#and the massage therapist. so there’s me and two other people in this room
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hiiii can you write a jungkook x reader where he introduces you to his friends but u have anxiety so u are worried that u made a bad impression and and he reassures you that they loved you <3 thank you <3
thank you sm for the request. hope you like it.
❤️
jungkook x reader
fluff/comfort, reader has anxiety, mention of therapy.
800 words.
You walked up the front door of his friends house, anxiety increasing by the second. But of course, your loving boyfriend has been very patient with you all day. Very sympathetic to your worries about meeting his friends. Not enough, however, to let you stay home.
“Stop dragging your feet, babe.” he said as you sat in his desk chair, hands coming behind you to lazily massage your shoulders. He was right. Yes, you were stalling. But you weren’t about to admit it.
“I’m not, kook. Its just, there’s something wrong with your chair! I have to figure it out before something happens!” you said, feigning innocence.
“Yeah cutie. I totally appreciate you looking out for me. But… it can wait until we get back.” he replied, looking at you knowingly.
“Yeah, I mean technically it could wait but, what if we forget?” you asked, much quieter this time.
“We won’t forget, baby. I’ll put it at the top of the list.” he said, pointing to his head.
“You don’t have to worry about a thing. Everything is gonna be okay. Don’t think about the chair too much, okay?” he said sweetly, rubbing your back up and down. You both knew he wasn’t really talking about the chair.
“Okay, thank you.” you said with a half smile, looking up at him. He knew you were trying. “Gentle encouragement” is what the therapist has called it. Your sweet boyfriend agreed to attend a session with you, listening very intently to everything that was said. You could tell he really cared. But the only downside was now he was too aware. He knew your antics, and wouldn’t let you close in on yourself.
So that led you to where you are right now. Standing outside his friend namjoon’s house. Six random people you had never met before. And your boyfriend talked about them endlessly. They meant so much to him and you were worried that something bad would happen, that they might not like you.
“Your hand is shaking like a leaf babe, relax.” He grabbed your hand into his, sending you a soft smile.
“I’ll be with you the whole time, mkay?” he cocked his head cutely at you, sending a reassuring look your way.
“Mkay.” you said back, mocking his voice.
Jungkook extended his free arm to open the door, and you braced for the worst.
Only a few hours. You can do this.
Your boyfriend led you into the house, slowly making your way through the hall towards the living room, where several voices were heard overlapping each other.
You almost reached the source, when a voice behind you interrupted the tension you felt in your chest.
“Y/N? Jungkook?”
You guys turned around at the call. A tall man was smiling fondly at the two of you.
Jungkook let go of you momentarily to hug the man, who was still smiling at you kindly.
“Did he say y/n?”
“Oh my god I think so.”
Before you knew it, multiple people flooded into the hallway. They all exchanged hugs with your boyfriend. A couple of them even hugged you too. They were all welcoming, but it was so crowded, and the hall was starting to feel smaller, and your shirt was too tight. And-
“Let’s go sit down shall we?” Jungkook smiled at them, hand settling on your lower back. A nice grounding feeling. They all agreed and made their way back to the living room. You guys were the last to walk in, far enough behind for him to discreetly whisper in your ear.
“I’ve got you babe. You’re doing amazing.”
As the night went on, the boys enthusiastically told stories about their youngest member. They didn’t spare him either. It was funny watching him cringe, leaning into you to hide from the embarrassment. This went on for what felt like only few minutes, until jungkook quietly asked if you were ready to go. You confusedly clicked your phone screen on, only to see that 3 hours had passed.
“Oh my god!” you whisper yelled.
“I didn’t realize it had gotten so late, I’m sorry.” You whisper yelled. Not that the boys would have noticed anyways. They were in their own world arguing about the timeline of a story.
“That’s okay baby, I’m glad you’re having a good time, it’s nice to see you all getting along like this.” he said looking at you fondly, before letting out a yawn.
“Tired?” you asked with a smile.
“Yeahh.” he admitted giggling.
“Alright, let’s tell them bye.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to separate you from your new besties.” he joked.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Besides, we can hang out for longer next time. We can meet up earlier in the day.”
“Next time?” He asked teasingly.
“Next time.” you confirmed.
❤️
#jungkook#jungkook reader#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook x reader#bts x reader#bts fanfic#bts fluff#bts comfort#jungkook comfort#army#bts army#jungkook drabble
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I'm about to confess one of my earliest tickle fantasies, so I'm a little embarrassed, but I wonder if you've ever fantasized about anything similar? (I also kinda want to see if I can fluster you the way you fluster me haha) Anyway, I've always wished there existed something like a spa, but instead of massages and facials and stuff you just get tickled. The goal is to coax all the negative feelings out by making the client laugh as hard as possible for as long as possible. The pro ticklers are all in scrubs, and before the actual treatment starts they have to do an initial consultation where one of them tickles you in different spots in front of all their coworkers, who rank how ticklish you are on different sections of your body, and which tools and techniques work best, so they can tailor your session to maximize your experience.
In my fantasies there's always several people "working on" me at once. They start by stripping me naked and gently restraining me on a table, then tickle me all over until I'm incoherent and literally sobbing from bliss. Oh, and throughout the session they keep calling to their fellow professional ticklers as "backup" ("I think we need more sets of fingers on that tummy, and maybe a few more feathers under the toes. Can we get 3-5 more lers in here?") By the end of it, I don't even know how many people are cramming in to tickle me at once, just that it tickles so, so SOOO bad, and it's the best thing my body has ever felt. It's not just all the fingers and feathers and other contraptions being used to tickle all my worst spots, but it's the countless voices cooing at me and babying me, making me feel horribly embarrassed but somehow happy and safe at the same time. Then they give me a bath using all kinds of ticklish cleaning tools as well as their many many fingers, talking and joking to each other about how cute my laugh is and all the funny things I said and did while being tickled into hysterics. 8-10 gigglegasms, minimum, guaranteed.
They also offer week-long retreats, which I highly, HIGHLY recommend :) If you read all this Amy, thanks for indulging me. I love your delicious teases ;)
Ohhh my gosssh I'm loving the stories you're all sending in latelyyy~ just sooo cute and alsooo this gets me sooo bad!! Consider me highly flustered~ because you know, I have my tickle therapist I see every once in a while anddd the whole thing of that is she's a healer and is alll about putting me into what she calls the "giggle zone" where I'm so coated in those sensations that all my negative energy is flowing out of the room~ and it works and also teases me into oblivion. Like in our last session one of the things she did was use two q-tips and was lightly poking them allll over my tummy and navel and it just put me into deep tickly fuzziesss (chuckling and teasing "tiiickled by a q-tip...")
Sooo yesss indeed~ multiply that by say four or five, and surround yourself in the medical environment and my gooosssh the ticklehots are through the roof~ silly, but I also think of it like very procedural with that many pros working away, like at those races where you see all those techs removing and replacing tires in seconds. Except it's a bunch of sassy pros in scrubs rapidly working their finely honed skills to hotwire your body into ticklish perfection. And just imagineee all those faces changing out, some of them peeking through the melee to watch and see your giggly reactions as they wait for their turn. They all have those smirking eyes, where even if they're masked you can seeee the smirk. The cascade of voices is almost too much to discern but the individual teases can't not be heard, every comment about your body and reactions like fluttering brushes in the inner ears~
And of course yesss the cleansing bathing probably before and after the session ~ because they have to keep you happy & healthy ~ a big sudsy tub with tingly bubbles, their gloved hands reaching in to pull your feet up for brisk scrubbing as those equipped with longer brushes grab and arm and work your pits and ribs ~ while a highly skilled tech kneels to minister to your royal area with the softest of cloths, working slowly and methodically as the scrubby teasy tools work rapidly ~ and the sweetest of the techs makes sure your face stays rosy blushy~ not to mention~~ you'll need to be flipped with poking tickles so they can grasp your legs and hold your arms while that lead tech ensures your cute peach is polished to perfection~
Naturally ~ you'll gigglegasm, and good thing you're already in a cleaning facility~<3
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I’m a Professional
Your newest massage client Josh tests your professional boundaries.
Josh Kiszka x Female Reader
Word Count: 2.2K
Warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, oral sex (m. receiving)
You've been a massage therapist for about 5 years now. 6 months ago you moved to Nashville for a fresh start, and opened your own business. It was a historic looking little brick storefront tucked away from the business of downtown. So far you had a few regulars, but no major celebrities, although your friends grilled you every day just to be sure. It was as if they expected Taylor Swift to come waltzing through the door and offer you VIP tickets to her next tour after a life changing massage. You couldn't care less who your clients were. You just wanted to be professional with all of them, especially with the intimacy of your line of work.
You sat in the back with a cup of tea waiting for your last client of the day. Josh K. No last name, just K. He was running late, but you didn’t mind. You were in no rush to head home alone anyways.
You decided to get the room set up while you waited, lighting the pillar candles lining the room. It provided just enough light for you and the client to see one another, but they usually ended up falling asleep anyway. You didn’t mind, it just meant you were doing a good job.
You heard the bell jingle at the front door and assumed Josh must have arrived. You walked out to the front of the store and were met by a short man, no taller than 5’7 if you had to guess. He was young, probably in his mid-twenties. His hair was wild and curly, he had kind eyes, and he was nothing like you expected.
“Sorry I'm late.” He flashed you a sheepish smile, the slightest blush rising to his cheeks. You felt yourself smiling back, you weren’t sure what the feeling was bubbling up in your chest but you had to push it away, be professional.
“It's okay, I’m all ready for you, follow me.” You were calm, collected.
You lead Josh back into the massage room, handing him a towel.
“So you can take off your clothes and lay down on the table, put the towel around your waist, just call me back when you're ready. I’m Y/N by the way.”
The two of you stared at each other in silence for a moment.
“So Y/N you staying for the show or?” Josh gestured to himself, giving you a little smirk.
“Oh gosh yeah sorry” you stuttered out before turning on your heels and closing the door behind you.
What the hell was that? You've had attractive clients in the past, but you’ve never let it get under your skin. Now the thought of going back in there and putting your hands all over his body was daunting. You’d already embarrassed yourself when he was fully clothed.
“Um, Y/N? Ready whenever you are.” Josh’s voice broke through your thoughts from the other room.
Great. Time to go see what he looks like shirtless. At least you wouldn't have to look at his face the whole time.
I’m a professional I’m a professional I’m a professional
You pushed the door open, glancing at Josh on the table. His back muscles were defined and he had a slight tan. You averted your gaze, not wanting to stare, only to see his boxers sitting on top of his clothes folded up on the chair in the corner of the room.
“Oh.” Shit. You didn't mean to say that aloud.
“Is there a problem?” Josh peeked his head over his shoulder at you.
“No no everything’s fine, it's just, people usually leave their underwear on under the towel” You gave him a shy smile, trying not to turn red at the thought of him being completely naked under the towel.
“Oh I’m sorry, when you said to take my clothes off I just assumed- nevermind I can put it back on I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“Don’t bother, it’s okay, really. First time getting a massage?”
“Am I that obvious?” He laughed lightheartedly. Even his laugh was cute.
You took a deep breath, warming up some oil between your palms, getting ready to start the massage.
“Sorry if my hands are a little cold.”
You began working on his neck and shoulders. He was tight, maybe one of the worst clients you've ever seen.
“Just let me know if I’m hurting you, you've got some pretty big knots I want to loosen up.”
“Yeah that’s thanks to life on the road.”
“Are you not from Nashville?”
“No not technically, I suppose it is home now although I'm not here very often. I'm actually from Michigan.”
“I'm not from here either, I moved from Florida, I used to work in a parlor there, but now I own this one.” You don't usually make small talk with your clients but it was helpful to keep your mind from wandering to less work appropriate things. “What do you do?”
“I’m a singer.”
“Ah, came to Music City to chase your dream?”
“My brother’s dream really, he's a guitarist. We play in a band together.”
“Oh really, anything I know?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe.”
You could tell from the tone of his voice that he was being modest. His band might be a little more successful than he wanted to let on. It dawned on you that that’s probably why he didn't give you his last name, he was probably hoping for some anonymity. You’d have to let your friends know about this later, maybe they might have some idea who he was.
You continued on in silence, working your way down Josh’s back. Every once and a while he let out a little moan or sigh, and you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining him making those noises in bed with you.
I’m a professional I’m a professional I’m a professional
You repeated the mantra in your head.
After a little while you noticed Josh shifting his hips slightly, wiggling around.
“If you need to move around a little or change positions that's okay, just let me know.”
“Um, actually could you just give me a minute maybe?” He looked a little sheepish.
Oh. OH.
You opened and closed your mouth, toying with a piece of hair.
“Don’t worry, it happens. It’s a lot of intense sensations” You handed Josh a robe so he could sit up, turning your back to him while he put it on. You bit your lip thinking about what you would see if you turned around. Josh completely naked, with a throbbing erection.
