#thanks for being my therapist strangers I don't know

[poet-to-none]

💀

My friend when they have less time for me: I'm not sad, it's important what they're doing, I support them!

My friend when they leave my art archive and our hangout space saying not to contact them: yeah, ok, I'm sad now.

[fantazygirl-blog1]

So tired of everyone (or almost everyone) making Misa into a kind, weak little victim, manipulated by Light.

That woman may seem sweet, but she's absolutely ruthless. She's selfish, obsessive, stalkerish and emotionally abusive (perhaps not in the traditional way but I will explain)

Way before she even met Light, she managed to kill law enforcement (which might I add, she probably didn't even know was law enforcement) and news reporters just to prove a point. They were just a means to an end to her. She wanted to thank Kira for killing her parent's murderer, but she didn't even stop to think once if the people she killed had families of their own, children of their own. She only had one goal: what she herself, wanted. More than that, Misa literally offered to immediately off her friend, that helped her with the tapes (and if someone offers to help you with that, they're a very close friend for sure) and it wasn't even Light's suggestion. It was all Misa, who saw killing her friend as a way to get Light to trust her. It's clear that girl is willing to kill anyone and anything if it'll help her achieve her goals.

Also, she's super obsessive. My girl traded half her lifespan with no hesitation on the off chance that she might be able to meet Kira. (Yes, she had a plan but there was no guarantee that her plan would even work)And the instant she saw Light, she started stalking him (even though she herself had problems with stalkers) to the point that she just turned up at his house with no warning. Imagine if a stranger just shows up at your house like that, pretending to be a friend and your mom lets them in. That's fucking horrifying.

Also, Misa barely knew Light for like a few seconds and she decided that he was going to be her boyfriend, and NOTHING was going to stay in her way, not even Light himself. She pressured him into being in a relationship with her, even though it was clearly unwanted, Rem literally threatened to kill him if he refused, and then she had the gall to tell Light she would kill any girl she suspected would go out with Light if she saw her with him. This is where the emotional abuse comes from (even though I dunno if I should call it that but I don't know how else to classify it). Misa doesn't really consider Light a person. For her, Light is more like a doll she can project her feelings on. She attributed him emotions according to her whims and acted like those were the reality regardless of Light's real feelings. She made herself the main character in his story, even after told and shown repeatedly tha she wasn't and got mad when years later she was still neglected and barely paid attention to.

I'm not saying all this to hate on Misa and this in no way a Kira appreciation post (my favorite Light is Yotsuba arc Light, I hate Kira tbh) but I'm just saying, if you're a Misa fan you should be able to accept the reality: she's not a weak, sweet little girl, manipulated by evil Light. She's capable of all the horrible things she does all on her own thank you very much and I'm tired of reading fics where Misa is treated like only a victim and given leniency while Light is treated as the only true monster.

I'm just saying, the girl didn't need a boyfriend, she needed a therapist. Badly.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hey gal just read rose tinted view and absolutely need more sweet wife and tangerine please but with more of tan in it can just imagine this stone cold hearted killer and this sweet gem of a woman with their newborn baby a nice sunny day in the park or something and tan is spotted by an ex enemy or something and all the ex enemy can think of is how someone so kind and sweet and doted on tan and their baby can be with someone like tangerine and tan being all protective of his wife and new born when she’s inviting this stranger ( his ex enemy maybe ladybug ) to join them and letting said stranger hold their newborn daughter 🥺🥺🥺

hi baby!! omg this is perfect and super cute!! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

link for rose-tinted view if anyone’s interested

SWEET WIFE, SWEET LIFE.

dad tangerine x fem!reader — fluff

word count. 651

Warm and sunny days naturally called for a quaint picnic in the park - you and your little family sat upon a blanket under a tree, containers of fresh fruit and snacks littered across. Your newborn baby girl, Mandy, on her back in the middle, surrounded by the pots.

Tangerine was on his side, head propped up on his elbow til he suddenly sits up - the motion almost abrupt.

"What?" you ask, following your husband's eyeline. "What is it?"

"Keep your head down," he mutters. "Don't look— oh, great. He's coming over."

"Who is he? Do you know him?" you question, turning away from the approaching man to meet the displeased look on Tangerine's face. 

"Met him on a job— right twat," he shakes his head, moving closer to his daughter as if he was trying to protect her. 

"Tokyo one?" you ask. 

He hums, the noise short, more like a 'humph'.

"Not interested," Tangerine grunts, holding his hand out to the man - not wanting him to come closer. 

"Abducting families now?" the man quips, looking between you and your baby. 

"No, now fuck off," Tangerine replies, eyes narrowing.

You flash him a soft, scolding glare before turning to look at the man. "Excuse my husband," you laugh faintly, patting the blanket for the man to sit. "You met on the Tokyo assignment, right? It's Ladybug?"

"Yeah," he nods, taking a seat on the blanket. "We worked together."

"No, we didn't. And what do you think you're doing?" Tangerine snarks, staring Ladybug down. 

You lightly tap your husband's knee, silently reassuring him. 

"Your husband has a terrible temper," Ladybug chuckles, helping himself to the bag of nuts. "Tried to kill me a couple times, too."

You cover your baby's ears and turn to face Tan. "You tried to kill him?" you whisper, scolding him.

"He tried to kill me too," he protests, glaring down his acquaintance. "The bastard shot me in the shoulder, remember?"

"I've forgiven him," Ladybug says, turning to look at you, holding a hand over his heart. "Resentment isn't good for the soul. I've moved on. I've put Tokyo behind me. Barry— my therapist, helped me process all—"

"Enough about your fuckin' therapist," Tangerine interrupts. He turns to look at you, eyes silently pleading you for help. "Seriously, I can't listen to him talk about Barry again. I will lose it. Darlin', I will lose it."

"Okay, okay," you coo, squeezing your lover's knee. "How about some sandwiches?" you ask, looking between the guys - trying to ease the apparent tension. 

And just as you're about to reach for the cooler, Mandy makes a soft, sniffled-like cry, both you and Tan immediately reaching to comfort her. Your daughter putting a hold on the animosity between old rivals.

"Do you mind?" Ladybug questions, reaching for your newborn. "I'm great with babies."

You feel Tangerine stiffen upon his questioning, his reluctance as clear as day. But you give him an assuring tap, softly smiling as you nod - trying to comfort him as you scoop up your baby. You place her into Ladybug's cradled arms, brushing over her soft cheek as you pull away.

"Oh, she's perfect," Ladybug whispers, looking down at your daughter. "She has this beautiful energy about her— I can feel it. It's incredible."

You lean into Tangerine's shoulder, slipping your hand into his and bringing it to your face - pressing a kiss into the back of it. He's hesitant, but finally, he gives in —even just a little bit— resting his head atop yours. He's still alert and protective of his daughter but retreats slightly as he watches his baby - keeping his mouth closed to soak in the moment. 

Ladybug looks up and glances between you and Tangerine. "You're blessed, man. I don't know how you pulled it off," he chuckles, looking back down to your daughter. "You have a beautiful family."

I changed it so tan didn’t get shot in the throat, did the shoulder instead. im like god, holding the multiverse and alternate storylines in my hands

[hsficrecommendation]

Hello Everyone! This is masterlist #4 (June of 2023!) for the all fics I have reblogged on this side blog I hold super close to me. Remember to leave feedback and reblog all the writings below!

Also, a huge thank you to all the writers mentioned, I adore you so very much and I hope you keep writing for yourselves <3

••• JUNE •••

Valentine's Day | Y/N receives a special candy gram on Valentine’s Day. - @nationalharryleague

French Fries | Harry kept glancing at her as he drove. “M’sorry about our date,” he whispered. “I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” she shrugged and reached over to squeeze his arm while he held the steering wheel. “I had a lovely time.” - @1d1195

Shy | Close | Motherly Love | Don't Leave Me | Mother's Day | ♡ When Harry runs into a perfect stranger at a supermarket, he doesn’t know what to expect. After having been single for over a year and raising Amelia without a mother, dating somebody new feels impossible… that is, until she wins over the heart of his daughter. - @harry-writings

Vogue Beauty Secrets | Actress!Y/N does the Vogue Beauty Secrets video, and Harry decides to help. - @astranva

Gonna be Better in the Morning | Jeff and reader get into a fight and Harry takes Jeff's side. (As always, there is a happy ending with lots of comforts) - @harryhoney-bee

Work of Art | A cute little fluffy artist!Harry piece with a hint of angst! - @nationalharryleague

Update | The Best Present | Harry falls for a mysterious girl from YouTube. - @watchmegetobsessed

When The Levee Breaks | You're a waitress and Harry is being stood up. - @songbirdstyles

Playball | ♡ The reader owns a bakery and hates baseball, but what happens when her town’s bigshot MLB player walks into her bakery and she finds herself catching feelings unaware of his occupation? - @writingsbymarie

The Con Artist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | ♡ You're a wanted criminal and when Harry Styles, the detective on the case, finally catches up to you- he finds it difficult to resist your charms. - @gurugirl

Baby Steps | You’re Harry’s son's therapist, and he isn’t the only one you end up helping. - @enthusiasticharry

Mute | ♡♡ Where Harry doesn’t talk and falls in love with Y/n. - @harry-writings

Score and Smash | In which their university holds an annual boy vs girl football match, the highly anticipated game of the year has arrived and Harry and Y/N hate each other just as equally until Y/N is under Harry.

Quid Pro Quo | Another lawyer!Harry. Technically six years before this piece. Enemies to lovers with plenty of angst! - @talesofstyles

Six Months (Part 23) | ♡ Layla desperately needs a vacation and her Aunt and Uncle come to her rescue. So, at twenty two, she packs her bag and jets off to America. Harry took a break from education and is now a full fledged content creator on OnlyFans. At twenty, he makes more money than almost all of his friends. What ensues when these two meet and realise the windows in their rooms face each other? How will paper airplanes bring them closer together? - @fishnets-fingers

2022 : Masterlist #1 , #2 , #3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. 2023 : Masterlist #1, 2, 3 (June masterlist would be continued in the next list!)

My official writing account in case you'd like to check out my fics too: @0oolookitsme :)

[artist-issues]

You're my new favorite blog! You have no idea how I wish I could peck inside your brain like a chicken. 😭😂😂 I am a Catholic and a recovering agnostic. I struggle with letting go of my old way of life and philosophy constantly, I have been struggling with it since the day I decided to revert - that was back in 2017. (I think you would like to know my journey back to the Faith started after watching HBO's The Young Pope! 👌🏼) At this point I don't know if I'll ever be the person the Lord wants me to be, oh well, I'll die trying and I know that will mean something.

I just know I can't go back to being a non-believer, because as Carl Young said, now I don't just believe, I know. The irony is my struggle to believe in something I know to be objectively the Truth.

I have a question for you though, actually I hope for some advice from you. How do I reconcile with the reality that I haven't become who I dreamed to become (like career wise), but now that a new career has been shoved upon me (a career my parents wanted for me - and they valued safety and stability over "following my dreams" I suppose)? ...which isn't necessarily a bad thing, because it is an extremely noble profession and it pays quite well.

The thing is, as much as I try to accept my new career, I keep telling myself and to others that I'm doing this for my parents and not because I want to be here. I feel terrible about it. But, again, it's not like I am unfulfilled (I am unhappy though, but that comes with the work culture/environment, I feel like I am surrounded by 40+ year old teenagers); as a matter of fact, I do think I know - objectively - in my heart that this is exactly where the Lord wants me to be? But I keep fighting against it, keep struggling against this sense of vocational calling that I'm feeling towards my new job, instead I desperately wanna give into my want to go "live the life I want." Like throw this all away, get new training and start all over with the career I wanted all those years ago.

