#til he can't even make me numb anymore

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

What is emotional permanence though I want him back lol

[lymtw]

Toji's favorite part about fighting with you is making up with you. He loves what comes after you shoving him in a fit of anger and pushing your finger into his chest to accentuate that the reason you're upset is because of him. He just looks at you with this twisted grin on his face, waiting for you to get it all out. Your aggression is like a gentle breeze to him, and he knows exactly what to say to get you to calm down, too. It's always "'m sorry, doll. You know I didn't mean it like that" or "you have the right to be upset, princess. Should've been better for you". Once there is no fight left in you, he traps you like a venus flytrap, tying the whole argument up and tossing it away with a little murmur of "I can make it better".

In no way is it a soft and fluffy reconciliation, though. The side of your face is pressed into a pillow, your back arched for him as he takes you from behind. He has one hand holding you down by the nape of your neck, the other has a death grip on your hip. "You got it all out, ma? Hm? You calm?" He grunts.

Your hands curl into fists around the fabric of your pillow. Part frustration, part pleasure. You mumble a little, "mhm" a little whine following. You figure this is his way of retaking his dominance after your little tantrum.

"Speak up, doll. Say 'yes, Toji,'" he says, his grip on your hip tightening even more. You can already picture the bruises that'll appear later on.

"Yes, Toji." Your brows pinch when the hand that's on your nape goes down to play with your clit, your knees threatening to give out.

"You're not pissed anymore?" He asks, leaning forward to press kisses on your back.

"N-No," you moan.

"Don't lie to me, princess. You know i'll find out." He grins, seeing the way your hands claw at the sheets.

"Toji, 'm not," you grunt, "'m calm, now."

He laughs at that. You're looking like you can't stand him, like you want to be anywhere but around him, but you're conflicted because you still want him to dick you down.

"We'll keep going 'til you start telling the truth."

And that's exactly what happened. He held your orgasm over you until you relaxed. Tears of frustration were involved, little giggles were lured out of you, he made you tell him you loved him—though that part wasn't hard at all, and then he gave you a mind numbing orgasm that left you trembling under him.

Afterwards he laid on the bed, and you curled up right beside him like a little kitten, passed out from exhaustion. He lets out a satisfied sigh, thinking of how simple you are to figure out and how easy it is to bring back the angel in you. Just need some good dick.

[fairlyang]

Far away 🌻

mariposa by peach tree rascals but it's miles thinking of gwen after she's no longer in his dimension

w/c: 753

tags: fluff, miles missing gwen, down bad, fluff

I can't wait for you to come my way

I've been far away, but I'll keep running

Just to find a way to you 'til then

Quickly after the other spiders returned to their own dimensions all Miles was thinking of was wanting them back. To have others like him to talk to. To get advice from. To swing around with.

But one thing that crept into his mind even more was Gwen. He hadn't even known her for too long but he felt like he could talk to her easily and then realizing he wouldn't be able to see her anymore kind of just stung.

He grew use to seeing her and enjoyed their chats more than he thought he would. Even before he knew who she really was he felt attracted to her, obviously shown by his poor attempts at flirting and the proof of that being her haircut.

He wanted to figure out a way of how to visit them, or Gwen specifically. He didn't know too much about quantum physics but on days where he'd be done with schoolwork and being a friendly neighbor spiderman he would go off reading textbooks and writing down notes while also trying to remember everything he's reading.

I been running from it, tired of running from it

Scared of feeling something

Now I'm stuck and tryna get up out of this hole

He eventually had some understanding of quantum theory and as he thought of it more he was realizing his feelings for Gwen grew stronger. He hasn't seen her for two weeks and he felt like he was going to lose his mind. How was it possible to have a crush on someone from a whole other universe?

He was second guessing on whether or not he should continue his research, feeling almost nervous of how serious his feelings had grown and unsure if he'd even do anything if he did end up figuring out how to get to her dimension.

I tried to be strong, I tried to make it work

But I've been feeling too numb

He tried hard to stay motivated, and slowly gaining confidence that if he did figure it out (which was a big if) he'd be able to tell her how he felt, or at least ease himself into it.  Maybe take previous advice uncle Aaron gave him months prior before he even met her.

Skies are bleeding on me

Why'd you leave me lonely?

Feeling Whitney Stoney

He knew she had to go home otherwise she would've just died but it still saddened him when he was no longer able to hang out with her. She was easier to talk to after he found out she was just like him and Peter. He'd never find someone else that was as easy-going and funny like her that'd also have him in his feels as fast as she did.

Now I'm stuck and wonder where I ever went wrong

How could I be strong?

I'm fighting for your love

Miles wished there was another way of getting to her, something easier like taking a train to her. Unfortunately for him there was no way of getting to her. Unbeknownst to him anyway.

All he could do was draw her from his memory, and lucky for him his memory wasn't failing him. He vividly remembered the pretty blue of her eyes and the way they sparkled.

Or the way her hair looked when they first met when he got to class late and she was the only one to laugh at his not so funny joke.

Or the way her eyebrow piercing suited her so well.

Or how she had such a cute smile.

Or how pretty she looked in his school's uniform even though every girl wore the same exact thing.

Or the way she was fighting and swinging.

I can't wait for you to come my way

I've been far away, but I'll keep running

Just to find a way to you 'til then

He decided to change his mind on what he wanted to do in the future, instead of focusing on his art and his old dream of wanting to be an artist, he realized he could do better and greater things.

He could be the one to figure out quantum theory, he could find a way to go see his friends and he would do whatever it takes.

And he wouldn't wait until he got to see Gwen again, at some point.

[dejaruhe]

I feel so guilty for being so miserable and hating my life as much as I do, I know it's so much better than some people ever get, but I can't stop feeling like a failure in every aspect of being a human. I can like, recognize the things I'm grateful for, but I can't take any joy in them because I didn't earn them and everything is so fragile and impermanent, I have no control over anything, I don't feel truly safe in any of my relationships... I just want to hide in the fucking fantasy worlds of one damn ginger who looks to me like the archetype of what I want in a true friend, and that sucks because parasocial relationships like this make me feel pathetic. Disgusting and sad and trapped. Like, aha yes, the things I want do exist in the world and are achievable for some people, and if I want I can watch that from the sidelines for the price of Dropout and Worlds Beyond Number subscriptions. Hooray.

Every so often I just fall in love with a public figure of some kind, doing work I really vibe with, and it's like. Perpetual low-level psychic damage. I'm not sure if I'd rather be unaware of them instead of having a fucking complex about it. I don't want to be this kind of fanatic. Fanaticism for a living contemporary human is scary fucking shit from both ends — on the white rapper spectrum, you see Eminem reacting to it with Stan and Watsky reacting to it with My First Stalker, I hope you know I ripped all of your pictures off the wall, we all wanna matter — and I wouldn't want to be on either end I don't think but the only end I've been on is the sadder one, where you're just some fucking guy in literal agony about someone who won't and shouldn't ever know your name, because if they do end up knowing your name it's going to be in a way that's mortifying.

I know these feelings fade somewhat. I'm like, mostly normal about other people I used to feel this way about. It's not even about him so much as what he represents. People having cute, positive little lives. It's so much easier to be happy for other people when you have a shred of your own happiness to cling to. My entire life is just ashes in my mouth. Nothing is ever good without severe caveats.

I need to stop writing an overly-vulnerable post to a public piece of internet and stare at my sad little résumé and think about which meaningless retail jobs I'm going to give it to. It's just a picture of a person I don't know. A person I don't want to be. I'm sure some smoke shop will give me part time minimum wage and then I will still hate myself for not being able to support myself but at least I won't have to beg for every last little thing, just the big things, like rent. Maybe a new routine will help me organize my brain to do something different. Maybe I'm just caught in this miserable cycle til I run out of family charity and wind up homeless and can't even get the part time retail jobs anymore. Who knows. I am not quite so cynical to assume that good things can't happen. As long as my mom is alive I can't just lie down and die so I will just numb myself up and keep trudging along

[itsnotmandatorybee]

March 30, 2024

Saturday

6:10 PM

Every now and then, I put myself in a playful role as the villain of other people's stories. I convinced myself to do so 'cause that's what I think can protect me from flare-ups and maltreatment that I don't want to happen again like those of my early years. Don't get me wrong—my childhood's the best timeline I ever had in my life, but everything's changed in a snap. Many of you knew the story outside of it, but only a few can understand how much pain I need to endure in the way I come up with another version of me—a quacky nincompoop with a strange but strong personality, even though I know it's roughly weird for some.

Guess what? I don't care. I am Bernardo when no one's watching. If you partly saw me rooming around and buzzing like a bee, it's your judgment to decide whether it 'was me or not. Not even today do I give my bare minimum, so there's a lesser chance of knowing me better.

Not to think of any ruling or chances of surviving at a younger age, I moved to an unfamiliar place just to get up each day with those questions from my little me left unanswered. That spirit of mine that's only existing through my elder's mouth. That spirit of mine was hidden in every page of my journal. That, 'til now, I have played myself dumb and numb all at once—I must say, for the last few years, I can attest to how unhappy I was with my decisions. Though I'm like the waves in the ocean to explain things briefly, I've somehow had experiences that are way deeper than the ocean itself. They're not secrets. They're not even written. They're only existing in my shattered heart.

So, if it's you falling in love with my aphorisms and body language, don't dare to bite the dust. You'll find out sooner that I'm comparable to the cacti in the dessert. You better run.

So, if it's you talking negatively 'bout me behind my back, I want you to know that I know my mistakes. I can create a list and smack it to your face, and let you know that if you can't say anything good, so can I.

So, if it's you telling me that I should be grateful, ask yourself first if you are. So if you are, then that's good. It's none of your business if I feel gracious or anxious, unless it was me who did the favor to lose a grip and spill about it.

So, if you ever saw me paused or silent, then you might have seen my 0.1% true self. I might be thinking of me inside Mickey Mouse's clubhouse, or I'm in some sort of crisis, thinking about the foods I haven't tasted in years.

So, if you know me better, I'm not a coffeeholic. Yes, not really. Perhaps you're my ultimate bestfriend who can make a decent hot Milo in a mug with a bit of sugar added, with Chunkee cookies or Loaded Cheese on the side.

The bottomline is that I'm in a position where AI can create a better version of this writing than I can ever be. I'm in a situation where some people are fooled and rely on my wordings, waiting for my canned responses, what's my take about life hacks, Gaza, Marcos, Taylor Swift's CO2 emissions, love—it's evidently gross to make someone uncomfortable because he can't say or narrate too much, 'cause how is he supposed to do that if his time's consumable only for work and hobbies? Is it really mandatory for me to respond and label me as "masungit" or say "haya'n na naman siya" if I never speak?

Okay! I put myself in a playful role as the villain of other people's stories. So, what comes next?

It's still better for me to see my notebook pages blank. I don't want to fill it anymore, whether it's a good or bad story.

I want a little break.

