo that seemed to float above you, only a thin wire keeping it up. You’d at first felt a little exposed passing children going home for the night after trick or treating, eyes of judgemental families which you ignored boring into you, but now it was time for the adults to have fun. You’d already passed a plethora of college students or older dressed even more scantily than you, making you feel better, safer, out in the park you’d chosen. You’d chosen 0300 as your designated meetup time, but specified you’d be early in case they wanted to start sooner. So here you stood, under a streetlamp that illuminated you in a yellow glow, making you seem even more angelic despite the ominous darkness surrounding you. You were busy playing on your phone, scrolling mindlessly and trying not to appear too excited. Or scared. You figured it was a combination of both, the arousal and fear bleeding into one very specific but unnamed emotion. Tapping your boot to a rhythm only you could hear, the night drew on and another hour passed. The droves of people passing didn’t dwindle, but it was always a group, never a single individual which you hoped was your new friend. It was almost 0130 when you felt watched, goosebumps rising on your skin as you realized someone must be looking at you. A quick glance around showed no one though, and after ten minutes your hope dissolved into disappointment. It seemed your friend wasn’t an early bird.

“Hey,” a raspy, deep voice speaking almost directly into your ear, startling you enough to elicit a yelp. You turned, eyes landing on a dark clothed chest and trailing up to a hooded face you could barely make out through a mess of blue hair. His lips look a bit chapped, a small scar decorating a corner, but his teeth are white and straight as he smiles a grin that causes shivers to shoot down your spine.

…maybe your friend was an early bird, just not as much as you.

You take a step back, stuttering stupidly due to your overactive nerves and the earlier shock of his sudden appearance. “H-hi…um,” the stranger tilts his head, eyes still not visible, dark hoodie baggy on his frame. He looks a bit thin, like he wouldn’t have a lot of strength, his jeans having some strange splattering of fake blood or something on them. You lick your lips, heart ready to leap from your chest but not quite ready for the events to unfold.

Or maybe you were very ready.

“You’ve been standing here for hours,” he comments nonchalantly, hands moving to shove inside the large inner pocket on his hoodie, “Aren’t ya tired of waiting for your boyfriend?” His question is a bit confusing, and when you glance around you, it dawns that there’s no one out right now. When had the crowds dwindled to nothing? “I don’t… have a boyfriend…” you had clearly stated that online too, so he already knew the answer to your relationship status. Was he just teasing? Keeping this as realistic as possible? It made you a bit pleased. You fiddled with the ends of your cute frilly dress, exposing a small portion of your skin and garter belt which kept your thigh high socks up. His eyes tracked the motion, lips pulling up even higher making his smile menacing. Dangerous. “That so?” He asks, but it doesn’t seem like he’s too interested in a reply as he steps closer, his beat up sneakers so silent on the ground it’s a little unnerving. Since he’s playing along so much, it feels wrong for you to not reciprocate.

“What do you think you’re doing, creep? Stay back,” You hope he’s not offended by the name, figuring it wasn’t too mean or odd of a thing to call him. Your firm stance and defiant gaze make him pause, head tilting again but he’s quick to recover and laugh. It’s less of a sexy and deep chuckle like you expected, and more pitched and giggly. It’s almost creepy to hear from a grown man. Like a child from a horror movie laughing. “Creep? Yeah? Guess I am, but you know what?” His head lifts, and since he’s more centered under the tall street lamp, when he looks straight at you, two red eyes flash. “I’m a lot fucking worse than your average dumbass creep,” you jolt when he lunges at you, hand outstretched to grab you. It’s instinctive how quickly you turn and run, adrenaline helping you shoot off into the park where no light but the moon shined down. This is what you wanted, you chant to yourself to stay level headed enough to not truly panic. This was staged and as safe as possible. He’s not actually going to hurt you. You’d be fine, albeit maybe a little sore tomorrow morning. You shut your mind off and focus on running, though your speed wasn’t great in such cheap and unstable boots, roots and random objects on the ground constantly tripping you up.

You looked like the dumb girl in the horror movies, tits practically out of your low cut revealing white dress, strapless white bra damn useless and more for show than any real support or push-up. You huffed, digging in your heels when you heard a few twigs snap behind you, feet carrying you faster as you realized he was gaining on you quickly. He didn’t shout and you didn’t scream. The chase was exhilarating, your mind becoming fuzzy as your lungs burned for more oxygen. You hadn’t planned a chase, really leaving it all up to fate and your new friend, but this was perfect.

Until fingers tangled tight in your hair and yanked you completely off your feet, your shoes and legs going out in front of you as you landed gracelessly on your ass. Then an intense burning in your scalp erupts, a hiss of pain and a whine escaping as you slide over cool damp foliage, senseless grumbling coming from the stranger as he drags you into a deeper more secluded section of the park, away from any and all prying eyes. Not like anyone gave a damn. “I-it hurts!” You feel childish for crying, tears pricking your eyes but the burn was worse than you imagined truly, soft hands coming up to try and pry his fingers off.

He has a grip of iron apparently, not the least bit phased as he sighs, hauling you up and tossing you in front of him. You land weirdly on your left shoulder, a shock of pain numbing your mind as you heave for air and roll over. When you open your eyes, you’re face to face with him. His hood pulled off, shoulder length blue hair now tied back and up into a little bun while some stray pieces frame his face and forehead. Your eyes adjust to the darkness as they take him in.