I want to be better, to be sacrificial like Christ on the Cross. I've always known I had a little depression (comes with my disability from a young age and this whole dream thing); I have been suicidal over this, I actually used to joke with myself that I'd kill myself if I don't achieve my professional goals by the time I turned 25. I will turn 30 this September and even though I haven't been literally dead, I feel like I've been in a vegetative state - mentally - ever since the day I turned 25. I hope that makes sense.

I started seeing a therapist 2 weeks ago since my mental health started affecting my new job - she did say I have depression and is trying to help me but I just don't know if I want to be helped at all, because I am unable to do the exercises she tells me (like create a routine, exercise well, write down good thoughts, etc.) I feel like I'm failing myself, my parents and, most importantly, my Heavenly Father.

I apologise if this is nonsensical, I apologise for dumping all of this on you - random stranger on the internet - but idk I felt like maybe you'd have something wise to tell me to knock some sense into me (without a bump to prove it hehe).

Thank you and God bless! 🥰

You’re very kind, and I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to share all this with me! I really never have anything good of my own to say, or any wisdom to offer, except what I “steal” from God…and I guess what I mean is, if I ever say anything helpful or good or true, I’m just the messenger. I didn’t come up with it. On my own I have zero wisdom or good things to offer.

Anyway, I was surprised reading this because I have gone through (been going through) a similar sort of mindset. I went to school for the career I dreamed about (still dream about) and I worked hard and I wanted it more than anybody around me (very Mike Wasowski in MU of me) and it hasn’t happened the way I planned, or in my timetable.

I mean, in all humility: I work with a studio making a tv show, but it hasn’t got off the ground yet, and I work for a company that writes movie reviews, but neither of those things pay my bills. I have a third job, working with therapists, that’s nothing like what I always wanted to do. That’s my “career,” but it’s not the career I’m passionate about and working toward. And I wonder if I’ll ever do anything “major” in the line of work I love and went to school for. And when I do, I have gotten into some really dark mental places.

Forgive me for not using the words “depression” or “suicidal.” I hate using those words because they’re overused and romanticized and flooding the culture. But more importantly I hate using them because the only thing I identify with is Christ, not any mental struggle I try to slither back into, like a snake trying to put back on old skin. I’m not my overthinking—I’m not my depression—I’m not my suicidal thoughts or emotions—I am one with Christ. Those are things inside me that are defeated and dead—the teeth have been knocked out of them. They just gum me from time to time. So I want you to know I empathize with you, but that’s my point and that’s how I want to answer you:

The only thing about you that really matters is Christ.

Who He says you are, what He has done and how He lived, which is applied to you because He said it is, by grace alone, through faith alone. No matter how you feel.

And I say that to you, as the answer, because I think you and I focus too much on what could be and what “should be” as if God has a set path for us, and if we don’t figure out what it is and walk it, we’ll have a less-fulfilling life. “If I stay at my therapy job and just work with teenagers and write on my blog for the rest of my life, I’ll be fine, but I won’t be as good as I could be.” Or for you. “If I stay in this career I’m in, the one my parents backed me into, I’ll make it, I’ll be fine, but I’ll never be as happy as I want to be.” We’re both thinking, every once in a while, “This is career is what God wants for me, and all my misery is coming from not submitting to it, and if I could just wrestle my contentment into place and give up the thing I want, and submit to what God wants, I’d be fulfilled.”

But how do we know any of those thoughts are true? How do we know God wants us in these boring old careers we wouldn’t have chosen—didn’t choose? Or, how do we know these boring old careers are what we’re stuck in because we didn’t take the plunge and work harder for our “dreams,” which were what He really wanted us to do? How do we know either of those things?

We don’t. We don’t get to know. That’s the point.

Because that’s not how God works. Not from what I can tell in the Bible.

“And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”. Colossians 3:17.

Whatever you do. Not “the one specific thing you figure out He wants you to do.”

My mom described it to me once when I was in a really dark place trying to figure out what He wanted me to do, paralyzed with indecision, afraid He wanted me to do something I just didn’t want to do, like this: “God doesn’t hold out one flower and say, ‘this is the one I want you to have, so you can either take it or take something worse.’ God makes a field of flowers, and He says, ‘Which one do you want? Pick one, and do it with excellence for Me.’ Then just trust Him to make it good.”

It sounds like you’re in a career, but you are wrestling with whether or not to pick it, now that you have some autonomy as an adult, or to pick starting over. Well. Pick one. Just pick one. And trust God to take care of you. Trusting God looks like thinking it through with excellence, then making the decision—and making the decision means letting go of worrying about the thing you didn’t pick. “Take every thought captive in obedience to Christ.” Once you make a choice, make it all the way, and don’t let your mind wander anymore to “what if this blows up in my face? What if I should’ve stayed back there at the crossroads, or gone down the other path?” It’s going to be hard and God is going to take care of you, no matter what you pick. So don’t let your mind go to those places where you worry; acknowledge the worry, and every time, ask God to help you remember that He’s got you.

Because here’s the point, here’s the thing: He does have you. Because ultimately, your career really doesn’t matter. It doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t. Neither does your dream. Not ultimately. And now I’ll say “our” because I need to hear it too. Our dreams and careers are not the point of us, and our dreams and careers are not what God means when He says “I’ll take care of you.”

What He means is, “I’ve already taken care of you.” Because the most important thing isn’t our job or our dream. The most important thing is, we’ve been rescued out of eternally being trapped in our broken desires, and now we get to live for Christ, Who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. That’s the major. And that truth is where our fulfillment is supposed to come from, what our lives are meant for, our purpose. As long as we pick one, and do it with excellence to make the name of Jesus famous, with that goal in mind, we’ll be emotionally fulfilled. We’ll be satisfied. Because that’s the goal. Not making movies, or whatever it is you want to do. Not having secure means of living. Just…living our lives to make who Jesus is famous. We can do that wherever.

So then the choice? It becomes a minor, not a major, and the pressure of “will I be happy?” is off, because happiness isn’t found in that stuff. And whenever I forget, and start looking for happiness in my dreams, goals, career, that’s when it all starts to feel dark and stressful and hard and crushing. Because it was never meant to give me happiness or fulfillment—that’s a need only Christ can fulfill.

Don’t misunderstand me. He cares what you do. He cared about every decision you make, and He does have a plan. But that’s going to happen anyway. So just pray, consider which option is a) wise to go for and takes care of the responsibilities God has entrusted you with, b) which option you genuinely want, when your wants are not influenced by fears, and then c) step out and do it in faith. And do it with the mindset of, “I’m doing this, and I’m not thinking about the alternative if I can help it, and I’m also not putting all my happiness-eggs in this basket, because even if it crashes and burns, hey, I’m still one with Christ and I can still make Him famous no matter what road my career goes down.”

I hope this helps. It’s a subject I’m hamster-wheeling around in my mind right now a lot—but when I just fix my eyes on Christ and think about how the most important things, the things that give real joy and happiness, are already and forever taken care of and I can’t mess them up—then can get off the hamster wheel and enjoy the life He’s given me, right now, today, without worrying about the future.

[kimmiessimmies]

Personal post

This will probably be the most non-Sims related post I've put on this blog ever. I'll put most of it under a cut, so you can choose whether or not to read it. The thing is, I could use some advice. And asking strangers from all over the world advice on something important might be weird, but you are also my community, so I value your opinions. Don't worry, this isn't a "Kim being depressed" kinda post. 😉 It's a work thing.

Upfront: This post is about me being unhappy in my current well-paid job and my search for something that makes me happy. It might come across sounding a bit entitled, since I know there are many people who would be happy to have any job, just so they can pay their bills. I'm sorry if this post triggers that, and I know I'm privileged to even be in this situation. ❤️

TL/DR: Do I stay in a well-paid, secure job that doesn't bring happiness and actually negatively affects my mental health because of it? Or: Do I take the plunge into the unknown and give up the securities I have now for something that could potentially (but not guaranteed) not only make me happy but bring me opportunities as well?

Okay, here's the deal. Currently, I work in education. I've been teaching for 19 years, and for the last 3 years, I've held the position that best translates to special needs coordinator at the school where I've been all of my working life. In short, my job entails making sure the teachers have the tools they need to help all kids in their classes with special educational needs, to make sure each child ends up in the right form of education fitting their needs and dealing a lot with difficult or even alarming home situations. My job can be rewarding at times, and challenging at others. Aside from this, I've been part of the management team at my school for almost 8 years. I work at a big school. It wasn't big when I started there, but it's big now. I have a degree in Early Childhood Education, and that's also the age group I've always dealt with. It's the age group I've always taught, and it's the age group currently under my supervision in the position I'm now.

This past year, I've struggled with my mental health, as I've mentioned before, and have not been at work fully for a while. My therapist and I established that while work is "okay", it's also not bringing me joy anymore while my job was once the happiest and most passionate thing I did. Right now, it's blah. This position is not one that really suits me, yet I don't want to go back to teaching either. I've been there, done that. Add to that the fact that, come September, my boss requires me to change my position slightly. I'd be doing the same thing I do now, but for an older age group. This has given me a lot of stomach aches, because the thing that still drives me to do my job now is the fact that I'm doing it geared towards the youngest kids in school.

All in all, the job is not bringing me happiness in the slightest anymore. Having said that, I know a lot of people do jobs that don't make them happy, but it pays the bills, so let's suck it up and just do it. Which is fine, I can do that too, except my mental health suffers...

However, there are a few good things about this job too:

The pay is really good

I have lovely colleagues

I have a lot of credits here because I've been here for so long. They know my worth

I have a very understanding boss who's been nothing short of wonderful during my depression

(If you're still with me, thank you for reading this essay all the way, it's appreciated 💗)

My therapist asked me, "If money weren't a factor, what would you be doing?" My answer was "write." More specifically, I just want to stay home all day and work on ATOH, but no one is going to pay me for that. 😄 So, write, or do a job in which writing plays a role. So, she advised me to start looking for jobs that fit that description. It was a rather depressing search. Most jobs that came close to what I'd like to do require degrees or diplomas I don't have.

And then I suddenly stumbled upon something: Assistent Project Manager at a small, but well established company that creates educational projects (usually based on children's books), books and materials geared towards early childhood education in particular, and currently expanding to do the same for education to older kids as well.

I felt like I had found the holy grail. This is writing, this is editing, this is being creative, this is working with authors, but it's also closely related to early childhood education, the thing I know so well. Despite still being semi depressed, I felt like I needed to at least give this a shot. So, I wrote a letter, enclosed my resume, and waited. I didn't have to wait long, because a few days later I got an invite for an interview.

I went for the interview and was welcomed at a small and very homely office space (with an office cat!). We had a good talk and I left happy. They invited me to do a "trial day" with them, which is what I'll be doing today. They've had a lot of applicants for this position, but from the contact we've had since, it seems like I stand a good chance.

Sounds like a no-brainer? Perhaps, unless you have my brain... Because there are doubts:

Pay. This job pays quite a bit less than my current one. I'm a single parent and therefore sole breadwinner in my household. Currently, I make quite good money because I've been in this job for a long time and hold a relatively high position in the organisation. We can pay the bills, go on holidays, and even splurge occasionally (for example, the very pricey laptop I bought a few months ago). With this job, I would still make enough to pay the bills and go on holidays, but I will need to keep an eye on the money, and there won't be splurging for a while. I do know this sounds like a luxury problem to some.