—from the little candy wrapper

[killerofyourheart]

🎧

🎧= My muse’s favourite song

Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi

His deceased mate would play this song often to the point of driving him crazy. He started to like it after some time and after his death he couldn't stop listening to it without crying but he also couldn't stop listening to it.

I need somebody to heal Somebody to know Somebody to have Somebody to hold It's easy to say But it's never the same I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain

"Can you turn it down, love?!" Jonathan called from the living room where he was trying to have a conversation with his father. He tried not to chuckle or growl in exasperation, he hated that song. In the kitchen, his mate was slow dancing with a mop as he sang in unison with the radio and cleaned the floor not caring about the conversation Jonathan was having with his father in the living room.

"You're giving everything up for something stupid, son! This isn't worth it! Don't make us do it." Jonathan's father said on the other side of the line.

"This is not stupid, father, this is very worth it, and I'm not making you do anything. Just stay away from us and we stay away from you. That simple. Goodbye." Jonathan hangs up and gets up just to watch his mate sing and dance in the kitchen. He can't help but smile.

Now the day bleeds Into nightfall And you're not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

"See?! You like it!" His mate giggled and he couldn't help but smile. They were at the dining table, eating, and his mate had decided to play that song again.

"You play it so much you got me hooked on it, that's all!" He tried to defend himself but his mate was having none of it.

"You like it~ You like it~" His mate teased and Jonathan laughed.

"I don't, I really, really don't, but it makes you happy so it makes me happy to see you happy." He says smiling as his mate smiles back at him and starts to eat letting the subject rest.

I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to turn to This all or nothing way of loving got me sleeping without you Now, I need somebody to know Somebody to heal Somebody to have Just to know how it feels It's easy to say but it's never the same I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape

His mate fakes a gasp. "Did you just voluntarily play it?!" His mate asked as Jonathan puts the song on play and walks back to his sweet omega. He can't believe how lucky he is to have him.

Jonathan smiles and takes his hand. "I told you the other day, I don't, but I only play it because you do. I love you." His mate stares at him with blurry eyes and a happy smile on his face as he's about to cry.

"Oh, Jonathan. I love you too." His mate kisses him as Jonathan grabs his hand and waist and starts to slowly dance with him as they kiss. It feels like the time has stopped and the world is theirs.

Now the day bleeds Into nightfall And you're not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Jonathan is holding the figure of his mate in his arms now. The fire is intense from his side. He's too close to the fireplace and doesn't even care. That bloody song is playing again, was playing again when all this happened. He killed the all, he did, but they still got their mission done. His mate was dead. "Please, wake up. I promise I won't ever say your song sucks," he begs to a lifeless body and holds him against his chest crying.

And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes I fall into your arms I'll be safe in your sound 'til I come back around

Jonathan can't stop playing that song anymore. As if playing it would bring him back. He wakes up crying to it and goes to bed crying to it. He sometimes signs it to himself. Sometimes he forgets he's gone and he turns on his bed smiling at his mate just to find that side of the bed empty and cold remembering his mate is gone. "I miss you."

[julienbakerstreet]

*cracks knuckles* we're putting the julien baker in julienbakerstreet tonight. this is exactly what goes through my head every time i listen to this song:

Wasn't a fighter 'til somebody told me I had better learn to lean into the punch

Holmes, the boxer. Holmes, the brilliant detective facing off against the criminal genius. Holmes, who ultimately defeats Moriarty not with a show of intellect or deductive prowess but with his fists, fighting on the edge of a waterfall.

So I don't hurt as bad when they leave There you were, turning your cheek

Holmes braced himself for Watson to leave eventually. He goes back to being alone after nearly a decade of partnership, of having someone to come home to, to take on cases, to share life with. He knows he has no right to be jealous but he's jealous all the same. It shouldn't feel like a betrayal to watch your best friend fall in love. He knows this, and he resents himself for feeling betrayed anyway. He resents the way he lashes out at Watson and he resents the way Watson treats him with such undeserved kindness regardless. Kindness mixed, he thinks, with pity and concern.

I look at you and you look at a screen I'm in the back seat of my body I'm just steering my life in the video game Similar accent, a different name It's a slow down

During the hiatus, Holmes is running for his life and living under aliases and he isn't sure he'll survive long enough to make it back to his old life. Too busy running to be anything other than panicked and numb. At times, the Sherlock Holmes of London begins to feel like a hazy memory.

So would you teach me I'm the villain Aren't I, aren't I the one? Constantly repenting for a difficult mind

Holmes sees the way he's hurt Watson and hates himself for it. Their relationship is fraught after his marriage, more distant than they've ever been. For all the good he does as a detective he can't seem to stop hurting the person he's closest to. Holmes can be cold and sharp and difficult and he knows it. The mind that makes him great and allows him to help people is the same mind that drives him to addiction and plagues him with black moods. A mind that Victorian understandings of queerness consider diseased. In his own words, his mind is "a racing engine, tearing itself to pieces."

Push me down into the water like a sinner Hold me under and I'll never come up again I'll just stay down

Holmes goes to the falls prepared to die happily if he can rid the world of Moriarty. He's prepared to die even for the chance to try. He sees Moriarty approach him at the falls and hears the roar of the water. As he pens what he thinks will be his last words to Watson, he is certain of the fate that awaits him.

It's a half-life It's a fallout It takes so long for me to settle down And when I finally do there's no one else around So I stay down

And then he doesn't die. The fight is over, Moriarty is gone, and he's still there. And before he can think, before he can appreciate the scope of his victory, he's scaling the falls and dodging rocks thrown by Moran and listening to Watson calling out for him desperately from above. By the time he stops running, he's hundreds of miles from home in a foreign land. Watson thinks he's dead, and Holmes thinks he might as well be. What's left for him back home anymore?

He stays down.

it’s totally free to listen to stay down by boygenius and think about reichenbach btw

[remingtonisleithal]

Toxic In You Analysis

I think we as a fandom need to 1) send as much love to Remington as possible after his recent post about suicide and all the lyrics in the Fever Dream album (particularly Toxic In You) and 2) talk about said lyrics.

First of all, almost everything that I'm gonna say in this mini essay is speculation, experience and educated guessing, it's not factual, just my ideas, so don't go targeting me I'm too tired for that shit.

So. Lyrics breakdown.

"I can take another hit, another hit, Overdose til you make me sick, make me sick, but you know I don't love the shame, in my brain, when I put you inside my veins."

So this is obviously alluding to drug use, 'put you inside my veins', similar to the way most hardcore drugs such as heroine are taken. This is either comparing the person, "you", to a drug, that they're addictive, an epic high with harder downfalls that make you hooked. OR it's talking about actual drugs, which is my theory. We know the boys aren't exactly shy when it comes to drug use and it's reverenced in many of their songs (such as No Love In LA). "take another hit" is a double entendre, it can be taken as taking a dose of a drug, or literally being hit, comparing them both is pretty powerful. Singing about having the drug until he's sick, but continuing to do so is a heavy allusion, if not blatantly saying "this is about drug addiction". Especially the recognition that he's overdosing, but doing it anyway. The shame associated with such addiction is always strong, but the thing with addictions is that often it seems worth the pain.

"I can't take it anymore, anymore, Will I ever even make it out the door, Cause all this fucking and fighting, That I keep inviting, Could lead me to my grave." So this sounds more about a person, "fucking and fighting" but this wouldn't be the first song to talk about drug addiction like it's a person. "Will I ever even make it out the door" can be physically, as the drugs mess with his system, but also psychologically, changing the question to 'can I even get out of this hell to get better, should I try'? Back to the part about fucking and fighting, the next line "that I keep inviting" is the most crucial line. This is textbook for an abusive relationship, be that between people or people's relationship with substances etc. Because people with addictions know that it's bad, it's hurting them, but they're hooked on the high and so invite the pain back in on the chance that there may be something good to it. "could lead me to my grave" is evidence of this knowing.

"Now I'm self medicating, Because I love the pain, Self medicating."

TW SH Euphemism for taking drugs recreationally or using alcohol to cope. The interesting part though is "because I love the pain". Typically those who self medicate 1) risk addiction and 2) do it to numb the pain, but that pain can easily be just as addictive as the high that often comes from the escape of whatever the person is taking. This is another similarity between substance abuse addiction and other addiction such as self harm. There are chances this could be more comparison to an abusive relationship, know that they're getting hurt but loving the person, who is causing the pain. Or loving the pain of being trapped in the limbo of addiction because often people become addicted to things to escape reality, so even though it hurts, it's easier -or seems easier- than the hell of facing real life, unfiltered.

"Cause I keep feeling like I’m not enough Not enough, not enough But I don’t run away from you Knock me down and twist me up Until I’m all fucked up But I don’t run from you" Feeling like you're not enough -> typical sign of someone who has been abused, and (we all know about the awful shit that our boys have gone through when they were kids) is another part of the song where it could be either about an abusive relationship, someone making their victim feel less as a way to keep them there. This can happen though without the abuser meaning to make the person feel bad, which is a whole other argument and stuff. BUT he then goes to say "but I don't run away from you" which is once more addiction. It makes you feel like shit but you don't leave it. You can't. "Knock me down and twist me up until I'm all fucked up"... 'fuck' is literally the most like, diverse? word in the English language. It's got so many uses. In this case, it could mean fucked up because of drugs, fucked up emotionally, generally fucked up, or all of the above. It's complicated, but I feel like we all get the drift. Point of this part is that while our beloved singer is feeling crappy, he's not going to stop it, because, addiction (person or substance is up to interpretation).

"I guess I’ll asphyxiate Let my heart break straight in two And now I’m turning blue Don’t know what to do I just love the toxic in you" Talking about asphyxiating, and heart break, is once more what happens when you're addicted, to a someone or something. You hurt. You heal. You love. You hate. You need it, you believe that with every part of your soul, even though it's not true. Because sometimes poison tastes the best. "Breaking habits Never been my claim to fame My straight jacket Holds me tight says I’m okay " Habits and addiction are very similar to each other. Impossibly so. It's a fine line between bravery and stupidity, but the line between habit and addiction is not only near invisible, but entirely dependent on the person and the habit/addiction. If it's hurting you, it's addiction, if it's not, it's habit, but habits can also hurt you (for example, biting nails and that kinda stuff). I don't even know where to begin on the line "my straight jacket holds me tight says I'm OK". Like, first of all, the total juxtaposition of talking about having a straight jacket then claiming to be OK... the straight jacket alluding to being in a mental hospital of some kind, but then saying "I'm OK" is exactly what addiction is like. You tell yourself you're fine even while you're bleeding out. That's not how it works.