He’s young, maybe early twenties, with pale skin and dark bags hugging beneath his scarlet eyes. He’s got a beauty mark just below his lip on the right side, the scar you saw earlier on the other. He’s not hard on the eyes, cute even, but the strange air around him makes the close proximity fill you with anxiety. His eyebrows are thin and sparse, but he cocks one with a smirk. “Not gonna scream for help, crybaby?” The nickname makes you realize tears are streaming down your cheeks, you blink them away quickly, shaking your head and trying to find your words again. “I—uh, do you want me to?” Wouldn't screaming just make it more likely for someone to call the police? You figured a little noise was fine, but screaming seemed counter productive.

His eyes widened a bit, confusion painting his features as he crouched down more comfortably on his haunches to get a better look at you.

He’d been watching you since you got to the park. A single party in this sort of place always sticks out like a sore thumb. You looked more ready for a porno than a costume party, from behind the view of your ass indescribably arousing in your short little dress. It was both a slutty and innocent look you pulled off well, at least enough to make him riled up, cock twitching in agreement within his pants. He shamelessly rubbed it through his jeans, caressing the hardening length and letting you watch with glee. Your face made him snort, amusement evident as he chuckles and squints. “You like this, little freak?” You looked like you did, he notes. Your wide pretty eyes, still a little teary and red at the ends, showed your blown out pupils. You looked to be more star struck, not terrified like any normal girl chased through a park and dragged into a little corner between some trees to be out of sight. He watches you swallow hard, lips parting before closing as if you aren’t sure what to say to that question. “Fuck, you’re cute,” he grins, “a cute little slut who stood out at night all alone as if begging for someone to come along and do something nasty.” You release a tiny yelp as he meanly shoves you back, straddling your upper chest with his thighs as he hunches over you, looming ominously above with wild eyes screaming for chaos. “Good thing that I came along, huh? Make all your nasty little fantasies come true.” He watches you gasp as he presses his fingers against your lips, confusion evident on your face but you aren’t really putting up much of a fight as you open and let him slide two in. “Nasty fucking girl, look at you, when you don’t even fucking know me.” He chuckles, and while he’s teasing you mostly, he is amazed. You looked erotic as hell right now, little angel costume all wrinkled and a bit dirty from the earth below, pretty face a bit stained with mascara that had run a little from your earlier tears. You weren’t wearing the waterproof kind it seemed. Lips bitten and chewed on, plump and glossy from whatever glittery shit you swiped on them earlier now wrapped around his digits as he dug around in your warm wet mouth. “Suck on them, slut,” he orders, his smile dropping and face becoming more serious as you hurry to obey, a strange trepidation building in your gut. He groans as he feels your tongue wiggle and swirl, pumping his fingers a bit now and enjoying the little bleats you release when he chokes you a bit with them. “Wonder if you’re soaked down here~” he hums, leaning back a bit and yanking his fingers from your lips, wiping the excess saliva across your cheek and huffing a laugh as your features wrinkle in distaste. His hand moves behind him, easy access to your cunt due to the frilly dress hiked up almost around your waist, revealing cute soaked white cotton panties he growls at the sight of. “You really suck at putting up a fight, crybaby, but I think I heard somewhere that girls get wet when scared too…” those red eyes flick back to your own, "You scared?” He asks, almost softly. He watches you breathe, chest struggling a bit under his weight but your hands curled into the fabric of his hoodie, not pushing him away. “A little…?” Is your shaky response, and he wonders silently if you’re an idiot or just a pervert. You might be both, because when he lets his thumb dig into where your pussy lay poorly hidden, you moan for him and spread your legs wider. You make it even easier to search for his desired location, your swollen bundle of nerves. “O-oh—!” Your head falls back, little halo becoming a bit misshapen as it gets flattened to the ground, he tsks, fixing it with his free hand as he thumbs your little clit and watches you mewl and writhe beneath him, pleasure clearly visible on your face. Your hips buck and wiggle, body pinned beneath his and unable to get away or closer like you desperately want for more friction than he’s providing. “P-please,” you can’t help but beg, hoping your new friend is merciful enough to make you cum and not simply edge you all night.

It’s the pouty expression which makes him nearly feral, his grin spreading wide again as he keeps working his finger on your clit but his face closes the distance between your own. His lips just barely graze yours, and you are all too happy to part your lips and give him a sloppy kiss back, his own tongue finally slipping into your mouth where you suck. The smooth muscle in your mouth and the saliva dripping from it drive you wild, hands now dragging him closer and trying to make him do more for you. The heat spreads slowly however, his pace not changing, and despite his slim build he’s much stronger than you. You aren’t able to take any more than what is given, huffing in exasperation and groaning when he places more force before easing off. “S-stop teasing…” you whine against his lips, which were much softer than they look. He smirks, airy chuckle felt more than heard as he shakes with a silent laugh, “how can I not, you’re such a rare find, I plan to take my time with you.” He kisses you hard to silence whatever whines you planned to release to make him give you more. Instead he forces you into a slow building orgasm that leaves him having to pin your wrists above your head lest your clawing rip his skin open. He works you gently and cruelly into it, loving how you gasp and choke for him, eyes rolling back while you shake almost like you’re possessed and soak through your panties. “There you go, heh, normally I wouldn’t bother to take my time with whiny bitches, but you’re more obedient and sweet than I first assumed.” He whispers into your ear as you come down from the mind blowing high, body limp and pliant like dough now. The insult from him brings out a little whine of protest, teary eyes looking at him with almost something akin to betrayal.

