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wip · 3 months

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Please make it possible to hide users' posts without blocking them. Like, in cases where a person hasn't done anything wrong to be blocked, but you just don't like their posts.

Answer: Hello, @deithwen!

As it turns out, we’ve received this feature request a lot over the years. Usually, it comes in as wanting the ability to “mute” other blogs on Tumblr. While we would love to build it, we’ve balked at it a bit because of its technical and product complexity. Let us explain what that means:

In terms of technical complexity, our current blocking feature is closest to how “muting” would work. Our current blocking feature may seem simple, but it’s very complex because of how big Tumblr is. Every time we fetch a list of blogs for you or anyone on Tumblr, we have to also fetch the list of who you’re blocking, and who’s blocking you, and filter out anyone with that block relationship. This mapping of who’s-blocking-who is stored in a directional way right now, so the “cost” of loading that list gets higher the more people you’re blocking and the more people who are blocking you. If you’re blocking 1,000 blogs, we have to check that list a lot. If you’re being blocked by 1,000 blogs, that’s another big list to check against.

In technical terms, this is a “many-to-many” relationship, which is almost always incredibly difficult to manage while not degrading the experience of using a platform like Tumblr. The more people who are blocking, the harder it is to store those lists in a way that’s easy to check, but we’re working on making it smoother. The vast majority of people don’t block many others, if at all, so it’s never been a huge problem. But the outliers who block thousands of others (or are blocked by thousands of others) can degrade performance for everyone over enough time.

Adding muting would throw on top of that yet another list of blogs to check, increasing the complexity of something that’s already pretty complex. It helps that muting would be one-directional and not bi-directional (as in, it doesn’t matter who’s muting you), but, as that list of muted blogs grows, your experience may degrade further. So we’d need to solve for that, which is definitely doable. It would just take time—and lots of it.

And, as a product, Tumblr is already pretty confusing to people trying to figure out what “blocking” means already, as well as our other filtering options. Up until fairly recently, blocking was almost entirely one-directional, the opposite way you’d expect: blocking made it so the blocked person couldn’t see you, not that you couldn’t see them. We’ve been updating blocking to work both ways instead, which is more common on social media these days. Similarly, the options to filter tags versus content cause a lot of confusion because they don’t work the same way as each other.

So if we wanted to add another filtering option to that mix, “muting” blogs, we’d need to be conscious of how all of those options work together—and are confusing in context with each other. We should really clean up that experience to be more streamlined and simple, not more complex. And I didn’t even mention the oddity of how different settings apply to your primary blog versus your sideblogs if you have more than one blog!

Taken together, it is a great idea for us to clean all of this up, improve our existing options here, and add “muting” for even more control and granularity. Sadly, however, it just isn’t high enough on our list of priorities to tackle anytime soon. We don’t want to simply tack on muting for the sake of doing it—we want to do a better job than that. I hope that makes sense!

Thanks for your question. It was an important one to address. If anything should change here, you will get news through the usual channels: here at WIP, or at @changes.

#feature #dashboard #muting #blocking #account #security #backend #your suggestions

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thegrapeandthefig · 7 months

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Dissecting ancient Greek wedding customs (or “How to adapt the clusterfuck they are into something somewhat doable for the 21st century”)

This post is going to be a bit different. I could stick to writing about the customs we know of from a purely historical perspective, and while it would be informative, it wouldn’t reflect what I’ve actually been up to. Some of you might already know, but I’m getting married, so I approached this topic with the intent of seeing what I could do (and get away with).

So this post is going to be more about method and the practical challenges that come with doing the groundwork of adapting very old (and often outdated) traditions in a way that makes sense for our modern times.

I do have some disclaimers to make before I get started:

Most (if not all) of the literature around ancient Greek marriage is hetero-normative. However, this does NOT mean that marriage rites shouldn’t be adapted for queer marriages or that queer marriages can’t be done within Hellenic paganism. It’s our job as reconstructionists and revivalists to rework and adapt to our needs.

Similarly, this post is bound to mention or detail cult practices that are no longer in line with our modern sensibilities. I also want to make it clear that this post is not a tutorial. I’m not saying how things should be done, I’m only exposing elements that I consider reworkable and propose suggestions so that it can help others make their own research and decisions, with the level of historicity that they deem fit.

While the wedding customs from fifth century BC Athens are decently known, the ones from other cities and regions of Greece are much more obscure outside of anecdotal and fragmentary details (with the exception of Sparta). For this reason, the Athenian example is what I’ll be using as foundation. If you reconstruct practices from other areas of the Greek World, you might find something valuable in this article: The Greek Wedding Outside of Athens and Sparta: The Evidence from Ancient Texts by Katia Margariti.

Basic/simplified structure

The typical Athenian wedding would spread over three days, and be marked by several steps, some of which are listed below. Note that the order of these steps is not precisely known and might have been flexible:

Pre-wedding:

Decorating: korythale at the door, decoration of the nuptial bedroom

The Proteleia

Filling of the loutrophoros

Wedding day

Nuptial bath

Adornment of the bride

Wedding Feast

Hymenaios

Anakalypteria

Nymphagogia

Katachysmata

Day after

Epaulia

Gamelia

Final sacrifices

Some of these steps included specific customs and traditions, not all of which are reconstructible for various reasons.

Decorations

The korythale: the korythale was a sprig, usually from an olive tree (or laurel), which was placed at the groom’s door (and perhaps the bride’s too). The word in interpreted as deriving from “koros” and “thallein”, which would translate “youth-blossom”.

The korythale is very reminiscent of the eiresione, which was a similar kind of branch of laurel used during the Thargelia and/or the Pyanepsia that had apotropaic purposes. Athenian weddings included a procession from the bride’s home to the groom’s house, so the presence of the korythale at the doors would indicate that a wedding was taking place involving the decorated homes.

While I haven’t seen any one make this interpretation, I would still be tempted to argue that decorating the thresholds of houses has a similar protective and luck-bringing purpose than the eiresione, which was also hung above the door of Athenian houses.

The thalamos (nuptial bedroom): While there is no doubt the houses were properly decorated for the occasion, we have mention of special care given to the nuptial bedroom.

It’s important to understand that the procession from the bride’s house to the groom’s went up to the bedroom door, it was generally an important location and its preparation is seen represented on ancient pottery. Euripides mentions the adornment of the bed with fine fabrics, while Theocritus mentions the smell of myrrh (sacred to Aphrodite). There is also evidence that, in the Imperial period, the practice of hanging curtains to create a canopy above the bed was adopted, very likely from Egypt.