"Locked myself in prison And then I threw away the key" "Locked myself in prison / then I threw away the key" -> addiction is a prison of your own making. You put yourself there, then you fight to get out but are stuck. Also talking about a straight jacket and then prison... idk how to convey the meaning of this or how I feel about it, so instead I say *points at the words*

"I can take another hit Another hit Overdose til you make me sick Make me sick But you know I don’t love the shame In my brain When I put you inside my veins" AND THEN WE END THE 2 MINUTE 19 SECOND SONG THE WAY IT STARTED, AS IS THE CYCLE OF ABUSE IN ANY TYPE OF RELATIONSHIP!!!! OK, once more this is my rambled thoughts and opinion, I could be entirely wrong, this may not be about drug addiction personified, it could just be about an abusive relationship, comparing an abuser to a drug, which is an all-too realistic comparison. If anyone wants a palaye royale song analysis, new or old, please let me know, and I'll actually edit it before I post it, unlike right now!! Anyway, go listen to toxic in you!

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

why am I so fucking easy though he barely even manipulated me

[yoongis-bread-cheeks]

Hands | jjk

Warnings: ALL sexually explicit lol, vaginal fingering (female recieving), use of vibrator, overstimulation, asking to stop but not using 🚨safe word🚨, light choking, light degredation (use of slut), praise, light dumbification, dirrtyy talk 😚, some pet names (mostly baby), finger sucking, double penetration(?)(fingering and vibrator, both in vagina), squirting.

WC: 1.4k

Genre: Smut 18+. DNI under 18

Summary: porn without plot honestly lol. Just some mindless ol good times 😍

A/N: I haven’t written smut in years, let alone write fanficiton 😫 this shits gonna suck but bear with me

“C'mere, baby," Jeongguk pat the spot between his legs. You slowly crawl towards him, settling between his thighs.

"Safe word is lavender," Rough hands started at your waist and began rubbing over your stomach, occasionally around your breasts. Milky skin contrasted with yours as his hands caressed your torso.

“What’s your safe word?” Jeongguk tests you.

“Lavender,” growing impatient, you whine.

Reaching up to cup your breasts, he runs a finger over your left nipple looking for a reaction. And a reaction is what he got. Lightly mewling under his touch, you pressed into his chest. Fingers trailed up to your lips, pressing against the part.

Immediately accepting, you suckled on his fingers, tongue gliding over his callouses. "Hmm. Gotta prep my fingers for you, but it seems like you're already wet enough for me to wedge my cock in," You felt what he said more than heard, his chest rumbling with low timbre.

Moaning around his fingers, he pulled them out. A string of saliva followed them down to your aching pussy. Pressing two fingers to your clit, you bite back a moan as his they swirled around your button.

"Uh-uh, baby. You're not gonna do that," he scolded you. "I want to hear everything. When I play with your clit, stuff my fingers in your pussy—" Jeongguk slid two fingers in you, making your back arch. "When I split your poor pussy apart with my cock,"

Clenching around his fingers at his words made him groan, as he curled and scissored his fingers in attempts to find your sweet spot. The edge of a spongy like texture inside of you caught his attention as he pressed into the center of it.

"Fuck!" You moaned. Suddenly his fingers curled and he began to thrust his hand in and out of your pussy. The cramping in his hand went ignored, he was only focused on making you cum. Jeongguk was nothing short of addicted to you.

Your pussy was so soft, so warm. The sounds you make and the strings you make him feel only ever egg him on. Always fantasizing about his cockhead stretching you no matter how much preparation was done beforehand.

You were in the palm of his hands and he was afraid you'd slip right through his fingers like sand. The pleasure growing in you felt like a flower becoming ready to bloom. Heavy breaths came from Jeongguk as his left hand came to rub at your clit, making your moans louder.

"Yeah, you gonna fucking cum? Come on baby, cum for me, all over my fingers. Gonna make you beg for me to stop," chaste kisses pressed to your neck as the flower finally bloomed within you.

"Oh, fuck!" You groaned. Soon, the fingers working inside you caused pain. Suddenly causing small shooting pains, you clamp your thighs over his hands. Didn't seem to stop him though.

"Gguk, I — ah — m too sensitive~," you squeaked out, his hands not letting up. "Stop..." attempting to push him away only made his fingers go harder.

"You know your safe word baby," You did know your safe word. And you didn't use it. You’d be stupid to.

Wetness pooled under you, leaving dark spots on the sheets. Jeongguk relished the pornographic sounds you made, the fruits of his labor. Your thighs opened up wide for him, more access given.

"Wanna fuck you dumb, baby. Til you can't think a single thing other than how bad you want to cum again,"

Honestly, you couldn't even hear what he was saying anymore. The only thing you could think about were the fingers inside of you.

A third snaked its way in, burning slightly. Jeongguks hands were way bigger than yours, and you usually only used 2 fingers at most. Jeongguks two fingers already amounted to your three. You'd be embarrassed by the squelching coming from your push if you weren't focused on just cumming again. You grabbed onto Jeongguks forearm covered in tattoos as you pushed your head back into his chest.

“G-god...I'm s-s— ah! — so close," The words you say aren't even intelligible, rather sounding like blubbering.

"C’mon baby. You gonna cum again? I can feel your pathetic cunt begging to cum," Jeongguk growls.

"Please, please, please, pl— oh!" Your third release finally found you, nails digging into Jeongguks arm. His thumb replacing his forefinger as his left hand reaches for your throat. Lightly pressing on the pressure points prolonged your orgasm.

Sounds no longer come from you, instead your vocal cords no longer work. The ability to breathe also stops working, as Jeongguk continues to rub tight circles onto your clit. The pace of his hand doesn't let up.

Jesus fucking Christ. No wonder the man complains about carpal tunnel.

The aftershocks hit you and so does the pain, thighs twitching and trembling. "Good girl. That's a good little slut, huh?" Jeongguk coos in your ear, stamina still going. Pulling out without warning, you whine at the emptiness in you despite having came 3 times.

He leans over to open your drawer, and you assume he's grabbing a condom.

“I actually don't have an con-...." Words die in your throat when you see what he pulled out. Your black vibrator. He was planning on giving you more?

Slouching back on him, he uses the wetness on his fingers to lube up the vibrator. You can't lie, you were intimidated. He had some skill. Bringing the toy down to your needy, sensitive pussy, he swirls it around your ringed entrance.

The sheets below you were undoubtedly soaked. Jeongguk shoved the toy inside of you, eliciting a high pitched moan. But you were in for way more. Once the toy switched on, you knew you were fucked.

"Oh, shit!" Immediately you gasp, hips bucking off the bed. Jeongguk retracts his hand away from you only to slam his palm down onto your clit. A small scream rips from your throat at the sting, but god did you want more.

“Yeah, you fucking like that? You’ve already cum so many times but you want more, don’t you?” Jeongguk taunted, using a condescending tone. In any other situation, you would have slapped him silly

The internal vibrations ramped up from the fact you were still so sensitive. Your eyes, once clamped shut, opened wide when Jeongguk squeezed 2 fingers into your pussy along side the vibrator. When his fingers start curling and uncurling, constantly rubbing against your G-Spot, your mind fully caves in.

His left hand grabs the vibrator and starts making shallow thrusts, sturdily hitting your cervix. Moving wasn’t even an option at this point. Everything in your body had shut down, and Jeongguk loved watching you fully submit to him, fully succumbing. No thoughts crossed your mind that weren’t “Jeongguk”.

The mind numbing pleasure was just at pleasurable to him, even if he wasn’t even recieving it. He was high on your facial expressions, eyebrows furrowed, eyes rolled in the back of your head or crossed, teeth claiming your lower lip.

Feeling the walls around his fingers clench, it was a telltale sign. Except it wasn’t quite what he expected, but was sure as hell welcome. “F-fuck!” You shouted out of reflex, hips spasming.

A stream of clear liquid shot out, and Jeongguks eyes widened. Pulling his hand out, he opted to use his whole hand to swipe back and forth on your clit to prolong it. His own breathing labored as you relaxed back into him. “I was gonna fuck you, but I have to do that again,”

A shit eating grin plastered on his face and you knew, even if you couldn’t see him. Instead of returning to two fingers, three fingers stuff inside of you alongside the toy, making a slight burn tinge your already on fire pussy.

“God, I love this fucking pussy. You’re so goddamn sensitive,” You could only whimper now, it was the only thing that didn’t consume too much energy to do.

Your breathing had no pattern, and your head was practically empty. Occasionally Jeongguk would kiss or bite at your neck, but you couldn’t care to notice when you’ve been fucked open with his fingers for 45 minutes.

After probably only 40 seconds later, you came again. The sensitivity and the extreme stimulation all were adding factors. Chest heaving, eyes drooping. One more small stream of cum shot out, and Jeongguk looked at you like you were Aphrodite.

Absolutely delectable.

Jeongguk let you rest, he knew you needed it. Rolling over, you curled into a ball. He stood up to grab you a water from the kitchen. Once he stands, mini Jeongguk makes himself known. Man sized Jeongguk only frowns down at him.

“Next time, buddy. Next time.”

[kpop-dungeon-dark]

Hell. (Lucifer Kris Wu/Yifan x You)

•TRIGGER WARNING•

Warning(s): Non-Con and fucked up twisted shit. You are legal in this. Read at your own risk.

"Mmm…" She hummed and smiled, nuzzling into the much older man and inhaling his scent while he held her tight to his chest. "Oh… I should get going now~ I have class in an hour~" glancing at the clock on the bedside table, the girl sat up slowly with a pout.

"Get going?" Yifan chuckled at her before grabbing her ass and pulling her into him, clicking his tongue. "Nah… you'll stay here with me like my good toy now~" Y/n looked at him and giggled, taking the covers off to her to get out of bed.

"Chill dude… we just met like last night. Don't expect anything only because we fucked. You have a looooong way to go if you want to impress me…" Before she went to step off the bed but her hand was captured in Yifan's much bigger one.

"Impress you? Tsk. You're branded as my belonging now that I've fucked you, finally. You're mine now. Nobody and nothing can get you out of my world now, you're officially a satanist after you opened your legs for The Devil. You're nothing but my fuck toy now." His lips brushed against her ear as he chuckled to himself. "You don't have a choice."

Turning around to look at him, Y/n started struggling as she got creeped out. "U- Uh… okay… weirdo… I really gotta go now~" trying to back away, she tried to break out of his grip. Her friends were right. Maybe single older men really were fucking nutjobs.

"You're not going anywhere!" Yifan's complexion darkened before horns grew out of his temples whilst his hair turned white and back to its original length which was til his waistline. "I came up here looking for a new toy as the last one…" He sickly grinned. "Anyways. I've found you now and have decided that you'll be my little slut from now on." Y/n was shaking as his pupils disappeared, blank white eyes staring down at her now.

"O- Oh… m- my fucking G- God… n- no way…" She whispered, only causing the man to laugh at her. "H- Holy fucking shit-" she was cut off when everything around them started to disappear, as of they were standing in a tornado, their surroundings starting to spin before getting distorted to the point where Y/n's human mind couldn't decipher it anymore.

"Welcome to your new house, my pet." Yifan mightily spoke when it finally stopped and they were standing in a dark hall now that was illuminated by an unknown source. "There's only one rule for little slaves like you. Behave well, get treated well." The man- fucking Devil's voice was so much deeper and inhuman now, his tall frame growing even more as well as expanding.