I’m a professional I’m a professional I’m a professional
“This must happen to you all the time.”
You turned to face him, now sitting upright on the table, the towel and his hands trying to conceal the very apparent bulge beneath the robe.
“Well, yeah like I said it happens sometimes it’s nothing to be embarrassed about”
“Well sure, but not every masseuse is as drop dead gorgeous as you are. I'd be willing to bet it happens more often with you.”
You stared at him speechless
“Um well I’ll just, I’ll just give you a minute to um.. I’ll give you a minute.” You reached for the door. You needed to get out of there before you let the hunger building inside you take control. If you didn’t leave right now you suspected you might become a little unprofessional.
“Or you could stay…”
Your hand froze on the doorknob, your heartrate picking up. You heard Josh jump down from the table, walking up behind you. His body heat radiated, making you even more flustered.
I’m a professional I’m a professional I’m- Fuck it.
You dropped your hand from the doorknob, turning to face him, daring to meet his eyes.
“Stay?”
“I'd like to see what else you can do with those hands sweetheart.”
You reached out in front of you, slowly undoing the tie on his robe, leaving him fully exposed in front of you. The tops of his cheeks turned pink as he watched you take in his body in full. He was hard as a rock, and probably the biggest you’ve seen. You rubbed your thighs together at the sight, unable to keep still with the hormones rushing through your veins.
“Go sit on the table again.”
Josh raised his eyebrows at you, but did as he was told.
You stood in front of him, dropping to your knees. If you were going to be unprofessional you were at least going to make sure he left feeling fully serviced. You placed your hands on his thighs, gently running your thumbs in small circles. You took him into your mouth slowly, taking your time running your tongue around his sensitive tip. Josh let out a soft moan, much like the ones you had heard earlier. You couldn’t help but feel validated knowing that your dirty wandering thoughts from earlier had been correct. You bobbed your head up and down feeling Josh twitch in your mouth as you snaked one had back between his legs, fondling his balls. Josh’s hands wandered as you continued to work on his length, slipping under your top and feeling your hard nipples through the thin lace of your bralette. You moaned around him as he pinched your left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the vibrations causing him to throw his head back in pleasure. You shifted your weight, rubbing your thighs together desperate for contact. Josh took notice,
“Mama, switch with me”
The two of you stood, face to face. Josh bent down, lifting you up and placing you on the table. You couldn’t help but giggle at yourself now atop your own massage table, but you had passed the point of being a professional a long time ago.
Josh undid your pants, pulling them swiftly off your legs. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, flashing you an eyebrows-raised look asking silent permission to remove them. You nodded enthusiastically, and Josh tossed your underwear aside, pulling your legs apart and exposing you fully to him. He could see the wetness glistening at your core, and he groaned as he ran a finger through your folds.
“Please, Josh”
You were breathless and desperate, a complete mess for the stranger, your client, standing before you. He gently slid one finger inside you, and then another. Pumping in and out of you at a tantalizingly slow pace. His thumb brushed against your clit, not giving you the pressure you needed. You were past the point of dancing around what you needed, and what you needed was more, to be filled completely by his cock.
“Josh, I need you to bend me over this table and fuck me, hard.”
You saw the glint in his eyes as you jumped down and leaned against the table, bending over and spreading your legs.
“Oh god Y/N, I wanted to do this the second I saw you”
Josh wasted no time in lining himself up at your entrance and pushing himself in, bottoming out against your cervix in the perfect mix of pleasure and pain. He snapped his hips against you, falling into a rhythm. You reached your hand between your legs circling your clit as Josh continued fucking you. He soon replaced your hand with his own. He leaned over, speaking directly into your ear, you could feel his hot breath on your neck as he spoke,
“I wanna be the one to make you cum mama. I wanna feel that tight pussy clench around me. I wanna hear the pretty little noises you make when you come undone.” He practically growled into your ear, making your legs grow weak beneath you.
He continued his assault on your clit as his tip caught your g-spot with each thrust. You could feel the orgasm brewing in the pit of your stomach, a fire lit deep within you, burning through your veins. Josh was close too, you could tell as his rhythm started to fall apart.
“Josh I-Oh fuck” you came hard. You felt yourself clenching around him as he continued thrusting in and out of you.
“God that was hot mama, hearing you say my name, I’m gonna cum”
Josh pulled out of you, his warm streams falling on your lower back. The room fell silent for a moment as you both took in what had happened.
You broke the silence first, “Um, there’s some towels in that cabinet over there” you said, nodding to your left. Josh retrieved a towel for you and himself, helping to wipe you clean.
“So, do you do this with all your clients?” Josh asked, an air of sarcasm in his voice.
“Nope, this would be a first for me. I promise under usual circumstances I’m a professional.”
“Usual circumstances?”
“Well it's not every day I have a hot naked rockstar on my table.”
“Okay, fair enough”
“So, now that you've had me bent over my massage table do I get to know the name of your band?”
“My last name is Kiszka, you can google me” he said with a wink, as he dressed himself.
Josh Kiszka of Greta Van Fleet became a regular client, the only one to receive special services.
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The Bezzle excerpt (Part V)
I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA (Saturday night, with Adam Conover), Seattle (Monday, with Neal Stephenson), then Portland, Phoenix and more!
I'm out on tour with my new novel, The Bezzle, a cyberpunk revenge thriller about Marty Hench, a two-fisted forensic accountant, and a guerrilla war he wages on a prison-tech provider that treats incarcerated people as assets to be strip-mined:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/16/narrative-capitalism/#bezzle-tour
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#acab
As part of the promotion for the book, I've been serializing an excerpt: Chapter 14, in which Marty takes on a side-quest to recover the stolen royalties of one-time funk star Stephon Magner (AKA Steve Soul) which were stolen by his scumbag manager and then sold on to an even scummier sample-licensing clearinghouse.
Today, I bring you part five, in which Marty's simple cross-referencing project is violently altered by an encounter with the criminal gangs of the LA Sheriffs Deputy departments, a real crime-syndicate whose reign of terror continues to this day:
https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2023-05-17/dozens-of-lasd-deputies-ordered-to-show-suspected-gang-tattoos-reveal-others-who-have-them
I'm posting this installment en route to San Diego, where I'll be appearing tonight at Mysterious Galaxy
https://www.mystgalaxy.com/22224Doctorow
From there, it's back to LA, where I'm appearing on Saturday evening with Adam Conover at Vromans:
https://www.vromansbookstore.com/Cory-Doctorow-discusses-The-Bezzle
And then on Monday I'll be at Third Place Books with Neal Stephenson:
https://www.thirdplacebooks.com/event/cory-doctorow
From there, I'm off to Portland, Phoenix, Tucson and points further:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/16/narrative-capitalism/#bezzle-tour
Here's part one of the serial:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/17/the-steve-soul-caper/#lead-singer-disease
Part two:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#copyright-termination
Part three:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/20/fore/#lawyer-up
Part four:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#poacher-turned-keeper
And now, part five!
The storefront had an old break room with a first-aid kit, and a bathroom with a sink. I sponged myself clean in the mirror, ate two expired Aleves and three 200 mg expired Tylenols out of the kit. The ass was ripped most of the way out of my pants, so I moved my wallet to my front pocket, which my massage therapist had been nagging at me to do for years.
I opened the door more carefully this time and limped out into the parking lot. My rental—a little red Civic—was the only car left in the parking lot, except for a rusted junker with no tires that was the perennial sentry of its farthest corner.
I bipped the doors open with my fob, checked the back seat, then slid inside. I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror and winced, which pulled at my bruises and set blood oozing from my lip and cheekbone again, which made me wince harder. I was already halfway to Quasimodo and I tried to remember if there was a 7-Eleven on the route home where I could buy a couple of bags of frozen peas for the swelling.
I reset the mirror and backed out of my spot. The pain was increasing. They’d have Advil at the 7-Eleven, and I’d remembered where there was one on the way back to my Airbnb.
As I waited for a red light at Eagle Rock and Colorado Boulevard, I watched as a homeless man labored across the road with his shopping cart. I was still watching him when I realized the light had been green for some time and had just toggled yellow. I made the turn and headed up Colorado, but I was barely a hundred yards down the road when I heard a siren blat and saw the police lights. I checked my mirrors and saw the LASD cruiser directly behind me, racing right up to my bumper, slowing only at the very last moment. The cruiser’s high beams blinked insistently and the siren whooped.
I pulled over.
I waited while the officer slowly got out of his car and walked to my driver’s-side window. I kept my hands at ten and two. The officer tapped my window and made a roll-down motion, so I hit the button, moving slowly, putting my hand back.
I got a light in my face, squinting and thus reopening my cheekbone and lip.
“Everything all right, sir?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling the blood ooze down my chin. “I was beaten up,” I said, stating the obvious.
“That is unfortunate,” the officer said. “License and registration.”
I got my driver’s license out of my wallet and found the rental papers in the glove box and handed them over. He crunched back to his cruiser and I watched him in the side mirror. He’d left his cruiser’s headlights on and in the glare it was hard to tell, but it looked like there was another cop in the car whom he was conferring with. After a long delay, he came back.
“Step out of the car, please.”
I did. He turned me around and had me plant my hands on the hood, kicked my feet apart, and roughly frisked me, getting his hand inside the rent in the seat of my pants and patting my boxer shorts and giving my balls a hard squeeze.
“Sir, do you know why I stopped you?”
“I don’t,” I said.
“You proceeded unsafely through a traffic signal. Have you been drinking, sir?”
“I haven’t.”
“Have you consumed any cannabis or other drugs?”
“I haven’t.”
He turned me around and shone his light in my eyes. “If I search your car, am I gonna find any drugs?”
“No, sir.”
“Because I am gonna search that car and if I do find drugs and you’ve been lying to me, this is gonna be a lot worse than it needs to be.”
I didn’t dignify that with a response. My head hurt. My face hurt. My back hurt. This was a bullshit stop.
I expected the deputy’s partner to get out of the cruiser while my tormentor tossed the rental car, but he stayed put. I did, too. Obviously. I wasn’t going to take off on foot. I’m a forensic accountant, not a gang kid getting fifteen minutes of fame on Cops.
He spent long enough on the rental that I started to worry. Who knew what some previous driver might have shoved between the seats? But after pulling out the floor mats and tossing them onto the grassy verge beside the car, he finally stood up.
“All right, sir. I’m going to go and get a breathalyzer test. You can refuse it and I will then suspend your license for twenty- four hours. I will arrest you for a suspected DUI and bring you in for a blood test. If you fail that test, you will be subject to additional criminal penalties. Do you understand me?”
He had old coffee on his breath. My face hurt. “I’ll take a test.”
Back to the cruiser. It had been half an hour at least. Once the breathalyzer was done—fifteen minutes, if memory served—I could go to the 7-Eleven for painkillers and frozen peas. I decided I’d add a six-pack, I was so tired. My face hurt. I knew that mouthing off to this cop wouldn’t make things go faster, quite the opposite, but as he took his leisurely time coming back to me, I was hard-pressed not to.
I blew. “May I sit down?” I asked. “My face hurts.”
He didn’t bother to look up from his phone. “Stay where you are, sir.”
I stood. My face hurt. Time crawled. Finally, the breathalyzer beeped. He held it up and squinted at it, then used his phone to light up its face.
When he did, his sleeve rode up and revealed the “998” tattoo on his forearm. Suddenly, I didn’t care so much about the pain in my face.
The cop looked at me. He was an older guy, but quite a silver fox, in a Clooneyoid sort of way. Had the same smile lines at the corners of his lips and eyes. But on him, they looked mean. Dangerous. A man who would smile at you while he beat your face in.
“All right, sir,” he said. “I’m going to write you a citation for reckless driving and you will be free to go.” He smiled. “Thank you for your cooperation.” It sounded like “fuck you.”
Back to the cruiser again. When he was done writing, he switched off his headlights, and the bubble light inside the car lit up his partner. Heavyset. Smiling. Excellent teeth. He gave me the same look as he had just before kicking me in the ribs. I gasped involuntarily and my ribs burned. His smile got bigger.
The Clooneyoid deputy returned with my ticket. I looked at it and then I realized he’d said “reckless driving”—not “dangerous driving.” This was a summons, not a citation. For a misdemeanor. Two points off my license and I’d have to go to court. Depending on the judge, I could be in for fines or even a jail sentence.
Clooneyoid saw me figuring this out and he smiled, too. Everyone was having a great time tonight except for poor old Marty Hench.
“See you in court, sir,” he said.
I exercised extreme care on the drive to the 7-Eleven, even backing out of my parking spot and reparking so that I was perfectly centered between the white lines. The clerk didn’t bat an eye at my hamburger face. I gave myself five minutes to bury my bruises in the frozen peas before I backed out and drove the rest of the way to my Airbnb.
I drove five under the limit the whole way, and when I got out of my rental, I looked long and hard up and down the street for an LA Sheriff’s Department cruiser.