“I-I don’t like being called mean names…I said so online too,” he pulls up finally, the chill of the night attacking full force on your now exposed cunt as he brings your panties up to his nose to inhale. His eyes narrow, almost into slits as he pulls them back and shoves them into his hoodie pocket. “Oh yeah? You post that shit on your social media or something? Sorry, I don’t really use those trash platforms. I have a Twitch stream though,” he acts like this is the time for a regular conversation, even as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, yanking them down his hips to pull his cock free. Your eyes go wide, mind a bit blank and missing something, in favor of looking at him pump his length lazily. A trail of blue curls like on his head travel from his navel to his groin where it spreads out a little, the color a bit darker as it goes lower. He’s not one to shave it seems, but your eyes focus on his cock, average in length but girthy with a tip that curves up almost perfectly. It looks like a cock someone would sell as a dildo at a sex store. It was pretty, admittedly, as a few pearls of pre-cum dotted the tip and spilled over as he slowly worked it above you. “Hungry?” He jokes, but when you nod he grits his teeth and bites back a moan, the night truly more unexpected than he thought. “Open up then, crybaby.” He thankfully didn’t call you a bitch again, crybaby the less of the evils and more acceptable of a petname for your preference as you open your lips and awkwardly lean your head forward. “No need to lean up,” he mumbles, shifting until his knees now rested by your shoulders, tip just in your mouth and his forearms on the earth above your head. He’s looking down at you, and you lay back down as he works his cock in your mouth. He’s going to fuck your mouth, you realize a bit late, the position so easy for him to hit balls deep in your throat and prevent you from running just from his weight alone. You’re pinned to earth, the scent of crisp autumn becoming mingled with the musky masculine odor the stranger had clinging to him. Something smelled of iron too, but it was fainter and didn’t bother you too much, not when he seemed determined to suffocate you with his cock. You jerk a little, teeth accidentally grazing his cock and his hiss of pain alerts you that you’ve hurt him. He pulls up and out of your mouth, glaring ferociously as he looks down at you with contemplation. “Sorry—! I’m not used—,” the words leaving you mouth go unfinished as you’re suddenly looking away and down, confusion wracking your mind before white hot pain erupts across your face and you cry out in agony.

He watches with a cool nonchalance as you whimper and cry, holding your inflamed cheek and looking at him with teary eyes filled with questions. The sight doesn’t help his hardness, your face swelling a bit from the force of the blow already, but it was still arousing how you cried for him so easily. “Don’t bite my fucking dick and I won’t hit you, clear?” He’s grabbing you roughly by the hair again, yanking you up and no longer in the mood for that awkward position as he stands and pulls you to your knees. This position at least gives him a good eye full of your tits, shaking from your little trembling as you’re made to look up at him. His angry reddened cock next to your injured cheek is a sight for him, his hand gripping his shaft and slapping you lightly on the cheek with it, his hand in your hair preventing you from turning away even as you whimper in pain. “Okay, we’ll try this again, crybaby. Open.” You do, even as tears run like waterfalls down your face, mascara smeared and making a pathetic sight for sore eyes of you, you let his cock enter your mouth once more.

Because you’ve never been more aroused.

Your stranger isn’t nice, pushing hard and deep into your throat immediately and gagging you. You’re careful with your teeth, jaw already burning and aching as he locks his arm and hand, strands of hair tearing out as he works his hips into your face at an uneven pace. “Stop fucking moving,” he growls, stepping even closer, blocking any and all exits and forcing you to take it. His cock didn’t seem so scary when he’d pulled it out, but in your throat it was a plug to your oxygen and felt too big for your poor mouth. It hurt, feeling him go too deep and leaving you coughing and sputtering and even still he wouldn’t pull out, groaning and pressing impossibly deep like he truly means to suffocate you. “You got a good little mouth pussy, crybaby. Fuck—take my cock, just like that.” He moans, watching as you struggle on his dick to breathe or swallow, slobber and tears coating his cock as he makes a mess of your pretty face. He doesn’t care that your eyes are starting to roll back, hands which had previously been clawing at his legs going limp at your sides. You acted more like a hole for him to fuck when you were limp like this, and it drove him wild as he grunted like an animal and rutted into your mouth like he held a grudge against you. Both hands dug into your hair, hands pulling you back onto his cock when his hips bucked you away. “Never fucked a—holy shit—ah, mouth so damn good before—, ah fuck, fuck,” he’s getting breathier as time ticks by, his own eyes rolling back as his balls draw up tight. “I’m going to cum, ready for me crybaby? Want it in your tummy or on your face?” He’s being condescending on purpose, but it’s a bit useless considering he’s rendered you nearly unconscious on his dick. He shrugs your lack of response off, pumping his cock down your throat until he sees stars and yanks himself free just before the first spurt misses and hits the grass below, he grips the base, pumping and shooting his next shot right onto your face. He yanks your head against his thigh, delirious face dazed and coughing softly as he finishes on your glitter and mascara run cheeks, using the tip to smear it well into your ruined makeup as he sneers at you from above.

