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mercurytrinemoon · 3 years

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Another post on Moon signs you can drag me for

Before we get into the actual thing, I'd like to say this post initially started as something else but ultimately, what I tried to put across is, sometimes Moon signs aren’t that easy to decipher. It’s easy to grasp overall characteristics of the signs and then learn how to identify their specific traits. But what people seem to forget it that Moon represents the deepest side of us & our inner world - it’s uncommon to really see someone’s side of it unless you really pay attention. Sometimes I’m surprised to see what someone’s Moon sign is even if I know this person well. Meaning, people usually hide that part of them - or they just simply process it internally and others can’t see their emotional reactions. It’s also uncommon for folks these days to fully express their emotional needs so it gets even trickier to pin-point their Moon characteristics. I don't think I have to mention this but, of course, your entire chart should be taken into account, as well as house placement, aspects. Personally, I like to also look at Moon's dispositor.

Let’s start from my friends, Gemini Moons, who, I feel, get a bad rep for not showing their feelings and scanning every emotion like an AI. Nah-ah. I know this one Gemini Moon whose immediate emotional reactions aren’t very cerebral in the sense of processing everything in the mind and intellectualizing it aka, what people like to label as being un-emotional. Instead her reactions are often fast (air energy) but physically expressed through Mercury (Gemini Moon’s dispositor) and Sun (overall identity) – she has them both in Aries. She’s a crybaby who can burst into tears in a matter of seconds. So she’s not something that would stereotypically be assigned to a Gemini Moon. But what I did notice is that all Gemini Moons tend to have this weird look on their face when they’re processing stuff. As if they were about to have a brain malfunction; they stop and have that specific worried look. They also like to either gossip or tell stories (either real or made up lol); they’re great with words - they can talk for hours if they feel comfortable with you. They just crave interaction and mental stimulation. Their quick reactions tend to make them effortlessly witty. Even if they’re a withdrawn Gemini type, they make up for it through social media and technology or just a quiet exploration. My shy Cancer pal with Moon in Gemini is now a brand/website designer and an instagram queen who travels the world. This is great energy for content creators in general. And don’t forget that Geminis need to have their fingers in many pies. It’s because they always have a backup plan… and they get bored easily so they need that chaos around them to feel at home. They like to have options in everything, which is kind of funny cause it’s hard for them to make up their minds and actually choose something. And they store a lot of information in their brains… I feel like it must be exhausting, no?

On the other side of the axis, whenever I see someone with a Sagittarius Moon, I can immediately say “yup, a Sag Moon indeed” (probably thanks to my Sag stellium), meaning, they all seem the same to me. Sag Moons often find comfort in exploration - best if it’s literal travel. They always seem to need to free themselves from their surroundings, family, roots or their own culture to discover something new and exciting, even if it’s only in the imaginary words - through books, movies and other medias. Their happiness always lies somewhere else from where they currently are. Like, I think all Sagittarius Moons that I know have left their parents and went their own paths early on. And they have this yolo attitude. Just like Sagittarius Suns, they’re massive dorks, probably also obnoxious… sometimes in a REALLY annoying way. They’re either a) very wise and curious b) lil preachy and stuck up c) just plain dumb clowns with no filter. But they’re all funny. And they take things lightly, with a natural ease. This means sometimes they may offend other people just because they assume everyone’s as chill as they are; „relax! I was just kidding!” - that’s a phrase you’ll hear from them often… I mean, unless you’re a jokester yourself and you’re unmoved by their sarcastic or teasing words. They have somewhat spiritual or philosophical nature so besides making you laugh, be prepared for deep monologues. They want to believe everything will eventually fall into place. It’s also hard to bring them down - or I should say, it’s hard to make them acknowledge that they're feeling down - they always try to distract or cover it up with a joke, usually a self-depricating one. If Sagittarius Moon (or Sagittarius in general tbh) is telling you that they’re unhappy, then it’s serious.

I’ve noticed there comes a point in life for a Libra Moon where they just have enough. They’re too nice for everyone and one day they wake up and yell about how they have to do everything for everyone and everyone wants something from them and bLah bLah. Makes me think of when Bieber was this overly nice kid and then he was like “I’M NOT TAKING PICTURES WITH FANS ANYMOREEEE AAGhJFJFUWIUq”. Yup, a Libra Moon, everyone. They know how to charm and appeal to people, I think overall they’re easily liked by others. Sometimes it’s simply because they like to kiss people’s ass just to avoid being rejected. That’d be a Libra Moon’s nightmare. They like other people’s company too much. And they thrive in relationships and in a big circle of friends. What they hate is confrontations (like every other Libra placement omg). They may be good mediators when it comes to other people but if they’re involved in an argument they get sooooo passive aggressive. They just don’t know how to handle conflicts - it’s as if their nervous system wasn’t designed for emotional outbursts (because, you know, everything needs to be peaceful and harmonious Venus-style). A fussy or angry Libra Moon will suddenly get loud as they blame someone for something… and then they’ll leave the room cause they’re scared to even hear the other side of the argument. Or, alternatively, they’ll make a doormat out of themselves just to stay quiet and avoid causing any rift. And making decisions? I think it’s common for them to have two different romantic interests and feeling so dramatically torned between them *Alexa play Agony from Into the Woods*. Then when they decide, they have problems breaking the bad news to one of them.