"T- This can't be real… th- this can't be real!" Y/n shook as she looked around, her senses numbed whilst she knelt in front of him, the shock too much for her legs to still work.

"Tsk. It is real. Very real. Since the beginning of time. And now you're a part of it." His teeth seemed sharp, almost like fangs.

"They're awaiting you in the court, Father." Y/n jumped when she heard an even more inhuman voice from behind, making her gasp and stagger towards Yifan when she looked back at the abomination of a creature standing behind her, staring at Yifan through its plain black eyes.

It was a literally mutilated half bull and half human looking thing. Her head was spinning.

"I don't condone a pathetic little human like you being disrespectful to my people!" A harsh kick landed in her side, making her groan in pain. "Pathetic fucking slaves like you show respect and please their owners. Tsk. Apologize!" He boomed while glaring down at the shaking human, expecting her to just suck up the fact that her one night stand had turned out to be The fucking Devil and had brought her to Hell. "Apologise, I said!" A whip appeared in his hand before he controlled her mind, making her get on all fours while crawling to the creature that was waiting silently. "I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!" Before the whip made of lightning whipped her back, making a whole jolt go down her back.

"I am sorry! I am s- sorry, Master! P- Please forgive me!" The girl shook while crying, the mind control forcing her to kiss the creature's animal-like feet. "I didn't m- mean to-! Please!" When Yifan landed another whip, she cried out in agony, holding the creature's feet desperately.

It only nodded in response, silently saying something in a language of whispers and hissed she didn't understand before it left.

"Good slut." Since her ass was in perfect view, Yifan kicked it from behind, making her let out an embarrassing yelp before he grabbed her hair. "Now. Let's go and introduce you in court." Starting to walk swiftly, the Devil basically dragged her against the rough floors by her hair, his own feet in the air, almost.

It wasn't long before they reached two huge doors made of gold which instantly opened for Yifan, a huge courtroom like that of a king inside. Y/n felt her heart beat getting even more erratic when The Devil started to drag her inside, causing her knees to start getting torn now, all the creatures standing on either sides almost impossible to decipher by a human mind.

"This, my people, is my new toy and slave!" Lucifer announced as his people cheered, letting go of Y/n's hair in the middle of the court and ascending up the stairs and onto his throne, sitting like the royalty that he was. "But this pathetic little human here thinks she can deny me and disrespect our kind!" Everyone let out angry hisses and groans, speaking in that one language she didn't understand, making her let out a sob.

"We must teach her a lesson now, shouldn't we?!" Everyone cheered in response, rushing to the screaming girl when their Ruler nodded at them, pulling and pushing at the smaller body from every direction. Y/n wanted to call out for help to no one in particular but her tongue froze upon The Devil's power.

The human was on the verge of knocking out but she couldn't, forced to take all the slaps, pushes, pulls, pokes and abuse. Yifan laughed like a maniac. "Now now, don't touch her little privates. That's mine~" her slits closed up. "Take her elsewhere until I am done with court, we have important business to do here~" and with that, those creatures dragged her out of court.

She couldn't speak, she couldn't run, she couldn't knock out and she couldn't die.

.

"That's enough!" After what felt like days of turmoil, Lucifer finally stopped those creatures that had destroyed Y/n's body again and again only for it to heal again. "Come here now…" Grabbing at her arm, he pulled her up to her feet as her slits opened up again, gesturing at everyone to leave before he looked down at her. “Have you learned?” The human had no choice but to nod in desperation, ready to do anything to not go through the turmoil those God forbidden creatures put her through.

“Good.” Before her brain could decipher any of it, they were standing in a huge room and a heavy door was shutting behind them, The Devil throwing her naked form on the bed before his own clothes disappeared. “See, I am not a bad Master, my slave” crawling on top of her, he deeply spoke before kissing her cheek and then her soft lips. “Not at all… I take well care of my toys and play with them all the time but…” Dipping his middle finger in her mouth, Yifan picked her up and closer to him by snaking an arm around her waist, plunging his middle finger in her pucker and making her cry out wordlessly as she couldn't use her tongue.

"But for good treatment you must show good behavior, my little toy…" Kissing her lips harshly, he tortured her asshole before his red and hot tail slipped in, replacing his finger as he kissed and bit at her tits now. "Fuck… you're so tight and soft" Yifan grunted and rubbed his balls against her soft folds, healing her hymen back up just so she could bleed when he plunged his huge cock in, moaning even more when he felt it's shape in her stomach.

The human wanted to struggle and scream but instead let out moans under compulsion, her body betraying her mind and making her try to ride him more and more, the shape of his manhood very clear to see. Y/n hated how good her pussy felt because of his compulsion.

"You like this, don't you, my little pet? Tsk. Look at you! Being raped by The fucking Devil and enjoying it!" He smacked her cheek before gripping it and kissing her deeper, pushing his tongue in her mouth and entering it in her throat, gripping her neck and feeling it, moaning loudly in satisfaction while pumping his cock in and out of her pussy whilst his tail toyed with her ass.

"Look at you! Shaking and crying like a needy little slut!" Gripping her hands, he pinned them above her head and licked at her tears with his now long Devil tongue, thrusting harder and harder, her holes expanding more and more when the girth of his cock and tail was increased by him.

"That's right. You're mine! My toy! My little slave! That's all you are and will ever be good for! Fuck!" The human couldn't help but helplessly nod and moan. She was powerless.

And Yifan wasn't done just yet. They had a long way to go before he'd be satisfied for the day.

[insufferablelust]

Professor!Spencer x Sub!reader, reader is taking one of Spencers classes and he can't take his eyes of her, one thing leads to another and they are doing it in his office. (this is so cliche but god its hot)

Warnings ; Professor!Spencer x Reader, Age gap (reader is above 20 though), Smut, Degrading languange, Risqué Classroom sex. Thats it i think :)

the moment Spencer laid his eyes on her, it seemed like the usual chattering of the other students ceased to a mere background noises. He watched her intently, refusing to believe she was real, but here she was, flesh and blood, doodling on her blank paper.

It was lecture day for Spencer, to be honest he actually loves teaching, he love to share his knowledge and he can’t deny himself of a tad bit of narcissism that ran through his veins at the squeals of his students— though to be fair, he never paid any attention to them.. because you were there.

Y/N Y/L/N a beatiful name, for a beautiful girl, he thought. Everything about her should angered him, she wasnt paying attention on his class, she focused on daydreaming about butterflies and end times, and she wore short skirts all the fucking time.

Oh he was furious— furiously lusting over his student.

~

“Ms. Y/l/N, stay. I need to talk to you.”

Your heart thumped as you listened to your Professor’s commands, your cheeks heats up as you get closer to where he was sitting, he looked good you thought. Perfectly tall, with ruffly hair, strong fingers— god you lust over them fingers more time than you could imagine.

You knew you fucked up, as in you never paid attention to Criminal Psychology anymore but how could you? how could you when all you could focus on was this adonis of a professor that so happen to be an FBI agent and a damn genius. How could you pay attention when his voice taunt you in your bed, late at night when you got your hands between your legs. How could you listen, when all you could hear was the imagination of his voice whispering filthy things on your ear.

You are shy, but you’re no innocent little girl.

“Professor.. Is there anything wrong?” You chew on your bottom lip as you stand in front of his desk, watching as he leaned in to place his interlaced fingers on top of the mahagony wood desk.

“There is actually. I’m quite surprise when i found out that you only got 70% on your last exam, what happened? from what i gathered, courtesy to Ms. Dorothy, you were an excellent student. She talks big about you but here you are standing in front of me with a 70% and you never seemed to pay any attention at all. So you tell me, what is wrong Ms. Y/N?” His voice was firm, calm and collected, and you hated that, hated the fact that he could remain so calm when you were about to literally pass out

“Sir.. Professor— i..” You were cut off instantly,

“Or do you want me to transfer you back to Miss Dorothy’s class?” His voice rang through your veins like venom, as you quickly shake your head, fingers gripping your files tightly.

“No! Please no! I just..” You took a deep breath, “Please Professor, give me another chance. I promise i won’t let you down.” You begged sweetly, eyes doe-like at him. What surprised you was how his lips seemed to twitch a bit, almost giving you a smirk.

“I don’t know, Ms. Y/N. You’re quite behind and i think-“

“I’ll do anything! please just.. please..” You stepped closer around his desk so now you were standing on his side whilst he then rose from his seat. Your eyes widened as you feel his thumb on your chin, lifting it up so you stare at his eyes directly, and then settle it back to where your heated cheeks lay.

“Anything?” You knew how dangerous it was, but you can’t lie and say that you weren’t thrilled by the idea because you were. It’s everything you ever wanted.

So you nodded a small ‘yes, sir’ before he pressed his lips roughly against yours, hands cupping both of your cheeks. You were taken aback by his lack of subtlety but you couldn’t care less, not when you feel his tongue at the back of your throat.

~

Y/N felt etheral, as she laid on top of her professor’s desk, the one she has been dreaming to be bent over it for hundreds of time. Now she’s here, making out with her adonis of a professor whilst his hand trailed along her inner thighs.

“Prof—mmph!” She tried to talk, tried to gasp even, but the warmth of his lips against her own blocking her from any sense of normality and pushing her back harshly into desk with even more force before pulling back.

“Such a delicate little thing.” He whispered, hands softly grazing the very seam of your thigh, inching upwards up up up until it reaches the hem of your jeans, smiling softly, “Professor..” You whimpered,

“Yes, Miss Y/l/N?”

“Won’t we get caught?” Your eyes bashfully looked away from Reid’s burning gaze, yet your breath hitched as he slap your inner thigh harshly, “Look at me when you ask questions, little girl.” He placed his palm on either side of your head as you looked up at him with lust, lust and fear.

“That’s better, and caught? what do you think we’ll do Miss?” God, damn him— he wanted you to say it, say the thing you definitely can’t and won’t say to your teacher, even though he might as well dicked you down already. “I— we.. Sir?” Your lost of words caused his laughter to echoes around the classroom, sending chills up your spine.

“Such an innocent thing, it’ll be so so satisfying to wreck you, ruin you. You know what you are, Miss? You’re my pet, if you able to do as i said... well then i see to it that your grades will be high enough to pass.” He mumbled, his lips tracing your collarbones as his palm graze on your blouse, right on top of your nipples, pinching it slowly causing you to gaap out a “Yes sir, anything!” and arched your back.

“Good girl. Now get up and bend over my desk, i don’t have all day, little girl.” He rasped, and oh how easy it was for you to obey him.

~

“Spencer! Oh!”

“That’s right— fuck you’re so fucking tight.” He grunted, tightening the grip on your hips and hair as he slammed his cock in and out of your overly sensitive cunt.

Your cheeks were warm, hot— blazing hot against the wooden table as your eyes rolled back and pleasure consumed the last bit of your sanity. The head of his cock grazed against your spongy spot everytime it slammed back inside, causing you to let out a choked out mewl.