“Hah…” he catches his breath, sucking in oxygen along with you as his gaze turns calculated.

“Wake up, I’m not done with you yet.” He’s more gentle now that he's cum at least once, tapping your uninjured cheek with two fingers as your eyes roll around before opening and looking at him.

He swears, your face making him hard again instantly, blood pooling to his groin at the messy sight of you in your white ruined angel costume. “You really are unlucky I was out tonight, I don’t think I’m gonna let you go.” His dead serious comment caused something cold to hit your veins, chills running through you as you gape in shock.

“W-what…?” He reaches into his hoodie pocket, pulling out what looked like a foot long serrated hunting blade. He snickers at the blank look of shock on your features.

“What’s wrong, crybaby? No tears for me right now?” You’re shaking, getting paler by the second as you realize no, it’s not a costume, and yes, there is still dried blood on the blade. There’s dried blood all over him, his spree tonight ridiculously fruitful and his body still high on the thrill. Imagine his luck finding you. “T-this wasn’t in my profile, wh-what are you doing?” Now you look alert, now you act like a regular civilian, he notes cooly. “I only con-consented to the sex and stuff, I said I didn’t like—like blades or blood play.” Your eyes are wide as saucers and you have a cold sweat now forming and dotting your skin, shaky like on too much caffeine as your body dumped chemicals to help you run.

His head tilts, a few more strands of hair coming loose from his tie as those red eyes watch you without any emotion in their depths.

“Ah~ I get it now. Are you some kind of freak who links up with people online for this kind of shit?” He laughs, eyes not matching the manic toothy grin. “Sorry to disappoint slut, I ain’t your tinder or whatever match. Did you do it anonymously?” He’s beyond amused, thrilled by the horror dawning on your face as reality sets in. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He sneers, but he’s joyful when you book it, heeled boots caked in mud as they dig into the ground and you take off for real. True intent to get away now because he’s not your new friend, he’s a real stranger and his energy is nothing but malevolent.

You’re going to die.

It’s a sick thought that twists inside you as you push the hardest you’ve ever, scream bubbling up and out as you cry for help now. “HELP! Please! Someone! Anyone!” It’s more broken and hoarse than you want, his earlier abuse to your throat having taken a number on your ability to vocalize.

It’s empty. This damn park is empty.

Not a soul around and you can’t hear him coming for you anymore, and it only makes the tears fall harder as you drive your body to a breaking point. If no one is around you can at least aim for your car, your phone will take too much time to look at and dial the police, you’d be too open and that would mean—

Something—someone—smashes into you, your body thrown sideways by the brute force and flung roughly to the ground where you roll several feet.

It hurts—!

Your body and mind scream as pain lights up your shoulder, a previously dull ache now hounding for your attention so much it left you lightheaded. You twisted your ankle too or maybe broke it, already so regretful for the evening and your life choices that your shoes hardly broke the bank. It all hurt, and yet you still tried to crawl to get away, still eager for another deep breath of air in your lungs even if it hurt to do that too.

“Hck, please, please—help—!,” you’re a sobbing pathetic mess, and he couldn’t be more turned on by the sight. He dusts himself off like he hadn’t tackled you like a linebacker for a major league football team, his lanky form sinewy with muscle and his agility nothing to scoff at. He swirls the enormous daunting blade with a whistle, smiling more genuinely as he strolls towards your shaking form crawling away.

“Where do you think you’re going, crybaby? I said I wasn’t done with you,” he lands a solid hit to your middle, dirty sneaker smearing mud on your cute little dress, looking less and less white as the night wears on. The blow is not hard enough to damage anything, he’s sure, but you act as if you’ve been disemboweled by how you howl and heave. He rolls his eyes at the dramatics, settling one foot between your shoulder blades and pressing down until you’re left immobilized.

Your vision is blurry, going in and out of focus as you try, and try, and try to get away, cute nail polish chipped and ruined as you claw at the dirt floor for leverage.

He admires your tenacity. “You think you can get away? That anyone is coming to save you?” He brushes a few stray hairs out of his face as he laughs, the urge to gut you strong as he savors your useless little struggle. “Crybaby, look around! No one is coming! I said look,” he grinds out, dropping to one knee while his other leg remains planted on your back, his hand gripping your hair and yanking your head up to see what he meant.

There’s a fence. A metal chain link fence, and it had a sign your vision was too blurry to read through your tears.

“You ran yourself straight into the worst possible area, this is sort of your game over,” He leans down to look at you, yanking your head back and forcing you into an uncomfortable arch. He raises up the blade, fully intending to slit your pretty throat and watch your eyes as the light fades, but you blubber out a sentence which halts him.

“Y-you didn’t finish! E-earlier, hck, earlier you didn’t finish—!” Your eyes squeeze closed in pain as he yanks your head to the side. Confusion burned in him, and curiosity kept you breathing for now.