On the other end we have Aries Moons. *deep breath* Listen, I think I’ve said enough about having Moon in Aries (or rather purely dissing it) but last time it made a bit of controversy so why not wreak even more havoc. I have a good description for this one: I will punch you but be gentle with me cause it’s easy to break my fragile heart. So basically, imagine putting Buttercup and Bubbles into one person. And honestly, I need to say this, women with this placement are just hot badasses, look at friggin Angelina Jolie. The queen of badass. The queen of hot. People say because Aries folks move quickly (literally and figuratively lol), they often get bored with whatever got them excited last week... or yesterday. Ha, yeah, right. You get their heart to open up and they’re going to have their eyes for you ONLY, like a lil puppy. Give us treats and we’ll build our world around you. But NOT in a clingy way by any means, we need our space and independence after all. My lil niece is an Aries Moon and ever since I started playing guitar with her, she became my #1 fan or something. That’s the energy. But we get easily bored with day-to-day stuff so yeah, there’s that. Innocent and clumsy yet raw in their emotions - so there’s potential to make mistakes sometimes (or a lot of times) or having this tunnel vision, like „I want this and I don’t care about anything else!”. And then excusing it with some „but the heart wants what it wants” crap (looking @ ya, Selena Gomez). They experience constant inner movement and turbulence that needs a physical outlet in order to feel satisfied. WE NEED PASSION IN OUR LIVES, OKAY?!?!?? now leave me alone

Aquarius Moons aren’t as cold as you might think. People like to describe them as if their Moons actually disappeared from their charts: dEtaCheD, uNeMotiOnaL, tHey fEeL nOtHinG. It’s just they don’t sit and dwell on things, they find solutions to the problems. If something doesn’t make them feel right, they just leave that situation. They do care about other people’s well-being, they’re very sensitive in that regard, they’re humanitarians after all. Yeah, they detach, but from their own emotions - in order to make sense of them. They may seem like snow queens sometimes (and this comes from an Aqua rising) but they’re really friendly and if you pique Aqua Moon’s interest, they’re going to be curious about you. They like new exciting things so if you’re cool enough, you have their attention. Usually they’re pretty progressive as well and can’t stand injustice. That’s why you’ll see them standing up for those who are in need. Uranian energy gives them a specific type of sharp intuition and wit. Idk they’re just cute in a quirky way. But this buzzing, fast energy is a great recipe for anxiety, over-thinking and frequent changes of heart. Similarly to Sadges, they need constant exploration and stimuli. Intelligent, people-oriented (but not people-pleasing! Look to Libras for that), individualistic. They definitely need their own space and independence. Their decision-making is fast and it’s easy for them to just say „screw it, I’m doing this”. My Aquarius Moon friend just casually decided that she’s moving to Turkey cause nothing in our city (or even country) seems interesting or helping her expand… So she was like, see ya suckers, I’m leaving.

Leo Moons shine from within. You’ll spot them from a mile away even if they’re on the shyer side. They’re all lil stars no matter their profession. Very expressive people & easily excitable. Art galleries, live shows, theater - they love a creative environment even if they don’t pursue that lifestyle themselves... One of my Leo Moon friends is an art junkie – suggest taking her to an obscure play at the local bar, a music festival, a weird museum – she’ll say yes in the blink of an eye. And she loves discussing these things. A Leo Moon may not see themselves as artistically inclined, but usually sooner or later they at least try dipping their toes in music, arts, acting, dancing... you name it. They’ll learn a simple 3-chord song on a ukulele and then play it to you in excitement. Imagine a lil kid making you a puff piece and being super proud of it. Sometimes they just need some encouragement. Remember, Leos feed off of praise, that’s their fuel. Doesn’t mean they’re all proud, egotistical people but what it does mean is that they need a lil assurance to gain their self-confidence. I lived with a Leo Sun/Moon for almost 15 years (who’s a musician btw so yeah, a classic creative Leo type) - he did have some issues lol but ego wasn’t one of them. Drama followed him everywhere but I’m pretty sure he disliked it himself. BUT, with that being said, I feel like Leo Moons tend to dramatize themselves internally. People say it’s something Virgos or Geminis would do - because of their tendency to overthink, but Leos can just go straight to a worst-case scenario in their heads simply because they exaggerate everything. So don’t be surprised to see a Leo Moon feeling down and anxious. On the bright side, be their cheerleader and they’ll give that to you in return. They need sparks and dullness kills their upbeat spirit. They need to feel their own heartbeat so the feeling of excitement is crucial for their well-being. Romantic, giving and kind. They’re fixed fire so once they’re set on something or someone, they give their all and are rather loyal.

I feel like my chart low-key tells me I should dislike Taurus Moons but I just want to melt in their arms and just stay there? Like, forever? Low maintenance but a bit slow-moving and stubborn. They won’t settle easily, at least not officially, so you need to have a lot of patience with them. They need 3 things to feel secure and at peace: physical stimuli, time and a stable place they know they can always come back to. And it’s not like all of them are total lazy homebodies, they may be active spirits & travellers but they are going to have a reallyyyyy nice cosy flat somewhere near their childhood place (gotta be be close to their moms, you know). Not necessary materialistic but they may have one thing that they collect throughout their entire life and they won’t. ever. get. rid. of. it. There needs to be at least one constant in their life - like you know when Elton John decided to go to therapy but one thing he stuck to was shopaholism? Very Taurus Moon of him. Also, they’re very affectionate. In fact, may have issues differentiating between affection and passion - this is actually something Taurus Moon and Aries Moon have in common. Pro tip - and this is in regard to all Taurus placements - don’t smell bad when you’re around them (I mean, don't smell bad in general, no one likes stinky people lol). They have a sensitive smell. Doesn’t help that they like to smell everything. EVERYTHING. I swear, Taurus, stop sticking your nose in every single thing!!! You don't need to know how that piece of utensil smells like. Jeez.

Scorpio Moon (shoutout to those who remember me accidentally calling them sporpio last time I made a post on Moons lol). I honestly don’t know what to tell you... I feel like all you hear about Scorpio Moon is 100% true, there’s nothing to debunk here. It’s the Moon of extremes. Prone to jealousy and surpressing emotions; severe trust issues; they’re instigators. I was low-key bullied by a few Scorpio Moons when I was in school so there’s that. Very secretive and private. Scorpio Moon will be like “I’m in control of the situation!!!!” and you’ll just look at them and think, yeah, right, looks like the situation is controlling you. But keep being in denial, sure. Like, don’t get me wrong, Scorpios in general can be TOTAL SWEETHEARTS OMG but ya’ll have issues. Even celebrities who have this placements... Think Beyonce or Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus... I feel like they have issues lol, especially with control and the need for everything to be perfectly the way they want it to be. To be fair, that’s probably why they’re all so influential and high status: it’s either their way or highway. They need constant reinvention; they’re the ones to wake up one day and decide they’re going through a spiritual awakening blah blah. They also like to talk about dark and shocking topics while having casual lunch with you... So like, be warned that you may end up with a depressed mood after talking to them for 10 minutes. And their mood swings... don’t even get me started on that.