Job security. In my current job, I'm under a fixed contract. Basically, unless I royally fuck up, I can't be fired. With this job I'd start on a year contract. After that year, they can either decide to give me another year or let me go. This won't just be if I mess up, but also if they decide I'm not the best person for the job after all, or if I don't fit in with their small, close-knit team. Worst case scenario; they let me go, and I'll have to go back to education and probably teach again.

These doubts are few, but strong. So, basically, like I already said above: do I stay in a well-paid, secure job that doesn't bring happiness and actually negatively affects my mental health because of it? Or: do I take the plunge into the unknown and give up the securities I have now for something that could potentially (but not guaranteed) not only make me happy but bring me opportunities as well (since it's publishing)?

I don't need anyone to actually answer those questions, but those are the wonderings on my mind I wanted to write down. Thanks for reading. ❤️

[papurgaatika]

Knead Me, Need You

Pairing: Massage Therapist! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: you were overworked, overstressed, and long overdue to get a massage. You just didn’t realize that getting one would come with a very good-looking massage therapist or the thoughts that filled your mind every time he touched you Tags: no outbreak AU, massage therapist! Joel, no reader desc. Gentle Joel, dirty thoughts, Joel is a tease, the reader is pent up as HELL, mentions of fingering, no actual sex, LOTS of sexual tension, pet names (darlin’ and sweetheart are used), Appreciation for Joel's arms, 18+ Word count: 2.7k

A/N: I very desperately need to get a massage and woke up from a dream about it so there’s that!! Also a huge lovely shoutout and thank you to my wonderful beta readers (@joelsdagger @carlynkurin and my lovely Laur) who have saved me from making the weirdest grammar mistakes and also fuel me with comments such as “IM (S)CREAMING” yall are real ones xoxo

Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! 🇵🇸

You hate your job. Okay, that wasn’t true. You don't hate your job, you just hate the commute. And sitting at your desk all day. And the fact that you always decide that heels look better with your outfits. So you didn't really hate your job, you loved being in charge, but your back was paying the price for it. Everyone in your life has heard you complain about your back hurting at least once. Some of your coworkers had found you with a stash of the stick-on heating patches in your desk and that led to the office pitching in to get you a certificate to one of the nicest spas in the area for your birthday. 

You weren’t sure if you would use it, you barely had time to sit down and fully wash your face. How were you supposed to relax for a full hour and a half with some stranger touching you? The answer came to you one Saturday when you rolled out of bed and could barely stand because of a crick in your lower back. A groan falls from your lips before you throw yourself back onto your bed and grab your phone, making quick work of dialing the number on the back of the voucher. You let out a sigh of relief when the receptionist tells you they have availability later in the afternoon, and you tell her you’d take the appointment. You’re just about to hang up before her voice comes through your speaker again “Oh, and just to let you know, your therapist will be male, is that okay?” 

You freeze for a second. On one hand, you didn’t love the idea of some random man touching you, especially considering it was a full-body massage. But on the other hand, you really didn't have a choice, your back was going to give out if you waited any longer. You mumbled out a quick “That’s fine, thank you!” before hanging up and making your way up to change your clothes. You decide to opt for something more casual, before grabbing your keys and wallet and heading out of the house. 

This place was fancy. Like much fancier than you had expected and suddenly your outfit felt too casual and you missed your heels. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you filled out the forms they gave you. No, you haven’t had a massage before, yes you wanted to focus specifically on your back, and you weren’t sure how much pressure you wanted. You hand the clipboard back to the receptionist with a smile and she lets you know that he’s just about finished with his last client and he’ll come back for you in just a few minutes. Your knee is bouncing of its own accord, nerves finally kicking in. You are about to be naked in front of a man who is then going to rub his hands into you. Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that it’s his job. He does this all day, five days a week. You keep reminding yourself that it’s just a massage, you’ll be okay. You finally start to believe that, nerves dissipating and your heart settling back to its resting rate, and then you see him. 

He’s all broad shoulders and a kind smile walking out to the main area, before turning in your direction, and your mind blanks for a minute to fully take in how attractive this man is. His arms were gorgeous and you couldn’t take your eyes off of them. His t-shirt was pulled tightly over his bicep, riding up just enough to let you see a peek of skin that was untouched from the Texas sun. His arms were thick, the muscles defined and prominent, veins standing out against the smooth skin. You were enraptured watching his arms move as he signed off on some papers and grabbed the clipboard with your forms on it. Images of his thick fingers in unspeakable positions flooded your mind; tugging at your hair while his other hand was on your hip, dragging over your lips and pushing them into your mouth, letting them curl into your aching cunt while he holds you down. 

You were lost in your thoughts until his voice was saying your name and pulling you out of your depravity. You smile at him shyly and stand up to shake his hand “I’m Joel, and I'll be your masseuse for today, it’s a pleasure to meet you darlin’.” if you thought that he was attractive before, hearing that accent made you weak in the knees. The slow drawl of his words was smooth like honey and sent butterflies straight to your core. He takes the paperwork from the receptionist and gives it a quick scan before tutting at you lightly. “Overworkin’ yourself? Don’t worry, I'll take good care of you today.” You feel your face start to heat up as you follow him back through the halls into his room. You stepped inside to be met with a dim warm light, and soft music playing through a speaker. 

“So is this your first time coming in for a massage?” he asks, half leaning against the door. 

“Is it that obvious?” you half laugh, heat rising in the back of your neck. You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes locked on his. He laughed softly with a shake of his head and you think you might die on the spot. It’s so unfortunate that he’s so hot. 

“No, darlin’ it said it on one of those forms they had you fill out, I just wanted to go over how it all works with you.” you nod and look up at the man, waiting for him to go on, “I know it said you wanted to focus on your back, do you mind goin’ a little bit into why?” 

You sigh and press a hand into your lower back, “So I sit at work a lot, and granted my posture isn’t great, but I woke up this morning and it was worse than it had ever been” You tell him about your job, about being overworked, about your stupid half hour commute. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, only dropping to flick over your waist for a moment, and then back onto yours. 

He lets you explain where exactly you were hurting before he glances at his watch and lets you know that you should get started sooner rather than later. “Just go ahead and get dressed down to your comfort level and then just lay down with your face in the cradle sweetheart. I’ll knock before coming back in and then we can get started.” You smile and give him a nod, taking a deep breath once the door shuts after him. You make haste to strip down and fold your clothes leaving them in a little pile on a shelf, leaving your panties on much too aware of the wetness that was pooling into them. You grab your phone and lay down on the table, scrolling through your email and replying to a few new ones from your coworkers, knowing fully well that they can barely get things done without you. 

A knock on the door breaks you out of your thoughts and you let out a small noise of acknowledgment that you were ready, slightly hesitant. You watch as Joel opens the door and steps in, eyes immediately flicking to your phone. “Can’t have that out darlin’, this is your time to relax” he says gently, grabbing your phone and setting it down on the shelf next to your clothes. “I’m sure work can wait.'' He shoots you a wink and your face feels flushed. You let your face fall into the cradle, eyes shutting before you feel his hands grazing your body over the sheet slowly. He’s barely touching you, his touch is feather-light, so why do you feel like your body is on fire? His fingers make small circles on your scalp as his thumbs press gently into the base of your neck. Your eyelids flutter softly, the pressure he was applying immediately melting away your stress. His fingers work on your neck, not pressing too hard but not so soft that it wouldn’t help at all. You feel him work in the same place for a few minutes to get rid of a knot, likely from staring down at your phone or hunching over your computer all day, before he takes his hands away. 

“Alright sweetheart I'm gonna move the sheet and start on your back, if that’s alright,” you nod into the face rest, letting out a deep breath when his hands hit your skin. You figured his hands would be as strong as the rest of him looks but he was surprisingly gentle and warm. The smell of roses and sandalwood fills your nose as his hands press softly between your shoulder blades. You let out a soft sigh when his fingers dig into your skin “That pressure alright darlin’?”

You manage to mumble out a weak “yes” and let your eyes fall shut again. You don't know why he’s doing this to you, why this man is making you all hot and bothered while he just does his job, but he is. His hands feel like heaven on your lower back, fingers creating circles to try and get a particularly nasty knot out right above your tailbone. A sound leaves your mouth, a little too close to a whimper for your liking and you feel the blood rush to your face but Joel doesn’t even mention it. 

“You're real tense sweetheart, it’s a wonder you didn't have to come in before today” he mutters as his fingers work their way back up your spine. A trail of goosebumps follows after his touch as your back almost arches into his hands. Almost. You catch yourself at the last moment, sparing yourself from what would be the most embarrassing experience of your life and would also likely get you banned from the spa, which would truly be painful because lord, did Joel know how to use his hands on you. His fingers were soft yet somehow held just the right amount of strength in them to work your pain away, the way the heels of his palms would dig into your skin when he focused on a specific area, he was just too good at this and it was making you a little bit crazy. 

Your eyes were still shut, your body more relaxed than it had ever been when you heard him tell you to flip over so he could work on your legs. In your half-asleep state, you seem to have forgotten that moving too fast will not only make your head spin but will also make the sheet covering you drop. You managed to catch it and pull it over your chest, eyes wide and staring at him. “Oh my god I'm so sorry-” you start but he cuts you off with a shake of his head before clearing his throat. 

“‘s alright sweetheart” his eyes flick down to where you were clutching the sheet. Your breasts were spilling out of the top almost obscenely, a small sheen of sweat from the warmth of the table (and his hands) covering your skin. “Just lay back down, ‘m gonna work on those legs now.” He turns to grab the oil again, and you weren’t certain because of the dim lighting in the room, but you could have sworn there was a light blush dusting his cheeks. You lay down with your head in the rest, still clutching the sheet at your chest before he takes it out of your hands and brings it over your chest fully, leaving just your collarbone and neck exposed. He moves to a corner before picking up a bolster to put under your knees to prop them up slightly. 

You let your eyes fall shut as you feel his hands skim your calf. You bite back a gasp when his hands, god his hands are huge, encompass your ankle and bring it up out of the sheet, bending it at your knee slightly. You wet your lips with your tongue and find your mouth drier than it had ever been as he moves your leg into a good position for him, your calf almost grazing his chest. You feel yourself clench around nothing and feel your panties dampen at the closeness of him. He lets your foot down, tucking the sheet under your hip so that it doesn't slip out from under you, and you can feel your heartbeat everywhere. His fingers were so strong yet so gentle on your calf, rubbing out the tightness in your legs.  As his fingers made their way further up your leg you felt like you were on fire. His hands were pressing into the muscles, nails softly tracing against your inner thigh and it made you feel weak. You couldn’t get the image of those same fingers the ones that were trying to help you relax, rubbing circles over your clit or digging into your hips as he held you in place, out of your mind. It was filthy really, how pent-up you were. How depraved the thoughts you were having about this man, this stranger, were, but you couldn’t help the wetness pooling between your legs from growing.  He presses into a specifically sore spot, dragging something between a yelp and moan from your lips. “I'm so sorry-” your words were quiet, barely audible over the light music he had playing in the room. “Don't worry about it sweetheart, just means I’m doing my job right” he was fucking with you. He had to know what he was doing to you. Had to know that while he was working on the muscles of your legs, you wanted those strong fingers inside of you, talking you through orgasm after orgasm with that sweet southern voice. 

You close your eyes again, trying to stabilize your heart rate and keep it from pounding out of your chest “Alright sweetheart, I'm gonna wipe you off and then I’m sorry to say, but we are done for the session” You nod your head before feeling the warmth of a hot towel wipe against your legs, attempting to brush the idea of him wiping you up after pumping you full of his cum out of your mind. You take a few deep breaths before he turns the lights up slowly, letting you adjust to the change. “Alright, I'm gonna step out and grab you some water. I’ll meet you up by the front darlin’” You smile at him and say thank you before moving to change into your clothes, knees slightly wobbly from just thinking about him. Your panties are embarrassingly wet when you stand up, and you press your face into your hands trying to shake this out of your system.