“Didn’t finish what, crybaby? Fairly certain I finished all over your face, if I remember correctly.” He has a sharp edge in his tone, something metallic fills your mouth and you realize you’ve bitten through your tongue in your panic. A few drops spill past your lips, catching his attention.

“S-shouldn’t you also f-fuck me too? I-it’s why I came out tonight, wh-why I, ah, d-did this,” it’s a long shot by any means, and he’s no fool, but you did make a good point.

He was still hard.

“Smart little crybaby, aren’t you?” He mutters darkly, setting aside his blade in favor of smashing your face into the dirt, keeping your head down as he presses against your back and yanks your hips up. Your knees are skinned from the rough handling, socks torn open and stained with blood and dirt while his calloused hands slip beneath your dress. Your breath hitches. You needed to think of some way out of this, some kind of plan to escape or incapacitate him.

He’s busied himself with your still dripping cunt. Two fingers roughly filling your hole and uncaringly stretching your tight entrance. “You really are a freak, wet even though you’re going to die, crybaby.” He felt a bit strange as you whimper and mewl below, hand slowing as he tried to place the feeling.

He shrugs it off, instead easily yanking down his jeans which were still unbuttoned and pulling out his cock once more, stroking his shaft a few times before he lined himself up with your puffy lips. “Fuck—,” he swears, eyes seeing stars as he pushes just his tip past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance, mouth opening as licks his lips and stares down at you. “Never had pussy so good…” he giggles darkly, cracking his neck as he pushes each inch inside of you, stretching you out deliciously until you’re speared on his cock with his hips flush with your ass. “Who knew you’d be the best, crybaby.” He muses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips, your little dress flipped up and over your ass so he can watch it bounce as he leans back on his knees to fuck you deeper. You need to think straight but it’s difficult with how good your body feels, the pain from earlier seeming to go away with a numb buzz as he fills your pussy, hitting perfectly against a spot that has you arching harder for more.

You really are a freak like he says.

You can’t help relaxing further, eyes dumbly looking to the side where your head rests as he pounds into you from behind, the coil in your gut growing tighter by the minute.

The clouds blocking the moon seem to part just for you, the full moon’s light no longer blocked and illuminating the little patch of grass he’d tackled you into. Something gleams, in perfect reach too as your eyes widen.

His knife.

He’d already proven you can’t outrun him, but what if he was injured? There’s a major artery in the thigh, if you hit that, wouldn’t you be able to get away?

He yanks back roughly, moaning as he feels you squeeze even tighter around him, velvet walls massaging his dick while he tries to fuck himself as deep as possible inside of you.

It hit you despite all your intentions not to, because this wasn’t safe and he wants to end your life and everything is wrong, but your body doesn’t listen. You cum with a shaky cry, and with an awkward turn of your head you watch as his head goes back and he moans, eyes closed in bliss as you coat his cock in even more slick.

You’re louder than you intended to be, but your fingers close around the hilt nonetheless, trembling with the heavy weight in your grasp, you use every ounce of energy inside you to swing it back into his thigh.

“Cute,” you scream as he catches your wrist, hand clenching so tight you feel your bones grind together as the knife falls from your grip. He twists your arm around and pins your wrist behind your back, holding it in place while his other hand remains at your hip.

“So fucking cute, crybaby. Did you cum just to distract me or was that because you couldn’t help yourself?” He’s getting a high from this, from fucking you and turning you into nothing but a toy as he bounces you on his cock, hips still but arms pulling you back and forth with ease. Scarlet eyes drink you in with undisguised sick glee, and he’s finally able to place the feeling from earlier.

“A pretty little slut trying to get her rocks off and getting shown why she should’ve been a good girl and stayed home,” he grunts, releasing you and leaning over, pinning you with his weight and nearly knocking the air from your lungs how deeply he hits you inside from this angle. Dirt fills the underbelly of your nails, your fingers digging into the earth just for some semblance of stability.

You had none. It was a sick and horrifying realization. You have no control. You can do nothing to stop this. As deeply as it made your gut sink, another odd emotion rose to the surface.

A bubbly sensation that tore through you as your tears became less from fear and more from overstimulation.

His hips piston in and out of you, bullying your cervix in this position as he ruts into you like a hound, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he moans and grunts.

You break again, spasm and cinch down on his cock like a vice while you wail as if in mourning. Maybe you are, for yourself at least. “Oh fuck—! s’too much—, please, I can’t—, f-feels good, hah,” your nearly incoherent babbling sends him over the edge along with you, his own dull nails finally drawing blood as he holds you for dear life as he releases deep inside you, tip kissing right up against you womb as he cums. You can feel it too, his cock twitching inside as the night seems to still for a moment.

He holds you for a while. Breathing you in, nuzzling his face into your neck and licking you. He holds you until his cock fully softens and it hurt to be gripped so tightly inside your wet heat, regrettably pulling away.

He stands, putting his sticky limp cock away inside his underwear and pulling up his pants, looking down at your ruined figure that had slumped over to the side.

“Y’know, crybaby… you really resemble an angel now,” he smiles, red eyes almost glowing as the moon blankets his back and shadows his face. His hair seems almost white like this, your tired eyes note. You don’t move or even flinch as he grabs his knife and yanks your limp figure up by your hair. Even now you’re still crying, face lax despite the rivers flowing down your dirty swollen cheeks. You make no effort to stop him, having given up completely.