I don't know where to start with Virgo Moons... I feel like they're very calculated and nit-picky but they're a lot warmer than Virgo Suns. I think I called them softies in my last Moon post. Very sweet people but prone to anxiety. You gotta experience seeing them having a heart attack over someone mixing bananas with milk or messing with their stuff that’s been put in a perfect arrangement. I saw a Virgo Moon once literally squealing shouting "YOU'RE GONNA RUIN YOUR LAPTOP WITH THAT SUPERGLUE!!!" Highly entertaining to watch, not gonna lie. Gordon Ramsay has his Moon in Virgo - it’s conjunct Uranus and Pluto so that’s an extreme but I think him being fed up with people over small inconsistencies in their food prep is a perfect example of this energy (btw his chart is hilarious, it literally explains EVERYTHING). They're VERY picky with their food as well, just as Virgo Suns tend to be. Like, they’ll only have a specific type of single origin coffee or they’ll be vegan or something. Self-critical over their work, which is a plus... except for when finishing a simple task takes them a few hours because they want to make it perfect. They take everything seriously. This of course doesn't mean they're total bores - on the contrary, Mercurial energy gives them witty approach and a talent for choosing the right words at the right time. Tho they can be a bit awkward or shy with it. Can be as bubbly as Gemini but the grounded earthy energy gives them more practical and almost nurturing nature - earth signs are providers after all and Virgo is the sign of service - helping others is like their second nature. I’ve noticed they often find comfort in devoting themselves to a choosen task - this is why if they pursue something, they’re really good at it. They’re also very likely to dissect their emotions.

I’m not a fan of water Moons in general but Pisces Moon is the best water Moon in my opinion. Maybe because I like Pisces overall. I think it’s like a tweaked Sagittarius Moon - just more internalized, withdrawn & gloomy. But unlike Sag, who has a tendency to be an adventurous optimist, Pisces likes to focus on the negatives instead. Obviously, they can be very upbeat, they’re Jupiter-ruled after all, but there’s somehing whiny about them lol. Just like Sadges, they dream big and have their standards put up sooo high but if there's not much active energy in their charts, they’re often too passive to actually fullfill any of that - or I should say, they’re stuck daydreaming about it, believing it’ll just magically manifest for them... OR they do everything with an apathetic approach. What I do like about them is that they’re funny. And really chill - sometimes to the point of coming off as confused or hazy. I feel like a lot of them would just love to sleep all day... or sit by the lake and just think about the world. Most of them are also compassionate folks - again, maybe a bit too much. Hey Pisces, you don’t have to take everything to heart, it’s okay. On the bright side, they have big imagination and the ability to disconnect and just create. I have a few Pisces Moons in the family: one’s that sleepy artistic type with grand visions, one is an asshole-ish but funny entrepreneur with a questionable work ethic and one is a witty IT guy who’s actually a workaholic and likes to shut in his own world of computers and numbers or whatever he does there... So there’s this factor of tunnel vision, escapism and, on the more negative side, being kinda iffy and almost addicted to the way they want things to be. Once they set their eyes on something it’s done deal…

My issue with Capricorn Moons is that they're often trying to be sooooo mature omg, like, loosen up a bit. It usually starts when they're in their later teens... They can be the most rebellious kid that likes to have fun and suddenly they'll be like "I'm too old for this ugh grow up" *judgmental stare*. My 18-year old niece once literally roasted my sister that she's in her 30s and still doesn't have her own place (well so do I so I guess she also indirectly roasted me as well???). And she was SO deadpan with it. Because she herself wants to be independent and start a family before turning 25. This is classic Capricorn Moon energy. They suck out joy out of everything lol. Of course, OF COURSE, it depends on the whole chart but I feel like worst-case scenario is that at one point in their life (or maybe even a few times throughout it) they go through a massive shake-up that makes them change their attitude and re-evaluate their structures. There's this multi-instrumentalist Yvette Young - she's a sweet, funny Cancer/Leo mix but her Moon is in Capricorn. She used to be a competitive pianist but the pressure that was put on her has led her to severe health issues. Like yes, she’s now an extremely talented musician - thanks to family’s expectations & a rigid schooling system (Saturn) but it did cost her a lot. She has recovered since then but I think it's a perfect example of this energy. It’s very ambitious and hardworking but emotionally demanding in the sense that you have to actually put your emotions aside in order to deal with the rest. Another thing, because Moon can be associated with family, there's often a weird dynamic surrounding this topic. I don't think I've met a Capricorn Moon that had a completely healthy and happy relationship with their fam or one of the family members. Or, alternatively, there can be a strong bond between one of them but usually created in the atmosphere of hardships.

Last but not least, Cancer Moons. I had three school friends with this placement and all of them made this sad, whiny face as they said „oh I don’t knoooow anymoreee” when they were feeling torned or frustrated. To be fair, two of them are water Suns so for them, it added to the mushyness. All Cancer Moons I know are family people or better yet, baby people. One of those school friends is now a guidance counsellor, working with kids; the other turned her instagram into a gallery of her own child after she gave birth. So much kid content, omg. There’s also something very indecisive about them… or I should say, hesitant. They’re not very fast at making decisions. Also, what’s interesting, they’re kind of like walking libraries, they remember a lot – so they store a lot of information in their brains just like air signs but they process it in a completely different way – emotional, obviously. I think this also makes them hold grudges a lot. For them it’s more of a question of „how does it make me feel?” rather than „how valid is it?”. There’s certain stubborness in them in that regard because they don’t keep their minds open. It’s also hard for them to walk away from people and situations, like a crab pinching you with its claws – it won’t let go. Sensitive but not easy to open up; very protective of themselves and their loved ones & they tend to shut down in their crab shells. But they may crave connection and the feeling of belonging. Also very caring and with a big imagination. They’re very receptive of their environment so mood swings are a thing for them.