ETA: Here's part six!
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#acab
#pluralistic#the bezzle#martin hench#marty hench#red team blues#fiction#crime fiction#crime thrillers#thrillers#technothrillers#novels#books#royalties#wage theft#creative labor
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Hot Springs part 3
Part One, Part Two
Eric's body was flushed and eager before he even walked through the doors to the hot springs. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about this all day. More than once he had to get some cold water on his face to calm down. Soon he would be here, Dar's strong hand wrapped around his cock. Eric hadn't touched himself at all since their encounter. He wanted the next touch to be Dar's.
And that desire was very unexpected. Eric reasoned it out as not having any kind of sexual attention apart from his own hand for years. Having someone-- anyone-- touch him again was such a relief. Dar's hand was very good, too: warm and rough with callous, the fingers slightly thicker than Eric's and the grip strong.
The attendant greeted him when he came in but he was a familiar face and she didn't bother pointing him in the right direction. He hurried inside and got undressed, fumbling a little with his prosthesis. Eric swallowed noting that his cock had risen a bit just from thinking about what would happen in that water.
Damn, he really needed this if he was getting turned on with only his thoughts to stimulate him.
He entered the springs and froze. Dar beat him here: the man was already naked and standing by the edge of the water. He glanced up on Eric's approach and gave a smile. Eric stared back, his hand going numb as it gripped onto his cane tightly. The arousal in him was dwindling as anxiety took its place. No one had seen him naked in years, and the last people to see him without his leg were his physical therapist and Rachel.
Dar took in Eric's body slowly, his expression unreadable. After he did a full survey, Dar crossed the room so he and Eric were separated by inches. He reached out and placed his hand on Eric's right hip. Eric took in a steadying breath and held still as that hand grazed its way down his thigh, stopping just above his stump and moving back up again. Eric's eyes fluttered, his heart racing.
“Relax,” Dar coaxed him. He pressed his hand more firmly on Eric's thigh, massaging the muscle. He moved around to the back of Eric's thigh, continuing to squeeze and massage gently up to Eric's ass. Eric shuddered and nearly lost his grip on his cane. “You need this,” Dar commented.
“I... yeah,” Eric agreed. He gripped onto Dar's arm for support. He could feel his cock starting to rise and he turned his head away in embarrassment.
“Let us go in the water.” Dar's fingers gently pried Eric's hand free of his cane. He had to lean more heavily on Dar now as the other guided them both to the steaming water. They both climbed in and Dar's hand immediately went back to Eric's hip once they were settled.
“Thanks,” Eric said. “You don't have to--”
“Do you want me to?” Dar interrupted.
“Yes.” Eric felt his face go hot in a blush. “I thought about it all day.”
“So did I.” Dar moved his other hand so both were on Eric's hips. They slid down to Eric's thighs, gripping on and pulling his legs apart. Eric's heart started pounding harder and he reached up to grip the other man's shoulder. “I thought of your body and how you may look.”
“And?” Eric prompted, swallowing.
“I like it.” Dar was drawing closer, fingers digging in to keep Eric's legs open. The pounding of his heart was growing so frantic he wondered if his ribs would bruise. “Such a pretty man,” Dar crooned. “You deserve to feel pleasure.”
“I...” Eric lost what else he could have said. Dar tugged him forward and he gasped feeling the man's cock slide against his own. Eric's fingers twitched in their grip of Dar's shoulder. Dar bucked his hips and there was a second brush of flesh on flesh. Eric instinctively bit down on his lip to muffle the cry. Dar bucked again and Eric shuddered feeling the sensation through his whole body.
“Relax, Eric,” Dar encouraged him. He was moving slowly to slide their cocks against each other in long strokes. Dazedly Eric noted that Dar's cock was stiffening against him. “So pretty when you blush,” Dar commented, and his lips touched Eric's cheek.
Eric gasped and turned to gape at the man. Dar's eyes had darkened and he stared back, waiting for Eric's reaction. His hands were still on Eric's thighs, his hardening cock pressed flush against Eric's. It was hard for Eric to focus with his body aching like this. He wanted that friction, the strong grip of Dar's hands on his thighs, the touch of lips on his skin.
It'd been so long. So goddamn long.
“Dar,” he managed to croak out. Eric lifted his left leg and hooked it around the other man's body. Dar's fingers flexed on Eric's right thigh, holding him in place. Eric wet his lips and leaned in. His lips pressed hard against Dar's mouth. The taste and feel was so different from his last kiss-- Rachel-- and it felt good. It felt so fucking good.
“Eric,” Dar growled against his mouth. He nipped at Eric's lower lip and when the blond parted them, Dar's tongue slid inside. He shuddered and arched closer, both arms going around Dar's shoulders. He felt the man start to move against him again, pressing Eric's back against the walls of the spring.
Dar set up a steady pace thrusting against him, their lips only parting long enough to take in gulps of air before sealing together again. Eric lost himself to the feel of that tongue gliding against his own, Dar's hard cock rutting on him and creating friction that shocked through him in bursts. His shoulders gently thudded against the walls with each thrust of Dar's hips.
“Dar, Dar,” Eric gasped over and over, begging, whining for this man. He wasn't thinking of his missing leg or Rachel or anything except how good it felt having Dar's cock thrusting against his and the steady beat of his back against the spring's walls.
“Eric,” Dar answered back, adding something in Arabic the blond couldn't understand. The thrusts were going faster and harder now and Eric let out a groan from the feel of it. The man's breath was hot in his ear as he continued his stream of Arabic. His hands tightened their grip on Eric's thighs and he responded by squeezing his left leg around the other.
He was close, so close... The air kept getting knocked out of his lungs every time Dar thrust forward and he was probably going to have bruises on his shoulder-blades. He didn't care, he needed this. He needed Dar to make him cum.
And he did, nearly screaming as the orgasm rocked through him. Dar kept rutting against him fast and hard, lips more clumsy and desperate as they pressed against Eric's jaw and neck. There were white spots in his vision and all he could do was try to breathe and hope he didn't lose his grip as Dar chased his own orgasm. Eric felt it when it happened and clung onto the man harder as he shuddered against Eric's body.
“Holy shit,” Eric gasped out. And let out a delirious little chuckle. “At least we, ah, don't have to worry about cleaning up.” Dar let out a soft chuckle of his own. He pulled back so their eyes would meet.
“How long?”
“Years,” Eric told him. “Before my accident. My leg... I couldn't stand the idea of anyone touching me, or even looking at me naked, for a long time.” Dar raised an eyebrow and squeezed his right thigh. “I guess I don't mind anymore,” Eric concluded with a shrug. “You, ah, helped me relax.”
“Good.” Dar leaned in to kiss him and Eric shivered a little. He found he really liked how those lips shaped against his, the taste of Dar on his tongue. He didn't mind that he was still pressed tight against the wall, left leg hooked around Dar and his right thigh held in place by Dar's strong grip.
He settled into slow, lazy kisses, a hand lifting to tangle through Dar's hair. Dar returned what he was given and ran his hand slowly up Eric's chest. His skin tingled a little from the touch. The hand reached his pectoral, thumb circling his nipple teasingly before running back down his side to squeeze his ass. Eric shivered and let out a soft moan. Dar was speaking to him in Arabic again.
“What are you saying?” Eric asked him.
“That I enjoy touching you,” Dar responded. “I like feeling your body under my hands. And I like how you respond to my touch.”
“I like it, too.” He hadn't realized just how touch-starved he was until now. He shifted a little and let out a sigh. “We should get out, though,” he mentioned reluctantly. “Can't hog this place all day.” Dar let out a grunt and pulled Eric away from the wall. His left leg felt a little numb from gripping the man so tight and he wobbled a bit when he got it back on the ground.
“Do you want this again?” Dar asked him.
“Yes.” Eric didn't even need to think about it. He didn't know what he had opened up inside him but now it was out and he wanted more. He wanted it from Dar.
Eric just hope he would be able to stand waiting for two days to get it.
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new moon in pisces
you better believe this is in my twelfth house.
of course gotta mention directly opposite my part of fortune and vesta
Thinking about a week ago when I laid in bed all day and experienced daggers of dread in my abdomen and brain. I was trying to go a day without coffee. The next day was Valentine’s Day and I hung out with an old high school friend all day and complained about my back pain from laying in bed all day. We did yoga nidra in his bed and I made my sankalpa "total self-control." We also practiced remote viewing in his second living room after learning that was what my ex was doing on me. And then his friend Jerr tried to convince me that only governments could be fascist and yet again I was amazed by how wrong brilliant men can be.
Last night I got tipsy and wandered around the town making sure it wasn’t meant for me though I could easily be the queen.
I haven’t been drinking much so that I can feel all my feelings and receive all the hypothetical downloads, except once when I had two glasses of wine the bartender at my work poured me so I could taste two different kinds of wine but resulted in me being so tipsy that I allowed a massage therapist to give me a massage at the bar which cleared up some shoulder tightness I’d been experiencing but which also led to me giving him a ride to his Tacoma and then crying for twenty-four hours after he asked to kiss me and I said no.
And then there was the time I drank two beers with a shot at the bar at the ski resort with this cute guy who was a self-proclaimed yuppie so that I could nap on the two-hour drive to my other job, a drive which should only take fifteen minutes but because people are brain damaged they think it’s normal to sit in that kind of traffic and they rush up to Tahoe from the Bay and I pretty much loathe them and wish they would just learn how to surf since they live next door to the ocean. It’s not really that I loathe them since I’m trying not to loathe any person since we’re all the same species, same team possibly, but looking at skiers and snowboarders gliding down the mountain all day and I myself doing the same thing I can’t help but think of that part in Paradise Lost when Milton writes about the demons in hell gliding around and down mountains with boards on their feet. It’s a hellish sport- the entitlement is so rampant that it isn’t hard to feel I’m in hell since the people around me sure act like it. I think they got hell wrong- it's burning cold.
I’ve exoticised wealth even after dating a millionaire, even after nannying absurdly neurotic children of hedge fund types, even after befriending wealthy alcoholics, but maybe it’s working with skiiers that has finally made me lose that loving feeling for rich people.
Of course at the end of the day, rich people are just important resources but I feel as though I’ve finally lost the sexual attraction for money, a program most Americans run on unconsciously but was revealed to me during my last meditation retreat and which I’ve been working hard to dismantle since.
There is a lot of deprogramming happening for me these days. I woke up this morning feeling deprogrammed from the misogynistic coding I was playing with when I dated that millionaire boyfriend and played a trad wife for him just to test the waters of what that would feel like but which led to a lot more damage than I expected as it seemed to bind to old misogynistic programming I thought I had erased and put me on masochistic moral autopilot for the past two years.
I get more and more honest each day. Though my job isn’t aligned to my current value set I can still be honest. I won’t be here long. All it takes to move forward sometimes is just a statement of honesty. I'm glad I was patient with myself. I'm glad I cried. I'm glad I healed. I'm glad I was so alone. I'm glad I allowed myself to admit I felt like a loser. Because then, instead of avoiding the voice that cursed me, I faced it and it disappeared because it was only a voice that kept repeating itself until it was heard. And I then I learned that I knew it wasn't true. And I'm glad I faced the feelings so that I could know they would never last. And even as this dumb boy was breaking my heart he said things that were exactly what I needed to hear and even as he destroyed my love for him, he gave me room to transform myself. And now I know what it is to love thy enemy. To know that thy enemy is just as sweet as you.
Like clockwork sisterhood arrives in the dead of winter like it always does. And I get more and more powerful. I can't help but wonder if it means I'll fall in love again in the spring.
At the restaurant they used to tell me I look like Uma Thurman. Then it was Dakota Johnson, a sick joke the universe plays on me. But I know what they're really saying, it's time to move on. I wanted to die for this passive woman I served the other night. I'm not a little girl anymore. I don't want to play the submissive type though my uniform is a white button up and a denim mini. I'm an actress and I've always been. My life was always a play. And I'm not letting anyone else direct it anymore. I amaze people with my sweetness but I amaze myself with my rage. I snap at a man misbehaving and it’s like I’m snapping back at every man who ever misbehaved. My anger is efficient, cataclysmic. It took two months to let go of love. Now I’m back in my power.
#new moon#new moon pisces#pisces#astrology#astro blog#blog#write#writer#writing#creative#astro#truckee#tahoe#lake tahoe#california#tahoe california#town#townies
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Moooooooo!!!
Moobean, if you will.
How art thy gracious eyeballs?
Do you have any tips on writing fantasy that you’d be willing to share?
Worldbuilding is fun but sooo tedious and detailed. I like making myself suffer tho, so we’ll see how it turns out. Hmm…I need to think up conflicts too…lots to do…
Good thing first chapter in fics don’t have deadlines…ahaha…
But also HOW???
Do I start a story, like hello?
I feel like every time I begin writing a new idea, my writing brain just takes vacation without giving it’s two weeks lmao.