When it comes to adapting this today, it is pretty straightforward and there is plenty of room for personalization. The korythale could be challenging depending on how easily available olive or laurel are in your area. I would also argue that the custom could be more loosely adapted so that instead of being at the houses’ doors, it could take the form of a floral arrangement at the door of whatever venue you are using.

Proteleia

In short, the proteleia refers to sacrifices and offerings that would be made to various gods before the wedding. The exact timing of these is more or less unknown, but we have reasons to believe they could be done a day or a few days before the wedding, and perhaps also on the day of the wedding. These offerings were made independently by each family.

It is in this context that the offering of a lock of hair and of childhood items is best known for brides. The recipients of the offerings are varied: In Athens the most mentioned are the Nymphs and Artemis, but various sacrifices to Aphrodite, Hera, Athena and Zeus were also performed. In other parts of Greece, pre-nuptial customs often included sacrifices to local heroines. Plutarch, in the 2nd century AD (and therefore way after the focus of this post) mentions the main five nuptial deities to be Zeus Teleios, Hera Teleia, Aphrodite, Peitho and Artemis.

Today, I believe the exact choice of who to offer to and what to offer very much comes down to personal preferences and circumstances. While we assume that both families made prenuptial sacrifices, we know very little of the groom’s side of things, since the focus was on the bride, and the rite of passage aspect was not present for the groom in Ancient times. This is a gap that leaves room for modern innovation eg. including Apollon to either replace or accompany Artemis or choosing a group of deities that is more couple-centric rather than family-centric.

Personally, I have settled on Aphrodite, Hera and Artemis and have integrated a Spartan custom that includes the mother of the bride in the sacrifice to Aphrodite. Hera Teleia will receive a lock of my current hair, while Artemis will receive a lock of hair from my first haircut as a child (that my mother has kept all these years), alongside some other trinkets. The groom will honour Zeus Teleios in a passive way. And I will honour the Nymphs through the the rite I will explain next.

Nuptial baths

Both bride and groom had a ritual bath before the wedding. Its purpose was of cleansing and purificatory nature, and is consistent with other water-based pre-sacrifice purifications. What made the bride and groom's baths distinctive was their preparation. The bath water used to be drawn at a specific spring or river. At Athens, the water for bridal baths came from the Enneakrounos, the fountain house for the spring Kallirrhoe, but each city had its dedicated source. The water was carried in a special vase named the loutrophoros (bathcarrier) and the act of fetching the water and bringing it back to the homes constituted a procession. The loutrophoros was often given as offering to the altar of the Nymphs after the wedding. It was an important symbol of marriage, to the point that, if a woman died before being married, she would often be buried with a loutrophoros.

This will be more or less difficult to adapt depending on circumstances and environment, but the logic of a purifying bath (or shower even) can be kept (though I would discourage bathing in water you are not sure of the cleanliness of). The idea of having a specific vessel can also be kept. Personally, I plan to have a special vessel for some type of purified water, and while I may not bathe in it, I plan to sprinkle it and/or wash my hands with it.

Adornment of the bride (and groom)

Traditionally, the bride would have a nympheutria (which we could equate as a bridesmaid, but seems to have often been a female relative) charged of helping the bride get ready. I won’t get into the details of the clothing we know about, mostly because there seems to be a lot of variation, and because I consider this to be a very personal choice. However, we can note that both groom and bride were adorned with a wreath or a garland of plants that were considered to have powers appropriate for the occasion (sesame, mint, plants that were generally considered fertile or aphrodisiac). Perfume is also something attested for both bride and groom, especially the scent of myrrh. The bride would wear a crown, the stephane, which could be made out of metal or be vegetal (the stephane is now the object of its own crowning ceremony in Greek Orthodox weddings). The bride’s shoes were also particular for the event, and named nymphides. The bride’s veil was placed above the crown.

Hymenaios and Feast

I am grouping these two since they are linked. The feast was more or less the peak of the wedding ceremony and lively with music and dances, as Plutarch indicates (Moralia, [Quaest. conv.] 666f-67a):

But a wedding feast is given away by the loud cries of the Hymenaios and the torch and the pipes, things that Homer says are admired and watched even by women who stand at their doors.

The hymenaios was a sung hymn in honour of the couple and the wedding, and there were other songs that were specifically sung at weddings. However the hymenaios wasn’t only for the feast, these songs would be sung also during the processions. The hymenaios also had the purpose of ritually blessing the couple, a ritual that bore the name of makarismos.

As for the feast, it was obviously abundant with food and the prenuptial sacrifices provided the meat that would be served. There is otherwise very little difference with what a modern wedding feast would be like: food, drink, music and dance around which gathered friends and relatives of the couple. Like today, the wedding cake(s) was an important part of the celebration. It was called sesame and consisted of sesame seeds, ground and mixed with honey and formed into cakes to be shared with the guests.

Anakalypteria

Note that there is a bit of a debate around this step, which is the unveiling of the bride. Some believe the bride kept her face veiled until this part of the wedding, where her face would be uncovered for the groom to see. Others interpret this step the other way around, where the bride is then veiled as a result of being now married. The timing of the unveiling is also up for the debate. It might have been during the feast (at nightfall), or after once the couple was escorted to the bridal chamber. There doesn’t seem to be a clear consensus.

The concept of unveiling the bride is otherwise something that isn’t unknown to us as a modern audience. As with everything else, how to interpret and modernize it is up to personal preference.

Nymphagogia and Katachysmata

The nymphagogia aka the act of “leading the bride to her new home” took place at night, likely after the feast. It is at this point that the groom ritually led the bride to his home by taking her by the wrist in a ritual gesture known as χεῖρ’ ἐπὶ καρπῷ (cheir’ epi karpo). The relatives and friends of the couple formed a festive procession that accompanied them to their new home accompanied by music and songs. The mother of the bride led the procession carrying lit torches, while the groom’s mother awaited for the new couple in their home, also bearing lit torches.

Once there, the rite of the katachysmata would happen. The couple would be sat near the hearth and the guests would pour dried fruits, figs and nuts over the bride and groom as a way to incorporate them into the household and bless the union with prosperity and fertility. As part of this rite, the bride ate a fruit (either an apple, quince or pomegranate). It is only after this step that the couple would be escorted to the bridal chamber.

These two rites are tricky to adapt in a modern context because of how location-specific they are (and that’s not even taking into account the implications of having family escort you to your bedroom etc). My take would be that the katachysmata is not too far off from the custom of throwing rice/flowers at the couple after the ceremony, and could probably be incorporated as such. The torches could also be replaced by any source of light placed in a meaningful location, depending on the where the wedding is being held. The nymphagogia could also do with an update, the easiest of which could simply be holding hands while leaving the wedding ceremony.