He crouches down again, mostly eye level now as he makes you look at him.

“You got any last words?” He’s being dead serious. He feels strange looking at the almost glazed over look in your eyes.

“W-what…” your voice is barely a whisper, but the night is so quiet he catches it, “what’s your…name?”

An unexpected question.

His eyes gleam, smile ravenous as he puts his lips against your ear and whispers it.

“Tomura, what’s your name, crybaby?” He asks, gently, almost like he’s actually interested.

You hoarsely whisper it, your last time ever saying it after tonight. He hums, like it pleases him, before he brings down the knife swiftly.

Your vision goes dark, the strike mercifully painless. Your last thoughts blur as you drift into soft nothingness.

He releases your hair, grabbing your limp figure up in his arms as he chuckles and sheaths his knife properly on his hip. “Dumb crybaby” his voice almost singing the words as he whistles and walks away, the park dead silent but even if someone had seen you in his arms, he could just play the good boyfriend taking his sweetheart home safely. It’s not entirely a lie either, his eyes glancing down at your unconscious form, pretty neck unmarred but a bruise would likely form on the back where he struck you tomorrow. Tomura had never felt compelled to allow a victim to live, but then again he’s never fucked a victim either, so you’re the first for a lot. He supposed it made you quite special, his legs carrying him in the direction of his car in the parking lot about a mile south. Obsession and possessiveness swirled in those red depths as they looked at your figure.

“Good girls should just stay home…” he continues his sardonic little tune, his smile gruesome and foreboding.

Vibrant blue orbs check his surroundings again, noting once again his friend was a no show. Rolling his eyes, he knew it was too good to be true. Your profile screamed inexperienced and cautious, despite you clicking that you’d like him to remain anonymous beforehand. It didn’t matter, he’d just go enjoy some sorority girl pussy instead, figuring at 0330 that most parties would be winding down. Drunk girls dressed like sluts were his second favorite.

Dabi clicks the notify option on his app, letting the website staff know you never showed up.

Though, he muses if something did happen, the police wouldn’t be notified until it was too late. Halloween weekend after all meant you could be missing for quite a while before anyone noticed.

Not his problem though.

Post dividers/@cafekitsune

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 10

video taping - suna rintarou x reader

word count: 592

kinktober masterlist

Suna had many pictures of you. And he didn’t just mean innocent ones of you eating ice cream or holding up a peace sign. He meant the racy ones that he kept under lock and key in a hidden folder on his phone that only opened by face recognition. Whether they were nudes you had sent him at some point during your many late night texting conversations, or pictures he had personally taken of you when you were getting hot and heavy, the fox-eyed pro athlete had a sturdy roster of materials he could use to jack off to during volleyball season away games, where many weeks would go by before he could feel your body against his again.

It was during a particularly rough two month stint away from home when Suna realized that even though he had a wide variety of photos of you in compromising positions, he was severely lacking in videos.

Well, that just wouldn't do.

So the next time he had you sitting on the floor between his legs, head bobbing up and down on his dick as you slowly licked and sucked over him, he reached for his phone, clicking the record button to capture the sight in front of him. He couldn’t resist. There’s no way he could pass this up. This was something he needed desperately in his wank bank.

“Rin, what are you doing?” You inquired with a quizzical look on your face, one of your hands wrapped around the base of his cock, the tip mere inches from your shiny lips. Suna felt himself twitch, hips jerking up a bit until your mouth kissed his dick again.

“Keep going baby, c’mon.” His voice was already wrecked, watching you through the phone screen as his hand reached behind your head, coaxing you down until your mouth had opened again to welcome him inside. He sighed in relief and hummed his approval, watching you get back to work.

There was something so fucking hot about watching all this through a screen, especially when he could feel what was happening right behind the camera. You looked up into the camera lens as you slurped all over his cock, eyes swimming with tears when he hit the back of your throat, one hand holding his shaft steady while the other toyed with his balls.

“That’s it, baby.” Suna groaned. “You’re a natural. The camera loves you.”

That got a moan out of you, making Suna curse and struggle to not let his head fall back and eyes slip shut. He needed to watch this, needed to see, even though this would be on video, he needed to see it as it was happening, as you really got into the whole camera thing.

There was another thing he really needed to get on film. So as he felt himself getting closer to the brink, he pulled your head off, groaning when you immediately replaced your mouth with your hand and stroked him fast and tight until he came in long spurts all over your face, your mouth open to catch just a little bit on your tongue. The sight made Suna dizzy with pleasure, and when you looked up at the camera, tongue still hanging out and face covered in white, he nearly came again.

That video carried Suna’s orgasms on its back for the next two weeks he spent away from you for game season. And Suna vowed he could get more videos of you, ideas of different positions and angles racing through his head already.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[stolitzsings]

Look. I'm only gonna say this once, bc due to some incredibly recent and painful life circumstances this short and especially the fandom reaction has been like, actively triggering to me.

I do not accept "Blitz is selfish in bed" slander.