“Shut the fuck up, slut.” He grunted, the name should’ve grossed you out but you moaned out loud instead, tightening your walls deliciously around him, making him let out strings of “fuck— fuck Y/N, such a tight little cunt, my plaything.”

“Yours prof—oh! please i’m close..” You moaned, your legs had gone numb, as well as your joined arms behind your back. The hand that gripped your hips went to smack your ass as it bruises nicely and you cried out, feeling your high gets closer and closer. “Please please please..” You chanted his name and please’s like a prayer.

“Fuck— cum baby, go on, cum for me little one!” and so you did, pulsing around him like maniac as your whole body trembles, mouth agape letting out strained moans and mewls. “Hng—ah ah P-Professor Reid..”

He pulled out instantly at the sound of your voice, but his hand quickly found its way to stroke himself in a fast pace as he tugs you to your knees, “Get on your knees, bunny.. there you go.” He whispered, his other hand ruffling your hair as you open your mouth and wait like a good girl.

“That’s it, ahh what a good little slut i have— fuck, gonna let me fill your mouth hm? maybe mark your face too yeah?” He rasped, hands getting sloppier yet the veins were almost like they might popped any time soon, you looked at him with your doe-like eyes and nods eagerly, “Please..”

“Fuck— you’re fucking perfcet- yes fuck! Thats it take it, take it little girl.” He moaned out loud as he paints your face white, some landedon your cheeks, mouth, lips, neck— everywhere, it was a lot.

He admired you as you swallowed some that had landed on your tongue and lips, eagerly moaning at the taste of him which caused him to laugh as he zips his pants back up, tucking his vest. “Same time tomorrow, oh and.. next time don’t bother to wear anything under your slutty outfit. See you tomorrow, Miss Y/l/N.” He whispered all sweetly, before grabbing his satchel and place it over his shoulder, but just as he was about to leave, you reached to grab a tissue.

“Miss Y/N..”

“Yes Professor?”

“My mark stays til you get home or your score will be below standard.”

Well fuck.

~

thanks for requesting anon! i appreciate it, this was delicious, sorry for the long wait!❤️

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Feral Fatality

(Part 3)

Last update for now! I hit a wall and so...I need to shift direction, make way for my requests (up til now I merely wrote one word) so gonna forget this one for the time being and push this deep under every article I have in the works—

Anyways, some fluff before I disappear *insert peace out and fade meme*

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Nothing extreme, a little blood only.

—

The masked killer gave you one shook of his head before he took off.

Saving you... for last?

Why weren't you afraid? Hell, you are going insane.

You looked down at the corpse under you. Time to clean up the mess, no one would want a rotting bitch on their doorstep.

Standing up, you decided to drag the body into the woods, maybe an animal would be happy to eat her flesh.

Huh, you were taking everything so well.

-

After you left her body a good distance away from your cabin, you went back to wash up, the red liquid on your skin was beginning to itch. You took off your clothing, the blood on your them was hopefully still removable, you wouldn't want to throw them away if you can help it.

Your thoughts strayed to that of earlier. You killed someone. You killed Betty.

And it felt good. Euphoric, even.

You never thought you could end someone's life, one of many that wanted you dead too.

"It was self-defense..." you assured. They intended to kill you anyway, the food they served for you was possibly poisoned. Even a fool would notice how suspicious they acted.

Not to mention Eloiza declared it straight to my face.

Then again, she would still die with the murderer out for her blood, it's just that I ended her myself.

Everyone's probably dead by now.

You stared at your hands– your palms, swollen from gripping your murder weapon.

"...Jason Voorhees. I wonder if he'll kill me too..."

You trailed off as your head drooped, your previous high fading out as your limbs felt heavy. Wobbling your way to your bed, gravity did its thing and you fell on the soft sheets and blacked out, the distant ringing of screams but a mere lullaby to you.

—

The ever-rising sun warmed your slumbering form as its rays peeked through the gaps of the window, stirring you into consciousness.

You groaned, rolling away from the prickles of their heat, wanting to get more sleep from last night's events...

Last night?

You shot up, rubbing your grogginess away as the thoughts of the past evening came rushing in. You couldn't believe it. Or did you? Did you really do it?

Was it all a dream??

You brought your hand to your right cheek, the action so sudden that you smacked yourself, instantly regretting it when you felt like you've just planted your face on nails.

"God fucking—" You clenched your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut, muffling your scream. Little tears threatened to pour out so you looked up to keep them in. When the pain numbed down, you exhaled and panted hoarsely.

Well, damn me if it was a dream, that fucking hurt!

A gurgling noise.

Right, I didn't eat anything for dinner.

You sighed, time to take care of your business before anything else! You could eat a whole stallion with the way your stomach grumbled. You stood up and plodded to the cupboards where you kept your food. Unfortunately, you didn't have a horse at hand, and you doubt you could even kill such a beautiful animal, so some easy-to-open corned beef would have to do. Maybe two-three cans would sate your hunger.

Knock, knock.

"Yeah, yeah, wait a bit, I'm opening dinner... breakfast. Dinkfast or breakner? Mm." You responded nonchalantly, still lethargic from both the pain and exhaustion. You pulled on the ring of the can. And it resisted like a lil shit. Three more tries and it didn't budge. You slammed it down the table, huffing.

Easy-open my ass!

Knock, knock.

Yeah, right, the door. You moved to grab the knob and whipped it open. Your face met with a broad chest, a bluish, dark gray shirt stained with what looked like dried blood and dirt. Slowly trailing up, you froze as you met two blue orbs staring down at you from behind a hockey mask. Your jaw dropped.

The silence dragged on for who knows how long before you broke away and fumbled. Absolutely lost, you did what a totally sane person would do.

You stepped aside and invited him in.

"I, uh, come in then, Mr...Voorhees." You uttered, your eyes unblinking as you looked anywhere than at the killer who took careful steps into the cabin.

——

Jason trudged to the cabin you resided few hours after he finished cleaning up the mess. Ten meters away and muffled words followed by a silent scream reached his ears. Five large strides and he was at your doorstep, coming to a halt and contemplating on barging in and scaring you even more, or knocking.

Knocking seems to be the calmer option, although he was concerned if you were hurt again. He doesn't know why he's feeling such...emotions towards you, technically a trespasser but different...

A minute passed before he knocked, twice. You answered something about eating and made-up words. He knocked again after he heard you slam something down and huff. Before he knew it you opened your door and stared. You were a lot shorter up close, craning your neck up to meet him.

You looked at each other for a while, before you moved out of the way to let him in. Even going as far as calling him Mr. Voorhees, which baffled him. So you knew who he was. If so, why didn't you leave or scream at him? That and a bunch of questions ran around his head.

He needs answers.

——

You stood to his left, facing his side as you felt awkward. You were in a room with a mass murderer, a legend. What's more, you were the one who let him in. You pinched the sleeve of your navy blue jacket from behind as you rocked on your feet. Was he here to end your life? No, no wait, if he wanted that he could have done it when you were asleep. You're pretty sure he could break down the door and crush you with it and you would never wake up again. Same as just now but he...he knocked? What will you even do if he decides to carry out the task now? You were, by no means, fit to fight back. You can't even open a fucking easy-open can! He could snap you like a twig any second now.

You waited, resigning to your fate and wishing you were reincarnated as a rock in your next life.

"..."

Well, nothing happened. He just stood there, unmoving as he faced the opposite wall.

A grumble and he whipped his head to you, making you flinch. Curse your stomach for being such a whiny shit. But you couldn't resist your hunger anymore, you need to eat. Moving a step at a time around him, you took hold of the can and pulled, swearing when it didn't budge. You were gonna die at this rate, if not by the killer behind you then by fucking starvation.

You felt a finger poke your shoulder, not even a flinch as you were too frustrated to care at the moment. You turned around to face the man, he was looking at the can you were holding.

"Oh, uh, I haven't eaten anything? The damn can just won't let me have what's inside." Since when did you talk this much?

He gestured, his gloved palm exposed, as if waiting for you to give him the can.

You placed it in his hand. With one tug, ONE TUG, of his finger it opened. It looked like he just touched it and the lid gave away. You huffed in disbelief as he handed it over to you with two fingers. You grabbed a spoon from the drawer and started wolfing down the contents. If you were gonna die might as well be full.

When it was empty, you glanced at the other can on the table, untouched. You looked back and forth a couple of times between the man and at it. You guessed he understood since he silently picked up the can and opened it for you. The corned beef ended in your stomach seconds later.

You set the last can down, only to pick them all up and dumped them inside a garbage bag you set up yesterday. Grabbing your tumbler from beside the sink, you took large sips from it.

Wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your hoodie, you walked past him and went to sit on the bed. He followed you. You stared at the one who murdered everybody else, standing in the middle of the cabin.

"..."

"So...Am I supposed to die now?" you asked. You sneaked a glance at the machete in his holster.

He didn't give you any response, but he stepped closer until he was in front of you. You didn't look up.

The man raised his hand, and you shut your eyes, expecting the worst— only hoping it was painless and quick.

You almost jerked when you felt his hand on your head.

But what surprised you was how gentle it was, no pressure at all, not even close to a killing move. Then you realized...

He's...he's patting my head.

His hand...wasn't cold nor warm, but the way he did it was akin to petting a little animal; stroking the top of your head so softly you sniffled. This made him stop and step away from you, his hands waving— hovering around you it was practically comical.

"N-No, I'm alright," you answered his silent question. "It's just...I've never been patted like that before and I...It was nice."

You've been subjected to abuse and degradation most of your life that a gesture, one that meant no harm or malice, made you cry. You wiped away the wetness of your eyes before you looked at him.

"Thank you, Mr. Voorhees. I actually wouldn't mind if you kill me, but I guess you won't...?"

He gave you a soft grunt in reply, and you giggled.

The man patted your head once more, before he made his way out of the cabin, closing the door quietly behind him.

You let out a quiet breath. Jason Voorhees simply appeared on your doorstep, helped you with your food, patted your head, and walked out without a word.

It's crazy and it wasn't a dream— if the throbbing on your cheek was any indication.

You're happy though. More than happy to be alive.

[sweet-xoxo-thatcares]

Pretty Pink Diapers

I just found this website where they sell pretty adult diapers in pink. Like my favorite color and its sponsored for Age Regression Play too. I've only just started wearing diapers after Grandma passed and I wanted to try one on since Hospice sent a whole bunch that we ordered right before, on the day of her passing in her hospital bed at the house. I remember changing her diapers every time she called me around 2 or 3 am in the mornings and I would stay with her, sleeping on the couch we placed next to her bed all the way til Dad woke up before heading to work at 10 to help out. I love Grandma dearly and I even thought to keep and wash her nightgowns, but I never wore them out of respect of Dad's feelings because I know it would be weird for him to see me wearing her leftover diapers and wearing the same nightgowns she had slept in before during her time being nursed by us for her liver/pancreas cancer.