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bestiesenpai · 3 years

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ashnikko demidevil inspired blurbs

I just took lines from ashnikkos demidevil album and made little blurbs with whatever gave me inspo :) femme reader sometimes gender neutral in some spots, everyone is 18+

Content warnings: yandere-ness, stalking, mentions of heat(but not a/b/o), dubcon, master title(?), light angst? But it’s well deserved, blood

I don’t need a man I need a puppy, allergic to you every time you touch me -

Babysitting your friend's new puppy hybrid wasn’t a task you’d originally wanted. She had gotten him fairly recently, only to jet away to an impromptu vacation, leaving you the sole caretaker of the very large hybrid.

The only problem was you were allergic to dogs. Nothing terrible, but if he stayed around you too long, you’d start to get hives. And he understood that, politely keeping his distance as he roamed around your home.

“Getou, I’m home!” You announced after a long day of work, throwing open the front door only to be assaulted by a harsh musk in the air.

“Master!” Within moments of you kicking the door closed you were pounced on by the giant puppy that had been staying with you for a while. Your back hit the door hard but that wasn’t what you were focused on.

“G-Getou! What’re you doing?!” Your face was aflame not only from embarrassment but from the strong waves of heat rolling off his body. Getou had slid to his knees on the floor and shamelessly shoved his face into the crotch of your pants, his nose bumping right at your slit through your clothes.

“Master please...help…” He whined pitifully, rutting his hips against your leg. It was almost comical, the way he was hunched over you trying desperately to get stimulation to his leaking cock dangling between his legs.

Muddling through the murky memories of what your friend had told you about Getou, it took a few minutes to remember that she had mentioned something about him possibly going into heat.

“Are you…” It only took a glance down at his sweaty body covered only in a t-shirt to affirm that he was indeed in heat. He whined again, nearly sobbing as the harsh material of your bottoms rubbed against his sensitive cock. “What do I need to do?” The question made Getou’s head fly up, and the usual smirk on his face was gone, replaced with glassy eyes and quivering lips.

“I-I know you don’t like dogs but- but could you please just touch me?” Rubbing his face against your hip, Getou looked at you again. His hair and the fur on his ears was frizzy no doubt from sweat and his lips looked like he’d been biting them.

“Scoot back, puppy.” Placing a hand on his forehead, you gently pushed him back. The heat on Getou’s face was scalding, washing over him in a bright blush. Begrudgingly letting you go, Getou sat back on his knees, shoulders hunched but still managing to take up a good amount of space.

“Please help.” Balling up the edges of his shirt, Getou tucked the fabric under his chin and presented himself to you. His skin had a pale red flush, chest heaving and abs tight from trying to contain himself. Your eyes were drawn to his cock, leaking a generous amount of precum down the thick shaft.

“Puppy.” You said the word softly, and a warmth settled between your legs at seeing him look at you from under his lashes. The intense pheromones in the air were triggering your allergies and there was only one surefire way of getting rid of them.

“Master!” Getou choked out as another gush of precum rolled down his cock and his tail thumped against the ground as he writhed a little in agony. “Hurry, please!”

“Let’s go to the bedroom, puppy, it’ll be easier to help you there.” You’d thought about taking him to the couch, but the bed would be more comfortable in the long run.

And you didn’t need to utter the phrase twice. Getou leaped from the ground, his long tail swishing excitedly as he grabbed your wrist and ran to the bedroom. Pushing you onto the bed, he stripped himself in an instant.

“I-I’ll try not to be too rough, master.” He mumbled, climbing over you just as you’d started shrugging off your jacket. Nearly crushed by his entire body weight, Getou made sure to slide his cock right against your clothed cunt, rutting hard against you as soon as he could. “Unless you want it like that.”

I don’t need a man I need a rabbit, I need a new toy just to cleanse my palate -

Get a bunny hybrid, they said. It’ll be fun, they insisted. Bunnies are so cute and nice, they repeated over and over. Well yours surely wasn’t.

“Gojo! Get over here!” You were at your boiling point. All day Gojo had been causing mischief, leaving food out, popping out from behind corners and furniture and scaring you, pulling on your hair and clothes, asking never ending questions.

“Yes?” The lanky bunny hybrid with long white ears waltzed into the kitchen, not wearing his trademark dark glasses and leaving his bright blue eyes on display.

“What the fuck is this?” Glaring harshly at him, you pointed to the floury mess smeared on the kitchen counters and wall. It looked like he’d attempted to make some kind of dough but had given up halfway.

“Wasn’t me.” Gojo shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Then who could it be, because it wasn’t me and we’re the only ones here.” Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you glowered at his careless expression and slouched body. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here presented with the mess he’d undoubtedly made.

“Dunno.” He shrugged again, scratching behind his ear and avoiding eye contact with you.

“Gojo, clean it up.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you took a deep breath.

“I didn’t do it!” Stamping his feet, Gojo shook his head and his ears flopped side to side.

“I’m not playing these games anymore! Just do what I ask for once!” It was a constant back and forth with the two of you, and while you had plenty of sweet moments to outweigh the bad, sometimes it wasn’t enough.

“(Y/N), c’mon!” Gojo whined and threw his head back. Staring at each other for a few minutes, your blood pressure only rose the longer he remained immobile.

“One.” You drew the word out, and Gojo’s head snapped to attention. Waiting a breath, he didn’t move any further.

“Two.” Saying it even slower this time, you could just barely see the twitch of his little puffball tail.

“Th-”

“Alright, I’ll clean it up!” Shooting over to the counter, Gojo huffed and puffed. “Even though it totally wasn’t me.”

“Whatever, the kitchen better be sparkling before I go to sleep.” Leaving the mess behind, you avoided Gojo for the rest of the day and didn’t see him as you got ready for bed. Checking the kitchen one last time, it was indeed back in pristine condition.

Going to sleep without saying goodnight to the pouty bunny you’d seen sulking in his room, you went to sleep alone. More often than not Gojo would sleep in bed with you, but whenever the two of you were snippy with each other he would sleep alone.

A hot, wet tongue between your legs roused you from sleep. You were absolutely sweating beneath the blankets that were drawn up to your chin and there was a Gojo sized lump underneath them.