I'm looking at this

And this

And this

And CRITICALLY this

And see a guy who is excited to turn his partner on, a guy who buys new toys explicitly for his partner's pleasure, a guy who is terrified that if he doesn't please his partner he'll be abandoned and disposed of

We can debate whether or not he's good at eating bird puss if you want, and how much of this episode is indicative of a loss of confidence (especially considering he had NO trouble using the crystal in Apology Tour), but in the balance of everything we've seen so far we know Blitz isn't selfish in bed, at least not with Stolas

And I just don't buy anything about "poor Stolas what if Blitz never made him cum and he didn't realize sex was supposed to do that?" The man reads smut at the dinner table, he knows what an orgasm is. Even if Blitz is not the champion bird puss-eater he claims to be, they've clearly tried a wide variety of toys, positions, and techniques together. I don't think their sex life is lacking in orgasms.

Sorry if I seem confrontational here, like I said, this short was almost hilariously triggering considering the subject matter (it isn't inherently bad or anything, just really unfortunate timing for me personally) , and honestly I might have to take a break from most fandom spaces until we have something new to talk about

[heich0e]

"Shhh.... shhh...."

The baby in your arms doesn't calm, even as you gently bounce him in time with your soft shushing. He's fussing, letting out shrill little cries of complaint and the occasional sob, his chubby cheeks flushed a harsh red and his round blue eyes welling with the glimmer of tears.

"Oh, poor baby," you whisper, running your fingertips through the dark, downy hair at your son's temple. He sniffles weakly, grabbing a fistful of your shirt and clutching it with all his might in his teeny tiny hand, another pained little whimper slipping out of his pursed lips.

You glance over to the other side of the nursery where Tobio stands, watching you with a concerned pinch to his expression, his hands unconsciously gripping the material of his sweatshirt over his diaphragm. His eyes—swimming with a palpable, but unspoken worry—are on the baby in your arms, and they don't waver.

Tobio hasn't calmed since he woke you frantically an hour prior.

"Hey..." his voice had called for you, crackling unmistakably with panic. You could feel the mattress dipping as he kneeled at the edge of your bed, an urging hand on your back to rouse you. "Please wake up."

Your son's cry was the next thing you registered—the piercing sound of your baby shrieking from a few rooms away. Tobio's frightened face met you when your eyes finally snapped open

"What is it?" you asked, sitting up suddenly in bed. Your voice was still thick with sleep, but you felt terribly, horribly awake in that moment—your husband's expression enough to startle you into the firm grip of consciousness, the prick of panic's gnarled claws spearing through you.

"There's something wrong with the baby," he had rasped next, and if you'd not immediately stumbled out of bed towards the nursery you might have caught the sight of tears beading on his lash line.

There isn't anything wrong with the baby, at least not anything serious, in spite of Tobio's initial panic. He is teething, though—rather intensely if the fierce red flush to his cheeks and his his tears are anything to go by—and nothing seems to be working to calm him down.

"It's okay, Tobio," you say softly to your husband, assuring him at the same time as you soothe your wailing 7-month-old with those continued gentle bouncing motions.

"He's so upset," Tobio replies quietly, swallowing hard. "I tried to calm him down but I didn't know what was wrong, and he—nothing I—he just—"

"Hey," you cross the nursery towards him, keeping baby tucked up against your shoulder and rocking him gently. "You didn't know. It's okay."

Regardless of your assurances, Tobio looks defeated.

"Tobi, why don't you go get one of his teething toys?" you suggest, shifting your son so you can get a better look at his distraught little face—rubbing your thumb against his chubby cheek to clear away some of his tears. He squirms in your arms in protest.

"Okay," the man beside you replies immediately, his head bobbing in a nod. He heads hastily towards the door.

"Maybe grab a cool compress for his cheeks too."

He nods again, dashing away.

"Poor little one," you sigh, cradling your baby to your chest as you tote him over to the chair in the far corner of his bedroom. "It must be so hard to be this small, huh?"

Tobio comes racing back into the room a few moments later, a variety of different teething toys and a baby-sized washcloth dampened with cool water in his hand.

"What's all this?" you ask him, watching as he drops his hoard of items on top of the dresser next to you.

"I wasn't sure which one he'd want," he says, looking down at the wide assortment of teething toys. He glances over at you sheepishly from the corner of his eye.

"Why don't you pick one out and see if he likes it," you say with a soft smile. Tobio nods resolutely, a determination in the set of his jaw. He looks down at the multitude of options he'd grabbed and considers them for a moment.

You watch as he reaches for one—a firm rubber toy shaped like a giraffe, designed for babies to chew on to soothe the ache of cutting teeth. You remember the day Tobio had picked it out, a look on his face not dissimilar to this one—intensely focused on the task—when your son still just a little bump, a fervent hope, hidden away under a Schweiden Adlers sweatshirt. You remember thinking the giraffe reminds you of the character on the milk he used to drink at lunch in high school, all those years ago.

He holds the toy up for you to see.

"I think that's a great one," you agree.

Hesitantly, Tobio approaches you and your baby in the chair, kneeling on the ground beside it. He slowly offers the little giraffe up to your son, whose eyes are heavy with the sleep that can't come to him through the pain of teething. The infant in your arms stops fussing momentarily, contemplating the toy held before his face with round, curious eyes.