And then I’m just left with all the angry clients which are no one but myself and my reflection in the mirror across my room, whom I talk to sometimes….
Don’t let me take up your time tho, I’m just venting. I think.
Well, ta-ta!
Oof good question babe. like, fantasy is SO MUCH. though i think it's much easier than sci-fi so... there's that.
the good thing about fantasy is that you get to make it up. it doesn't need to make any sort of realistic sense the way sci-fi kinda does.
idk if you've ever watched It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia but there's this episode where the gang "turns black" and they do like a musical like the Wiz and what not and there's this song they sing throughout the episode called "What are the rules?" and every time i'm thinking up stuff about a story that isn't based in reality, i sing that song in my head lmao
because that's the most important question when you're dealing with fantasy or some other unrealistic setting.
What are the rules?
Is there magic? Who can use magic? Is it learned? or something you're born with? what sort of magic is there? restoration magic like healing and destructive magic like shooting fireballs from your hands? or something different? Are you using fantasy races like elves and dwarves and stuff? or even original races you're making up yourself the way Skyrim does with the Khajiit and Argonians? are any of those races more inclined to be magical? What about magical beasts like griffins and dragons and trolls? do they exist and if they do, what are they like? can they speak? are they threats to your main characters? or are they more of reclusive animals? what about alchemy and enchantments? does that stuff exist? is it separate from magic or intertwined with it? do the people in your fantasy world have different qualities than people in reality? like do they live longer? need different food? can they do things that real people can't do that aren't magical in nature? like jump really high or hold their breath for hours or shoot arrows while doing backflips? what of the animals? are they like our animals or are there new ones? or do they just act differently than their realistic version? what jobs do they have in this fantasy world that they don't have in our reality? are there messenger bunnies and soldier tigers or massage therapist octopuses? and technology? is there electricity or other sciencey things? Or is everything controlled by magic? or maybe it's old school where it's all torches and lanterns and other pre-electricity things?
what are the rules?
take your time thinking these things up. Watch or read other fantasy media to help give you some ideas about more stuff you can include in your setting to make it feel fleshed out. You don't have to put it ALL in your story, but you know how inspiration works. It's sometimes totally random. You can be halfway through the story and suddenly decide "Yes, i AM going to include this thing" and guess what? good for you because you already had it in your head and unconsciously prepared yourself for this moment. You've hopefully left room in the story to accommodate such a thing already so you won't have to backtrack and edit yourself to change rules.
write this shit DOWN. don't trust yourself to remember it all. I don't care how good you think your memory is, write it down. It's hard to keep track of every little thing you think of. so take notes. they don't have to be perfectly organized (though that will help a LOT if you're able to do it)
How do your characters speak? this is something that I struggle with when it comes to writing fantasy. the language in fantasy is always so... old timey and flowery, you know? and i hate writing like that. i start writing in that way, having the characters speaking like olden times but then i get irritated with it and abandon it. that's okay. who said fantasy needs to be all proper and stuffy anyway? Modern fantasy is a thing. also it's FANTASY. aka its not real. then again, there's nothing wrong with sticking to that old style of speaking if that's the vibes you're going for
choose how you want your characters to speak, and stick to it. Be conscious of your word usage and phrases. if you're going for the old style of speaking, be aware that there are a ton of phrases that would not fit with that style. We use so many references in our speech that would make literally zero sense in an olden days setting. This isn't SUPER important because like... who is picking apart your story like that? they can chew rocks if they're that snobby that they're gonna be bothered about a stray baseball idiom thrown into a story set in a world where baseball doesn't exist.
BUT, if youre someone who likes to be accurate, just keep an eye out for those types of things 😉
also, figure out your physical setting. WHERE is this story taking place? what sort of physical features are there? and what connections do those physical features have?
you know how in Lord of the Rings, there's like... the shire, which is all these sweet rolling hills and prairies and fields of wheat and cute little woods where hobbits just eat and drink and party all day long and it's so peaceful and cute? then there's Mordor and it's like volcanic desolation and nasty little creatures beating the fuck out of each other on the rocks? then there's Moria and all these mountains and dwarves live inside them with this spectacular architecture like wow amazing ingenuity and technological advancements and mining and smithing? then of course the elves live in Rivendell the big beautiful forest with all these beautiful waterfalls and tall golden trees and it's whimsical and magical and sexy just like them? then all the places where men live are like just out there in these fortresses and cities that feel very manlike?
The environments are detailed and varied and they suit the races that claim them as their homes. it's like DUH the elves live in a gorgeous place like that and DUH the place where all the nasty bad guys live looks like THAT. DUH the hobbits, carefree little guys, live in a place that looks so friggin peaceful and cute. Think about where your characters live and why they live there. Draw a map if you want to! Or hey, pick a country that already exists and use it as the base of your map. Who cares? some countries just have a good shape, you know? I'm partial to Chile like... why you such a long boyo?
what about the politics and social aspect of your world? are the races separate and rule over themselves? or is there like a king or emperor that is in charge of the entire place? maybe it's just a free for all? how do the different races feel about each other? do the elves hate the dwarves and the humans hate the mermaids? are there alliances? interracial mingling? discrimination? are there any wars currently waging? civil or foreign? what about gender politics? are women equal to men? what about people who don't fit into the gender binary?
and what of religion? are there gods? do the different races believe in different gods and religions? do those gods actually exist and interfere with the mortals? or are they more conceptual? is there bad blood between gods and religions?
what about the supernatural stuff? vampires? zombies? ghosts and ghouls and spirits? an afterlife? many afterlives for the different races and creatures?
there are so many questions you can ask yourself! and maybe you don't need to answer them all. maybe your story isn't supposed to be THAT epic. maybe it's smaller scale. that's okay. pick the ones that you find vital and really figure them out. write down ALL of your ideas, even if some of them will get discarded later.
don't worry too much about how to start the story. just start. you can always go back and rewrite the beginning. the most important thing is to get words coming out. even if that means you just start with something like "Jeffrey hates Mondays and here's why:" like go on, just begin and let yourself work through some nonsense just for the sake of making your fingers do the type type type. then later, when you've gotten stuff kinda flowing and feeling good, you can revisit that early stuff and edit it to be an actual introduction to your story. beginnings are HARD. probably the hardest part of writing a story. though they probably share first place with endings because those are hard too.
Don't sweat it! so long as you're writing, you're doing a GREAT job. fantastic, really. better than most writers. because sometimes we struggle to even get past the brainstorm stage. which is totally valid and also an important experience for writers. Struggle makes success taste so so delicious.
whatever happens, i'm sure you'll do awesome and will be super happy and proud. as you should be! writing is so difficult but so fulfilling and i wish you and every writer out there the energy and motivation to spit out 300k words like it's nothin
good luck! hope i helped, even if it was just a lot of asking you questions you should ask yourself heh. i just woke up so my brain is working at like quarter capacity so, ya know.
anyway, i believe in you! 🌈🖤 have fun!!!!!!!
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OSRR: 2985
i like that the month of october goes along with how many days it's been past 2980. like today is the 5th, it's 2985. cool.
also my birthday is tomorrow (the 6th). it's technically my birthday here now, but it's not even 1am and i'm not asleep yet from the 5th. but birthday. more on that later.
today i got up early and went in for PT. we didn't even do much but my shoulder was YELLING all day. sore. achy. deep, deep ache. pretty miserable. but i took two advil and made the best of it.
after that i went to work with the kiddos. they are both doing really well and i'm super proud of them. like they've both improved so much since i started working with them in january and i'm so, so happy for them. their mom is happy too. she also asked me to teach her husband about the math so he can help when the kids get stuck and i'm not around. 😂 which is fair.
after that i stopped for a soda and ice cream which i had a feeling i'd want. we had game tonight, but we didn't focus on anything, really, but i was even late to doing things because i was talking to lisa and joel and daniel about the con schedule. i told lisa i wasn't going to fill up the craft room, and she gave me a look like "sure okay *rolls eyes*" all in one look and i said "im not fucking doing it. i can't handle it." and my voice broke, of course, because that kind of stress is not something i can fucking handle. no. i'm not doing it again. i didn't fucking eat last year. i'm not doing it again. and of course i cried, and joel came over to hug me and i weakly tried to protest because all i initially wanted to do was punch a wall. he held me and i just slumped to the floor and cried. i'm not gonna do it again. i'm never fucking doing that again. i don't want that stress, i don't want that chaos, and i don't want to be yelled at again by some entitled asshole who doesn't fucking get to tell me what to do.
anyway.
PT sucked this morning. deep tissue massage made it hurt even though i didn't do almost anything. the therapist gave me a few things to do at home.
work was fine. it was a "lie under the table" kind of day.
other work was satisfying. i drew gabby and myself on a paper and then gave the kids math problems.
in the meantime, my cybersecurity class professor hasn't posted module 3 anything. it's almost the end of week 3 of a six week class and we haven't heard from him since last friday. i sent a few people emails. one kicked back saying "i'll be out of the office." the other said "i'll pass this on and see what i can find out." fuckin professor hagen comin in clutch, as always. the absolute fucking legend.
got ice cream.
changed up the con schedule. had a breakdown.
had game and didn't even really so much. looked at financial aid stuff and assignments due.
watched a bunch of facebook videos while eating my ice cream which i definitely needed.
been reading fics.
in bed now.
want joel hug.
birthday tomorrow.
turning 30.
thirty???
jesus.
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Beloved and dearly missed A.,
Happy Friday!
I am unsure what you would think of me writing these, because isn’t this kind of ‘not letting go’? But I thought: for me it is in a way, because I’m not asking for a response or acknowledgement and whether I type it out or not is a bit of the same, because I would tell you in my mind, if I wasn’t writing it down. I always want to talk with you. I always miss you. And you know I am always delusional and pathetic.
Two days ago, I had some nervousness inducing conversations with my therapist about me being dissociated most of the time, up to the point that I even dissociate in therapy sessions and can’t really process or understand/accept what is being said to me. And that I feel anxious to ask questions because I worry my therapist might not be honest to me when I ask her to be upfront (which is ofc my own trust issues) or might feel I’m annoying her.
We then looked closer at that cycle of dissociation and anxiety. I felt horrified to see how torn that inner insecurity (almost a grappling for the perception of reality between the “trauma brain/adult brain”) makes me feel and act at times. Sure you remember. And to get a sense of all the potential damage that volatile dynamic can cause others and myself.
This week has started with many people calling in sick to work, so I was obliged to take on more shifts than I originally had. Needless to mention that that isn’t very pleasant. I feel rather knocked out by this week. Patients and coworkers have been rather rude too — it reminded me of the time you worked in the city museum front desk. I, too, experience the general public’s madness everyday. So many bizarre things that I can’t possibly write it all down or remember it. I was once asked out of the blue, mid conversation, by a grandpa whether I was wearing a wig. An other patient complained to me that his taxi was taking too long to pick him up, but he apparently hadn’t even called one (?). Then the general babylonic discourses with russian people who are unfazed at me telling them I don’t speak russian and who proceed to speak russian anyway… 🫨
Im just constantly tired and exhausted— it reminded me of that little sketch you drew of yourself of rotting in bed and saying ‘surely theres a better way to live my life than that’.
Yesterday I rolled over in bed and stared at my wall. My blanket had wrapped around my torso tightly. I remembered you hugging me like that in the bed you had set up for me in your room on that last night and just began to cry horribly.
Not all that I feel can be expressed in words about all that.
I’ve also not slept very well all week and woke up in the middle of the night. I suppose dad and you are haunting me in my subconscious.
But — on to more ‘joyous’ things.
You know how I read up about the Somerton Man (scary) and I was very intrigued by the process of identifying him and just the mystery around that ‘Tamam Shud’ from Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat in his pocket. I had wanted to have a copy of that for myself (there are such nice editions with art nouveau illustrations which you would surely appreciate too) and went to a nearby antique book store after my massage last Saturday. They had a battered 1913 copy (unfortunately without illustrations) of it and some of the poems really resonated with how I feel.
Heres some of my favourites:
Three days ago the rest of my Yamato Cosplay unexpectedly arrived in the mail, so I took some joy out of completing the costume for now. I feel like my inner transmasc oni was turned outward finally! 👹
For my birthday last year Sharon’s boyfriend gifted me a box of Basilur Green Tea assortment from the russian supermarket in front of my house. I usually don’t like green tea, so I only tried it recently. In that assortment they had a few sachets of milk oolong tea, do you know it? I love it now. I drink it with two or three spoons of sugar and a bit of milk. Its not as irritating to the stomach as the Earl Grey I favour, maybe you can try it? ♥️
While we are on the topic of Earl Grey — after I have completed a cosplay of Transmasc Oni Yamato (my alter ego) I am now thinking of doing a Ciel Phantomhive or Pinocchio from Lies of P cosplay, just because they’re both giving off that assholish midget horse-lady Laurent vibes, which — as you know — is also my alter ego 😏
I’ve been doodling a bit in the evenings after work (I’ve not drawn something in so long, and why? for who?), and listening to anime openings etc. Sometimes I wonder if it is a bit cringe that I still gain joy from the same things I had when I was 13, living with my parents back then and feeling utterly lonely (still do). Here are some of the things I’ve drawn:
The first one is depicting how I feel when I am experiencing an episode of mania (also, also, blood thing/our Laurent, self insert?). I called this emotional state ‘Archangel’, because it isn’t actually me, or thats how it feels at least. It is this righteous entity, that is entitled to anger and vengeful feelings. He is 100% sure his feelings are justified. I don’t often experience the archangel or that inner ‘surety’ of my own perception, of reality. But when I do — not only does he feel anger, he also punishes me bodily for — by proxy — feeling anger through him. He humiliates me. It is almost as if I was taking on the persona’s of the people who abused me as a child. Who disallowed me from standing up for myself, and who discouraged protecting myself from them, who disallowed me from feeling angry. I am not allowed to be upset.