The day after (Epaulia, Gamelia & sacrifice)

The epaulia refers to wedding gifts to the couple, which would be given the day following the ceremony. At this point, it is implied that the couple has consummated their marriage and are officially newly-weds. Pausanias informs us that the term “epaulia” (also?) refers to the gifts brought by the bride’s father in particular and included the dowry.

After the epaulia, the bride's incorporation into her husband's house was complete. This might have been when the groom held a feast for his phratria (aka direct family), as a way to conclude the wedding.

As for final sacrifices, the bride herself may have marked the end of her wedding by dedicating her loutrophoros at the sanctuary of Nymphe, south of the Acropolis.

The epaulia could be adapted, in modern terms, with having a registry. Should someone choose to have a specific vessel linked to the ritual bath today, it could very well be kept, dedicated to the Nymphs and used as a small shrine. Considering how symbolic the object is, there is also room for it to become a piece of family heirloom.

Final words

This is really only a small summary of what a wedding could have looked like, sprinkled with a few ideas of how to manage the gaps, discrepancies and limitations. As I said in my introductions, there are details I haven’t mentioned. Some of the customs detailed here have clear modern counterparts, but others don’t. I’d like to conclude by addressing these.

First, the ancient Greek (Athenian) wedding is completely devoid of priestly participation. It was entirely planned, organized and led by the two families. Religious responsibilities were entirely self-managed. I find this point important to remember because it makes it much more accessible than if modern Hellenic pagans had to seek out an external authority.

Some of you might have noticed the absence of wedding vows, at least in a formal form like the one we are used to in our modern days (derived from Christian and Jewish traditions), this is not an oversight, there simply were none that we know of. As a sidenote, I would also advise against turning a wedding vow into a formal oath. I’m still debating on what to do myself, but I’m leaning towards a religiously non-binding vow that won’t curse me should things go wrong.

Adapting the structures and rites of the ancient wedding to today’s framework of ceremony will naturally lead to changing the order of things, on top of sacrificing elements for the sake of simplicity, practicality, personal preferences and, very likely, visibility. Unless you’re lucky enough to do a private elopement, chances are that relatives and friends might be there, and not all might know or even approve of your faith. I hope this post shows that there can be ways to include traditional religious elements that will go unnoticed to the untrained eye, like I hope it showed that the private nature of the ancient Greek wedding rites is a significant advantage for modernization.

#hellenic polytheism #hellenic paganism #hellenic pagan #heradeity #greek history #ancient greece #zeus deity #aphrodite deity #artemis deity #hellenic reconstructionism #wedding rites

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thebibliosphere · 9 months

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Hi there, ive come from your post about ADHD and emotional disregulation, firstly thank you so much for putting it into words, its such a complicated part of how i deal with emotions and i havent ever been able to articulate how to why.

Secondly, in that post you mentioned how you've used stress as a motivator and how eventually your stress regualtion broke, i was wondering if you'd be willing to talk about that? (If not, its not a problem)

I feel like the same thing has happened to me but until i read your post i had no idea that something had... snapped? I suppose? I struggle with motivation all the time and in the past id have a week or a few days left and id be able to suddently push myself very hard to complete whatever it is before the deadline, just barely making it in most cases. However now it seems that i can't find that motivation anymore, deadlines come and pass and i can't being myself to work on anything, and i just end up spiralling into shame and guilt. That motivation was the only thing that I was able to rely on sometimes for things like uni, and i conviced myself that it was just me growing lazy or trying to get out of responsibility as to why the "last minute panic-mode" doesnt work anymore.

Again, if you don't wanna tackle this can of worms or if it's something youd rather not post online i totally get it, its no biggie! thanks so much for making the original post as well, it means a lot

Hello friend, thanks for the message. I'm sorry you're also dealing with this.

The good news here is that I've already talked about this using the rubber band analogy my therapist gave me. (Stress is like a Rubber Band)

If you don't have the mental bandwidth to read all of it now, the tl;dr is "stress is like a rubber band; it can stretch to hold numerous things in place when you need to, but if you do it too often or keep adding more and more strain under the band, the elastic eventually becomes brittle and snaps, taking your mental and sometimes physical health with it too."

I've been in intensive therapy for this for roughly three years now, and trying to piece my brain back together after my last bout of stress-induced productivity gave me a total mental breakdown.

It's... odd not being able to use stress and having to actively avoid it to avoid a relapse. But it is doable. Medication would help, but alas, I've got weird health issues and am unmedicated at the minute.

(And just in case that sparks anyone to go, "Oh, you do all this unmedicated! Wow, that's so inspiring!" as sometimes parents do to me on here as they then tell me they don't want to medicate their kids, I've unfortunately also written a post about what that kind of success looks like from an unmedicated perspective and the kind of suicidal ideation I deal with on the regular because I cannot take meds. It is not pleasant reading, but it is necessary for some folks, specifically anti-med, "if you just tried harder" people.)

A book you may find helpful is Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle, by Emily and Amelia Nagoski. It was very validating for me to read about other people going through the same things, and made me feel less of a "this is a personal failing on my part" and more of a "Oh okay yeah, no stress literally breaks people."

It helped soothe some of my own internalized "I just need to try harder" and helped cement me on the path I was already going down with my ADHD therapist toward changing how I view myself and how I manage my ADHD.

I hope that helps! If you've got more specific questions or I didn't touch on something in my old post, I can try to answer them :)

#chronic health tag #adult adhd #adhd

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ravencincaide · 7 months

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When you assume you make an ‘ass’ out of me and you

Summary: Finding out you’re pregnant, you decide to end things over text. Too bad Chuuya and Dazai were NOT buying your poor excuses. Or the time you made them very happy.

Pairing: preg! Reader x Dazai x Chuuya

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 5: Embracing

Warnings: pregnancy, cursing, hint at (kinky) intimacy,

Enjoy ~

______________________________________________________________

You were feeling like shit. And that was a huge statement considering that you had only ever taken a handful of sick days; turning up to work despite broken bones, staples keeping your skin somewhat together and internal bleeding. Cold was a minor inconvenience and sprained muscles could be forced to function. Ear inflammation was harder but still doable. After all, your job wasn’t all about active field work. A lot of it was information checking online, monitoring people or groups activities through other teams reports or keeping an eye on bank data so your team was within its budget for missions, leisure or other necessities. Damn, it was a miracle how you managed to fix it the last budging year when you had two subordinates who were the definition of shooting maniacs, one chronic alcoholic, and an illiterate clutz who could never find receipts or who somehow switched up numbers in their reports to the point of giving you a heart attack.