“G-gojo…” Breathing deeply to try and push the sleepy fog from your mind, his name ended in a high whine as his tongue flicked against your clit. Wrapping his lips around it, Gojo sucked on the bud, keeping your legs spread out across his shoulders.

He got you to cum fairly quickly, having aroused you enough in sleep that when you awoke you were already on the brink. Squeezing his head between your thighs as you came on his tongue, you shuddered at the deep groan he let out.

“Ya know (Y/N),” He started, voice muffled by the blankets before he threw them off and sat up, “I’ve been thinkin’.” Settling between your legs, Gojo kept your ankles on his shoulders as he leaned over.

“Ab-about what?” Your mind was dizzy with pleasure, eyes only just able to focus on Gojo’s face above you. Even though this was the first time you two were doing something like this it still felt natural. Something you’d have to talk about in the morning, but natural nonetheless.

“You’re always so fucking snippy all the time-”

“Hey!”

“I wasn’t finished! You’re snippy all the time and you always get on my back for the stupidest shit.” He giggled at the glare you gave him, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. “But I’ve found the perfect solution to that!”

There wasn’t a chance to question him on what he meant. Gojo lined up his cock and pushed into your cunt, easily sliding in and bottoming out in one go. You hadn’t gotten a chance to look at it properly, but you knew it was easily the biggest you’d ever had.

“This is your solution?” You half panted, wrapping your arms around Gojo’s shoulders and whimpering as the tip of his cock hit your cervix.

“Yeah.” He was breathless as well, biting his lip as he slowly pulled out and lightly slapped his hips against yours. “I figure what better way to change your attitude than to fuck it out of you.” Grabbing onto your ankles, Gojo leaned nearly chest to chest with you.

His forehead brushed against yours, his snowy white hair tickling you. He did a few experimental half thrusts, getting the feel for the angle he was in and making any minor adjustments.

“And luckily for you, (Y/N), I’m a rabbit.” Immediately, Gojo picked up the pace of his hips, jackhammering into you at an insane speed and quite possibly bruising your hips in the process.

“Gojo!” Your voice caught in your throat at the sudden change, your body being folded in half and crushed into the mattress.

Gojo smirked at your shocked expression, dropping one hand to rub your clit. You let out a sharp cry, jolts of pleasure shooting up your spine. Your walls clamped down on him in an instant, making the drag of his cock just a fraction slower.

“I can go all night if I have to.”

Make your man call me daddy -

Was Itadori a little nervous? That went without saying, yes, he was very nervous. This was the first time he’d worn lingerie in public, hidden under his clothes but with the possibility of someone seeing if he bent over the wrong way.

He kept tugging down his hoodie and pulling up his pants, making sure no one saw the lacy thong he’d put on. He had on a bra as well, a lacy little number that was truly just a few tiny pieces of fabric sewn together.

Not to mention the prostate massager currently buried snugly in his ass, vibrating at random with varying intensities. Itadori almost regretted purchasing it as another powerful vibration went through him and nearly made him fall over in the street. But he didn’t want to let you down, so he endured the torture.

“I’m back.” Practically crawling through the threshold of the door, Itadori was nearly in tears at being back in the safety of your shared apartment. He had barely managed to complete all the tasks you’d given him, the little white plastic bag in his fingers crumpled to death with how strong his grip was.

“In here.” You called out from the bedroom and Itadori followed the sound until he got to you. Lounging at the foot of the bed, you looked nearly innocent with your legs crossed and foot swinging daintily.

Itadori didn’t speak as he entered the room, hovering by the doorway for a moment before fully entering and standing in front of you, head down and looking at your sock clad feet.

“How was it, baby?” Your question made him flinch and a hot burning washed over his face.

“I- it was- something.” He sighed, glancing up to see your quizzical expression for a fleeting moment.

“Did you keep it on like I told you to?”

“Of course!” Itadori nodded immediately, already grasping the hem of his hoodie and pulling it off to reveal the bra underneath, the fabric stretched tight against the barrel of his chest.

“Look at your nipples, they’re so cute.” You cooed, reaching up to press your finger onto one. It was perfectly perky, pebbled from the stimulation of rubbing against lace. Itadori shivered and leaned into your touch, biting his lip to stem any too loud moans.

Taking your hand away, your eyes flicked down to his pants and he quickly removed those as well.

“Oh baby, you shoulda told me you came! You made such a big mess!” It wasn’t surprising in the slightest to see the absolute mess of sticky cum smeared across Itadori’s cock, the thong he had on and his thighs.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want the fun to end.” He pouted, fully kicking off his pants and tossing them to the side with his hoodie.

“I bet the toy felt real nice, huh?” Sparing him a lecture, you reached out and swiped your finger through the cum coating the tip of Itadoris cock. He jolted at the contact, letting out a high whine and pressing his thighs together.

“Y-yeah, it did.” He managed to answer, somehow staying steady on his feet through the near overstimulation he was in. Gathering a bit of cum on your fingers, you presented it to him and Itadori obediently bent down, taking them in his mouth and sucking them clean.

“Good boy.” You grinned, running your free hand through his hair and letting him nuzzle into you. “Go pick out which toy you want next, you deserve a reward.” Freeing your fingers, Itadori bolted to the dresser drawer where you kept the toys.

“I choose this one.” In his hands was his favorite toy, a strap-on you’d bought together at a local sex shop.

“Alright, lay on the bed.” Taking the toy from him, you watched him lay down just like you’d taught him: face down in the pillows with his ass presented high in the air. Running a hand over his ass, you smiled down at him. “You’re being such a good boy today, baby.”

“Thank you.” Itadori replied, mouth muffled by the pillows as he tried to make eye contact with you. Quirking your head to the side, you gave him a silent look and he flushed, ears tinging a deep rouge. Licking his lips, Itadori looked away for a moment before shuffling a bit to make better eye contact with you. “Thank you, daddy.”

You don’t ever cross my mind, what’s a sheep to a tiger? -

It was laughable that he thought he was being so secretive, like you couldn’t tell you were being stalked when all you could feel were his eyes watching you at all times.