I’m sorry if thats tmi and makes you uncomfortable, you know I’m always too open.
The second one is Romano and Antonio in the traditional clothes of the Fallas Carnival in Valencia. This year is the tenth year anniversary of me first visiting the city (I can’t believe it! I have memories of 10 years ago!!) I booked a one week vacation there for March to go by myself and finally see the Fallas! Valencia’s main festival! I’m very excited to drink Horchata de Chufa and draw some Antonio/Romano doodles and take naps. I also booked a tour to see the atelier’s of the artists building the statues, that will surely be interesting. I already wish I could send you a postcard, but I’m not supposed to, am I? Maybe I will get one anyway and just post it here and then add it to your little box of things I keep.
Again, I’m looking forward to rest and play my video game on the weekend, when I am off (I’m currently trying to level myself up to take on that acid monster in the Cathedral of St. Frangelico) 🙄
Thinking of you fondly at the sight of the stars & moon,
your Sabo
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OCTOBER 20TH HORROR WATCH
Harum Malam- (Blood Flower) (2023)
Saw this is with the kid from that YA Netflix horror show mr midnight and i immediately put in on the list
He already seeing stuff
Once again in abandoned locations
Now you're flashlights aren't working mam
I wouldn't take it
Sound like the starter but the car is already going That's a battery issue
Third sight? For directions? Bossy man
He seeing creepys in the cemetery that's slender man right now
Premonition oh shit
Dad already has to go
They screaming
Bleeding fruit
Bruh u having a panic attack
They found a house?
If she know why she not helping him, he's freaking out
Uh unh the house empty
But candles lit this is suspect
Who she talking to
Oh this is her client
WHAT THE HELL
djinn
Bro yo babies to a dangerous exorcism
The girl is down stairs
She got the healing touch i guess
Bro she lying
Two heads
Nooo
Dad is fecckkin useless the spirit jumped
It's a shady djinn
They got it out
How what about the other two possessed
Bruh they distracted her this is why you don't take your family to exorcism night
Damn
I knew they were gonna do it
But it's bs already cause this dad is wack
They not giving the girl any lines
Now why did they say that??
Was that honest cause they know he sees ghosts
Dad is a massage therapist?
Dad is a pimp?
He don't know his kid?
Carnivorous plants!!
Nepenthes!!!!!
That's pitcher plant folks
None in that region? But it's hot and muggy???
Well they probably got other cool plants im googling where most are 🤔
Local to here but probably real expensive there they are expensive in CA
Titan aramas!!
(Corpse flower)
Not the plant talking
Creepy locked room
In America they would have made that bubble pop loud
Bro you related??
Or Uncle out of respect ??
Already breaking rules bad
U just picking up the frog bro leave him be hes already dinner
Not taking the spell off the door
Yo put it back!!! Quick seal it up
The wall bleeding playa time to go
DEMON
That was a good effect with the light but u didn't seal it man the door just closed back on it's own
Why only men on the one poster ?
Now the demon stalking him and giving him bad dreams
Bro she seemed nice enough it's just that her head was sliced in half
Sleeping at moms grave
At least he cares
They binding him up
He gon burn it don't give it to him
This movie has a bunch of discordant clicks and dings and clashes
The effects are good
Whose the girl with the demon
Whoa ok granny
Don't do it
Whoa creepy
Bro that was a great scene
Oh hell no i don't do bugs
Cricket down
Bruh THEY LEFT THE DOOR OPEN with the expensive plants FOR DAYS IT'S BEEN DAYS
oh hes working in there rn 🤣🤣
More discordant noises
Ha it cracks me up when stuff is going down behind somebody and it's headphones time
Kids r having night mares
I like all the eccentricities of the hauntings
At least the dad had his back publicly
One kid gone and that paper is fishing people
The writing isn't super strong and the direction is heavy handed because i have seen this kid work and it seemed like somebody was telling him MORE DRAMATIC
They've done like a trance thing twice now and im unclear about the rules hallucinations
Premonitions
Abortion?
Baby eating?
Auto canabalisim
Is it wrong im worried when the blood flower will be damaged
Dad is aloof as hell
Got em
Best scene ever the cops like
🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨
Ah boy is a great name
Every body got the gift but dad
Bro HELP HER
She's sick now
Wait
They just letting her stay possessed
Bro what are you gonna do you don't have the juju
Why didn't they unbind him at the church? Mosque?
She's doing a good job possessed
He's admitted his wrongs
This is so chaotic
Great shot there from above
Why do have him hemmed up???
Wtf a demon spawn
Bro you can't do it you're all going to die if you keep the son locked down
Aww he's trying to keep his son out of the biz
Bro off the top rope with a knife
How did you get two?
WE JUST TALKED ABOUT TAKE YOUR KID TO EXORCISM DAY
You have to eat it?
You just can't pull it out?
Now he has to demon walk
Lol she 110% now 🤣🤣
Dad back already
Oh coincidence
The damn cops didn't get the other skull 🤣🤣🤣
What kinda outfit??
Bro it's going down in the basement
They've been implying this since halfway through but they won't confirm
And the grandma and the og knew
Now the whole plant room is haunted because they been feeding the plant the missing kid
We protecting a child incest rapist murder?
Way too quick for him
Oh no i think he's getting dragged off to hell for eternity torture session
The power of family
Needful
Interesting
Short and sweet
I think America & borneo might have the most
You don't think weird plants America
But if we have the most carnivorous plants that's automatic puts USA in top 5 for weird plants it's north Carolina apparently
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November 2022
How to write a lot.
Writing with the perfect pen. Inky, smooth, jet black, a broad tip, gliding over the paper.
And yeah: buying pens. Like a kid in the candy store. Can't resist.
Getting a candle for my room. Just because. A tiny bit of November feeling in sunny Oaxaca.
Speaking of which... my room! I was craving solitude after a week in dorms. I'm such a loner at heart. I loved that the walls in the courtyard and my room were the same shade of purple as my favourite bedsheets at home that I miss so much. The property is on a hill which makes getting there quite the workout. But the view is always worth it. * Confusing the neighborhood cats by singing the song of their people. The good toilet paper. Cristina and her twins, so bubbly and nerdy, latina through and through.
A cinnamon red wall matching my bra and dress and hair tie. I've decided that it's MY colour now.
Diego offering to adopt me because sadly I have no Mexican ancestry.
Making a WhatsApp sticker set with my most stupid facial expressions.
Paulina. I love how people with mental health issues tend to find each other. Restless seekers. Language nerds. She actually studied photography and Sanskrit!
Telling Paulina about the book Alone with You in the Ether. Immediately wanting to re-read it. But also: to create my own universe. Play god. So that means I have to write a book now?
A truly tiny cherry chapstick. Artificial cherry aroma just hits different.
Buying copal oil. Smells very ceremonial.
Light night. Breakfast bagel for dinner.
A dream: I lay with a lioness and a crocodile and at first they behaved but then suddenly attacked. Hidden message?
A firm massage only on the right side of my back. So good. Learning that I should only do strength training on the left and stretching on the right side of my body.
Nostalgic teenage revival video clips on a coffee high.
Liking myself in the mirror wearing a white shirt with messy hair.
Do sending me a gif of Lorelai kissing Luke and it's so easy to imagine her as Luke and me as Lorelai. All the feels.
Breakfast sandwiches. Cheese and egg. All I really need. Yum.
Massage at Xolotl. Purr-fect. They set up a small aquarium during my treatment and I named the big red fish with blue stripes Casimiro.
Taking the night bus. Staying busy with my vocabulary app. Looking out the window, passing a random mezcaleria sign: SENTIR, brightly glowing letters in the dark. I believe in messages.
Feeling very close to Do after two phone calls. Talking about our issues, school, queerness, our negativity bias, what makes people interesting, first impressions, labels, her first partner. Our favourite bowls and spoons. Asking her to dream of me. Her admitting that she has dirty fantasies of me.
Developing this plot with Do on the phone: about a bunch of narrators. Omniscient, unreliable. Who are overwhelmed with their tasks since the invention of the internet/ having to deal with their own decisions. What an interesting/promising idea! Famous authors as narrators?
Wearing lipstick for the first time in months. Refreshing.
Hierve el Agua! Swimming in a natural mineral water infinity pool with the most gorgeous view of the mountain valley. Petrified waterfalls in the distance. Someone taking pictures of me I actually liked. Meeting a gay couple from New Orleans who showed up in full rainbow gear. Visiting the biggest tree in Mexico.
Johnny Lee Miller als John Major in The Crown. Dreaming of my mum as Princess Diana.
Downloading a meditation and vocabulary app. Actually working with them.
Getting the feedback from my therapist that I've changed. That I'm more present. Authentic, feeling. Less volatile, less diversion through humour etc. And she confirmed everything I'd found out and analysed by myself.
Bioluminescence. It's like making magic. The sparkles following your every movement. The starry sky.
Sitting in a hammock chair at the beach with a fresh coconut. Scratching off the flesh with the straw.
Walking past a turtle cadaver. Super fascinating.
Lunaticart Gallery. Buying overpriced/extremely cool earrings - I immediately knew that I wanted them. The gallery inspired a vision I had about a business I'd like to own: a 2in1 studio and store - working and creating whenever there are no clients. Offering limited editions and collections so I can follow all my changing interests. The aesthetic: Atelier Brancusi meets fortune teller tent.
I've noticed two things: I have no problems fitting into flimsy plastic chairs anymore and I can suddenly wrap a regular towel around my waist without a gap! Am I getting... Slimmer? Exciting.
A free ride to Mazunte from one of the dudes from the bioluminescence tour! Nice! And the lady on the bus who offered me the seat next to her. Lifesaver.
A girl walking past my breakfast table. She had the most gorgeous tattoos. Layered cresent moons in various sizes as a chest piece. An eye surrounded by rays on her arm.
The waiter who made me a smoothie with passion fruit even though it wasn't on the menu and played march music the whole time. I was torn between loving and hating it (because it reminded me of Bavarian marching bands). The guy also had asymmetric earrings and a very nice smile. How can people be so happy. In a service job. I admire that.
Just hanging out at the beach. Sunday. Affogato and fruit salad. Researching Cher's career - she keeps reinventing herself and she's amazing at everything she does. Listening to a podcast on happiness. Realising that I love power ballads. Banter with Do. Feeling connected. My feet in the sand.
Observing the silhouette of the palm leaves during sunset, all the shapes and patterns they're creating.
Waking up early. Catching sunrise over the beach. All the colours, hues, gradients. Rays. Interesting cloud formations.
The From Pain to Peace workshop at Hridaya. So many insights. Learning. Important lessons. Lovely connections with lovely people. Giving each other massages. Mirroring feelings, holding space for each other. Looking into each other's eyes, singing to each other. Beautiful.
Stahsha was there again and somehow I was less intimidated by her this time. I wonder if something has changed about me? People actually talked to me, thought I was interesting, approachable, desirable. Am I getting rid of my fear of people? Are they feeling it? I love the impression that I'm making progress.
Malik, another participant. I had such a big crush on him. He gave off John Lennon in Nowhere Boy vibes. More alternative and vulnerable though. With a Jim Morrison aesthetic. A sexy/messy/wavy mullet and nerd glasses. Big tattoos. Very blue eyes and a sharp jaw line. He seemed quirky, always had his head tilted. I would have loved to get to know him. But I'm shy. And happy about learning that I can still feel such a strong attraction to someone despite my high standards and past experiences.
The big ginger cat who I thought of as my bro and guardian because he liked sleeping on the chair in front of my dorm.
Compliments for my black and white triangle dress and for my beautiful singing voice (three people approached me and actually asked me if I am a professional singer). Luzma also said she loved how forthright and direct I am. It's fascinating to learn about an outsider's perspective and what they see in me. I wonder if they're able to see clearer or are more objective. In any case, I love comparing their observations with my own. They're often quite different. How interesting!
Luzma's style. Guessing correctly that she's an artsy person (and yeah, she used to be a graphic designer). Her edgy glasses. Abstract art shirt. Short hair and interesting jewellery.