Thereby being away even for a day not only risked your office becoming a shooting range, no work being done, missions delayed however, most importantly, your steady tower of paperwork growing into an unmanageable city. You were on your second week away from the office, with no real prognosis for when you’d feel well enough to be back. And you were dreading going back.

Your boss has turned up a few days prior, had taken a thirty second look at you before you ran to the bathroom throwing up and had essentially three things to say to you while you were hugging the porcelain pony:

“ If it’s a stomach bug, get it cured before you even think about entering the office. If you’re pregnant-” the words had made your head snap up in total shock at a possibility you hadn’t even considered. Seeing as your boss brought it up, clearly she thought that you might be. Maybe not that shocking given that you were fucking more than average “ and want an abortion then hurry up and get it done before its too late. And see you in the office at the end of the month.” You could practically feel the warning look from your boss through the heavy wooden door, threatening you not to sweep this issue under the carpet and to keep her updated. “ If you intend to keep it then get your prenatals in order and see you in three years.” With those words she, being the ever caring friend she was, dropped two packets of pregnancy tests on your desk before leaving you alone.

When the results came back positive it was not necessarily a shocker. What surprised you more was that the nauseous feeling came as spontaneously as it did and how tired you felt most days. How exhausted thinking, or in your case overthinking, made you. It felt as if that little test, or five, somehow made you grow up overnight. From a carefree young adult doing whatever you wanted, missions, drinking or wild kinky sex you were suddenly expected within the next nine months to become a mother. A responsible and caring adult that would make yourself, your children and your own parents proud. You didn’t know if you were going to succeed with that but you were damn determined to give your baby the best childhood and care you could. And step one in that equation was to remove people out of your life who did not want a serious relationship with you or were interested in raising a baby together. You did not need forced commitment or alimony; what you needed was a partner and a father to your child. And since you were certain your lovers were not up to the role, you were certain you’d do a much better job alone by yourself- as always!

Still you never expected you would become the kind of trashy person who’d end things over text. You couldn’t understand how people could do it; either talk to the person you want to break up with or do a Dazai and just ghost. This felt too much like attachment issues wrapped in apology for you. Knowing you were already gonna earn a place in hell for it, you typed up a message that you were certain they’d hate you for. Which was perfect in your mind, if you were shooting yourself in the foot by breaking up with two executives who outranked you and your boss by a mile then the least you could do was make sure they wouldn’t unnecessarily seek you out. You’d deal with their revenge on you when you got back from parental leave.

Thus when the sound of pounding on your door came many hours later you were certain it was your boss again. Either to scold you for the extra workload she got from her bosses thanks to yours truly or to kidnap you to the hospital. Dragging yourself out of bed with a groan you quickly ran a brush through your hair for a more presentable appearance. Giving up on changing out of the t-shirt and shorts you headed for the door, opening it absentmindedly. Too late you realized you should have checked who it was.

“ What the hell are you two doing here?” You asked, making your meanest look as you crossed your arms over your chest. You were certain it looked more like a chihuahua barking at a rottweiler than anything threatening.

“ Checking if it’s a hostage situation, Bella” You gaped as Chuuya and Dazai brushed past you. Your dark haired ex-lover making his way to your bedroom, hand on the hilt of his gun. Before you could stop him, Chuuya, who was still lingering in the doorway, forced your attention by sticking his phone into your face with your textmessage pulled up on the screen.

Thank you for this time, I’ve found a better dick. No hard feelings.

“ What is this damned thing?” He asked, his voice far above the usual caring and loving tone he’d use with you.

“ What does it look like?” You raised your hand and studied the chipped manicure on your nails no longer able to stand the angry and hurt expression on his face. “ I’m breaking up with you, duh.”

“ Heeh what the hell do you mean by that Y/N? Better dick?” He took a step closer to you, his expression growing darker by the second “ We all know you’re a slut for us, ready to let us do whatever we want to you so stop lying and spit out what’s really going on.” he was gripping your arms tightly. When you refused to look at him he gave you a rough shake in warning.

“ What the hell-” you caught your exclamation that ‘it hurts’ knowing that it was exactly what he was going for at that moment. “ It’s as I said, I found someone new”

“ How long?!” he didn’t yell but somehow that made it even worse. When you didn’t reply immediately he shook you again “ And what’s so great about this supposed new person.”

You felt your eyes sting and closed them for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. Your next sentence was a hit below the belt; “ They’re actually sweet and caring towards me. Not just after sex.”

“ Sweetheart-” the look on Chuuya’s face was as if you had slapped him, the arguments caught in his throat.

You looked away from him, shaking his hands off your shoulders. Your heart was tearing itself in your ribcage, Begging you to stop this nonsense. But you wouldn’t- you couldn’t. You needed to protect the child in your tummy, to shelter them from the constant fighting, every other week visitation, jealousy and screaming. You needed to prevent them from becoming a pawn in a game called ‘hurt the other parent more’.

“ Sweetheart, do you really believe that-?” Chuuya asked carefully.

“ -Or is it just that you are pregnant Y/N?” Dazai’s question made you jump, your head snapping in his direction. You could see him leaning against the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face. Damn you hated it when he did that.

“ I don’t know what you’re talking about '' you lied, back to crossing your arms over your chest. “ I’m done with this conversation so please get out.”

“ Come on Y/N the cats out of the bag now” Dazai looked almost too pleased with himself as he held up the pregnancy test he had fished out of the trashcan.

You felt the colour drain from your face. Your mouth opening and closing as your mind raced between forcing them out of your apartment and lying about it, again.

“ Is it a false positive?” Chuuya asked cautiously, eyeing the brunette.

“ There are five more in there,” Dazai shrugged, silently telling him to draw his own conclusions, as he took a step towards you. You cursed yourself for not taking the trash out sooner.

“ Is it ours?” The question made you hang your head in defeat. “ Belladonna is it-” Dazai growled in warning.

“ Yes” you breathed. You could feel them sharing a look of utter confusion between each other over your head.

“ Darlin, then why the charades?”

“ Because you wouldn’t want it!” you screamed at the top of your lungs “ and I- we don’t need a partner out of obligation.”