You manage to step out of the room without having your knees give out,  eyes still slightly blurry from being half asleep through the whole appointment, and walk back out to the reception. You blink a few times, adjusting to the much brighter lighting, and see Joel waiting for you with a cup of water. “Pleasure working on ya sweetheart, I hope I’ll see you again soon” You take the water and say your thank you to him before watching him walk back into the backroom, and oh my god was his butt always that cute? 

You turn back to the receptionist with a smile, when she asks how the session went. “Good, yeah no everything was amazing” You bite on the inside of your cheek softly, the ghost of his fingers still on your skin. You get checked out, making sure to give him a hell of a tip and book another session with him in a few weeks. You take his card and twirl it around your fingers as you sit in your car. Joel Miller- Licensed Massage Therapist- Austin, TX. It was going to be a long hard few weeks without seeing him, but you had some ideas on how to keep yourself, and that dull ache in the pit of your stomach occupied, and every single one of them included thinking about Joel Miller and his fingers. 

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.  Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[deliciousangelfestival]

Every Time You Lie - Ch 3 || Lloyd Hansen

Character: dark!Lloyd Hansen x female!reader, dark!Husband Lloyd Hansen x Wife!reader.

Synopsis: Any woman is jealous of you, especially with the status of being the wife of Lloyd Hansen—the CEO of the biggest pharmacy company in the country. From the outside, everyone sees you as a perfect family, a successful husband, two kids, and living in a big house. 

But the truth is different. You are trapped in this marriage because of the mistake you made. You are willing to give everything you have to get your freedom. Free from him. Free from your vicious mother-in-law. Free from your snobby son.

Both of them shouldn’t be together.

Warning: Betrayal, suicidal thought, harsh language, tragedy. Minors do not read. 18+

Author Note: I do not consent to copying or translating my work. 

Any reblog, comment, and feedback are appreciated. I want to know what you guys think.

Series Masterlist || Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 ,Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 ,-

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

‘You’re not my type.’

Lloyd gritted his teeth; he held back the anger. You used to be obedient and never disrespect him like this. Now you turned into your old self. You said the same things the first time you met him. 

He brushed the back of your hair gently. His touch made you shiver and you uncomfortable. Lloyd lifted his finger to show you the ring.

“You married me, my love. You must be shocked. I understand it’s difficult for you to accept the fact. Don’t be afraid, I have hired the best doctor to treat you.”

Then he brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles; his mustache tickled you. “So we could go back as we used to.”

You pulled back your hand after he said that: his gaze, actions, and everything he did scared you. You don’t understand why, but you feel helpless towards him. 

Lloyd, seeing you being silent made his heart ache more than ever. He’s afraid to kiss your lips and bring you into his arms. After being married, this is the longest time he is separated from you. He doesn't want you to see him as a creepy person. 

Both of you are husband and wife, for God's sake.

Everything he built has turned into a mess now. The empire he have, turned crumbled when there was no queen beside him. 

“I’ll leave and come back tomorrow.” Lloyd showed a sad smile and left you. 

You look at his back, he looks depressed. You want to feel sorry for him, but you can’t. Because right now, the one who needs to feel sorry for is you. 

Imagine you suddenly wake up and become a wife and mother. Your body is 42 years old, but your mind is still 21 years old. You don't know who your husband and your children are. To you, three of them are just strangers. 

The only people you want to see are Mia, Theo and Amelia.

Where are they? They’re not worried you got amnesia?

A lot of questions in your mind right now. You need to get out of the hospital. You hate it here.

“Urgh.” You growled with pain because when you moved your feet, it hurt so bad. You tried to press the button to call the nurse.

“Mother, what are you doing?” You turned your head and saw Emily and Lionel together. 

“Umm…” You feel awkward with them. It felt like a dream you have a grown up kids standing infront of you. 

“I want to walk, but it’s really painful.”

Emily immediately approached your bed, and she stopped you to make another move.

“You’re in a coma for four months. Because of the accident and lack of movement, it will hurt when you move any muscle. I will made appointment for physical therapist for your treatment.”

You looked at her and felt familiar. Her nose, her jawline, the way she speaks, and the little mole near her left eye. She looks just like you. 

“Thank you.”

Emily shook her head. “Don’t say that. You shouldn’t say that. It supposed to be me who…” She stops talking since tears from her eyes start dropping to the bed sheets. “I’m so glad you’re awake. I thought…. I lost you.”

After she said that, Lionel dropped to the floor, facing down, and cried.

Seeing both of them crying at the same time made you confused. You decided to open both of your arms and said, “Come here, both of you.” 

In just a second, two of them are in your arms. But it was Lionel who got all the space. He rested his head on your shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around you, “I’m sorry mother. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.”

He keeps repeating these words. Since the accident, the guilt is eating him alive. He wished that it was him instead of you on that day. 

You want to cry when you hear his voice; you stroke his head. “It’s fine. I’m alright.” 

You sighed heavily, accepting the fact the moment you wake up you became a wife and a mother. 

"Shit, that fucking hurt." 

"I never heard her curse in my life." Lionel whispered to his sister. He and Emily are watching you exercising your leg with parallel bars. You tried to regain your strength and balance. 

Emily patted her brother's shoulder. "Anyone who just escaped death will have their personality to changed.”

Lionel saw you slipped away from the parallel bars. He moves fast to catch you. But you slapped his hand. You felt you hurt this boy's feelings. You apologize to him "Sorry, I'm still not used with this."

Lionel made a small nod and backed away. What you mean by 'with this' is you still can't accept the moment you wake up, and you become 40 years old without any memories.

He looked at Emily again, wanting to cry. All of this happened because of him. He decided to walk away and get some fresh air. 

Emily saw her brother leave the room. She felt bad seeing him depressed, but he needed to learn the consequences of his mistakes. It wasn’t his fault the car hit you. But if he didn’t insist to grab that damn shoes, none of this would’ve happened. 

It hurts her when she hears you have amnesia.

The way you look at her is also different. But Emily thinks it's a good thing. Because you became someone else. You seem confident and brave even though you still can't accept reality. She never sees this side of you. 

Before, you used to say yes to everything Lloyd said. You're an obedient wife. 

You're the best mother she ever knew, and she is grateful for that.

But how Lloyd, Krystal, and Lionel treated you is unfair. 

The life she had found out to be a lie. Emily used to see Lloyd as an awesome, strong, smart, and successful father. And he loves you so much. But after she grew older, she realized that what happened between both of you was not love.

It’s obsession and stubbornness. 

And her grandmother, Krystal. Emily never being close to her. She always heard her friends' stories about how their grandmother was so nice, always giving them allowance food and staying with them.

With Krystal, she doesn't have anything like that. There’s no such thing as a connection with her own grandmother. Even with all her high grades, trophies, and certificates, she never heard any compliment from Krystal. 

Lloyd and Krystal used you to get what they wanted, and they did. But they have to pay a price. That's the biggest secret in this family.

That's why she left. She felt ashamed of the horrible lie she had known for the rest of her life.

Lionel is almost the same as them, but Emily hopes he will change for good because of this accident.

‘Bzzt.’

Emily grabbed her phone and saw the name was Dr. Gabriel. He’s a senior doctor who is also in charge of you. “Good afternoon doctor.”

“Come to my office. There’s an annoying patient at my office right now. Could you check on him? I’m still giving class at the moment.”

Emily widened her eyes, she had never heard Dr.Gabriel sound annoyed and disrespectful towards any patients. He always being professional. She became curious about who the patient was. 

She turned off the phone and approached you. “Mom, I need to go. Don’t trained to hard.”

You nodded at her. “Yes. Don’t worry.” In your eyes, she’s a great kid. You’re grateful for having a smart and kind daughter. 

After Emily left, the therapist asked, “Do you want to rest?”

You shook your head and wiped the sweat from your head and hands. “Continue.” 

Even though it’s painful and you hold it in. It’s nothing compared with the feeling of knowing your father had died and you don’t have any memory of it. 

The doctor told you to have a bed rest for a few days before practicing to walk again. But you said no because you want to leave the hospital as soon as possible to see your father's grave tomb with your own eyes. 

You want answers.

Emily walks faster to Dr. Gabriel's office room. When she arrived, the nurse immediately gave the patient record to her. She opened the door, and a man was already sitting on Dr. Gabriel's chair, facing the window.

Since he’s a senior doctor, his space is bigger than anyone. Most of his patients are also rich and famous.

No wonder Dr.Gabriel sounded annoyed at the phone. This patient already makes this room like his own. She could feel the arrogance from afar. Seems like the patient noticed someone walking into the room. He turned his chair. “You’re late.”

The patient was taken aback for a moment because he had mistaken someone.

Emily cleared her throat. “Dr. Gabriel still giving a lecture righ now. He send me instead. I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Drysdale?”

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Series Masterlist || Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 ,Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , -

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

[cld9writes]

✩that tight little dress✩ - namjoon x reader kinktober #2

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

day two - roleplay

reader! afab!reader, fem!reader

word count! 1.9k words

tags! roleplay, wall sex, unprotected sex (don't do that.), dirty talk, self-indulgent degradation

------------------------ *ੈ✩‧₊˚𖦹𖦹𖦹*ੈ✩‧₊˚------------------------

The man across the bar is staring at you like he’s starving. Deep, dark eyes slowly roaming over your body, lips pressed together in an attempt to keep from drooling. His finger strokes across the top of his thigh nervously. The deep red dress that hugs your figure is drawing him in, begging him to come over and flirt with you. Begging him to come over and take you back to his place. He wants to get to know every inch of your body, to rip that dress off and figure out who you are.

That’s the storyline, anyway.

You’ve decided to try something different with your boyfriend. You wouldn’t have guessed it when you started dating, but him being into roleplay made more sense as time went on. You’ve tried tons of different scenarios- college professor and his student dying for extra credit, massage therapist, royalty and their favorite suitor, forbidden lovers. But never pretending to be strangers. It seemed a little odd to him at first- why would you want to fuck a stranger when he’s right at home? But then you explained it to him-

You get the thrill and rush of feeling like you’re doing something naughty, something new. But you have the guaranteed safety net and emotional closeness of your pre-existing relationship. Once it became less about strangers and more about thrill-seeking, he was a hundred percent on board.

That’s what brought you to this dark nightclub. In your tight little dress, in your light little heels, with your tight little pussy aching to be stuffed full of cock. But you haven’t “met” him yet, so that’s entirely out of the question. At least let the man buy you a drink before he lets him take you home. 

The tall man practically glides over to you, standing a stool away from you. He waits for your eyes to meet him before 

“I know you probably don’t want to hear it from me, but you look stunning.” He opens. You smile, heart fluttering now that the scene has truly started. You giggle, trying to cover up the nerves.

“Thank you! I wanted to look nice tonight, but stunning is even better.”

“For tonight?” He wonders. “You have something special going on? I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“I’m supposed to meet up with some friends.” You shrug, as if these non-existent friends are more party buddies than true confidants. “But don’t worry about imposing- I'd Much rather talk with you. I’m Y/N. What’s your name?”

“Kim Namjoon.” He smiles, sitting in the barstool next to you. “You have a lovely name, Y/N.”

You two continue to play the scene out over drinks. It’s fun to pretend to be these alter egos. It’s not anything special, but seeing how different your dynamic could’ve been if you met differently, or were different people, is certainly interesting. It doesn’t take long before you’re both slightly sick of the acting, though, and want to get to a different kind of fun. Namjoon breaks the silence first and clears his throat.