He looks so much like Tobio.

You've thought it since the day he was born, but the fact becomes more true with every passing day. Sometimes you see a bit of yourself in his little face, an expression, or maybe something in the shape of his nose, but for the most part he's a carbon copy of his father.

But you don't really mind that.

Tobio watches with identically round blue eyes as your son pulls the slobbery little hand he'd been gnawing on from his mouth and uses it to reach for the toy. Both of you hold your breath.

He pops the giraffe immediately into his gummy mouth, head first.

It's too soon to breathe any real sigh of relief. You're both all too familiar with how quickly the tides of a baby's temperament can change—discontent flooding back violently just when you least expect it. But there's a palpable ease in both of you. A bit of the stress of the situation receding from the shore.

Tobio's eyes are still on your son, resting on your chest as he gums the toy his papa picked out for him. He's fussing less now, and when Tobio reaches up and gently pats the cool compress against his chubby, ruddy cheeks, the baby's eyes begin to slowly but surely flutter closed.

It's quiet in the nursery. Just the occasional gurgle, or slobbery little noise from the teething toy to be heard.

"He's so little," Tobio breathes, lifting the compress off baby's cheek now that it's mostly warmed through. He says it like he almost can't wrap his head around it, or that it's news to him, even though it's a remark he makes to you at least once a day—and has since the day your son was born.

"He is," you agree.

"I can't believe he won't always be this small," your husband goes on to add, and part of you wonders if this is the exhaustion talking. You stifle a laugh, letting your head loll against the back of the nursing chair to peer over at him.

"We'll miss this someday, y'know," you remark quietly, your tone a bit wry. And you mean it. All of it. Even the late nights and the loud crying and the panic.

The corner of Tobio's lips turn down ever so slightly, and you watch as he rubs at his chest, like it pains him.

"I feel like I already do sometimes," Tobio admits. "Like I miss him even though he's right there."

Your son's breathing has begun to slow to a normal, even pace, and his eyes have properly shut. You rub a little circle into his back with your thumb, your hand wide enough to span its width if you splay your fingers out.

Tobio looks at you with beseeching eyes. "Is that normal?"

You laugh lightly, reaching out to cup his cheek with the hand not holding your baby to your chest. He leans into your touch instinctively, his nose brushing against the heel of your palm as his eyes seek yours.

"I don't know," you admit to him quietly. After all, you're still new to this too. "Maybe."

Tobio nods a little with his face still cradled in your hand, his eyes fluttering down to your son once more.

And as you watch your husband carefully pry your sleeping son up from your chest and into his own arms; watch how he holds him in his big, big hands like there's nothing more precious in the world; watch how tenderly he sets him back into his crib, making sure the little giraffe is still safe in his little grip, a flash of pride behind his eyes at how attached the little boy is to the toy he chose for him; there's a warm, achy feeling that blooms underneath your ribs.

And you can't help but think that even if it isn't normal, you understand exactly what he means all the same.

[planariaareneat]

Dogs are Weird

It’s safe to say humans will likely be a ubiquity through the galactic community, for the most part. Many of us have a tendency to go beyond, to see new things and forge frontiers. Undoubtedly it must be true of many other species, especially those that make it to space all by themselves, but it’d be wrong to discount it simply because we’d be one of many.

Of course, on the odd ship that permits sufficiently domesticated and socialized fauna (‘pets’, if one wants to be informal) alongside sophonts, we’d be accompanied by a wide variety of fellow mammals. Small, fluffy creatures that yip; elongated and sinuous animals, borne on stout legs and bearing long snouts; friendly yellow beasts with lips pulled into a smile and fur like a shag carpet; maybe even muscular guardians, originally bred to fight or to protect - though hopefully more well-tempered by now. Maybe even variations of them we can’t yet envision will accompany us by the time we can bring them to the stars. 

Aliens might be deeply confused when they ask about what any one of these are, just to get the same answer: a dog. 

Domestication and selective breeding won’t be unfamiliar to most aliens. Even being in the company of (ancestrally) efficient social predators that can enmesh well into the hierarchy is likely not to be as odd as one might think. But even among our own throng of domestic mammals, canines outshine them all in one way: variation. 

Only 7 sets of genes (containing ~25 genes total) control the size of dogs, and just a couple need to be mutated to drastically change dog size. The difference between a chihuahua and a mastiff lies on these genes. Compare this to cats, who tend not to have much size variation in spite of a history of focused selective breeding spanning around the same amount of time as dogs. It’s argued - and not questioned - that dogs may have the most phenotypical variation of any land mammal, extant or extinct, within a single species. 

It’s entirely possible that many aliens may never have domesticated a species with such a simple control for massive changes. They’ll see us come to the stars with an endless menagerie of creatures under a single name.

On one last note…we often sing our praises of our capacity to pack-bond with just about anything; but dogs also chose to pack-bond with us those 30,000 years ago, and they chose to do it again and again and again…

Just as we pack-bond with our new allies among the stars, dogs will likely trot and frolic with all manner of aliens as well. They’ll tussle and fight over toys just as excitedly with insectoid hounds and scale-clad schnauzers as they do already with us and each other, while we sit on the side with our extraterrestrial friends and watch them, just as we always have.