Silence lingered in your apartment for a few long moments. You wrapped your arms around yourself. You just wanted them to stop making this harder on you than it already was. Now that they knew the reason for all this, you prayed they wouldn’t cause any more hassle and just silently walk out of the apartment. That they’d walk out of your life and leave you alone. Without any fighting, pity or compromises. Just go, you pleaded silently, before you’d find yourself regretting your decision.

“ You assumed we wouldn’t want it,” Chuuya corrected you. You raised your head finally facing your lover, ready to scream at him- them to get out. The scream never made it past your lips, his expressing killing any arguments you had left; you had expected distress or anger on his face, maybe sadness or guilt but all you could see was a bright happy smile. “ And when you assume something you make an ‘ass’ out of me and you. Now come here my sweetheart” he spread his arms out beckoning you for a hug.

You had never seen that expression on Chuuya’s face. It was as if you had gifted him the sun and moon on a silver platter. You felt all fight fading out of your body, leaving behind just tiredness and longing for his warm embrace.Cautiously you came up to him, breathing a sigh of relief as he hugged you close yet gently to his body, burying his face in your shoulder. “ Oh sweets you’re gonna be a mother- I’m gonna be a father!”

“ Or uncle” Dazai added unable to stop himself from pushing Chuuya’s buttons“ You’re so cute Chuuya ready to be a dad to my kids”

“ Shut it mackerel” Chuuya muttered “ You’re just jealous she’s hugging me.”

“ And you’re just denying the undeniable”

Chuuya growled in reply before biting back the anger, turning his attention towards you instead. The smile never once leaving his face “ So don’t you dare try and break up with us over this again, ‘kay?” Chuuya moved back and pressed a kiss to your forehead before brushing your hair out of your eyes “- or you’re welcome to break up with bandages over there” he teased, making you smile slightly as Dazai let out an annoyed ‘ you dog’.

Surprisingly the argument didn’t go any further than that. Instead Dazai’s attention was shifting between you in Chuuya’s arms and the little white test still clutched between his fingers before he finally broke the silence:“ By the way Belladonna have you had your doctors visit yet? To ensure the little one is fine.”

You sighed, shaking your head a no. “ I haven’t really got around to it yet”

“ That won’t do!” Chuuya cried pulling back from you instantly, his hand already dialing his subordinates, while he was walking towards the door then turning around and pacing back into your room“ Yes I need you to find the best prenatal care doctor in Yokohoma- yes directly I don’t care how much they charge- Sweetheart where is your insurance and identification card?”

You blinked as he stopped in front of you, blue eyes staring at you intensely “ umm In the kitchen, furthest cupboard to the right- top draw. Should be under the travel pamphlet.” Before you could finish your sentence he was already out of the room going to hunt for your documents.

Still you could hear him talking on the phone, beginning to list a bunch of things he wanted delivered to your place within the next fifteen minutes; childcare books, research on food that was safe to eat during pregnancy, alcohol- he was clear to specify it was for himself- and some safe alcohol free options.

“ - and prepare statistics on best child care facilities in Yokohama, and broker offers for all the housing around those areas -and–”

“ Chuuya don't just start randomly buying things” you yelled, staring to follow behind him pausing only when a very gentle hand wrapped itself around your wrist. In fact you were half way pulling out of the touch before your mind registered it. The unusual softness surprised you. Usually Dazai was unapologetically rough during sex; unafraid to slap, hit or even whip you and it was Chuuya who showed you in butterfly touches, kisses over bruised skin and soft embraces.

“ Let him be Y/N” Dazai stated, his voice sounding strange in your ears. His hand falling away from your wrist the instant you turned to face him. You could see that his head was bowed, his hair covering his eyes from you. Sometime during your and Chuuya’s embrace he had moved to sit down on a nearby chair. Wordlessly he patted his lap, silently asking you to sit down instead of the usual act of just pulling you into it. You looked at him skeptically as you took your place on his lap. The moment you did he buried his face in your shoulder, his arms pausing inches above your skin as if you’d shatter in his arms if he touched you..

“ Are you okay?” You asked as you urged him closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Taking it as permission he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you carefully to his chest, burying his face in your hair. He held you like that for a few moments, totally silent but for an almost unnoticeable shake of his shoulders “ Dazai, are you crying?”

His response was to bring you even closer

“ Dazai, are you okay?” You asked again with more worry in your voice. He hushed you, stroking your hair. You were starting to panic at his reaction, your mind racing so much that you almost missed his answer to your previous question;

“ I’m more ‘okay’ than ever, Y/N”

#chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #sweetober #pregnant #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #pregnancy announcement #breaking up over text

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ellavatorz · 1 year

Text

My Beloved || c.b. x reader

prompt: dating Colby has its up and downs, but your love never lessens. and two years down this same path, you’re still absolutely love-struck for each other.

tw/cw: smut, fem!reader, established relationship, semi-sub/dom dynamic, name-calling.

a/n: this is for a lovely anon. thank you for suggesting this prompt for me to write, it was a fun one. I hope you all enjoy it as well.

pic is not mine, found on Pinterest.

It wasn’t every day that Colby found himself drowning in his and Sam’s workload. However, it also was uncommon for him to not have something to occupy him.

Today, it just so happens that the virtual meetings he had planned were postponed for a later date, and his editing had taken a shorter time to finish than he anticipated.

And so, with a day’s worth of taxing effort being cut short, Colby treated himself to a bath. After texting you the details of his day’s end, of course.

Even as two years passed, the commitment of settling into a place of your own has remained an unspoken topic. Although it’s definitely doable, that step forward just hasn’t arrived yet.

Which is why you end up driving a few neighborhoods down to Sam, Kat and Colby’s shared home. Having a spare key, you welcome yourself to the upper level of the home and into Colby’s room.

Settling into his bed and under the comfort of his scent, you find yourself grinning at the idea that your presence would be a surprise for your boyfriend. And as if on cue, Colby’s voice can be heard from the bathroom, echoing a song his phone plays.

Soon after the song hums to a stop, Colby is escaping the mist of the warm shower’s humidity with a towel secured around his waist. You quirk a brow at his entrance, noting the manner in which his happy trail peeks out from seam of the towel.

“Well shit, here I was thinking I’d be the surprise but it looks like you beat me to it.”

Colby blanches at the sound of your voice, eyes darting directly to his bed to find you. He grins, eyes crinkling into a pair of half moons. Instantly, his body is gravitating towards you, that same damn smile settling into the quirk of his lips.

“I’m very pleased to see you, baby.” He admits, barely getting a knee through the comforter before you’re stopping him with a hand to his chest.