I did leave one in the trash by accident, and I got scared he would know I'd been wearing them. I put them on only during my periods (cycles) cause that's when I feel the most vulnerable, be the most sensitive and in pain to go anywhere or too lazy to keep changing my pads that leak everywhere at night.

I secretly think low-key it does make me Ageplay more, but I don't really do it like on command. Sometimes it just happens and I get all soft and I just wanna lay down, watch cartoons and either sing, draw, color, or do math homework, play games, or puzzles. I think maybe the 1st time I wore it though, it was because the pull-ups looked so easy to put on and off for Grandma, then I had watched Floribama Shore when that one crazy girl wore them around the house as a prank and I got even more curious.

I do judge myself a little bit too hard when its not my period anymore and I still get this rush, almost like a craving to wear a diaper while I'm at the house or about to go in my room....probably because I've been having more arousal and sensitive moments this year since dealing with that bad breakup. But I miss the first time I ever noticed I did ever show my soft side and it was to this specific person over the phone while we were falling to sleep together on the phone.

They told me later on why do you sound so different on the phone vs in person and I didn't understand. I thought I was just being myself. But then they said that I started like baby talk, but it was like where my voice got all light towards the time I was about to fall asleep and I would ask them to come closer to the phone so I could hear them breathing. It helped me relax and I felt safe like I could trust them with my sad, happy, and emotional states.

I never really got comfortable with me being angry, because that doesn't sound like me. But now that I've had to face it more, I'm more accepting of all my emotional states and the ages they remind me of when I get to all 3 in one happy, sad, emotional premise.

And that was seeing Grandma die. I had no idea she was already unconscious that morning, right before I called Hospice and I had to try to figure out if I had to give her more medicine or not so her head would stop shaking and her chest would stop having irregular breaths. She kept groaning and sounded like she was in pain, but needed something. Something for me to do, but because she couldn't talk and tell me, I had no idea.

At one point, I never told anyone but I thought maybe I was the reason for Grandma not making it till Monday. I thought if I had just given her some more morphine like the nurse said, instead of thinking it made it worse because she would go numb so deep that her eyes would roll, it was scary for my own mother to see when she saw her that morning and I was just sitting there, waiting for the Hospice nurse to come. I had no idea what to feel, because there was nothing I could do. I remember crying as if I was the doctor that couldn't save his own patient.

I remember thinking, I can't give up on Grandma, because she wouldn't do that to me if it was me, she deserved more than that. It was the best that I could do, so I went back up there again, no feelings in view and I gave her the recommended dose of morphine and found a way to get some water in her mouth, since her mouth kept shaking too and she suddenly wasn't able to swallow stuff anymore that morning.

By the time the nurse came, I was so damn numb even when she said she probably wouldn't expect her to live past Monday. Grandma was dying and I knew something wasn't right, but at the same time I was released from nurse duty and was exhausted. I wanted to do my best, no complaints, when taking care of Grandma. Cause I owed her. She took me in after that fight with momma for about a month, till we got into it too about something stupid.

I cried not until after I had left everybody in the room and went downstairs to try and watch one of her favorite movies she liked called "Big Fish" I never finished it because I cried that goddamn hard and I didn't know that her reaching out for me and momma's hands the day before or so it was like her turning back into a child herself. Scared, but strong. I've never heard a nurse say "she was trying to stay strong without the pain medication" but I forgot Grandma absolutely hated prescriptions and she hated needles or going to see any doctors. So that could have been why.

I always liked giving her a nice warm towel bath too, she appreciated the small things like ginger ale, butter pecan ice cream, the last of my little sister's birthday cake the week before she passed.

It was two weeks, but to me it felt like a month. I guess maybe I was hurt so bad and scared because I didn't want to keep having flashbacks of Grandma's face when she was unconscious and I didn't know what to do.

I even avoided sleeping in my room or going in her room. Because I would scream whenever I would open the door and walk past, expecting to see her there in my bed just straight looking at me, asking for a diaper change, to go potty, or for me to help her drink some water. Anything she needed and I helped, because I wanted to help her and especially my father who was already busy, tired, and stressed out about work.

So much had changed after that, and yea I felt alone about grieving her cause nobody really wanted to talk about "why did God decide that cancer was the best way for her to go?" I never had my religion shut right down from under me, because I never felt so confused and so untrusting of God than that very moment.

And the diapers were the only thing that made me connect to her and feel safe or sleep better after that. I would sneak to wear them like one would to eat candy bars. Cause I was depressed already and kept eating junk food and sugary sweets, cereal, and gummies till my stomach started hurting and I had to take breaks.

So yea.....thats how my secret diaper wearing quest started. But I still like the idea to wear them at night when I go to sleep or at least lay down in my room. Thats when I would watch Curious George, Clifford, Arthur, and all my other kid shows from childhood, cause it felt the safest to be happy then. Was when I was a kid. I used to even record christmas shows, Charlie Brown episodes, Disney TV on Saturday Mornings (cause we didn't have cable yet), CW Kids, Fox Network shows on my empty videotapes mom and dad saved me just so I could replay them as I watched and fell asleep to them right before I went to bed.

[stretchjournalemerson]

Contrails

By Anthony Manupelli

Part One: Peace

Had a talk with my old man,

Said help me understand.

He said, turn 68, you’ll renegotiate

Don’t stop this train

- John Mayer

A month before the crash, it all came back to me. I spent hours, upon hours in fear. I hadn’t given it any thought since I was a little kid. Aside from the good memories, such as watching the Curious George movie with my siblings on a warm summer morning in 2007, I remember panicking about it when I was all alone.

The night it changed; I was nine. It was long past my bedtime and I had school the next day. My stomach turned as my brain spiraled out of control. My make-shift room in the basement of my childhood home had been repurposed from a small office to an oversized bedroom that I so thrillingly shared with spiders, the dark, and my overwhelming thoughts. Despite the unnecessary amount of space I had, I felt so trapped. Coming off a hot streak of realizations, including my discovery of the fact that Santa wasn’t real, and that the WWE was staged, I took a deep dive into an abyss of analysis into what was real and what was fake. And then, the mother of all struggles occurred.

I was raised Catholic and didn’t think much of it for most of my early years. We honestly weren’t very committed churchgoers. My siblings and I would fight with our parents pretty often about attending church early on Sunday morning. We kind of all just accepted the fact that our mother wanted us to be Catholic. So, I never really delved deeper into a spiritual awakening, I just did as I was told. But time and time again, I discovered I shouldn’t simply accept the world that is placed in front of me and the fact that I will only find truth in life by constantly questioning my reality, I began to question my mother’s teachings. I froze. As if I was hit on the top of the head, my brain began buzzing, and I fell down a rabbit hole, a psychotic conundrum of thought. The topic of my panic: what happens when we die?

“What happens after this, what happens, what happens, what is happening to me”? I couldn’t stop. For the first time in my life, I was spiraling. My blood curled, I felt it in my face. I rolled into a ball and clenched my stomach to avoid spilling out its contents. I felt my fingers numb and my brain freeze. All of this, as if no other human being had gone through a spiritual crisis or could understand my confusion and panic.

I continuously asked, “what if…”, and it never ended. At nine, I was bargaining with myself to come to terms with something that no human had ever completely understood. My panic stirred so deep into the night, that I was met with my father’s questioning, the next morning, as he prepared for his day.

“What’s wrong Anthony, you’re freaking out. What happened?”

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing, Dad. I’m fine.” I figured if I didn’t say it out loud then it wouldn’t be true.

“No Anthony seriously, this stops right now. What’s wrong?”

I didn’t want to invite my poor father into this personal hell of my over analysis of the spacetime continuum. So, I simplified it to the catalyst of my fear and promptly begged,

“Dad, what really happens when we die?”

He paused. I never knew if he did so to make me feel understood and calm me down or to actually process the question. Regardless, he resolved.

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

And instantly, I was relieved. I never understood why. But from that moment forward, I never feared death or thought about it again. At least not in the science-fiction, fantastical, terrifying way my brain had me pondering in those moments. Not once, did I waste an ounce of my time fearing death, not until much later.

Part Two: Body Separation

Upside down

Who's to say what's impossible and can't be found

I don't want this feeling to go away

Please don't go away

-Jack Johnson

I remember my dad’s face when I got the car. As I drove out of my driveway, alone, for the first time, he waved goodbye. And it was at that moment, I realized I was grown up. I wasn’t the kid he had calmed down years before. I had a new cast of characters in my life. Friends he didn’t know but they were the people I brought my concerns, dreams, and questions to. I became my own person without even realizing it. And he wasn’t waving goodbye to me. He was waving goodbye to the little kid he had known all the years prior. He was waving goodbye to my childhood.

But time marched on and I became incredibly fond of my car. I drove all the time. I mean all of the time. Every month of the year, everywhere my friends or I went. I was always the one driving and I loved it.

Massachusetts winters are pretty brutal and it's usually hard to find something to do. So my car became not only a vehicle of physical transportation but an escape from the freezing cold and lack of activity. That car brought me together with so many people. The sheer amount of people who had taken a ride in my car had become a running joke. It encapsulated my entire teenage experience; it brought me so far away from home yet together with so many people.

The summer returned and it was time for one of my childhood best friends to go to school. I was the last person to send them off as I dropped them off to their house after spending the entire night out in commemoration of our years together.

I remember returning home, alone, after the sunrise, devastated. It was one of the most painful goodbyes I’ve ever had to do. It was a goodbye, not a see you soon.

So, when my dad found me in my car, he comforted me and asked why I was so upset.

“My childhood’s over dad. I’m not a kid anymore, and I don’t know how and don’t want to be an adult”.

He paused again and gave me time to relax. We both knew I just needed to get some sleep.

“I never grew up. I’ve aged but we’re all still kids at heart” he offered.

Time marched on. And despite my initial doubt of my dad’s input, he was right. I had aged but I was still a little kid at heart. This became clear as I sat in my bed on a windy December night and began to panic again.

“What happens when we die”?

I hadn’t thought about that in nearly a decade. It hadn’t kept me awake, late at night, since I was nine. But here I was all grown up panicking in my top bunk in a new house, in a new room. The location, people, and time changed, but my fear remained the same.

Only this time, the fear sweltered unlike ever before. I found myself at a crossroads once again. However, my dad’s words and my logic would not comfort me. I needed something more.

But, after dwelling for over a month, I received my answer in the most unexpected scenario.

Part Three: Entering Darkness

Once in a while, when it’s good

It’ll feel like it should

And they’re all still around

And you’re still safe and sound

And you don’t miss a thing

‘Til you cry

When you’re driving away in the dark

-Also, John Mayer

The moments leading up to the crash were so normal, completely tranquil. I regret not paying attention to what song was playing; I was so focused on where I was going that I forgot to take-in where I was.

The road we were travelling down was a two-lane highway. Visibility was terrible, there were no streetlights the entire way as we drove through a road carved through the wilderness. The pine trees towered over the car, looming left to right; the moon casting their shadows onto the pavement. A light fog spilled onto the road perpetuating the gloominess of the scene.