Vegan samosas, matcha, a coconut and piña paleta. Taking photos at the beach. Saying goodbye to the Pacific.
Feeling truly happy and grateful during the taxi ride after leaving Mazunte. Millie (my Mexican part-time mum!) had made me a sandwich and somehow that meant a lot to me. Just being considered, someone thinking of me. She and her daughter Frida took me along and didn't even want me to pay anything. The kindness of strangers. How humbling. I took in the beautiful landscape, thought about how lucky I was to experience all that, tears in my eyes.
Making sense of my insights from the workshop during a long phone call with Do while waiting outside the airport for hours.
All the immersion experiences I had in Mexico. Reset, MicroEnormous, the 420 ceremony (sense deprivation but a sensory experience at the same time through smells, airflow, interesting noises, breathwork, singing... and all the beautiful roses).
Being open to new experiences. Practicing letting go.
Finding a tiny glitter star pendant under the seat in front of me on the plane. And another little plastic silver star on the floor while standing in line at the museum. Taking it as a sign from the universe.
Lisa O'Connor's A Radiant Life 11/11 class: Kundalini, mantras, feeling the love.
Listening to choir music during meditation. Missing my own choir so much.
Visualising hugging my best friends, my mum. Feeling the love so much I cried. Imagining that I'm already leading the life I imagine for myself. That I'm happy, healthy, loved, fulfilled, beautiful and at ease. Acknowledging what I already have (achieved). The power of thoughts is absolutely astonishing. I want to do visualization exercises more often.
Having the feeling that I'm actually able to support my friends. Being there for them from a distance. Giving advice, sharing my learnings and insights, seeing things resonate with them. Receiving gratitude and emotional support in return.
Casa Pancha! I loved the design and architecture and... my blanket! Crisp white sheets, crinkly, amazing fresh laundry smell.
Sketching in museums. Being surrounded by art.
Mora Mora vegan fast food - I had cauliflower in ginger marinara, the truffle burger and a blue smoothie.
Wearing my cinnamon red dress with purple lipstick.
A nice conversation with the Uber driver. Compliments for my Spanish.
Just smiling when facing difficulties.
Another Spoil yourself rotten Sunday. I went to a museum. Passed an artist's market. Bought a Björk bag from a feminist book store. Had tiramisu and cappuccino in a lovely Italian restaurant courtyard. Took an Uber to get a Thai massage with Xavier which felt very intimate and nice. Dinner was vegan ramen and orange "chicken".
Finally visiting Casa Azul. Seeing Frida's bedroom. Patti Smith's poem for her about Noguchi's butterflies. All her books and the items she collected. The garden. Right there and then I decided to become a very rich and famous painter. Bisexual, international lifestyle, with gorgeous clothes and jewellery. And a house like Casa Azul with enough space for all my lovers and friends to live with me.
My first Yoga Nidra session with Elena at Casa Pancha. And soft morning yoga with Amy. Yoga is always so helpful for my body but I'm usually too lazy to do it. Horrible. Why do I resist a practice that is so good for me?
The Ripndip flagship store. I need one of their sweaters asap.
Two monarch butterflies in Bosque Chapultepec.
Museo Tamayo, chilling in the cinema rooms. All the beautiful things in their gift shop.
Playing Lotería with Marisol and the mesera. Drinking chai latte and ponche. Chasing after Agata, the resident cat. Intercultural communication.
Vegan tacos. Tarot cards on the walls at the street food place. The piggy dog toy. Oink!
A domed roof at the modern art museum that looked like you were standing directly under the sun or a glowing yellow planet. Sketching a statue of two ladies in the garden.
Stumbling upon Wednesday on Netflix. Obviously I loved the "possessed" dance scene at the Rave'n, inspired by Siouxsie and the Banshees and 80s goth dance moves. Catherine Zeta-Jones as Morticia was a fantastic choice as well (even though I'll always be partial to Anjelica Huston, she's such an icon).
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Cassie stacks
“The NFL is a very large, well known industry and there is a very large fan base. “I feel as though he single handedly put a lot of us at risk to be assaulted,” says Fleming. In an interview with Sports Radio 610, Watson’s lawyer, Rusty Hardin, claimed that a ‘happy ending’ was not a crime unless extra money was paid for the service. While Watson has repeatedly denied the claims, 23 of the 24 civil lawsuits have been settled. Two of the women also accused Watson of pressuring them to perform oral sex. Allegations included Watson exposing himself and manipulating therapists into touching him in an inappropriate manner. The dangers facing massage therapists made headlines last month, when NFL quarterback Deshuan Watson was suspended by the Cleveland Browns for 11 games and given a $5 million fine after he was accused of sexual misconduct by 24 massage therapists. She’s also on a mission to combat harmful stereotypes that plague the massage industry. In response, Fleming launched the ethics course, “Safety & Solicitation: Gaslighting and Power Dynamics” to help other therapists recognize threatening behavior from clients. I wasn't sure if it was worth it, but I stuck it out, “ says Fleming. So I really contemplated just leaving the industry all together between the vulgar messages and then trying to navigate that. “At that point I now had to process this traumatic experience while also navigating a brand new industry that put me alone in a dark room with strangers. What she didn’t expect was sexual harassment, which she says began almost instantly. Priscilla Fleming became a licensed massage therapist in 2019 to help people. This time, she captured her findings right in the middle of Walmart. “This is not OK,” she says.īut when some viewers argued that Anne’s video didn’t account for certain discrepancies - such as different brands, or extra fabric for diapers - she recorded a follow-up video. To prove her findings weren’t a one-off, Anne pulled out a second set of shorts, this time her son’s 9 months shorts and her daughter’s 3T shorts - again, almost the exact same length, with the 9 months shorts actually measuring a little longer than the toddler shorts. Atop these shorts, she lays a pair of her son’s 9 months shorts - revealing that both pairs are exactly the same length despite the difference in her kids’ ages. “If anyone is wondering why girls have body image issues, these are my daughter’s shorts,” Anne says, laying out a pair of 2T shorts. In the video - captioned “And don’t try to tell me ‘boys run bigger'” - Anne demonstrated how girls’ shorts fail to increase in length despite increasing in size. Girls Clothes,” which quickly gained over 1 million views. It all started when Anne uploaded a video titled “Boys vs. This content is not available due to your privacy preferences.
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Fleming notes that in the therapeutic relationship, the licensed therapist is granted the power to lead the dynamic in a professional setting. Gaslighting involves manipulating someone by sowing self doubt in what they are experiencing, and grooming is a process of seeing how far a predator can push past a person's personal boundaries. So by his lawyer making these allegations, I'm afraid that this is going to empower that fan base to come and seek what Dashaun Watson was receiving.” With her ethics course, Fleming spends considerable time educating other therapists about gaslighting and grooming tactics used by predatory clients. “The NFL is a very large, well known industry and there is a very large fan base. “I feel as though he single handedly put a lot of us at risk to be assaulted,” says Fleming. In an interview with Sports Radio 610, Watson’s lawyer, Rusty Hardin, claimed that a ‘happy ending’ was not a crime unless extra money was paid for the service. While Watson has repeatedly denied the claims, 23 of the 24 civil lawsuits have been settled. Two of the women also accused Watson of pressuring them to perform oral sex. Allegations included Watson exposing himself and manipulating therapists into touching him in an inappropriate manner. The dangers facing massage therapists made headlines last month, when NFL quarterback Deshuan Watson was suspended by the Cleveland Browns for 11 games and given a $5 million fine after he was accused of sexual misconduct by 24 massage therapists. She’s also on a mission to combat harmful stereotypes that plague the massage industry. In response, Fleming launched the ethics course, “Safety & Solicitation: Gaslighting and Power Dynamics” to help other therapists recognize threatening behavior from clients. I wasn't sure if it was worth it, but I stuck it out, “ says Fleming. So I really contemplated just leaving the industry all together between the vulgar messages and then trying to navigate that. “At that point I now had to process this traumatic experience while also navigating a brand new industry that put me alone in a dark room with strangers. What she didn’t expect was sexual harassment, which she says began almost instantly. Priscilla Fleming became a licensed massage therapist in 2019 to help people. Which: Fair! It does look pretty awesome. Others may simply like how it looks to have a tail. The specific kink of being turned on by one partner role-playing as a pet is referred to as "pet play " currently the pet play subreddit boasts 19,894 subscribers. At the time of reporting, 11,028 kinksters listed themselves as "into or curious" about "animal tail butt plugs" on the BDSM social network FetLife. When one partner sports a tail, they can resemble an animal or pet, a form of role-playing common in consensual dominant and submissive relationships. And warming up the rectum is part of anal sex 101.įor some, animal tail butt plugs are a form of BDSM play. With tail or sans, wearing a butt plug (with plenty of lube!) prior to anal sex is a wonderful way to warm up your sphincter, the ring of muscles surrounding your anal opening. And if you're interested in adding some flare to your butt plug collection, toys with tails can be super hot - they're not just for furries (a fetish known better for full-animal costume). If you're interested in anal play, you probably need a butt plug.
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M-mie could we get some athlete boyfriend eren hcs too if you don’t mind, please and thank you😩
He is: my boyfriend, and I love him dearly. Perfect amount of himbo and athlete without being a jock, everybody give it up for Eren for being my dream boy <3
Eren plays sports year round, with the exception of maybe one or two winter seasons, just because his school/work/home life was too busy for athletics at those times. Otherwise, he’s always go something to practice for: soccer in the fall, hockey in the winter, and his choice of baseball or basketball in the spring.
He’s not a varsity athlete; that is, he’s not “committed” to any one team, so he’s not tied to playing one sport every year, nor are his academics linked to his athletics, or vice versa. He’s just a pretty athletic guy, and he’s got a lot of energy, and he enjoys sports, so naturally he plays whenever he can.
As it turns out, it does help him with his academics. Knowing he’s got practice the majority of the week forces Eren into building a schedule that prioritizes both schoolwork and sports so he can enjoy them equally. It teaches him to be independent in a way that he wasn’t expecting, but he’s come to really love.
And because he loves it, he doesn’t mind working hard for it. Liking the way he’s set it up for himself encourages him to do his best in both areas. It’s really just good for him all around: a good outlet fo his energy, a good way to spend his time, a good way to keep his grades in check, and a good way to keep himself comfortably happy and busy.
His appetite is insatiable, so it’s only dramatized when playing sports. He takes the all you can eat in all you can eat sushi a little too seriously.
The thing is… he’s a shit cook, too, so it’s not like he’s meal prepping to make sure he’s satisfying his appetite. He just buys a shit ton of food whenever he’s hungry. He’s always asking you if you wanna grab food, and part of it is to ensure that you’re eating—not as much as him, but eating nonetheless—but part of it is that he just likes sharing meals with someone.
He also doesn’t like to eat alone, so even if you only have your ten California rolls to his forty six spicy tuna rolls, that’s fine; he just wants the company.
That’s also why even if you say you’re not hungry, he’ll drag you out to eat with him anyway. And you’ll probably get fed some of his food even if you don’t order anything and insist that you’re not hungry because, “It’s really good, baby, just try it—just one bite, it’s okay I’ve got plenty left!”
He usually keeps a few granola bars and chips and other snacks of his liking on him. But because of Eren’s nature, he keeps them on you, too: in your car, in your backpack, in your apartment/dorm. You’ll meet him after class and he’ll kinda just start walking behind you, and you realize he’s opening your backpack, and you don’t even have time to question him before he’s pulling a bar out of the smallest pocket with a smile and munching on it.
Sometimes you come home and see his little protein shakes in your fridge. You definitely didn’t put them there, but you don’t move them, either. When you stock up on more when they’re running low, Eren contemplates marrying you.
If it’s been a hard week of practice or school, he tends to get sleepy when studying (usually when studying for his least favorite class, no coincidence there). He’ll close his laptop, put his hood up, and scooch his chair closer to yours before leaning his head on your shoulder.
He gets increasingly clingier the longer he naps; hand wrapping around your waist, nose poking at your neck. He’s not so subtly trying to hint that he wants you to quit studying and take him home to cuddle instead. If you don’t get the message, expect him to shut your laptop for you.
When you protest, Eren just looks at you with pouty lips and tired eyes, “Chemistry sucks anyway. Wanna nap, and also wanted you to do that thing with your hands when you massage my back for me.” (He then promptly falls asleep mid-massage on your bed).
He’s actually got a waiver to see a physical massage therapist because of how frequently he’s exercising. On occasion, he goes, but he claims he likes your massages much better. Also because he’s hesitant about a stranger touching him and once he moaned when the guy was working on his back and Eren swears it was one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.
He doesn’t get upset if you can’t make it to every game, but he does like it when you show up. Gets all cheesy and cocky with his arm around your shoulder, going on about how, “You’re my good luck charm, baby. I play better when you’re watching, you know?”