Confused by the sudden pause, Colby looks for any signs of discomfort in your body language. Once he’s found none, he looks into your eyes with furrowed brows. You smile in return, rubbing the skin of his chest gently.

“I thought you’d be excited to see me, but I didn’t think you’d be that excited.” You say, gesturing with your eyes toward the evident tent beneath the towel.

“Ah,” he chuckles, following your sight to his crotch. He flushed red and suddenly you’re reminded of how much you love to see him flustered. Cute, you think.

“Though I can’t say I’m not in the same boat.” You voice, ridding yourself of the sheets you were just enveloped in. You lead his hand to your lower half, nudging his fingers between your legs.

His jaw slacks at the feeling of your short’s dampness, caressing you gently as if unsure.

“Fuck,” he exhales and sits himself on the edge of the bed, hand not once disturbed from its place in between your legs. “I didn’t know I had that kind of power over you.”

“Oh please. You can’t possibly think that by standing there, looking as virile as you do with hardly any fabric on you, I won’t drop everything I’m doing just to claim what’s mine now, do you?”

You answer hastily. Gaining confidence with the sudden adrenaline rush, you taken it upon yourself to tug him free of the towel; allowing it to plop onto the ground beside the bed.

“You know what you’re doing. So let me give it to you.” You continue, boring your gaze straight into his eyes.

“And what’s that?” He quips, throat bobbing with the sultriness in his voice. He leans further into your space, snaking his free hand around your throat.

“Everything and anything you want it to be. So tell me, my pretty boy.. how do you want me?”

Without missing a beat, he’s hovering over you and working his way down your neck; trailing both saliva and welts as he reaches your clothed breasts.

Irritated with the sudden interruption, he rocks his hips against your shorts as he begins to remove your top. Growling at the stubborn fabric, he decides against undoing the clasp, and instead tearing through what he could to get to you.

You make an effort to scold him for mindlessly shredding your belongings but your words fall short when his mouth has attached itself to your breast.

Nipping at the perks of your chest, Colby hums in content upon hearing your delicate moans.

“Fuck, Colby, please—“ you whimper, feeling his growth camber against the exposure of your thigh.

“Please? And here I thought you’d own up to your word and let me have you however I wanted.” He retorts while gripping your hips with both hands, squeezing with vigor.

A bashful squeak replaces your response as he draws you in by the chin, reaching a hand behind your the arch of your back to stabilize you.

“And I want you miserable.” He concludes just before shoving you back into the mattress. With a staggered huff, you begin to chew at your bottom lip with anticipation, knowing damn well this could go one of two ways;

He could have you writhing in pleasure as he fucks into you, blinded by his quirk for pleasing you before himself. OR he could play by his own game and torment you until satisfied.

You hope for the latter.

“On your knees.” He orders, tugging your shorts past your legs, panties slipping off along with them. Rather than playing a bratty role, you follow as told.

Sloping into a downward angle with your ass in the air, you irrationally begin swaying your hips in a taunting manner.

Before you have time to comprehend what’s happening, your skin is left stinging in affect of the reddened hand print Colby has left. Mounting himself over your spine, he begins working his fingers through the folds of your cunt.

Heaving a pitched gasp, you lean forward out of reflex. Clearly, Colby has had enough of your antics as he responds by entangling his hand in your hair, pulling at the roots of your scalp until there’s tears filling your eyes.

A dazed moan rests in the air, but you’re far too gone to identify who’s it was. Then, Colby’s voice is echoing in your ear, breath whispering beyond the shell to where you can feel the stubble on his chin rub against your cheek.

“You’re such a sloppy little shit. Look at how much of a mess you’re making in my bed. And just off of my fingers?” He tantalizes in an ever so cocky manner. He feigns a laugh before removing his fingers from your heat and bringing them to your face.

With the grip on your hair, he tilts your head in his direction and uptakes the lewd task of lapping away at his fingers; tasting you.

“So messy. Making me clean up after you? Hah.” He chuckles, his eyes glazed over with a rawness of libido. Once he’s finished with his little show, he’s releasing his hold on your hair and returning you into a lying position— where he can see you and vice versa.

You aimlessly reach for him and he naturally hovers toward you, crowding into you to presses a slew of passionate, slow and hard kisses to your mouth.

“Fuck me, please. Please, Colby? Make me yours, please.” You whine, hands cupping his face. Embracing one of your hands in his, Colby allows his alter ego to falter for a moment to smile at you.

“With pleasure, my love. You’re always mine.” He counters just before aligning himself with your entrance. Your chest rises and falls with the feeling of your heat being filled, tightly compressing and decompressing with a pulse of its own.

Colby’s moans echo your own, parroting your noises here and there. The head of his cock brushes against your sweet spot, creating stars to appear before your eyes. Again, you reach for your boyfriend and he responds by bringing one hand to your cheek, cupping it gently as he kisses you with an equal amount of delicacy.

After a few more ragged thrusts, you feel yourself reach your climax in unison with Colby. Riding out the remainder of your highs, you breathe heavily and manage to rasp a small “fine,” when Colby searches for your awareness and well being.

Collapsing beside you, Colby tugs the covers over your recovering form before trailing light pecks over your shoulder. Although you’re too exhausted to reciprocate them, you smile and thank him before he’s moving again.

Returning from the bathroom with a damp towel in hand, he begins the task of aftercare for the both of you. When he’s finished, and just before he’s making a move to toss the towel into the laundry bin, you wrap a hand around his wrist, halting his movements.

He peers down at you with a smile on his face. You return it, despite it forming a little lopsided.

“I love you.” You murmur, shutting your eyes. There’s a soft peck placed in your forehead, his woodsy sent envelopes you.

“I love you too.” He replies. “So much.”

#colby brock fanfic #colby brock imagine #colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock blurb #colby brock x you #sam and colby

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actual-changeling · 6 months

Text

Uh. Hi! I'm Alex and I love writing pain.

I've seen the angst war going on and I am incredibly tempted to contribute; I'm not quite sure of the rules (if there are any) so feel free to bring me up to speed. Updates will be at whatever pace is fun/doable for me, interactions, asks etc. always very much appreciated 💚

@goodomensafterdark @daneecastle @gleafer @gahellhimself-blog @vavoom-sorted-art @kotias

I will put appropriate content tags on every chapter and make a masterpost once I have a handful of posts. Please keep in mind that this series is going to deal with a heavy dose of unreality, self-injurious behaviour, substance abuse, erratic behaviour/mood swings, and more. There will be a happy ending.