“Are you still meeting with your friends?” He asks. You roll your eyes, drinking the rest of your whiskey. 

“No, I’m not.” You say, completely indifferent. “Why?” Namjoon finishes his own drink before responding.

“I was wondering if you’d like to rest at my place. I’d hate for you to go home alone, and I’m sober enough to drive.”

“Why wouldn’t I just go back to mine? Make you drop me off?” You say indignantly. Something in his eyes shifts. They seem sharper, more direct. Your stomach clenches at the change.

“Because we both know what you really want,” He whispers, leaned in right next to your ear. “And I certainly can’t let you go home unsatisfied.” And that’s all it takes. Within minutes, you’ve paid the tab and left the bar.

He drives you back to “his” place, touching you the whole way. For just a moment, he dips his hand down between your legs. He doesn’t touch you, mind you, he wouldn’t dare risk fucking you in the back seat. But the closeness, the hovering, the heat of his fingers. It all makes you bite the inside of your cheek and clench your thighs together. He’s pleased with this reaction and places his hand back on top of your leg. 

He barely manages to get you through the front door before his hand has fully slipped inside your dress. He thought about you while you were walking up the stairs, but he’s fed up now. He just wants to touch you, to feel how wet you are for him. His long fingers slide over the slick bottom of your panties and he relishes in just how soaked you are.

“This worked up over a man you just met.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Shameful little girl, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be such an a-ass.” You snap, trying your best not to stammer. He’s not making it easy. He slips your panties to the side and sticks a finger inside your soaked cunt, testing the waters. The way your walls ache to clench around it tells him you need more. Ever the gentleman, that’s exactly what he gives you.

He pulls you into a kiss, the taste of whiskey still strong on his tongue. You moan into the kiss, grinding your clit down against the rough palm of his hand. He follows suit, moving his hand in small, controlled circles as he finger-fucks you. 

“I can’t wait to go to bed” He huffs. “Just let me fuck you right here.” 

“I don’t know… what if you drop me?” You know he won’t. He’s fucked you up against the wall pleanty of times. But you wanna hear him assure you.

“I never would. Trust me, I’d have to be one stupid bastard to let you fall. You’ve trusted me this much, and I know you’re aching for some cock. Just trust me one more time.” He slips a hand under your thigh, stroking your soft skin as he awaits your okay. 

“Fine.” You sigh. “Pick me up.” 

Without hesitation, he does just that. He hoists you up against the wall, holding you in one arm and pressing the two of your bodies into the wall for added support. After miraculously removing his clothing from the waist down, he taps the sides of your thigh 

You sling your legs over his hips, finally letting him support your weight. He teases your folds with the tip of his cock, fat head threatening to break you as it pushes in. You moan behind bitten lips, almost drowning out the growled “fuck” that slips out of the man before you.

His thick cock fits nearly perfectly within your plush pussy. Despite acting like you’ve never met, it’s clear your cunt has molded to his shape. It’s like he’s been designed to fill you up and hit all those spots every time. The perfect cock, all for you. 

Namjoon kisses you again, pushing you further into the wall as he begins thrusting. Because of the curl in your stomach, he’s instantly rubbing up against your g-spot. He fucks you hard and slow, desperate to feel each moan of yours vibrate on his lips.

“You’re such a slut. He spits between kisses. “You let a man you’ve never met rawdog you in his entryway? What a shame…” 

“I’m not a slu-” You attempt to protest. He chuckles and kisses you, swallowing your response.

He drops his hands down to your pussy, playing with your clit as he fucks you. The double stimulation is incredible, it’s got your mind going blank as he pushes you against the wall against and again. You’re probably going to have bruises on your shoulder blades but it doesn’t matter.

The sex is filthy. You can’t stop moaning, you can’t shut up. Your pussy is sopping wet, and each thrust fills the air with disgustingly lewd noises. Your creamy cunt is dripping everywhere, soaking his upper thighs and dripping out onto the floor. He’s teasing your clit like he isn’t pounding into your stomach, like you aren’t already about to cum. You’re babbling, going on and on about how good it feels and how happy you are it’s his cock filling you up. He tries to shut you up with kisses, but he’s getting drunk off your ramblings and can’t stop.

“You’re shameless…ngh- fuck!”

“Mhm! Mhm!” You nod desperately. You are. You’re clawing at the fabric of his shirt, desperate to get even closer. You want his dick in your stomach, in your throat. You want to be able to taste it from where it stands. Because his fingers and his cock have turned you into some kind of freak and you just want more of it.

“I’m g-gonna cum!” You pant. “Gonna cum s-soon~!” He speeds up a little bit, both his pelvis and fingers. You reach your climax, screaming in pleasure as you cream over his throbbing cock. He fucks you through your high, not giving a single shit about how sensitive you may be or how this may end for him.

Your legs shake and squeeze his sides as you ride out your orgasm, desperate for more and for it to be over at the same time. He’s still pounding into you relentlessly, and he grabs your jaw to make you look at him.

“You see how good that felt? See how good it feels to be a slut for me? You think anyone else could’ve given you that tonight? No one else would’ve bothered. But I took care of that cunt of yours. You got that?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Sir? Aren’t you ob- fucking hell- obedient-!” His hard persona is faltering, and you can tell it’s because he’s getting close to finishing himself. He can only take so much, but his hand falls right back to teasing your clit and swollen lips. He’s desperate for you to enjoy it for just as long as he does.

Your cumming has made it difficult for him, though. The extra warmth, softness, and tightness makes it feel like you’ve become a succubus, and he wants nothing more than to give his soul to you.

His thrusts are becoming erratic and sloppy. He’s chasing a high he’s far too close to, desperate to cum inside you. Desperate to defile that perfect cunt. His breathing is ragged and fast, he sounds like he’s been running for hours. And you still can’t get a single word out. You try. You try and you try. But the pounding of his cock and his fingers on your swollen clit make the words catch in your throat and come out and moans, curses or whines. Because all you can feel, all you’re aware of.

You two end up finishing at the same time. You reach a second orgasm, creaming all over his thick shaft. This is what finally does it for him, and he finishes inside of you. You feel your insides flood with hot, sticky cum  as he leans against the wall to support your weight. His thighs are shaking against yours, and he’s trying to control his breathing. He swallows hard, trying to calm down before speaking.

“I’m so glad I met you.” He sighs, a smile tugging at his lips. He’s not acting anymore. This is much deeper, much more real. You smile, dropping your head in lieu of giving him a hug. 

“I’m glad I met you, too.” 

You come to an unspoken agreement to stay like that for just a second longer. Just until you can stand on your own again.

------------------------ *ੈ✩‧₊˚𖦹𖦹𖦹*ੈ✩‧₊˚------------------------

and that's day two. this one is a little more disjointed cuz i literally banged this out in under two hours. sorry about that. hope y'all enjoyed tho <3

------------------------ *ੈ✩‧₊˚𖦹𖦹𖦹*ੈ✩‧₊˚------------------------

[kim-jongin-s]

svt fic recs (mostly nc-17; jeongcheol, verkwan, minwon + other)

JEONGCHEOL

"fuckme.mp3 (a smash hit)". au, underground rapper!sc. oneshot, 2k. nc-17.

It's all thanks to Hansol, really.

"calibration". omegaverse: alpha!sc, omega!jh. oneshot, 2k. nc-17.

“…can tell he really wants you,” Hansol is saying, somewhere nearby, except for a minute it doesn’t smell like Hansol, and Seungcheol blinks, confused, until he sees who’s following Hansol into the room and stops caring about anything else.

"a thousand degrees tonight". oneshot, 3.6k. nc-17.

The novelty has yet to wear off, knowing that he can have someone as strong and sure and dependable as Seungcheol like this- unfocused, needy. Desperate for him.

"babysitting gone wrong". au, babysitter!jh. oneshot, 4k. nc-17.

In which, Jeonghan gets hired to babysit the youngest Choi for the night but ends up sitting on the meaty thick thighs of the eldest Choi sibling.

"amour". au, vampire!sc. oneshot, 7.7k. nc-17. (check out the prequels to fully enjoy this one.)

At some point, Seungcheol had found himself with a collection of all the small, intimate noises that Jeonghan had made for him tucked away in a secret part of his heart.

"praying at your altar". modern royalty!au: bodyguard!sc, prince!jh. oneshot, 8.6k. nc-17.

Above all, the prince is precious.

"stay here with me". au, psychologist!sc. 5 chapters, 31k. r. ♡♡

Eight months after his younger sister's death, Jeonghan is struggling. Barely hanging on. He's tired. Lonely. Wishing he could find one therapist that understands his niece. Then he makes an appointment with newly graduated child psychologist Choi Seungcheol.

VERKWAN

"one day we're gonna get". oneshot, 1.6k. nc-17.

“Come on! As if you don’t know I look at you!” Hansol’s eyes are wide, exasperated. His tone is teasing. His grip on Seungkwan’s arm is so tight.

He’s scared that Seungkwan doesn’t believe it, Seungkwan can tell.

"one pound of flesh". historical!au, omegaverse: omega!sk, alpha!vn. oneshot, 4.5k. nc-17.

A strange marriage, to an even stranger alpha.

"sinking/floating". omegaverse: omega!sk, omega!vn. twoshot, 12k. nc-17.

Hansol presents late. Seungkwan is right there to guide him through it.

"left where the daylight comes". regency!au, omegaverse: omega!sk, alpha!vn. twoshot, 50k. nc-17. ♡♡♡♡♡

“Our dear Seungkwan is engaged to be mated to Alpha Park by the end of the summer season!” Seungkwan’s mother says, cheerily.

The delicate porcelain cup shatters under the force of Hansol’s hand.

"easily (like do re mi)". au, teacher!sk, single parent!vn. 5 chapters, 53k. pg-13.

As a single father, Hansol tends to worry too much.

Then, comes Boo Seungkwan, a kindergarten teacher that occupies Hansol’s mind more than he knows what to do with.

MINWON

"don't mention it". omegaverse: alpha!ww, alpha!mg. oneshot, 2k. nc-17. ♡

Mingyu's preferred person to spend his rut with may not be the most evident choice.

"the trials and tribulations of being accidentally bonded". college!au, omegaverse: omega!ww, alpha!mg. oneshot, 41k. r.

Jeon Wonwoo was supposed to be a Beta. He was also supposed to hate a certain Kim Mingyu with all his might. But, then again, who says life couldn't roughly take you in the ass without preparation?

OTHER

"we". wonwoo/seokmin/mingyu. oneshot, 15k. nc-17.

“Hyung, would you ever want to have a threesome?”

"love so tender (you are my)". chanhan. omegaverse: beta!jh, omega!dn. twoshot, 16k. nc-17.

Jeonghan is good at being in the middle. Extreme emotions are not really his forte. So he is grateful to be born as a beta. Less drama, easier.

Then he meets Lee Chan.

"over and over again". seoksoon. soulmate!au. oneshot, 19k. r.

Soonyoung has the easiest time finding his soulmate - running into him in the hallway at age nine kind of speeds things along. Nothing after that, though, is anywhere near as simple.

[orion4ever]

HIIII! It's the paranormal enthusiast mc anon again, I loved that SMSM THANK YOUUU! I'm back with another request :)

(Sorry if this is worded wierd, I couldn't figure out how to word it lmao)

Could I request a Baxter x past dance partner MC? MC used to do competitive dancing, and during contests and competitions in their past the two were often paired together. They immediately clicked the first time they danced together, and paired with eachother every chance they could get. After step 2, maybe mc stopped dancing or something happened that caused them to stop being paired together/not see eachother as often, and they didn't meet again until the summer :)

gsjskw aaaaaah I don't know how to word this correctly and I apologize if it's too specific, feel free to change this around or edit it if you want to!