I remember looking out the window and noticing a valley of dead trees. I wondered what had happened to them, all the way out there, alone. I had traveled that road before, many times. When I was younger, I never noticed the dead trees. I must have been enamored by the color of the other ones. But my attention no longer resided with what is. What once was seemed to be the solution to all my problems.

If I could just figure out why, then I’d feel safe again.

Why had all of this happened?

Why are we here?

Why me?

I became a full-time philosopher as a compulsion for my obsessive thoughts. To no avail, of course. None of it mattered anyway.

As I continued traveling down the road, I realized how comfortable I had become with it. The low visibility, the spooky trees, the moonlight, the life and death no longer stroking fear as I moved along.

I had traveled this road so many times before that I was as familiar with its features as I was myself.

So, it was in complete shock when I slowed down and took a left turn off the road only to be met with a blinding flash of white, followed by immediate darkness.

Part Four: Seeing the Light

The sun is going down

There's shadows all around

And I feel more than wine

We must do this again sometime

But I can't tell you when

But what a joy it's been

All that we have is now

- Jesse Winchester

…

My dad and I have a term for the situations life throws your way when you are doing one thing and then find yourself completely lost in an unexpected situation. We refer to this special place of confusion/limbo as “Claire’s Living Room”.

To provide an example of this phenomena without going into detail of its origins, I realized I was in Claire’s Living Room as I sat alone in a hospital bed, with an IV in my left arm, listening to the staff count down to the new year in the break room.

2020 was a tumultuous year, but I truly did not expect to be welcomed into 2021 by a man in a cloak in a blindingly bright room. That man, of course, being one of the nicest doctors I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. I just wish it had occurred under different circumstances.

They checked my vitals, all was well. Some slight bruising on my right ribs, but nothing that wouldn’t heal in a matter of days to weeks.

“Do you have any other concerns or questions for me?” He asked at just about two in the morning.

I couldn’t believe I was alive and okay. No one was seriously injured. No one had died. Yet, it felt like a part of me had been permanently altered. The crash was bad; really bad. Fortunately, both cars had done their job and protected every passenger. Everyone was wearing their seat belts and no other cars were there at the time of the accident. The street shut down for a short period of time to assist in the tow and clean up of both cars.

My memory of the aftermath begins with me already out of the car. I must have subconsciously exited the vehicle after getting hit with the airbags. The car was totaled. Immediately. Way gone. I remember watching the first officers and passersby see my car and look in disgust at how twisted it was. I was still out of it, so noticing other people looking shocked to see me standing on my feet brought tears to my eyes.

I wasn’t hurt, at least not physically. I went back into the wreck to find my phone. As more people began arriving at the scene, more strangers, cops, firemen, I began to panic. The situation was easily the most overwhelming experience of my life. And loud. I mean earth shatteringly loud. From the moment of impact, to the ringing in my ears, to the first responders, the sirens, the people.

But I couldn’t find my phone. I needed to call my parents and tell them to come to the scene. I needed them to know I was okay, to hear my voice before a police officer called them to inform them, I had been involved in an accident.

I was petrified that my parents would think I was dead.

After a few minutes of searching, I asked one of my friends to call my dad. My dad would explain to me later that my friend’s phone call sent him into panic. Apparently, he was sitting with my mom when he received the call. My friend was so shaken up that he could barely get the words out.

“Anthony, you need to get here.”

“What’s wrong? Where are you? Is everyone okay?” My dad immediately grabbed his things and waved my mom toward the garage.

“Down North Street, outside the state police barracks. We got into an accident, it’s really bad you just need to get here now”.

For about ten minutes, I had no way of communicating to my parents to let them know I was okay. For ten minutes, my parents feared the chance that I might have died. Something no parent should have to think about or go through. Certainly, something I would never have wished to have forced my parents to think about.

It was easily the most painful and anxiety inducing ten minutes of my life. Ten minutes of pure fear. And the people, more people, constantly more people. I had never seen so many people in one place in my entire life. The lights, the noise, the people.

My heart beat wildly, my brain froze once again, my stomach turned in my panic.

But when my parents arrived at the scene and I hugged them and told them I was okay, all my fear absolved.

I never understood how fast something as simple as seeing your family face to face could be taken away in the blink of an eye.

In a flash.

…

As I sat in that hospital bed, I realized I had the answer to my fears, crisis, and confusion all along.

In the face of death, all that matters is love. The only truth in life is found within. Love is the answer: all there ever was, is, and will be. And through love, life is eternal.

I’m not going to sit here and validate the specific hypothesis on near-death-experiences because I truly don’t know. What I will say is that the stages of life, growth, and change all coincide with the supposed course of a near-death-experience. And I don’t know that I would have found solace in my quest for answers if I hadn’t come that close to losing it all.

When I got a taste for nothing, I returned to find everything.

Part Five: Entering the Light

I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

-Joni Mitchell

Since I was a little kid, I’ve always loved contrails. People usually miss them and/or have no idea what I’m talking about when I use the term. Contrails are the clouds released by planes in the sky. The next time you’re outside, look up and I’m sure you’ll see one. I remember, during early quarantine, not seeing a single plane in the sky as if time had come to a halt. No contrails. Our inability to be with each other prevented their spirited existence within the sky.

When I was younger, I was amazed by them. I always felt like I was watching an artist paint massive strokes up in the sky. They’re beautiful, truly amazing things.

The next time I saw a plane leaving its mark in the sky, contrails had taken on a new meaning. Instead of the stroke of an artist, they are the mark of a lifetime; mysteriously appearing out of thin air, releasing a beautiful stride for all to see, and gradually fading to the stars.

Acknowledgements

I want to thank my family and anyone else that’s ever loved me into being. I love you.

[punkscowardschampions]