Now, without further ado, the first instalment of what is going to be us following Crowley down the path of (hopefully temporary) insanity.

rest your head \\ chapter 1

(~800 w, no additional warnings)

Sleep deprivation, while usually not fatal, is not the least bit pleasant. Human brains require sleep to function—and not just their minds, either. The entire body breaks down oh so slowly as every system designed to keep it alive deteriorates without the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.

However, the actual cause of death is yet to be identified, and luckily Crowley's corporation functions on the principle of 'what it doesn't know won't kill it'.

Over the centuries, earthly indulgences have become more and more common, pleasures easily sought and found no matter where he went, although nothing ever beat a good night's (or decade's) rest. Sleep calms his mind and allows him to drift through time without a care, surrounded by ever-shifting dream clouds and the occasional vivid interference. In short, it takes away the pain, and Someone knows there is a lot to carry when he returns home for the first time in four years.

No dust had dared to settle on the furniture, and the familiar smell of damp earth welcomes him. Locking the door behind him, Crowley blindly finds his way through the corridors, kicking off his shoes as he goes and throwing his glasses onto the nearest surface. When he pushes into his bedroom, which is just as pristine as he had left it, the anger churning in his gut cools.

Home. Has he ever had a home? Once upon a time, maybe, before time had been born, surrounded by breathing nebulae and void, and then—

Eden. Him. Right, that's done.

A snap of his fingers and his clothes change into a set of silk pyjamas, the fabric brushing over his skin like liquid silver, and the black-out curtains snap shut. Darkvision is one of the advantages of being a demon, but he finds the dark has nothing to offer him today, so he closes his eyes and pulls back the sheets to curl around a pillow.

Images flicker in the pulsating emptiness left behind, piercing blue eyes and fluttering hands, a press of lips against his, words digging into his skull like tadpoles making a home within his brain matter. Electricity crawls over his slowly numbing body, urging him to disappear, to sink into nothingness and waste away until he is a dried stain on the mattress.

No one will come looking for him, after all.

Maybe the world will be brighter once he wakes, the pain duller, the loneliness less aching and all-consuming. Within his chest bleeds a hollow, jagged wound, dripping black blood and drowning the radiant remnants of Aziraphale's presence; his essence is familiar, it's- home.

Crowley does not need to sleep, yet somewhere between Rome and the present, he had forgotten about it, his corporation shifting and changing, craving rest and punishing him for its absence. It will not kill him, it does not even occur to him that it might, but there are countless fates worth than death and he is already living one of them. What's another added to the mess his life has become?

His nails dig into the pillow case, his consciousness choking on the scorched battlefield of the day, but no matter how hard he tries, how desperately he commands his body to bend to his wills, sleep refuses to come. A new, different kind of pain rises, worse than fatigue and infinitely more addictive. Its sting is battery acid on his tongue, infusing him with a restlessness that is scratching on his bones, and when blue irises keep mocking him behind closed lids, he forces his eyes open, turns onto his back, and stares at the ceiling, waiting.

Light wanders and shifts, barely visible through the heavy fabric adorning his windows, and it dips behind the horizon before reappearing on the other side. Crowley stares at white paint and counts the moving dots gradually clouding his vision, absently pressing his knuckles against his sternum over and over—whether to calm himself or to chase away mental pain with physical is beyond his awareness.

Both, neither, maybe.

His too-human body protests and whines, and once he begins to see blue shadows in his periphery, Crowley bites his tongue and gets up. Coffee will help, then a hot shower, and yelling his plants back into order is going to occupy most of his afternoon anyway, so what's a night without sleep?

The next one will bring him the rest he needs, and Aziraphale's eyes will stop striking him down whenever he blinks. He is alone now (alone in London, alone on earth, his chest constricts and twists at the thought, stealing his breath) and he will have to get used to it; it'll be fine eventually, right?

—

Three days later Crowley is staring at his bedroom ceiling, impatient, restless, exhausted, and attempting to chase away the bone-white teeth hovering underneath lightning-blue eyes.

"Fine, have it your way," he snaps eventually, his voice too loud in an empty room, and feels the smile breathing down his neck all the way to the kitchen.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable angst war #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #im sure there is at least one person who saw this coming #if you thought i was giving you pain before we are about to enter an entirely new abyss

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theinnerunderrain · 2 years

Text

Imagine Dottore as your doctor.

Warnings: Yandere themes, non-consensual touching, abuse of authority, drugging, increase and decrease in the use of prescription medication, physical and cervix examination, medical play, mature content.

Dottore isn't necessarily the worst doable doctor, but it's fairly obvious that he lacks a significant number of the qualities that a traditional doctor should exhibit. He somewhat considers masquerading as a doctor as a pastime, something he chooses to undertake despite possessing limited interest in people, seeing it as a valid opportunity to further pursue his interest. Furthermore, it serves as a decent cover for his occupation within the Fatui, which the general public would describe as "vile" and "inhuman", but that isn't the main topic for today.

He has a basic understanding of medicine, but he's not the type of doctor that particularly cares about his patients. It's amazing he hasn't already been arrested considering he's the type of doctor to diagnose a patient with stage four cancer from a mere cough that was obviously just from a simple fever. When someone complains of backaches, Dottore is most likely to prescribe them insulin, which is generally prescribed for diabetics, and dismiss them whenever they inquire as to why the drug isn't working.

There is nothing more to playing doctor than a trifling amusement, a way to pastime.

Or so he thought.

As a new patient, you were required to meet him for a "meet and greet," which he obviously didn't want to do, but was forced to do by Pierro's persistent demands on managing the business properly to avoid suspicion. He had anticipated that the meeting would pass by rather smoothly, but by his definition of smooth, he had anticipated that you would flee the room in a fit of tears after he unintentionally criticised you over a trivial matter.

But you were remarkably unwavering, not wavering at the slightest amount of venom within his words. Instead, your only expression was a serene smile that never flickered; the only time your lips faltered was when you had to open your mouth to answer him, delighting him with your soft-spoken voice.

Dottore doesn't immediately fall in love with you, but he does become intrigued by you, somewhat like how a researcher would become enthralled by a rare specimen that only sometime emerged from its cave every full moon.

Unlike the most of his patients, Dottore is incredibly nice to you, legitimately assessing your condition accurately and prescribing the appropriate treatments. While Dottore does demonstrate some concern for your general well-being, he does have a nagging tendency of undercutting some of your treatments. It's just tinkering with the doses you're supposed to take by either adding too much or too little, nothing too drastic.

"Here. These are the medicines I'm recommending to you since they will alleviate your headaches. Too much..? No, it is the correct quantity. The other doctors must have completely misunderstood considering taking such a small amount is essentially worthless..."