You’d already changed the locks after you caught him following you home.

Your curtains were always drawn closed, but that didn’t stop him from lurking outside, his shadow a constant presence outside your bedroom and bathroom windows.

You couldn’t even count the amount of unknown phone numbers you’d had to block in the past month alone along with deleting voicemails that only had slightly shaky breathing on the other side.

As far as stalkers went, Okkotsu Yuta wasn’t that great. You’d only briefly met him once at a meeting with other sorcerers and he had appeared weak and spineless before you, barely able to make eye contact despite his vast power.

“Fuck, you again?” You groan, seeing Yuta waiting by your door as you waltzed back from a run to the convenience store.

“H-hello.” His voice is just as meek as ever. You’ve seen him be confident and assured before when he didn’t know you were in the room, but as soon as he saw you it was like he became a totally different person and lost even the will to speak.

“Get a fucking job.” Not in the mood to entertain him, you slid closer to your front door. You weren’t scared about possibly having to get physical with him, you could surely hold your own against a grown man who actively stepped back as you got closer.

Worrying his lip and wringing his hands together, Yutas eyes darted everywhere, from the small plastic bag in your hand to your outfit and finally settling atop your head. His breathing was loud and unsteady and there was a light blush coating his cheeks.

“Are you just going to keep standing there like a loser?” Glaring at him, you sneered as his blush got deeper and there was a subtle squeeze in his thighs. “What do you even want? Gonna try to give me more flowers?”

“No.” Yuta answered immediately, the bitter memory of you stomping on the bouquet he bought you fresh in his mind.

“Then what? What does a little sheep like you want?” Crossing your arms, you tapped your foot impatiently.

“I-I just-” Blinking rapidly, there were a million thoughts going through Yutas head. He couldn’t find the words and his mouth was running dry. He nearly collapsed seeing you sigh and shake your head, about to fish out your keys and walk right past him. “W-wait!”

“What?”

“Do you- I just have to know, (Y/N), do you ever think about me like how I think about you?” Yuta looked so hopeful it was morphing into sick desperation in his features. His brows were knitted together so tightly that you knew there’d be lingering wrinkles there.

“Okkotsu.” Saying his name firmly and squaring your shoulders, you stared right into his eyes with a fierce look on your face. This was the first time you were ever making eye contact and to say it made you sick to your stomach was an understatement.

“Yes?” He whispered, licking his lips nervously.

“I have never thought about you in that way.” His smile fell as you spoke, and you could see his heart break behind his eyes. “In fact, any time I think of you I get sick. You disgust me.”

“Darling-”

“Shut the fuck up, don’t call me that.” You snapped, pushing him back as he tried to reach out and touch you. “Get the hell away from me and leave me alone, you’re pathetic and gross.”

“I love you! I love you so much, please!” Falling to his knees, Yuta reached his hands out to you, hoping you’d take them and soothe his soul from the pain you’d just inflicted.

“I’d rather be swallowed by a curse than have you as a lover.” The scornful look you sent Yuta made him physically wither away, flinching at the red hot anger brewing just beneath the surface. “Besides, I’m pretty sure people in love don’t stalk each other.”

“Darling...please…” There were tears dripping down his face that just made him look worse. Scoffing one last time at him, you shoved your key into the lock and swung open your front door.

“Okkotsu, if I ever see you in this neighborhood again, I’ll kill you myself. Rika be damned.” With those parting words, you slammed the door closed and locked it swiftly, immediately heading to the cabinet where you kept your alcohol. You surely needed a drink or three after dealing with the headache that was Okkotsu Yuta.

Just as you took the first sip, a ding sounded on your phone, an indication of a text.

“Oh brother.” Rolling your eyes, you already knew who it was from.

(Unknown number): I’ll never give up on you, I’ll love you until the very end

Blocked, deleted. Time for another drink.

I’m crazy but you like that -

Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do. Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do. Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do.

But why did it feel like the worst decision you’d ever made?

He was brash, controlling over every part of your life, demanding your undivided attention at all times. He claimed he only wanted what was best for you, but the final straw in your relationship came when you caught him installing a hidden camera in your bedroom. He was far too casual when he said the last one had broken.

So you had no choice but to break it off. Sukuna had taken it well at the time, calmly and silently grabbing the things he had over at your place and leaving with only a curt goodbye. And since then, you hadn’t seen him.

Emphasis being on seen.

His presence was still very much felt in your life. There was mail addressed to him showing up at your place. You’d get random unknown numbers calling you throughout the week, sometimes with voices you didn’t recognize trying to ask you questions and other times it was silent on the other line until whoever called hung up.

But all the strange occurrences were beginning to add up and it was starting to feel like Sukuna had never left in the first place. All the times you came home to a tidy front entryway when you knew you’d left in shambles before heading to work. The way your shower products seemed to diminish quicker even though you hadn’t changed your routine. And sometimes, you woke up in the middle of the night to a shadow just outside your window, darting away just before you could properly get up.

Changing the locks on your front door and adding locks on all the windows you could had given you much needed peace of mind. The strange things inside your house had stopped. There wasn’t anything you needed to purposefully ignore now. You could sit up a little straighter, breathe a little easier.

Waking up in the middle of the night to go pee, your mind was far away from reality. Thoughts of Sukuna were the last things on your mind, clouded with sleep and just ready to melt under the covers again.

Returning to your bedroom, however, you noticed a figure sitting on the bed that wasn’t there before. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was Sukuna. Floundering back against the wall, a scream caught in your throat.

“The bed’s getting cold, angel. Come lie back down.” Sukuna said, a deranged smile on his face. His eyes were wide, drinking in your shaking form wildly.

“W-what’re you doing here?” You whispered, clutching the doorframe as you stumbled to it.

“I had to see my baby, I’ve been missing you.” Breathing hard through his nose, Sukuna patted the bed. “Come here, lemme look at you. It’s been a while since we’ve been face to face.”

“N...no. No!” Shaking your head, your own pupils were blown wide in fear. You watched every miniscule movement Sukuna made, from his breathing to how his fingers twitched. “Get out of here before I call the cops!”