Thank you again, and have a wonderful day/night! :>

Author’s Note: ….Okay this is freaky af because I WAS LITERALLY RETHINKING THIS SCENARIO IN MY HEAD. Are you a mind reader? 😦 if you couldn’t tell, I went HARD with this request! I wrote this with the MC and Baxter not meeting at the Soiree moment but at this competition instead.

Pairing: Baxter Ward x MC

🖤🤍

Let me set the stage-

You and Baxter are both very talented dancers , maybe the best in the pacific region’s teen category.

You have been fostering this skill since you were a little kid and have proven to your dancing instructor at the Cypress of your affinity with ballroom dancing.

All the cypresses in America held a ballroom dance competition with each Cypress nominating one person per age group to represent their location at the contest.

At age 13, you were selected to represent the teen and pre-teen category!

You were a bit nervous about it, especially it being your first competition.

You also didn’t expect to be making a charming new friend, or a future summer boyfriend.

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

You stood in the huge dancing hall, the tall shiny roof and shiny marble floors showing a reflection of yourself. The trip hadn’t been too long, this year’s annual competition took place at a Cypress in Nevada.

You looked around the room and noticed people of varying ages, you zeroed in on any kids around your age to ‘scope out the competition’ as your instructor would call it.

In the distance, an older gentleman pulled a mic from under a cabinet in a far-off corner of the room and tapped it a few times.

“Testing….testing…Welcome! To the annual ballroom competition. We would like to thank all our out-of-staters for making the trip to the Cypress’s Nevada location.”

The big room echoed with a loud applause from the crowd. The older man allowed them to finish before continuing.

“For any new competitors, I will quickly go over any etiquette and rules. Two competitors, each representing a different state but sharing an age category will pair up. They will be competing together and will both receive a trophy for their Cypress.”

Some of the pre-teens groaned at having to socialize with strangers, earning a few giggles from the older dancers.

“We do this to save on time and…to make it more interesting. As dancers, you should experiment with other dancing partners to see who matches your style and rhythm; like a therapist.”

The older gentleman added that last part to joke but it only earned a cough and an awkward laugh from the other side of the room.

“…AHEM. Uh yeah! We will start with the younger category, Categories teens and up should begin pairing with their dancing partners. Remember, it’s all friendly competition here!”

The older gentleman put the mic down and scratched his head, clearly embarrassed that his one joke landed flat.

The little kids all ran towards the middle of the dance floor and started pairing up quickly with each other, laughing and already giving each other hugs.

You envied how quickly they could make friends and pair up, maybe it’s them not having any awkwardness to them yet. You couldn’t say the same for the other categories all either awkwardly shuffling towards new people or instantly jogging towards acquaintances and friends.

You stood to the side and looked around, you were a bit anxious about the possibility that you would be left without a partner. You weren’t mentally prepared to meet any new dance partner.

You twiddled your thumbs and watched on. You were just about to test your luck with a teen who looked just as awkward when you felt a noticeable tap on your shoulder.

You turned around and spotted a very handsome boy, maybe a year older than you. His casual smile widened when he got a look at your face. His hair was a dark black. His skin, was pale and pink at the cheeks. A mole placed on his neck and finally the most intense

Deep brown eyes.

He looked as if he should be modeling for DIOR or if he should be a star in some movie. His neatly pressed suit made him look like a prince.

“Hello there. I am Baxter, Baxter Ward.” He introduced himself, extending a hand for you to shake.

“I noticed that you don’t have a partner and I was hoping to fix that.” He said. The young man had a distinctive voice.

You gave him a neutral smile and shook his hand back.

“I am Y/N L/N. It’s nice to meet you.” You greeted him in return and then answered his question.

“That would be great actually, This is my first competition so I am a little all over the place.” You chuckled nervously, rubbing your arm. The brown-eyed boy nodded.

“It gets easier, I promise.” He reassured before asking a different question.

“Which state are you representing?”

“Oh, uh I am representing California!” You replied, crossing your arms proudly. Baxter’s face somehow brightened even more.

“Oh, wow! How wonderful, I am representing Oregon.” He chuckled. You made a small exaggerated gasp before lightly clapping your hands together.

“We’re like..like neighbors! That's so cool!” You grinned.

Baxter paused at the thought, putting a hand to his chin in an equally exaggerated way.

“I never thought of it that way..” he said thoughtfully before giving you a polite but genuine smile.

“Let’s do good for Oregon and California then.” He said confidently, you nodded at the sentiment.

You and your new dance partner now stood next to each other, watching the little babies dance with each other. While they’re dancing was silly, they all looked to be having fun and some even paused their swinging to ask the other what their favorite colors were or if they wanted to get ice cream after the competition.

Baxter made an amused sound before turning back to you, wanting to make conversation and also…wanting to hear your insight.

“If only we could all make friends that quickly.” He sighed softly, stuffing a hand in his pocket.

“Tell me about it.” You chuckled. “What makes it easier for them anyway? Are they just more social?” You questioned more to fill the air than actually wanting hearing an answer so you weren’t expecting Baxter to reply with his own opinion.

“I personally think it’s because they aren’t as burdened with fears of rejection yet, it makes them more confident.” He commented. You blinked before agreeing.

“That makes sense. I wonder where all that confidence goes when we age.”

It was silent again, the younger categories finished up their round with everybody including the both of you, giving a round of applause for them.

“We will now have the preteen and teen division go up next.”

Baxter turned to you and offered a hand. “Shall we?”

You in return, took his hand “We shall.”

The two of you walked to the middle of the room and got into position. Baxter took the initiative and offered to lead. The older gentleman behind the counter hit a few buttons to activate the music in the speakers. The other contestants began to dance and spin around, unlike how silly and unserious the way the babies danced; everybody currently on the floor struggled to get acquainted with their dance partner’s style. Lots of accidental stepping-on and half spins that didn’t go through.

You and Baxter were extremely different though. While you guys did start a little rocky, with never dancing with each other before. The two of you warmed up quickly and danced very well together.

You two swung and spun around as if you guys had danced with each other billions of times.

But more importantly, it looked as if Baxter was having fun dancing with you.

And you enjoyed how familiar and fun it was to dance with him.

Baxter whispered something to you, “You are very talented,….and you have nice legs.”

“Wait what?”

It was now an unofficial tradition to pair up together, and you guys did for the next two years. While you and Baxter weren’t that close back then, you still had fun conversing with one another and being able to dance so freely with each other; you enjoyed how straightforward he was and lightly teased him for how formal he sounded and he played around and equally enjoyed your company, you didn’t know it then but you two felt a click.

So it was extremely unfortunate when you injured your ankle permanently and would have to stop dancing for a while, it had happened during the winter so you weren’t able to tell that charming boy goodbye or to explain to him why his dance partner had suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth. It broke your heart, that those sparks you had when you danced with him would never be replicated.

You never thought you would see him again, Until that fateful summer of 2016. You sat in both awe and shock as Baxter stepped out from the passenger side of his taxi, he turned towards you and Cove; his neutral eyes narrowing when he took a look at you before a look of recollection replaced it.

“…Y/N? Is that you over there?” He questioned loud enough for you to hear.

“BAXTER??”

Cove looked between the both of you. “Huh?”

[shalom-iamcominghome]

Hi Shalom, I am the anon who sent an ask about calling a shul last week. Before giving updates I would like to apologise for vomiting my anxiety all over the ask. We're strangers and you didn't ask for the job of calming my anxieties. I apologise for that.

Also, thank you for your faith in me, it gave me strength, because I did go to the shul. I was incredulous at myself, but I did do it. I had to go back to my home during the day as I had forgotten my ID but I still went back instead of giving up (the journey was one hour and a half total, next time I will remember).

The security literally used interrogator techniques on me, which I realised only later. I totally understand, I didn't know anyone there, I was not Jewish by my own confession, I could have been anyone. Anyway, I said if I shouldn't be here that evening it was fine (I didn't want to pose a security risk) he said "No! You can go tonight we talked about you."

What can I say about the experience but that it was- so much better than I expected. First, everyone was so opened and relaxed. I talked with two women behind me. I said it was my first time and asked some questions, and one of them was so nice. Said she couldn't read either the first time, that she had learned. Turns out she was a convert. I hesitated to tell her I wasn't Jewish, but I did. One thing I want to be is honest. Those people are literally putting themselves in danger, opening their space to a stranger, I owe them at least three time my honesty.

At one point during the office, I got teary eyes. The emotion of being there, honestly it surprised me, I don't really now what got me so emotional. Another moment, I felt like I was flying, wrapped in the singing of everyone around me.

Another thing is I was finally hearing people say Hashem, and Shma Israel and Shabbat Shalom and talking about the destruction of the Temple. It was as if I had finally found the correct dimension, you know?

It was so good. At the end the lady gave me her number told me I could text and we could drink coffee this week so that she could answer my questions.

The guy at the entrance told me to call the secretary to begin the procedure of conversion. I never said I wanted to, but apparently me wanting to assist to an office count as wanting to convert.

So, this has been a wonderful experience. I still I'm not sure if I want to convert or not. I will contact the lady. What I know is I want to learn everything, I want to go back to shul. What I don't know is, what level of observance can I sustain realistically over the term of my life? am I ready to confront my relatives reaction to this? And am I ready to put my children in danger over my calling to Judaism?

I will reflect and ask questions and think.

Thank you for reading, have a great day!

I want to start with: I am, genuinely, very proud of you. It might sound odd, but it is such an intimidating first step to take, and I can empathize with how scary it is. Additionally, I understand where you were coming from, and understood that these anxieties are hard to talk about with, really, anyone, but they need to go somewhere. Every step of the conversion process is a community project, even questioning if judaism is right will take a community to address. We can't survive alone in this, and I think part of exploring conversion is learning how to be in community. I think many of us grew up in hyper-individualistic communities to the point where we internalize shame by "stooping down" to seeking help. I don't want to assume what your situation is, but it's definitely been something I personally have had to contend with (and frankly, I still am contending with). So I truly understand why you went about your feelings the way you did - you didn't cause harm to me, I didn't feel like a therapist, and you it seemed like you needed community. That's nothing to be ashamed or guilty for. So long as we all remember that I am not an expert, I think we can at least have a heart-to-heart. My overall point is: I don't want for you to feel ashamed of needing community and asking for support, and I hope you don't feel that way. I'm glad you contacted me, and feel honored that you chose me to speak about it with. That's crazy to think about (in a good way, of course)!

I truly have so much faith in your path, and I found myself relating heavily in what you've expressed. I absolutely don't want to tell you what you ought to do, but I really hope you continue this journey no matter where it leads you. Keep asking those big questions - learning about what your needs are is so important. I can't answer them for you, and I don't want to assume that you want me to answer those for me, but if you ever want to talk, know that this blog is an option if you want it to be. All of this is a community effort. Chase the happiness. You deserve that, literally, at the very least

[sachermorte]

hi roland

i noticed you use a forearm crutch and i wanted to ask for some advice, if that’s okay with you

i just got my very first forearm crutch (and mobility aid in general) today and um. it’s very scary to use it in public :’)) i just wanted to ask if you have any advice on how to give less of a fuck about people staring and judging, and how to feel more confident with using it in public

thank you :’)))

Servus, Anon, you caught me just coming back from the gym. I'm happy to talk about this before I go jump in the shower and pretend I don't exist for twenty minutes.