Too much medicine would cause a lot of adverse effects, perhaps an increase in headaches and fever, leading you to come back to him within the next week. Too little however, doesn't do anything and doesn't even have an effect, negative or positive. After it becomes clear to you that the medicine was ineffective, you would return to his office and request for a new prescription. Basically all the tactics he can use to make sure you're back to him within a few weeks.

"Ah. So soon, my dear? Come sit down, and I'll be delighted to know what went wrong this time."

Other times, he would accompany you in conducting physical examinations, which would typically be handled by a nurse but he would venture in to assist you. Despite his unpredictable temperament, Dottore appears to be a somewhat capable doctor throughout the first half of the examination. But halfway through, his actions start to seem a little... off, and his touches are a little too persistent. Maybe you should retract the compliments you originally gave him.

Since he regards sexual activities as nothing more than a means of reproduction, Dottore does not conceive of himself as a particularly affectionate person or as the kind of man who craves physical contact all the time. However, he did make a few modifications to his perspective on the subject. Even while his continual need to touch you isn't entirely motivated by sexual aggravations or anything, it does feel slightly pleasurable when he runs his hands up your shoulders. His justification was that he wanted to avoid unintentionally tampering with your readings and needed to be certain that he was being accurate while taking your blood pressure.

Dottore found the examination to be more amusing than he had anticipated; for the first time in his life, he felt like a true doctor. Though he doesn't think he would have considered the assessment to be as interesting if he had been required to care for a patient other than you.

But listening to your heartbeat with a stethoscope was his favourite part. It was interesting to monitor how your pulse rate would spike after his hand inadvertently brushed very close to your chest or how his fingers would accidentally unlatch from the stethoscope and press onto your breast. It was noticeable that you were aware of the way his hands would brush up against you, but you were unwilling to confront him and instead chose to merely cringe slightly, forcing your lips into a thin line to stop yourself from saying anything you'll regret.

He must touch your chest in order to feel your breasts for any lumps that might be indicators of breast cancer, you probably don't want cancer right? Every doctor needs to touch his or her patient's breast; don't treat him like some sort of pervert. Ignore the fact that he would leave his hands on your moulds for far longer than was necessary, even giving it a quick squeeze and having the audacity to laugh.

"I apologise; I understand it is uncomfortable for me to be touching your breast, but it is necessary for the physical examination."

He will frequently make statements like this while grinning widely and without any apparent remorse or sign of sorrow within his face or voice. The pelvic exam, which includes examining the cervix, vagina, and vulva, is the other component of the physical examination, one that you often dread. It's not that you've never undergone a pelvic exam; nonetheless, the majority, if not all, of those exams were performed by female nurses or medical professionals. It's therefore unsettling to have this unusual man crouch down between your legs with a flashlight in his hand and gloved hands poised to pry open your hole.

"My dear patient, don't worry. There is no need to have your cute little head all screwed up because I am experienced with these types of examinations."

Dottore claims to be knowledgeable about this sort of thing, so you do not need fear, but in reality he isn't and hasn't fully comprehended the female anatomy outside of the textbook standpoint. Pelvic exams are typically only supposed to go on for a few minutes, but Dottore was clearly looking into you for far longer than that, his fingers fluttering at what appear to be random places, teasing and stroking your flesh. He would reel back and appear quite satisfied with what he accomplished after a few more moments of simple flicking and fondling with you before removing a metal hinge instrument from beneath the cabinet next to the bed.

"Regarding this, I'm certain you've already had a lot of experience. Please bear with me because it can ache just enough."

He will glide the instrument steadily into you as he watches your countenance change to one of pain as the metal surface of the device clings to the inside of your vagina and works its way through despite the dryness, a quiet moan escaping your lips as your face flushed in embarrassment at yourself for making such a noise. Even though Dottore knew that this process would be uncomfortable, he chose to wait a few seconds before expelling the instrument from you, seemingly interested in the way your expression was one of fear. He did this while monitoring how your face is visually relaxed and your tight grip on the chair loosened.

The following stage of the process would involve him physically inserting two fingers into you, certainly with lubricant on them, to make the process much more compelling for the both of you. His other fingers would be pressed against the outside of your lower abdomen while he noticed the way his long fingers curved into your cunt, causing you to gasp. Dottore had to examine the size and shape of your uterus and ovaries during this portion of the examination, noting any painful regions or strange growths.

What a good girl. So still, and motionless.

Although he did begin to daydream during the procedure, picturing his cock stuffing you while you urge him to go harder. Would his length be discernible through your lower abdomen as well? Would he be able to put pressure on your abdomen while feeling the contour of his own cock through your skin?

"That hurts, right? Do you mind if I exert more pressure here? Don't you feel a little intrigued about the small bump on your stomach as well? Why not try touching it too?"

It's possible that he'll have the chance to put that hypothesis to the test at some point.

Following the vaginal examination, he would stick a second gloved finger into your rectum to feel for any soreness, growths, or other anomalies. You've obviously never touched your rectum as frequently as you have your vagina. Not with the way you visibly winced when his finger pressed into your behind, a startled gasp departing your lips as he forced himself harder down the lower portion of the examination table, attempting to stop the expanding erection within his tight pants.

After being humiliated for yet another five minutes, Dottore at last rose from the table, reaching into the white coat's jacket to try and nudge the material forward and conceal his erection.

Let's just say Dottore had more fun with the physical exam than he originally thought. Despite this, he gave you the go-ahead to dress and told the receptionist that you needed to schedule another appointment. He claimed that he would have been delighted to assist, but that he had another emergency to attend to. He'll depart from the room, prompting you to struggle to get dressed on your wobbling legs and wondering why he was in such a hurry, since he did state that there were no other appointments beside you for today.

Dottore would race to the restroom, fumbling to undo his pants, and stroke at his erection, which was visibly red and painfully hard. His thoughts would still be coiled around the vivid image of your body, stroking up and down his cock as he recalled the feel of your tender breast, remembering your warm, snug pelvis, which twitched around his finger like a heartbeat. In a few minutes, he would start to spasm, hard enough for his sperm to shoot against the bathroom door, staining the floor in the process.

The assessment was certainly an entertaining experiment or well, experience.

So why not come back again?

He is always available to support since, after all, he is your doctor; a medical professional who will take excellent care of you. So do return? Or maybe he'll have to switch to more extensive techniques, one that will involve the more use of mechanical methods rather than a humane one.

Be sure to visit soon.

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