He has so much team clothing, from sweats to hoodies to t-shirts to socks. All he asks is that you wear something on game days, even if you can’t be there to support him while he’s playing. And that you keep one or two things for yourself anyway. He’ll put them in your closet for your if you don’t take them yourself <2
Because seeing you in his hoodie is always great, but his team hoodies are extra special, because they’ve got his name and his number on them. Whenever you’re wearing one, he trails just a half step behind you so he can see JAEGER printed on your back while you walk. Something about you wearing his last name around is… enticing, to say the least.
Even if it’s not the clothes branded with his name, Eren’s got a thing for you in sweats and/or workout clothes, so he’ll toss them at you whenever you sleep over. He’s always handsy, even if you’re just wearing an Under Armour shirt with the school’s logo on it; the material of it, and knowing that it’s his just makes him want to keep his hands on you.
Truthfully, he doesn’t workout all that much outside of practice. Occasionally, he’ll go to the gym with some of his teammates if they need a buddy, or go himself to stretch or take one of the free classes, but he doesn’t have a strict schedule for it. If you go to the gym, he’ll follow you if you ask, tho.
Turns out something that he does like is yoga. He’s not particularly flexible lmfao, but the stretching helps with muscle pain and tension, and he kinda finds the whole atmosphere of it relaxing. He’s still not so great at the meditation part of it, but he’s getting there.
(Actually, it’s pretty cute because on Tuesday and Thursdays, the yoga classes at the gym on campus are open-level and beginner friendly. That’s when the majority of the athletes show up, and you see people like Eren, Jean and Connie holding tree pose in the back room).
This, of course, makes him think that couples yoga is a great idea. Let’s just say, you’re lucky that Eren is strong enough to catch you and has sharp reflexes, because he’s certainly not the most balanced partner for this activity.
Game days are fun for him, and usually even if his team loses, he’s still so pumped up on adrenaline that he’s pretty happy. He only gets moody if he thinks the other team is playing dirty, or the refs are unfair, or he’s just been in a bad mood because of something that happened in his personal life; sports are an outlet for him, not his drive in life, so losing a game doesn’t take a huge toll on him.
Usually, even if he is upset about something personal, he’s able to funnel it into his game play. Small things used to make his whole sportsmanship sour, but overtime, he’s really gotten better at using his energy to fuel the right things. However, one thing that makes him foul (emotionally and literally; as in he might foul out of a game), is if he’s been fighting with you.
Sometimes it works in his favor—using the game as outlet, like usual—but it goes south pretty quickly. Because instead of using his aggression in a productive way, he gets distracted and easily pissed off, and it’s no good for anybody, especially himself. Because if he fouls out, or the coach takes him out for doing too much, then he can’t play; and if he can’t play then all that pent up frustration has no where to go; and then he’s forced to just sit with himself and his thoughts, but usually he starts deflecting and telling everyone else to piss off. Truly a no good, very bad box he’s put himself in.
You guys don’t fight that often, and it’s rare that it drags out for an extended amount of time when you do; but as with any relationship, it can happen. And when it does happen, if Armin doesn’t get to you first, expect one of Eren’s teammates to come groveling at your feet.
Or, rather, two. Because when you and Eren were fighting for over two weeks about god knows what at this point, it was Connie and Jean who ambushed you in the library. Jean had some pride to keep, but Connie was practically begging you to make up with Eren: “Look, I know he’s probably the one who said or did something to piss you off, and I’m not saying you gotta forgive him, but please just talk to him. I can’t run anymore extra laps because of him, and it’s gonna be so embarrassing if we lose to a C-list team on Friday because Eren’s funking up everyone’s attitude. PLEASE!”
Jean is more interested in the tea between you guys, but he also wants Eren to go back to being his normal hotheaded self, and not his current moody self. “He’s been playing like a bitch baby all week, and I’m gonna knock his skull in if he doesn’t fucking get his act together,” Jean rolls his eyes, “So just show up on Friday, alright? Do it for me and Connie, at least.”
When Eren does see you in the crowd at the game, it’s not a Troy and Gabriella moment, but when he sees you he feels so much relief that he’s physically calmer and way more mentally relaxed—because at this point Eren wasn’t even mad, he was just scared you might break up with him, and that fear brought out the worst in him. Seeing you in the stands, even if you didn’t wanna speak to him, was reassurance that you still gave a damn about him, and that was motivation enough.
He rushes to you after the game, wanting to make sure you don’t get swept away or leave with your friends. He’s smiling and so happy to finally see you that he almost forgets that you’re mad with him; hugging you and grinning ear to ear. When the reality kicks in, he kinda steps back at bit and rubs at his neck, embarrassed, but at least he knows he still has a chance to make things right with you.
(When you do make up, you’re surprised to find flowers and $10 coupon for your favorite pizza place in your mailbox a few days later. They’re from Connie, and his poorly handwritten note thanks you for “saving the team” and “curbing Eren’s temper).
#anonymous#aot x reader#snk x reader#eren x reader#eren jaeger x reader#aot imagines#he is... my BOYFRIEND !!!!!!!!!!!!!!#MY FUCKEN BOYFRIEND !!!!!!!! MY BABEYYYYYYYYYYY#eren fluff#eren smut
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Million Dollar Man | chapter two
18+
summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.
Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, kissing, drinking mention, lowkey perv!Spencer, cum play, praise, oral (female receiving), grinding, love confessions, arrangements, Spencers anxiety, (more to add)
word count: 3.4K
a/n: updates on Wednesdays and saturdays at 2 pm est
Chapter Two | Masterlist
She sat on the subway with an anxious pit in her stomach and her purse held close to her chest. Her laptop in her bag, she didn’t want to lose it on her way to the most important meeting of her whole life.
Her story was becoming a book, she was almost done the final draft, they were making touch-ups to the cover and picking the type of paper today.
Her dreams were coming true within the next month, soon she’d have a physical copy of her book, her pre-sales were showing that she’d be on the bestseller list, and her name was finally going to be on the cover of this one.
She sighed and reached for her necklace, holding it between her fingers as she took a few deep breaths. She was doing so much better today than she was last year and it was all because of Spencer, he was the best thing to happen to her. To think she complimented his sweater vest and now he’s the only person in her life she can count on.
All she can think about is him for the rest of her journey, through 4 more stops she keeps her eyes closed as she thinks of all his little facts and his cute laugh. She smiles to herself and the anxiety slips away, she loves him and she knows that for sure, but she just doesn’t know how she loves him.
She’s never had a sibling, her best friends are all women, her previous boyfriends were all shit and her other sugar daddies were never this wonderful, and her parents are lesbians… she doesn’t know what her feelings really are for Spencer, mainly because she’s never known any other men to compare him to.
But she does know the exact moment she realized she fell for him.
He booked a hotel room in DC after a local case, asking her to meet him in there at 10 pm. She was waiting in the bathtub when he arrived, bubbles galore, her hair up and arms open, “welcome home, honey.”
He laughs, “you want me to get in there with you?”
She just nods, “let me take care of you, daddy?”
He takes off his blazer, pulls his tie off and starts to unbutton his shirt. She watches patiently as he gets undressed, and it’s not sexual to her. He’s her person, her best friend, the only human being she would ever share a moment like this with and that’s when it hits her.
She doesn’t accept it just yet.
It’s not until he’s lying on her chest, between her legs, cheek resting on her boobs as she runs a sponge over his back while he gives her a little run down on his terrible week. His co-worker almost died, his mom is stressing him out, the only good thing he has left is her and she knows that.
“And then I get to my moms facility and she’s had a really good day, she knows me and she knows all of my childhood again and she’s all right there in front of me and yet she’s so far away. I’m never going to get all the time I want with her and it’s really hard to accept.”
He shares things with her that he doesn’t even tell his therapist. Because his therapist doesn’t hold him like a child against her chest and tell him he’s okay when he get’s upset.
Y/N loves him, so she kisses his forehead, “I’m so sorry, I have 2 moms if you’d like to have one?”
“It’s okay, I would love to meet them sometime though,” he wraps his arms around her waist a little tighter under the water. “Thank you for tonight.”
“Did I mention my leg is 44 inches from hip to toe?” She asks in the middle of the silence, quoting pretty woman, knowing he hasn’t seen that far into the movie yet. “So basically we’re talking about 88 inches of therapy for the bargain price of $800 dollars a week.”
Her legs wrap around him and their naked bodies are closer than they’ve ever been and yet it’s completely platonic, “I’d spend a million dollars on you if it always meant feeling this good after.”
She runs her cheek along his wet hair as he snuggles into her neck, “mmm, I like the sound of that,” she teased. “My million dollar man.”
Her stop rolls around and she pulls herself out of her day dreams to get off the train and head to her meeting. She smiles as she walks through the station, up the stairs and onto the busy downtown streets when she gets a text with Spencers special chime. She opens it when she gets to where she’s going, safely inside and in the waiting room.
It makes her laugh in the waiting room. People look at her but she doesn’t care, he’s so special to her she feels butterflies in her stomach even when he’s not around.
“Y/N!” She hears her name being called by her editor, he’s over ecstatic as he comes running out to get her. “Come, come we have so many choices to make!” He jumps up and down as he holds her arm, like a child in a candy store.
“Andy, chill man,” she laughs at him and plays it cool, “It’s just the cover being finalized.”
“It’s our baby!” He teases back, pushing his glasses up and tugging her behind the glass doors of the office.
She’s surrounded by people and paper and huge versions of her book cover. She has a sharpie as she fixed mistakes and jots down final ideas. “And I wan’t Phil to look more human and less like data from Star Trek?”
“But Dorothy looks okay?” The artist asks, nervously and Y/N can tell.
“She looks beautiful! You really brought her justice,” she smiles, “really she looks the same in my head! It’s just Phil and I’m sure it’s tough getting a drawing to look like a robotic human, let alone human.”
“I have some ideas?” She opens up more, taking her iPad out and sliding it across the table, “I wanted to give him more of a Sophia feel? His face is silicone but his joints and everything are more like an Elon Musk crash dummy.”
“That’s perfect!” She’s shocked, “why didn’t that go in the first draft?”
“I was worried it was too much,” she’s a little older than Y/N, and yet her anxiety is that of a teenage girl. “I’m going to get working on the final, do you want some emailed versions tonight?”
“Yes please,” she smiles.
“So we’re done?” Andy asks, “we’ve made all our final calls?”
“I believe we have,” Y/N closes her laptop and takes her phone out, taking a photo of the final rough sketch of her book cover on the table to send to Spencer before he comes to pick her up. She can’t wait to see him now.
—
They’re sitting side by side in matching spa robes, he’s getting a pedicure while she gets her nails done. Leaning back in her chair with a face mask and cucumbers on her eyes, she’s never felt more relaxed in her life. And just in time too, her back was killing her from writing, her knuckles hurt and she just needed a break.
Spencer did too, he was genuinely not having a good time at work anymore, every case made him spiral and he always looked to Y/N on days like that. They met more than once a week now, she got $800 every Friday and she didn’t even really need it anymore. He was coving for so much of her bills and lively hood that her savings account was growing and growing because of him.
For the first time in her life she thought she would be okay if a man left her. As terrible as it was, as much as her moms tried to raise her differently, she fell down the daddy issues rabbit hole and she’s never going to find her way out— however, luckily for her, Spencer is down here too, and he brought a flashlight.
He understands her, more than anyone else on earth. He knows all her secrets, every crush and bad grade and snide remark she’s ever kept to herself. He didn’t judge her, he could actually listen to her issues and tell her why she had them. He gave better advice than a therapist and he was able to get information for her if he didn’t know the answer to what she was going through.
He’s absolutely everything to her and yet he’s 14 years older than her, he’s still traumatized beyond belief, he’s sad and ashamed and recovering… but he’s the best man in the whole world and she wishes he could see that. If he just looked at himself from her eyes, if he felt how she did in her soul when they were together, he’d love himself.
They’re too relaxed to drive home, and Spencer knew that would happen beforehand, bringing her a change of clothes (lingerie) and that robe me mentioned. He books a hotel above the spa and takes her to it. Arms linked as they enter the suite, she’s amazed to find more than one gift bag on the bed.
“How many gifts is this now?”
“We’re at 5 out of 24.”
She laughs as she wraps her arms around him in a thank you hug, “this is what you consider 4 gifts? Spencer there are like 8 things on the bed, let alone the massage and manicure?”
“If you think this is too much I guess you’re going to get really mad next week,” he teases as she looks up at him with a surprised look on her face.
“Spencer, I am so busy next week, I cannot be galavanting around with my sugar daddy,” she tries to act like she doesn’t want to go on an adventure with him again.
The last trip they took was the best week of her life. They went to all the historical sites in the UK that she and Spencer had talked about. Mainly old churches and castles, strange poets graves, random art and most importantly; stone henge. It was a trip of a lifetime and he took it with her.