“Aw, call the cops? But, how will you do that? Your phone is broken.”

“What?” Following Sukunas pointing finger, you gasped when you saw your phone smashed to bits on the floor by his feet.

“Now c’mere.” Patting the bed a little harder, Sukuna’s smile wavered. “You know I don’t like asking twice.”

“Sukuna please- please just leave.” There were hot tears burning your lash line, begging to be blinked away, but you refused to close your eyes. The smile on Sukuna’s face fell and rose again rapidly as whatever thoughts he had swirled in his head.

“(Y/N), I don’t think you understand.” Laughing under his breath, Sukuna stood up and stalked over to you.

“Don’t touch me!” You finally screamed but it was too late to try and fight him off. Sukuna grabbed your upper arm tightly and dragged you away from the door and to the bed. “Let me go, Sukuna! You’re crazy!”

“Crazy? Ha!” He barked, flopping back onto the bed and forcing you to straddle his lap. Slapping a hand onto your ass, Sukuna grabbed your jaw and tilted your face toward him. “If being in love with you makes me crazy, then so be it.” Staring at your face, Sukuna had a softer smile now. It was still unsettling, especially close up, and the way his eyes barely blinked had you on edge. “But don’t pretend you don’t like it at least a little bit.”

Wanna see me switch, get psycho like they say I am-

Your new boyfriend Nanami said he was just a salaryman, and why wouldn’t you believe him? He wore freshly pressed business suits everyday, sometimes carried around a briefcase, had the usual 9 to 5 schedule and always grumbled if he ever had to work overtime. Occasionally he met you for lunch and there he’d demand to talk about anything other than the work he did.

He never gave you the impression that he was anything but that, anything other than what he said he was. Whenever the two of you went out on dates, he was either getting off work or wore long sleeves.

This was the first time you were going to go over to his place for a date. Your relationship was starting to progress more romantically and while he’d seen the outside of your home after dropping you off from a date, this was the first time either of you would be in such a closed intimate setting.

His apartment was in a much more luxurious building than you’d first imagined. There was a doorman that had let you in, someone waiting at the front desk and even the elevator was luxurious with rich dark wood.

“Nanami, I’m here!” You called as you approached the door. Raising your fist to knock, you were surprised to see it cracked open, and there were loud noises just inside. Taking a moment to see if anyone had noticed your announcement, you took a chance and pushed open the door.

The entryway was beautifully decorated with Nanami’s shoes lined up neatly by the door. Just looking at the hallway, you could tell he had hired someone to decorate for him.

“Nanami?” You called again, hovering by the door. Whatever sound was in the other room paused for a moment, only to resume again in a more fervent way. “H-hello?” Sneaking down the hall, you came to the entryway to the lounge room and nearly collapsed.

The bloody, unconscious body was what you noticed first, followed by the blood stains speckled about the hardwood floor and reaching the walls. You saw Nanami second, standing over the body in what was once a plain white t-shirt now stained crimson. Third were the tattoos crawling up his arms, rich blacks and reds embedded into his flesh.

“You’re here early. How’d you get in?” Nanami asked in his usual monotone voice, only slightly breathless as he looked you over. He seemed unfazed by your sudden appearance, happy even, a small smile ticking up on the side of his mouth.

“The- the door was open.” You didn’t know where to look. You couldn’t possibly look Nanami in the eye, not with the way he looked so calm while standing over a body you were pretty sure was going cold. There was dark blood on his hands, nearly mixing in with his tattoos.

“Silly me, must not have pushed it closed all the way.” Chuckling to himself, Nanami straightened up and stepped over the body, taking a few steps over to you only to stop when he saw you scurry back. “(Y/N), don’t act like that.” He sighed like he was talking to a child.

“Tell me what’s going on.” You said, voice shaking more than you would have liked.

“Just doing a bit of overtime, that’s it.” Nanami shrugged indifferently, taking another step toward you.

“I thought you said you were a salaryman. What kind of overtime is this?” As he took more steps toward you, you stepped back until you hit the wall.

“I am a salaryman.”

“For the yakuza or something?!” It was a shot in the dark, really. You had no reason to believe he was in a gang other than the familiar tattoos that you’d seen on the news and the blood everywhere.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He confirmed it with a straight face and you could tell he wasn’t lying. Nanami wasn’t one to lie or pull punches. Lifting up his hand, Nanami almost cupped your cheek but stopped short when he remembered the blood on his hands. “Let me go clean up, and we can talk about this more.”

As soon as he turned around, you fumbled to get your phone out of your pocket. There was no way you would be staying in this place any longer with him. Not only were you pretty sure he just killed someone, you had no idea what he could do to you.

“You wouldn’t be trying to call anyone, would you?” Nanami asked, turning on his heels by the body. Dropping your phone to the ground as soon as you were caught, you cursed under your breath as he faced you squarely.

“I like you a lot, (Y/N). Don’t mess this up. I’d hate to show you how deranged I can truly be.” The ghost of a smile graced his face and Nanami walked back over to you and grabbed your phone, immediately coating it in sticky blood. “Go wait in the den down the hall, I’ll be by in a moment.”

Slowly dragging your feet to the room in question, you waiting just inside for Nanami to arrive. The den was cozy, a plush warm toned loveseat facing a stone fireplace and a TV. This room, like the others, was undoubtedly decorated by a professional.

“Sorry to make you wait.” Nanami’s voice made you jump as he entered, walking past you and into the room. Sitting down on the loveseat in a fresh shirt and pants and clean skin, Nanami let out a pleased hum.

“Nanami…” Worrying your lip, you didn’t know what to do. You knew you should leave, but there wasn’t a chance in hell that your weak knees would make any sort of movement akin to an escape.

“Don’t be shy, (Y/N).” Spreading his legs, Nanami pat his thigh invitingly. “Come sit on my lap, a pretty little kitty like you deserves the best seat in the house.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines #tw: yandere #geto suguru #gojo satoru #ryomen sukuna #itadori yuji #okkotsu yuta #nanami kento

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Kinktober - Day Twenty-Nine

Prompt: Tutor Kink

Pairing: Bokuto/Reader & Akaashi/Reader (Haikyuu!!)