Rio & Buster

Rio: *Even if he wouldn't laugh her out of here for it, (which he would), the commiseration of 'shit timing' wouldn't pass her lips. 'Cos both old enough to know better, even if she was a few months shy of his new number. Old enough to know that it was always going to be like this. Yeah, the first was usually the worst, and it would become normal as the years passed, but she was always not going to be here from now. Could get rid of a person but not their absence, standard. That was life. Not kidding anyone with that nonchalant approach though, couldn't even lean against the brick 'cos of the fucking wings. What a joke. And it wasn't JUST 'life'. It was her lack of. And all the reasons why. And how much they didn't fucking matter now. Nothing did. If Rio could make herself believe that, proper, then maybe she could feel alright about the fucked up shit she was feeling and the fucked up things she'd been doing, namely for and with Buster McKenna. Christ. As it stood though, she didn't. But feeling not alright, feeling wrong, fit the tone of tonight so fuck it, yeah? Yeah. Never mind how good he looked, and how she shouldn't even notice that but it was all she could, an unbelievably welcome distraction from the shit in her head, torturous as it was to only be looking and not touching. Whatever. They both knew they would. 'Til one of 'em came to their senses and realized what the fuck they were doing. That would be fun. But that weren't tonight. Certainly not there herself and highly doubting he was, if this getaway was anything to go by. And that was just the tip of the friggin' shitshow. So yeah, she'd put money on it. Throw money at it, if he wanted, she knew some places with low enough lighting and standards that'd fit the bill. Even get in in their costumes, fit right in, frankly...* Took your time, boy. Buster: *He'd been going through the motions, recycling behavior from nights past where he could. Taking a shot for this or getting dragged onto the dance floor they'd made for that, feeling no burn on the swallow how he should've (not even a year closer to properly walking in his dad's shoes yet like, never mind the old alkie's down his grandad's boozer) nor any awareness of his body paint being slightly sweat streaked now, as if to call out the obvious flaws deep in his chest, when really that was just more of the same bullshit and nobody here needed a sign anyfuckingway. Then again, none of them could see Buster watching Rio, waiting for the slightest indication that she was about to give into him and maintain eye contact that lasted longer than a second. What a fucking joke. He saw red in every moment she got close to somebody else, or just stayed away from where he and his friends were, playing the tease again, like he was that cunt of a kid and she could in any way go back to who she was before either. Christ's sake. But of course there wasn't a single guest at this party about to address what was missing or they couldn't have. Only the first elephant in the room, that. So there. All he could do was what was expected of him and loudly take everything that was offered, declaring it birthday's boy prerogative or some shit. Fuck it. Bonus points if in cracking open another bottle of Champagne it let him return to being numb in a gulp. After all, he'd been trained not to show any of his rage when it came to fighting for access to Jay, what was some more, yeah? No need to be a pussy. Nance was in NYC as good as alone and by all accounts she weren't crying into her cocktail. Handle it. Come on, how long had it taken him to break into a run, to show all his cards in one text? To get weak. And, honestly, how long had he been waiting for that too, not even mad it was coming, 'cause there was no blaming him for how Rio looked. Or how good it felt when they touched. The power was hers, to bring him to the point furthest from anesthetized, let her own it all. Why should he care if it was wrong, what the fuck did another mistake added to the list, matter? It was Halloween not New Years. Tonight he wasn't looking to try his best at anything new unless it made her as needy as he was, and twice as bad at least.* Could've taken longer. *Such a lie, but might as well start as they mean to go on, like. There was too much painful truth in his head as it was and this was meant to be the escape he practically needed to beg for, so whatever.* Rio: *She shrugs. The 'but you didn't' barely needing to pass through her head, nevermind be said out loud. They both knew. But they both knew the less they spoke about it the better. 'Cos let's face it, if they addressed this, then there was a whole parade of the pink fuckers, (making every day a circus!), that they'd have to and all- and fuck that. Yeah, it was messed up but at least this one felt good in the moment. All that other shit was just pain, all day, all night, pure and simple, black and white. And there was no denying the fun they were having playing in the grey. Front as he was now, and she did too. But not now. Make of it what you will, boy. SO thirsty for you or just sick and tired of not getting what she wants, anything that she needs, ever. It didn't matter what he thought, really. Just that he was here. And he was. In all his glory. Literally. Catching a bead of sweat as it dripped just below his navel, tracing the runnel it had made in his golden sheen, touch light over every muscle she encountered, bringing said finger up to her mouth to taste.* Sweet. *It was the opposite, of course, salty, but still, good. Too fucking good. As much as it was meant for him, to get him on the level, a taster of what was to come; It had made her want more too. To taste every part of him, and let him taste her until they smashed into one...being, devouring each other with mutual ferocity and want and reckless abandon. Reckless was the right word. This was literally his family home and some of hers were still inside. Not to mention plenty of others who knew they were cousins. How they didn't ALSO know how badly they wanted to fuck each other senseless all the time was another matter entirely. It felt ridiculously obvious. On her part, but also his, (not sorry about it, McKenna). As if the constant eye-fucking wasn't a dead giveaway, get a clue, people. Apparently, they were so far gone, (all the way to Hell?), that they were beyond detection. Suited her in this moment. And many more, if they were being real. Still, some space needed to be made between them and the shit party. For their sake, if no one else's. Taking his hand, beginning to walk, nowhere in mind yet just the goal of being alone.* Come on. Buster: *There was no response needed to his piss poor retort, everything that needed to be said was as soon as their eyes met properly. Both lingered over it, brazen, 'cause they didn't have to steal timed glances out here in the pooled half-light, the most alone they'd been allowed to be so far tonight. Still, every thump of his heart in his ears was another tease, mocking the distance that didn't let him hear hers and he was about to do something - frankly ANYTHING - to stop the anger from taking over what senses he'd managed to keep a hold on somehow when Rio reacted first. FUCK. Whatever move he'd reckoned on her making, this wasn't it. Jesus. Buster knew that if any other girl had tried going in for this they'd have only made a twat of themselves and he'd be bent double laughing, but the sound that escaped him then wasn't. And worse, he didn't care. Let her have it. He was gonna have her first proper chance he got. 'Course the temptation (nothing like the right word for how deep the desire went to go with this specific urge immediately, but whatever) was there to pull her into what shadows he could find against the brick and fuck her right there, in an almost parallel to the first time they'd managed to go through with it, the same desperation fueling him as that fucked up day they were all refusing to think about. He was ready to pull her into him even as the muted bass put itself in competition with the girl's rapid heart, reminding Buster that he basically still had his back to the party he'd tried to turn it away from. Fuck's sake. He forced out a shaky breath, letting her take the lead the way she'd typed out she would, all the while saying a little prayer that his legs hadn't given way before carrying him to whatever destination they were gonna end up at. Had he ever wanted anyone this bad? Christ, the answer couldn't be a louder no if he shouted it out, like. Did that mean he had to lose his shit over a fingertip, though? Apparently fucking so. There was no shaking his head to clear it of these thoughts, there were too many to do anything but welcome. This here was the party for exactly that.* Where do you want me? Rio: *Rio grinned, and it actually managed to reach her eyes, headlights of cars passing doing a disservice in comparison, only twinkle found there in the green being the metaphorical kind. She almost laughed, too. Christ. That ached almost as much as it did between her legs for him. Had only been 18 days since. Wasn't that long to go without feeling, let alone expressing, any kind of joy; Calm down, like. The nasty voice in her head that had (so helpfully) morphed into Edie's, mocked that it had been a lot longer than that, hadn't it? Fuck off. Focus, don't lose this feeling. They didn't have to go far. Can't even last that long? Whore. Shut up, shut up! God, she was, would be, (happily), if it meant she could have him now. Right now. Get lost in him and how he felt and how he could make her feel, get so far out of her head it was better than any high she'd ever had- fuck. She needed that. No need to psychoanalyze it now or the morning after, like. Who cares if it was just because or because X, Y and Z? It still would be. Still was. She couldn't deny it anymore, didn't want to, especially not tonight, not now. Barely conscious of their surroundings but knowing they were about out of his nice little neighbourhood. Only seeing the world in potential places he could take her. Cutting across the dead road, so quiet and still, no traffic at this hour, opening the park gate, holding it open for him in a 'here will do' way. Her breathing was as erratic as she was behaving, frenzied, but she didn't care and he better fucking not, either, like.* Please? Buster: *Any stupid cunt looking to pull a last trick tonight would still be able to see them, but Buster couldn't have stopped himself, eager to go further in the only way that mattered, if the Garda had been dragged along into the bushes along with the two of them. Not now that he was finally able to do more than look and he knew she was craving it same as he was. 'Course with each step he'd taken from home that lead up to this one he'd convinced himself he was gonna do her exactly as she had him at first, aiming to make her beg harder, voice cracking on the rest of her words, forced out with pure need. He had form with all the other girls after all. And Rio'd be no different, like he always said, she wasn't special.* Say it again. *He'd never sounded that desperate himself though, had he? Fucking hell. Focus, come on. He stayed committed the idea of this game until his fingers had actually gone lower than hers, roughly pulling the lower half of the costume aside. Hours before he'd wanted nothing more than to touch, taste and tease, however hurried he'd have had to be, but once he was inside her, the thought of quickly pulling his hand out to put to his mouth with a smirk lost any previous appeal. No games, yeah? He'd agreed to it then, and her every reaction reinforced what a fucking great promise that'd been to make.* Jesus. *He fingerfucked her not so she'd cum hard at least once before he did (a bonus to remember in the morning that he'd been powerless at the party, yeah, but wasn't any more, not the real goal if it had ever been.) 'cause she'd never looked as fucking good as she did right now. And after how the night had been going he'd not reckoned on feeling so fucking good himself by the end. It could be that simple if he wanted, and Christ, he wanted nothing else. Nothing more either.* Rio: *As tempting as it proved to deny him in the everyday scenarios, always impossible to resist the urge to disagree with McKenna, just for the sake of half the time; now was so far beyond the time. Pleas, begging him to touch her, to fuck her here and now, hoping people heard and saw, telling him how bad she wanted it, him. All tumbling out as if it was natural; What else would she be saying, asking, when they both knew this was ALL she ever wanted? She had no problem relinquishing that naysayer role, that game they played where they didn't want each other or this, when it came down to it. Rio found it easy, too easy if she were to think about it (which she didn't, often), easier with him than anyone else, somehow. Whatever, he could call her a whore before, during and after if it made him feel better about it. Not like she had any more satisfying answer for him as to why him, and why it kept happening. She knew it wasn't that, herself, but it'd be better if it was, so he could believe it all he liked (if only she could). Have that one for free, boy, on the house, on me. The answer seemed so obvious when he was finally inside her, dragging her out of her head, all thoughts turning into a haze of pure pleasure, only concern keeping this feeling going for as long as possible. Nothing but the feeling of it, of him, and the only thing she needed to do, her only concern, was making sure he felt as good in return.* Fuck, Buster! I need you. *About as much to tug down as she had, a nice change to unbuttoning in the dark. Keeping it simple, that's what they were doing, primal, nothing more but nothing less than fucking incredible. Sliding into position, into each other, hip bone crashing into hip bone, in one move, one moment. The hiss of sharp intakes of breath at the same time, moans matching moans and groans and grunts and praises and curses being exclaimed on the same thrust.* Don't stop. Don't. Stop. God- you're good, you're SO fucking good- *Holding onto him like her life depended on it, arms wrapped tight around his neck, pulling his head down so it was level with hers, so he could see, look straight into her eyes and see what he was doing to her. Fuck, she wanted to kiss him. Had they? Her head was swimming. Did they? Surely not, that was too much, too personal. Would make it too real. But how hadn't they, when they'd done all this, how was that the step too far? Christ, she wanted it so bad now she was watching his lips, even more than she had wanted his dick deep inside her. Wet like he'd just licked them on purpose, pink tongue poking out so fucking cute with concentration, they were full but she wanted to kiss them 'til they were swollen with her desire, bite them and pull them into her own mouth- Jesus fucking Christ...* Fuck it... *She murmured, tilting her head up to his, pulling him somehow closer still, 'til there was contact where she needed it most, moaning into his mouth, finding rhythm here to match the one below.* Buster: *It should have shocked some sense into him when their mouths collided too, that he was kissing her back as forcefully for one thing, like it was a normal thing to do never mind want from Rio Cavante. In reality, (wherein nights were spent with girls that weren't, but were instead fake from bottle blonde roots to bottle bought tan, of course) if they tried to initiate more than a playful lip bite he'd break it off with the promise of his mouth somewhere better. And when he followed through, Buster told himself he loved it, same as they did. Such bullshit. Never proved harder than now, living in a hardcore fantasy, like. But he should've learned his lesson from Chlo and yet here he was, fucking again without a condom or any intention of pulling out. Without a single thought of stopping, at any point, only the opposite. And he didn't care. God, he'd keep this going all night if he could, moan after muffled moan shamelessly letting her know it. Reminding him every second of this was actually happening, unreal as it seemed. And felt. 'Course, there was no way he could stay in their rhythm forever, but they finished together, he wouldn't let himself forget once he'd sobered up. Whatever he was, she was just as bad. Had to take what he could get the morning after, didn't he? Fuck. Don't start thinking about that already. Soft cunt. To pull the focus he concentrated on attempting to find, or at least think, of a way to clean himself off when he didn't even have a pair of socks on him. Fuck's sake. There was no time to get properly moody though, in looking around their immediate surroundings (for the first time, obviously) he had to fucking laugh. Did. Every bit of her skin that had pressed against his was streaked in gold to match his, glittering in the moonlight.* Rio: *About to ask what he was laughing at, with a bemused chuckle, when she looked down and saw the damage (or the joke) herself. All over her, like. At least she COULD see the funny side too, distance between the party and them achieved, glad she hadn't dragged him away for a mid-party quickie like she had wanted to many times over the course of the tense evening. That would NOT have been good, or a fucking laugh.* Fucking hell, McKenna! *Rubbing at the paint, to no avail, quickly giving up on that idea with a shrug.* No more paint, alright? Or, at least warn a bitch next time and I'll coordinate, yeah? Such an amateur. *She winks, fluffing her hair back up and straightening her (lack of) clothes as she walks away.* Buster: *He was tempted to fall back into familiar territory now that she didn't have her legs wrapped around him, blaming her, all bravado and 'well if you could only stay away, like' blah blah blah etc but the bullshit couldn't get past the laughter and he didn't want it to really. Not tonight. It was reaffirmed to him how much he didn't or want any of this to end yet, though it technically already had. Should've. He'd got what he wanted, hadn't he? The expectations for his birthday party had been more than exceeded, no denying it, so what? Why the fuck couldn't he play along and let her walk away? Christ, Rio was right about how amateur he was playing this now and in itself he should've fucking hated that, like. Been angry enough to turn away himself. Go home, 'cause he wasn't the one wearing the sin openly, it was her who had it pinned to her like a gold medal awarded for being some kind of sick fuck. Or whatever. But none of that happened. Buster did the opposite (becoming a habit of its own, this) keeping in step with her as she moved away from the scene of the crime as if distance made any difference to what would have to be owned. Buster shook his head, trying not to laugh again, ('cause yeah, everything was less funny when he was his own target, so try and sue him.)* Where do you think you're going? Rio: *Rio turned back to face Buster, carrying on walking, despite the darkness and despite the heels (just to show how much of a pro SHE was; it was any small victory you could grab when you were fucking up your life on such a monumental scale, yeah?), smirking, feigned innocence in the 'who me?' hand to chest mime. Standard. Had to go back to acting immediately, didn't they? Or face the consequences, and neither of them was ready to deal with salvaging from that level of fucked up wreckage, she more than reckoned.* I said I was taking you somewhere good, baby. You think that was it? *Shaking her head.* I'm just getting started, boy. *Finally turning back so she could direct them with purpose but throwing him back a coy look for good measure, making sure he was still up for it, hoping the spell didn't have to be broken yet.* It is your Birthday, after-all. Let me treat you. Keep up, though, yeah?