“I watched the rest of Pretty Woman the other day,” he smiles, “and I thought I’d pull an Edward Lewis and really surprise you because you deserve it.”
“You know how the movie ends, right?” Her heart beats really fast in her chest and she wants him to love her so bad but it’s also terrifying now that she’s this close.
“He lets her choose,” he whispers.
“He rescues her,” she corrects him.
“And she rescues him right back,” he really did watch the end of the movie.
It makes her heart skip a beat as she swallows sharply, “what does this mean for us?”
“I have a whole plan, a whole sequence of events I want to stick to. I wanted to make you fall in love with me this week and ask you on your birthday, can we still do that?” He pleads with her, he’s so serious. He’s clearly put a lot of effort into this.
“Absolutely,” she smiles, “but if you’re going to make me wait that long for you to ask, you still can’t kiss me till then. No matter how much I already love you.”
“Really?” He’s so soft with her, she knows he’s not reacting to the teasing. He’s never had someone tell him they love him and then stay after.
“I would never lie to you about that, spence. I know what love means to you, I know how scared you are and I’m scared too. But I know there is no one else in the whole world I’d rather be scared with than you,” she holds him tighter and rubs her nose against his, “so what’s in the bags, daddy? Finish your surprise.”
She plays along perfectly, stepping back and hauling him towards the bed. “I got you some outfits and things for the next 2 weeks, we have a few things planned. We’re going on a flight soon, I have new luggage being delivered to your apartment this week and we’re going to see your moms for 3 days.”
“No,” she shakes her head, “there’s no way, Spencer, I haven’t seen them in 5 years, I’m going to cry.”
“I know,” he cups her jaw with his hand. “They’re really excited to see you.”
She hugs him tight, kissing his neck as she holds him. “Thank you, daddy, do you want me to put something on for you now?”
“I’m just going to take it off you, plus, what your wearing is sexy enough, he whispers back. “You’re always so beautiful, baby.”
“I thought you were saving the best for last?” She asks as she pulls back, overly eager and he can tell.
“I want to repay the favour from the other night.”
She doesn’t mean to gasp and yet she does, “please?”
He pulls on the tie of her robe, opening it enough to snake a hand behind her back and draw her in with a hand on her bare back. “Please what?”
“Please, daddy?” She looks up with her best begging eyes, perfect pout and all. “I want you to touch me, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”
He steps away from her to swipe all the bags off the bed before picking her up and laying her back against the pillows. He kisses down her body, hand on her lover back as she arches, he drags his bottom lip from her belly button to her cleavage. Nipping and sucking at the exposed skin on her chest, pulling her breasts out of the bra to suck on her nipples, she moans and it’s louder than she expected.
As she plays with his hair, he marks her, bruising small little love bites all the way down as he makes his way between her legs, “take me, please?”
He’s been dreaming of this for so long, he can’t even give you an accurate number of times his mind has drifted to the thought of how wonderful she would taste, how beautiful she’d sound…
“Tell me how badly you want me?” He asks as he spreads her legs and kisses her left thigh.
“I haven’t had sex in 10 months while waiting for you. Daddy, please you’ve owned me for so long, just take what’s yours already for gods sa- OH!”
With a broad lick, his tongue flattens against her core and it shuts her up. She gets what she wants, holding into his hair as she tosses her head back, taking it all in and enjoying it. He’s been on her mind for months, every time her vibrator was where he is now, she thought of him. he’s been the man of her dreams longer than she’s known him, and he was proving it.
“Right there, daddy,” she speaks through shallow breaths, “do you know how much I’ve thought of this?”
“You know I don’t,” the vibrations of his voice against her skin are glorious, he looks up at her through his lashes as his tongue flicks over her clit and she shakes a bit.
“Fuck,” she gasps, gripping his hair tighter, “better than I thought you’d be, fuck, too bad you— Jesus, don’t have the stash anymore…”
He stops and looks up at her, the smirk on his face glistening with her juices, “the stash?”
She nods, “I’ve thought about calling it the pussy tickler,” she teases, running her hand down his cheek and swiping her thumb across his bottom lip before bringing it up to her mouth to taste, “I want more of you.”
He kisses back up her body and she reaches for his robe the second he’s close enough. “Just grind against me? I know you’re waiting but we can still feel good together?”
He kisses the side of her mouth and she takes that as a yes, wrapping her legs around him so his hard cock is pressed right against her core as they move their hips in synchronicity with each other. His breathing is heavy as he kisses her cheek and jaw, her nails scratch down his back, he feels absolutely amazing against her.
She feels so empty, she wants him so bad she’s clenching around nothing as she squirms against his cock and wishes she was full.
“I wish I could move time,” she whispers. “Fuck, why can’t it be my birthday?”
He laughs against her, grazing his teeth over her neck and drawing another moan from her but then he stops moving his hips, “why are you so impatient?”
“Remember I said I stopped enjoying everything? Well, taking a 10 month break from sex and thinking about you every time I got off has made me desperate,” her hand cups his cheek, “I’d wait forever for you, but a girl needs to be fucked hard every once in a while.”
Only she could find a way to make something both profoundly beautiful and whorish at the same time, he loved her for it and she knew that now. He smiles and leaned in to rub his nose against hers and it takes everything in her not to kiss him. The same way it was taking everything in him not to slip into her as he began to grind against her once more.
She’s so close, the accidental edging has added a whole new level of desperation she’s never felt before. She wants to cum for him so bad, but more importantly she wants him to cum for her.
“Take my bra off,” she whispers, Spencer’s hands travel behind her back to unclasp it and he helps her out of it before tossing it to the floor.
“Cum for me daddy,” she whispers in his head with a hand in his hair, gripping him tightly as he bites at her neck, “cover me with your cum like you’re marking your territory.”
“Shit,” his hips sputter against hers.
“Say it, I know you want to,” she teases, so close to the edge but it’s too good of an opportunity. She loves seeing him fall apart like this and she can’t wait to see it again. “Who’s am I?”
“Daddy’s girl.”
He grinds down on her harder and faster and she’s so close, the bubble in her gut is reaching a fever pitch and with a gasp, she’s cumming and then she feels it. His load covers her stomach as he pants against her neck and grips her hips tighter as he comes down.
She wraps her arms around him and holds him as close as humanly possible, her breathing still heavy as he rises and falls on her chest. He’s heavy but she doesn’t care, she just kisses the top of his head and thanks him.
He brushes his nose against her neck, nuzzling her like a cat, “do you really mean it?”
“What, honey?” He remembers so much, this could be a question about something she said 2 months or 2 minutes ago and she has no clue.
“You’re not just playing along with my kinks right, you genuinely want to be mine?”
For being her million dollar man, his heart sure was broke. This is why he wasn’t ready, he still didn’t understand why she would want to stay without anything in return, he’s gotten so used to paying her for her time now that his anxiety has managed to convince him that she’ll leave when he stops being worth it to her.
“What does my necklace say?” She asks, knowing how close he was to it. “Read it to me, I forget.”
“Daddy’s girl,” he smiles again.
She soothes her hands over his back, “I would do anything with you because I love and trust you, but also because everything you do is sexy… you could read me the dictionary and I’d still want you to pump me full of cum after.”
“It sounds so crude after,” he laughs, “speaking of, we really need to have a shower.”
“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine?” She teases as he gets up.
“Only if you let me wash the front too?”
She smacks his bare ass and races him into the bathroom, turning on the water and getting in with him while still laughing and carrying on. He’s her best friend in the whole world, there’s no one else she would rather do this with… there was no one she has done this with. No one has made her feel this good, before during and after sex.
Spencer Reid was an anomaly, but he was hers.
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Sugar daddy fic (Some tags didn't work)
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Presents /blurb/ (12 days of blurbs)
Alternate Title: Harry Buys You a Some Vibrators for Christmas
Day 10. > December 23, 2021
AN: title requested by @harrysweatcreaturee
This story contains: talks of sex, fluff
{ husband!harry - soft!harry }
word count: 965
12 Days of Christmas Blurbs Masterlist (all previous/coming up blurbs here)
Harry decides to gift you some adult toys for Christmas for you to spice up your sex life.
Your sex life is great. People always told you once you got married, your sex life wouldn't stay strong, but it most certainly has. Every time you and Harry have sex together, it feels like the very first time. The sparks are still there. The lust within your eyes are still present. Even if you typically have vanilla sex, every aspect of it is what the two of you enjoy and you wouldn't want to change anything about that.
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You have sex with each other as often as possible. Sometimes its multiple times within a day. Sometimes its every two days. Other times you skip a week for when you're on your period but you wouldn't consider that a bad thing. It just makes the sex that much better for when you have it again.
Something you haven't really ever incorporated into your vanilla sex lives is sex toys. For one, you've never felt the need for them because Harry always helps your body's needs out. But here lately, you've been thinking about incorporating some variety of sex toys into your sex life.
Nothing too kinky or honestly kinky at all. Just a few different vibrators is all. You were nervous to approach Harry with this want, thinking he may get the idea that he's not pleasuring you right, but you wanted to explain to him that isn't the case.
Here's how that conversation went.
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It was after having some couch sex and you're both lying there, trying to catch your breaths. Once your breathing regulated, you spit out, "Do you think we could start using vibrators? I mean, during our sex together. Just thought it could spice things up a little, yah know."
Harry ponders for a moment before replying, "Course we can, love. What were you thinking? Vibrating dildos, those little bullets for your clit, a cock ring for me?"
"I don't know. Never really used any type of sex toy before. Maybe you can surprise me with what you think would work best for us." you comment.
"Alright, I'll see what I can do."
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After the conversation you had with him about wanting to incorporate some sex toys into your sex life, Harry went online shopping and purchased what he thought would feel best for you and him. Or the both of you together.
Once they arrived in the mail, Harry hide the assortment of vibrators away and planned on giving you them for Christmas.
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Now on Christmas morning, you're in the living room of your house, opening presents from one another. So far, you've bought Harry a Gucci coat for the winter, some fun nail art designs for when you have home mani and pedi date nights, and some new mugs for his tea. Harry has bought you a beautiful set of diamond earrings, a weighted blanket for your bed, and an appointment to his massage therapist for a real massage.
But there's one more present left under the tree that's for you, from Harry. "Go get it, m'love. See what else Santa's brought you." he says in a joking manner.
You stand from the sofa and pad over to the Christmas tree, grabbing the final box, and coming back to sit down beside your husband. You rip the wrapping paper from around the box and can't tell what it is yet from the box just being brown carboard.
You soon tare the tape off the box, excited to see what the present is. When you finally get it opened, you're met with individual smaller boxers that clearly say and show what the gifts are. They're vibrators.
"Wha... what is all this?" you question knowingly but a bit shy.
Harry laughs before explaining, "Well, you asked if we could start using some vibrators during sex or foreplay and I bought us some." He leans in closer, pulling some packages out the larger box and continues, "See, I got you this little vibrating bullet. Thought I'd be great for me to use on your clit during missionary or while I'm fingering you. Then I bought a vibrating dildo for me to use on you whenever you'd like. I got me a vibrating cock ring for when I want to last longer or to let you ride me and allow the little bud at the top to stimulate your clit for you. Also picked out this vibe that's suppose to suck around your clitoris. Supposedly women love it because it had great reviews. And lastly, I picked out this hitachi for me to use on you or you could use it on yourself if you wanted. I think I've heard of men being able to use it on their cock's shaft so maybe you'd want to try it on me or whatever."
"Oh wow," you state, a bit shocked he took you seriously when you said you wanted some vibrators in your sex life. "Thank you, Harry. And just so you know, none of these will replace how you make me feel but I'm excited to try some of these out."
Harry cups the side of your face in his palm, lean in to kiss your lips, and then pulling away to mutter with a grin, "We still have a few hours before we need to head to Christmas dinner. Want to go up and try them now?" You nod frantically and head upstairs for your exploration with sex toys to begin.
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Needless to say, you could barley walk into the Christmas dinner party with your family. There was a dull ache between your legs and your clit was throbbing uncomfortably. Harry really did a number on you with each and every vibrator. You don't think you've ever came so much in one sitting. And you couldn't wait to use the vibrators again.
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(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITTING IS NOT EASY AND ITS FREE SO JUST DO IT)
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Masterlist (regular smut, fluff & sicfics)
My Favorite Harry Styles Fics MASTERLIST
Harry Styles Series - One Shots & Blurbs Masterlist
Harry Styles blurbs, concepts, & short stories Masterlist- (short writing with little to no dialog)
#harry styles#husband!harry#harry styles christmas#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fluff#12 days of christmas blurbs challenge#christmas blurb challenge#harry styles ficmas#harry styles smut#harry styles gift giving#soft!harry#harry styles vibrators#harry styles sex life
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retiredarmy-blog2
Untitled
oldvaniteux-delacour-blog
D E L A C O U R
amberryxo
soleil
sadrockandwaltzes
Cielo Esperanza
lauramarswriter
Le notti non muoiono all'alba