I've been using some flavor of mobility aid since I was around eighteen years old, so let's just round it up and call it a full decade. I started with a cane, had to upgrade to two forearm crutches three years in, and knocked myself back down to just one crutch around three or four years ago. I've been carrying around a giant metal pole for so long I don't really remember what it felt like to go without it, so I suppose I really am the best person to ask.

This is long. Table of contents provided here, cut to follow.

On Judgment

On Theater

On Discrimination

1. On Judgment

The first point I want to impress upon you is that people really, earnestly, don't give nearly as much of a fuck about you as you think they do. People are inherently self-centered. This isn't the same thing as selfish, mind you. People can be good and generous and kind while still being fundamentally self-centered. That's the price of admission for being an individual. People live in their own bodies and deal with their own problems and primarily concern themselves with their own affairs. They might look at you, but that's because the way that the human brain works is that it wants to take in new pieces of information. A young person with a mobility aid is "unusual", so they're just filing it away in their endless filing cabinet of Things That Exist On Planet Earth. It's no huge drama.

To continue on a slightly different angle, the therapist-esque "no one's judging you I promise!!! do YOU go out on the street and judge people on what they look like?" never worked on me because yes, actually, I do. I think people are out here dressed tragically and with bad haircuts and with the most hideous shoes I've ever seen, and I think it very often. But here's the thing: I see someone, I judge wholeheartedly, and then immediately move on. Any given person occupies less than two full seconds in my consciousness before I go back to what I was doing and forget about them literally forever. This is how random, shitty, petty judgments happen. These people are irrelevant to your life and your story. You will almost certainly never speak to them on the subject*. If people think about you at all, it won't even be unkind. It'll be "Oh, I wonder what's going on there. Anyway." I promise. Kerry Weaver used a forearm crutch on nine seasons of ER before it was explained, and people dealt with it just fine.

I suppose I'm lucky in that I live in Vienna. You would be hard-pressed in Vienna to get anyone to give a shit about you and what you're doing if you were shot in the street. I consider this one of the best things about the city. I've known people who only very delicately broached the subject of my crutch after knowing me for over two years. And it was when I was already complaining about my hip joint. "Ah, that's why you have the crutch, I suppose." "How very right you are." "Anyway, you were saying?" I've had multiple people mention that they forget I even have it. It just melds into their map of what Roland looks like. Doesn't even warrant thinking about. The one time I had a stranger ask me about it was three years ago, and it was a little kid. I told him it was because I never ate my vegetables. I laughed. His dad laughed. Everyone moved on. Aside from that, it only comes up if someone asks me if I might like to take their seat on public transportation (I might, indeed), or someone offering to let me use the staff elevator or waving me through a priority queue. Nobody cares.

*If you live in America, the last paragraph is unfortunately not applicable. I've experienced the height of rudeness in America. People grabbing me to ask me questions, people literally laying hands on me to pray without permission. I once had someone pull out one of my earbuds to ask me what was wrong with me. You are allowed to shout at these people. The best way to get rid of them is to make an absolute scene. I wholeheartedly advocate for tactically losing your shit. Also, your crutch was practically formulated in a lab to be good at hitting people. Consider thoroughly.

2. On Theater

Even taking all of this into account, though, having a mobility aid is new for you, and new things are frequently scary. This brings me to my very favorite tactic for navigating the world: delusion. When I have to do something I'm not used to doing, or go somewhere I'm unaccustomed to, my first thought is always "what character am I playing while I'm there?" I recently started going to the gym and always dress as Favoriten-chic as I can get with my present wardrobe. When I have to file an important piece of paperwork, I dress very respectably in gray and black. When I was at my job in the garderobe last year around a bunch of ÖVP-Wähler, I dressed mostly in vintage menswear.

What kind of characters exist in the greater public consciousness that often use canes or staves? Aristocracy is and always has been my mask of choice. You, however, might choose a swashbuckler. A Tolkien-esque wizard or someone living in The Shire. A knight. A monk. An outdoorsman. Partaker of organized crime. Jay Gatsby roaring 20s billionaire. Whatever you choose is going to be your cover until you feel like your crutch is an extension of your body and you don't need the pretense anymore. You're cosplaying. It might take a few months. A few years. You might decide you like your persona so much you never take it off. That's also fine.

Again, I live in Vienna, and people stare at you here. It's just a thing. It's culturally accepted. Half the time we're not even staring at you. We're staring through you. Einfach nur ins Narrenkastl schaun. But because I dress the way I do and move the way I do through the world, if people are staring at me, the last reason I'm going to even think about is the crutch. It's usually the outfit.

Also, that point earlier about people being fundamentally self-centered? I'm so absurdly self-absorbed it's a miracle I can even see where I'm going. I've had friends, multiple times, go "those people were STARING at you" and I honest to God did not even notice. Not even a little bit. When I have company I'm too wrapped up in saying outrageous shit. When I'm alone I always have headphones in. My leitmotiv is inescapable. Which really only helps to reinforce the vibe I'm pushing out all the time.

3. On Discrimination

If you wanted me to write that no one would treat you any differently, I'm sorry to say that that's not the case. Don't get me wrong, there are many benefits, both physical and social. Your pain will go down significantly, that's for sure. You'll be able to walk faster. You'll be able to be out longer, and experience more things. I personally get to use Cripple Privilege to get out of anything I don't want to do. I almost always get a seat on public transportation, even during rush hour. I can press-gang friends into carting shit around for me. Just yesterday I had help carting two vintage hardwood and leather dining chairs from the third to the tenth. I did not carry either of the chairs. I just trotted along and chattered everyone's ear off.

But people do tend to make assumptions about what you are and aren't capable of. The extreme praise when I started going to the gym didn't really sit right with me, and I'm not going to bother saying anything about it because what's the point? In the minds of other people, they're being supportive, not condescending. Your dating pool will shrink significantly, because again, people make assumptions about what you are and aren't capable of, and often just don't want to date a disabled person. If your partner is okay with it, their family likely won't be. My ex's family said some HORRIBLE things to and about me about how I was "dragging him down" and "forcing him to take care of me". He didn't defend me. This was the least of many, many problems with that entire relationship, but I still found it incredibly unpleasant. My issues in my love life aren't solely due to my condition, so don't fall into despair prematurely, but I can't pretend that it isn't a contributing factor.

After that relationship ended, I wound up cutting out most of our former mutual friends, not only because of their lack of support, but due to them constantly posting those pastel uwu "you're so valid!!!" positivity and (mis)information posts surrounding disabilities, which felt incredibly infantilizing and condescending. Again, I'm sure they would insist they were being supportive. If I ever see another one of those posts again it'll be too soon.

In any case. You will live a long, meaningful, fruitful life. And the crutch will be a part of you. For now. For a while. Maybe forever. That's okay. That's fine. Maybe in ten years you'll be just as jaded and nonchalant about the whole business like I am now. That doesn't make your apprehension about the situation any less real. But I'm telling you now that the life you want always lies on the other side of a massive pain in the ass.

You'll muddle through somehow, with alternating bouts of clumsiness and grace. We all do, after all.

[mayajadewrites]

Levi Ackerman x Reader: Almost

Chapter Six: Coffee Ice Cream

Chapter Summary: We start off in Levi's POV, getting more insight on him and what he's thinking. He invites you over for TV and some ice cream. Nothing more. *tehe*

Fanfic Preface: Modern AU Levi Ackerman x Reader fanfic I’ve been dying to write! Levi is my latest hyper fixation so this was bound to happen. There will be other AOT characters in the mix, but remember this is a modern AU!

WARNING: SMUT AHEAD

ao3 link

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕ LEVI ☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

It's been a few days since our little incident. I didn't want to come off as obsessive, which I may or may not be, but I knew if I wanted this to last and bloom I needed to give her space to continue to be her own person.

"Mr. Ackerman, I've meal prepped for you for the next week and there's a load of laundry going." My housekeeper, Daisy, says as she fixes her apron. "Is there anything else you need me to do?"

"No, thanks Daisy." I nod for her to dismiss as I walk through my mansion.

Honestly, I'm not sure why I have a housekeeper. No one cleans like I do. I guess I keep her around for the cooking since I'm shit at that. Cleaning has always relieved my stress and makes me forget where I am in the world.

I didn't start off as a millionaire, almost billionaire. I started at the very bottom, with my mother.

We used to live in homeless shelters and sometimes strangers couches, until she fell ill because of our living circumstances. I watched my mother wither away in front of me, like a rose.

"Levi, promise me you will be something." I remember she said to me as she was taking her last few breaths. "Mommy will always watch over you."

Then she was gone.

Social services picked me up after that and I went to live with my aunt and uncle. They lived comfortably in middle class with no kids - lucky me.

I'd like to think mom would be happy with how far I've come.

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

"Levi, your new assistant starts today. Don't run her off, please." Hange gives a pleading look. "She's nice."

"Nice and competent are two separate things." I continue to jot down notes from a contract I'm reading.

"Levi, this is Juliet. Your assistant." Hange walked into my office with, who I'm assuming is Juliet. She's young, with long blonde hair and brown eyes. Conventionally attractive.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Ackerman. What do you need me to do first? Do you want me to get you coffee?"

"I don't drink coffee. I drink tea. And I get that myself." I look up from my desk. "Hange, have her go over my schedule for meetings next week and make sure everything is in order."

"Sure thing boss." Hange left with Juliet, closing my door gently behind them. I have a therapy appointment today, thankfully it's virtual. I open my laptop and sign into the portal to initiate the meeting.

"Levi! You look good!" My therapist, Maria, smiles.

"Thank you. The camera probably smooths out my skin."

"So, tell me about your week. What are you feeling, what's going on, all that jazz."

"I punched a guy in the face last week."

"Levi! What did we talk about with your anger?"

"I did think it over. I thought before I punched, and after. I don't regret it."

Maria shook her head, bringing her glasses to the bridge of her nose. "Ay dios mio, you make my job so hard sometimes."

"That's why you get paid the big bucks, right?" I let out a rare chuckle.

"Why did you do that?"

Because he was touching whats mine.

"I thought he was going to take advantage of someone."

"Who's this someone?"

"I don't want to tell you about her yet. Then that means its serious."

"You punched a man because of her, that's not serious enough?"

"No. It's not. I'm 30 years old, Maria. I've never had a real relationship so I'm navigating it the only way I know how."

"Levi, she is not your mother. You can't treat her like she is a fragile human being. She has feelings, like you, and she is her own person. Does she want to be serious?"

"I'm not sure. We're ... dating? I guess that's different from being in a relationship."

"Ah, taking things slow. I see. Well, tell me about her."

"She works at my favorite coffee shop that I go to every day before work. Except I get tea. Anyways, I've seen her almost every day for 6 months and I've had long and short conversations with her. Only recently have we started seeing each other."

"And what are you scared of?" Maria's question stumped me.

I'm scared of everything.

I'm scared of losing her. I'm scared of losing what I have. I'm scared of starting a family only to have it ripped from me.

"Levi?" Maria snapped me out of my thoughts.

"I'm scared of, a lot. My feelings scare me. I feel, protective over her. I feel like I want to savor every moment we're together. I'm also scared she's going to run off once she truly sees my life."

I'm rich, like, filthy rich. She works hard for her money, lives alone, and has dreams of opening her own coffee shop. Which I can help with.

She's used to doing everything for herself. She doesn't have a housekeeper, a chef, none of that. She cooks, cleans, and does everything herself.

Everything I want in a woman is in her.

"You can't go around anticipating people leaving." Maria tapped her pen on her notebook. "You know what I say, everything happens for a reason. There's a reason you connected with her and there's a reason you feel the way you do about her. I don't think it would hurt to explore those feelings more."

After your therapy session, I decide I'm inviting her over for the first time. I want her to see how I am, in my house, and I want to observe how she is.

Me: Are you busy tonight?

Her: If by busy you mean I have a date with a pint of coffee ice cream and Grey's Anatomy, then yes.

Me: Would you like to do that here?

Her: Here is where?

She's gonna make me work for this.

Me: Here as in my house. I'll pick you up at 7.

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕ BRATTY BARISTA ☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

After getting ready for Levi's, you take a look at yourself in the mirror. Your outfit consists of leggings, crew socks, sneakers, a low cut tank top and a zip up hoodie. You can't lie, part of you wants Levi to continue what he started at your place last week. The other part of you is scared shitless to go to his mansion.

At 7 PM sharp, you hear tires roll in front of your place. By the time you lock your doors, Levi is waiting outside the passenger door for you. He kisses your cheek before letting you in the car, scanning your body.

You study the drive from your place to his - about 20 minutes. Levi lives in a rich, residential area with plenty of land to spare.

Walking into his home, it's spotless. Like, actually spotless. No dust anywhere, nothing is out of place, even the remotes on his coffee table.

"I bought some coffee ice cream and I have Netflix set up for that show already - Grey's what?"

"Grey's Anatomy. You're watching it with me?"

"I was serious when I asked you if you wanted to do that here. Can we start from the 1st episode?" Levi grabbed 2 spoons and the pint of ice cream.

"Sure." You walk over to the couch, which looks like a cloud, and sink your body into it. So this is what it's like to have money.

Levi pressed play, opening the pint. He plunged his spoon into the ice cream as neatly as he could, bringing it to your lips.

You open your mouth slowly, letting him insert the spoon into your mouth. You stare at his eyes as you lick the spoon, getting lost in the clouds that live in his eyes. He pulled the spoon out of your mouth, taking a scoop for himself.

Levi had coffee ice cream residue on his bottom lip, which he quickly licked away. You stared at his chiseled jawline as he watched the show, his eyes moving back and forth with the scenes.

Eventually Levi put the ice cream away, knowing we would eat it again later. As he sat down next to you again, you couldn't help but notice a bulge in his pants.

We meet again.

Levi put his arm around the back of the couch, leaning back so his chest was stretched out. You could see his collarbone peeking out of his shirt, along with his sculpted muscles.

"You're not even watching, brat." Levi interrupted your daydream.

"I'm watching something else." You turn your body toward him. "It's much more interesting."

"What do you mean? I think it's ok so far -" Levi directs his attention back on the tv, getting lost in the plot.

You took advantage of this moment and unzipped your hoodie a bit, exposing your cleavage. He didn't seem to notice, but he will soon.

You slide into him, making sure he can feel your body against his. He looks down at you through his jet black locks, seemingly by surprise.

"What-"

"Shhhh." You press your finger to his lips, pulling your leg over his lap so you're straddling him. "You can't talk until I'm done. I mean it. Not a word." When did you suddenly get bold?

Levi's erection was more prominent now, pulsing against your thigh. You trail kisses down his face, neck, chest, and eventually you snake down to your knees, in front of his belt buckle.

You look up at Levi, who's mouth is open like he wants to say something.

"Remember the rules, Mr. Ackerman." You wiggle your finger, unbuckling his belt. "Not a word until I'm done."

His belt slid off with ease, as you pulled his slacks down to his ankles. His dick print through his boxer briefs startled you, but you're not gonna stop now. You spread his legs, pushing yourself in between them.

You drag your fingertips down his stomach to his pelvic region, tracing the 'V' line gently. You glanced to look at Levi, who's eyes were dead set on you.

His underwear came off, and his dick slapped his abs. Your eyes grew wide from his size, knowing you might have bit off more than you can chew.

You take one hand and start pumping his dick slowly, brushing your thumb over the tip. Pre-cum leaked from the slit, motivating you to pump harder.

You take some of the pre-cum from your finger and slid it into your mouth with a 'pop' sound. Levi groans, letting his head fall back.

You bring your lips to his tip, sucking it gently while pumping his shaft. You could not take all of him in yet, but you will. Your other hand starts massaging his balls, which hitched his breath. Your tongue caressed every vein in his dick, paying special attention to the tip.

Levi finally put one of his hands in your hair, directing you on his dick. You took more and more of him in, eventually hitting your gang reflex, but you didn't care. The look on Levi's face is worth it. He whimpers as your tongue cascades along his length, the sounds alone causing him to almost overstimulate.

Levi moaned your name before you felt his dick start pulsating in your mouth and his hand pulled your hair roughly. "Where do you want me to cum?" Levi said with short breaths.

"In my mouth."

It was less of a mess that way.

That must have sent Levi over the edge. He unleashed his load in your mouth, holding your hair tightly.

You snake your body up to his face and smile, swallowing his load.

"Fuck." Levi caught his breath, kissing your lips gently. "My turn." Levi pulled you onto the couch, laying you down horizontally. "But you can be as loud as you want."

Levi slid your leggings off, revealing your hot pink thong. He played with the straps before sliding them down your legs, kissing your thighs as he passed by.

Your core was drenched at this point from sucking his dick alone, and seeing him at your pussy sent you to another planet.

He slid two fingers in without warning, pulled them out, and sucked them while keeping his eyes on yours. "What a good girl. So wet for me." Levi started pumping his fingers, curling at your clit.

"Levi.." You moan his name, curling your toes. Levi presses his hand on your stomach, sitting his face in-between your thighs. His lips touched your pussy, sending electricity up and down your body.

The entire time, his eyes are on you. Watching every face you make, listening to every moan. Levi ate pussy like it was his last meal. His tongue and fingers invaded you and made it their home instead. Your walls started to pulsate as his tongue went in and out of you, devouring every last drop.

"So beautiful." Levi mumbled against you, curling his fingers one last time before the world went away around you. The feeling is euphoric. A man hasn't made you feel like this, ever. You've pleasured yourself enough to give yourself an orgasm, but this is different.

"Levi." You moan loudly, gripping his hair, riding out your high. You could not focus on one thing - there were no thoughts in your head. Levi ate you through your high until your legs were shaking uncontrollably.

Making his way to your lips, Levi kissed you gently, the sheen of your arousal all over his mouth.

"I wish I could savor this taste forever." He groaned, putting his hand behind your neck and pressing you into him gently.

His lips moved with purpose, making sure every inch is taken care of. Your lips are plump from all the arousal, your heart feels like its beating out of your chest.

"Do you still want to watch Grey's Anatomy?"

[anomymoussoapbar]

I'm proship/profiction because I understand that the content somebody creates or is interested in isn't a perfect reflection of how they are irl.

I trust that other proshippers understand how to separate fiction and reality.

I'm anti-censorship; I won't make any exceptions because we've seen in history that once you start making exceptions, it can lead to queer media also being demonized and banned (the best I can think off the top of my head is the trans institute that existed in nazi Germany, which had so many amazing trans resources, getting destroyed by nazis).

I believe people should be able to use art as an outlet for anything. Not every single thing in life needs to be censored, and people do often use art to process feelings and experiences.

I'm against harassing people for their art. Not only does harassing some internet stranger sound like a waste of time, it's bullying too. I don't want to be a bully.

I believe in "don't like, don't look, don't interact" (my own variation of don't like don't read). I have tools to block people and hide content I don't want to see. I'm going to use them. I am responsible for curating my own online experience.

I've seen people online who use proshipping as a coping mechanism. I don't understand how that's possible, but that doesn't really matter so long as those people are safe. I wouldn't deny a victim their coping mechanism unless it endangered their life because that's against my beliefs and I'm not a therapist, so that wouldn't even be my place to speak. I've noticed antis don't like these kinds of victims because they don't fit into the antis' perfect boxes of how they think victims should be, so they often harass and bully and claim victims need therapy/need better therapists. I find this ridiculous because in my and many other's experiences, therapy is inherently proship/profiction and antis ignore this/claim it's not true (idk how you can do that if you're not a psychologist but they're too far gone to argue with). And they don't even offer to pay for the therapy, lol.

Thank you for making this blog and being curious, you're amazing. Sorry that this is kinda long lol

Hello!!! :*)

Thank you so so so much for your views.

I find it interesting how you listed it and specifically how you explained "don't like don't look don't interact" [I really like how you phrased it :*)] which I myself see me doing a lot.

When I read through your explanation, I began getting vaguely reminded of those internet safety PSAs they would make kids watch when you are younger, of curating your own safe environment.

How to report bullying, and to not harass others online as well being points that made me think of those internet safety PSAs LOL

Something I find myself thinking about is on how a lot of what fiction can affect reality is a concern long ago that was likely brought by concerns by parents who were against video games saying it promoted violence.

I also find the idea of fictionally dark themes interesting, as I have realized I. Do often indulge in dark medias. In an oddly comforting way.

I really don't like how people harass proshippers, or anyone in general. And from what I have been gathering, not all proshippers indulge in dark thematics. Perhaps the majority, but the proshipping idea is simply respecting even if you dont share it.

Also, when you mentioned people not being exactly how they write or the creations they make, I realized how a lot of mainstream medias follow this. The creator of most Studio ghibli movies is COMPLETELY different from the peppy and cute movies he makes and the creator of popular horror Manga Junji ito makes a lot of horror visuals and grotesque stories however is just a sweet guy in real life.

I know I bring it up a lot in my posts, but a lot of why media can be triggering for me and sickening is when I see what reminds me of my own traumatic experiences [S/A /COCSA and grooming.] And how no matter how much I filter, it will always end up appearing.

As it makes me physically sick, revolted, and sadly reminds me of what I've so deeply buried.

However, I am ONE side of the S/A survivor victim experience and spectrum. The other is people who find comfort in exploring their feelings and it helps them understand on what happened to them.

And I love art. I express myself through art. I used to draw what happened to me and draw out how I felt with characters. But it would make me feel so much worse. As I am and was at the mental point of connecting so hard to the fictional reality which I built to be so much better than I was in.

I don't really know why I'm saying all of this, I guess I just want to lead to the fact that every survivor has their way of coping, and mine isn't the same as everyone else's. And I am still learning to accept that and educate myself on it. Because I do. I really do want to understand and take away my own personal stigmas.

I have so much more I would love to add but I feel I have been rambling for too long LOL

Oh my goodness I'm so sorry for ranting but anyways, thank you so much for the ask and informing me in this much detail. You are so so loved and appreciated. 💞🌸

[khaleesiofalicante]

"this is one for Zou" CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING

I just love happy David 🤗

teacher David is eveything, I know he's amazing at it

pain de campagne is 🤌 I love it

The Last Supper is such an unexpected birthday theme lol, I'm so curious to know what that may look like

"the bread-taker is also kind of breath-taking" my dad is proud 😂

my little chaotic gay 🥺

every Mavid first meeting is always so AAAAAHHH

I wonder just how frequent is it in real life for two strangers to go to therapy together 🤔

OH NOOO JACKSON IS THE THERAPIST LMAOO

Jackson is SO precious to me 😭

my fellow aroace who's a bit of a cunt but also a ride or die for his friend

His notes must just be like "someone get me the fuck out of here" and "I don't like this man and the effect he has on David"

best relationship and best friendship, I'm right

I couldn't have dreamed of a better story, thank you again my love 💚

Teacher David is such an aesthetic ✨

I hate pain de campagne but I think Jackson would love it 🥹

Last Supper is a very common birthday party theme btw! (or so the internet tells me. Lots of tiktoks about it hehe). WE SHOULD DO IT.

Jackson 🤝 You - BEING ICONIC AND PERFECT

ALSO THE NOTES SENT ME LMAO HE 100% WROTE THAT.

I love you and I'm glad it made you smile on your birthday 💚💚💚