TW: Non-Con, AFAB!Reader, College AU, Non-Consensual Touching, Semi-Public Sex, Molestation, Slight Victim Blaming, and Implied Future Non-Con.

You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as you saw Akaashi.

You could believe that Bokuto needed your help. You didn’t have to believe it, honestly, because he did need your help, he needed as much as he could get. When he’d approached you after a lecture, last month’s assignment balled in his fist and a disappointed pout already painted across his expression, you’d been sure of that, and you’d liked the idea of helping one of your more enthusiastic classmates out. You should’ve hesitated when he asked you to meet him at the campus library in the middle of the night, but he was an athlete, he had a busy schedule. You should’ve been put-off by how excite he seemed, when you agreed to help him study, and you should’ve grabbed your things and gone back to your dorm the moment your eyes met Akaashi’s, tucked into a secluded booth set apart from the rest of the empty tables. Akaashi’d never failed a pop quiz, let alone an exam. Akaashi didn’t need your help, and if Bokuto had Akaashi, Bokuto shouldn’t, either.

You should’ve, but you hadn’t. Bokuto seemed harmless, and you’d been so sure Akaashi wouldn’t do anything, not in public. You’d been so, so sure.

It’s almost funny, how smart people make such stupid mistakes.

You shouldn’t have worn a skirt. You doubted a few extra buttons would’ve stopped Akaashi, but you wouldn’t have to feel fabric rustle against your skin every time his wrist arched, bunching around your waist and doing little to obscure the sight of his hand snaked down your panties, his thumb toying with your clit as two fingers eased into your cunt. You’d tried to get up when you felt him touching you, tried to leave, your reputation be damned, but Bokuto was faster than you could ever hope to be, more reflexive, stronger, and just the weight of his arm around your midriff had been enough to stop you, to keep you rooted to your seat as he nudged his latest draft in front of you and his friend leaned onto your shoulder to get a better view, Akaashi’s demeanor so stoic and so casual, you might’ve thought he was just playing with your pussy to keep his hands busy. He might’ve been, honestly. He could’ve been. You could never get a good grip on people like him, not when their passivity was as practiced as his.

“I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong.” Bokuto wasn’t any better, albeit a bit more obvious with his intentions. Even as he gestured to his paper, that perpetual whine heavy in his voice, his gaze kept drifting, wandering, falling to your heaving chest and the lip trapped between your teeth and all the signs and tells and evidence Akaashi’s work milked out of you. It was perverted. It was perverted, and it was sickening, and it was illegal, but Akaashi knew what he was doing, just when to spread his fingers, just where to rub and prod to make you want to curl into yourself and bury your face on the cluttered tabletop and scream. Bokuto’s interest was obvious, his awareness even more so, but he was more than happy to pretend it wasn’t. You could only be thankful he was so used to acting oblivious. “I mean, I’m using quotes, and I’m talking about the sonnet. That’s what they want, right?”

“Y-you’re not supposed to--” They might’ve been able to act like nothing was wrong, but it was more difficult for you. Everything made you feel breathless, from the idea of doing something so dirty in such a public place to the feeling of your own slick building up and dripping onto your thighs, pooling on the cushioned bench below you. It was humiliating. It was humiliating, and if not for Akaashi’s stare burning into the back of your neck, for the way Bokuto’s grip tightened every time you shifted, you wouldn’t be able to take it. You didn’t want to take it.

It didn’t seem like you had a choice, though.

“You have to embed,” You managed, Akaashi choosing that moment to sink the full length of his fingers into you, down to the knuckle, and making the last word coming out fractured, too cracked not to be suspicious. A student browsing a nearby shelf glanced towards you, absentmindedly, and you glared at the paper in front of you, doing your best not to go any tenser than you already had. “It’s not enough to have evidence, you have to… you have to work it in smoothly, and--” Another finger, Akaashi barely teasing your slit before sliding it in, taking a second or two to scissor you apart properly before returning to his constant, unbearable pace. “And-- and it’s proof, you have to prove that your interpretation is--”

“It’s an argument, Bokuto-san. You’re arguing your case, and you’re supposed to use words and phrases to do that.” You could feel Akaashi’s lips moving against your shoulder, his weight settling into your back. Briefly, his gaze drifted away from you, and towards Bokuto’s essay. “Specific words and phrases, when you’re discussing tone. Quoting an entire stanza is usually considered bad form.”

Bokuto said something about that. You think he said something about that, at least, because you stopped paying attention as soon as Akaashi’s free hand fell to your side, his face finding the crook of your neck as he started fucking into you in earnest. You wanted to do something. You wanted to stop him, but your complaints and rejections and all of it got caught in your throat as you lurched forward, Bokuto catching you with an airy laugh. He almost sounded surprised, but every trace of shock was gone by the time he opened his mouth. “He’s good with his hands, huh?” He asked, acknowledging your violation but not straying from his unaffected tone, never straying from it, even as he held you to his chest, encouraging you to hide your face in his hoodie while Akaashi pinned down your bucking hips and twisted, hitting every sensitive, neglected spot inside of you in one seamless motion. You tried to whimper, but Bokuto only chuckled, hushing you as he carded his fingers through your hair. “He’s almost done, baby, just let ‘kaashi have his fun. He‘s been dying to do this ever since he found out how pretty my new tutor was.”

Holding onto Bokuto wasn’t a choice, at that point. You clung to him, digging your nails into his biceps as Akaashi’s palm ground against your clit and your whole body seemed to burn. You almost moaned, you almost sobbed, but Bokuto was fast, he was so fast. His palm was over your mouth by the time you could think about opening it, muffing any sound you might’ve bad as you clenched around his best friend’s fingers, Akaashi suddenly feeling generous enough to carry you through your orgasm, only stopping when the first pangs of over-stimulation made your eyes water and your legs twitch. Even then, you didn’t try to get away from Bokuto. You couldn’t have, even if you did.

His grip was iron-clad, and he didn’t seem to have any intention of letting go.

“Look at that, Keiji, you made ‘em cry.” The comment earned a polite nod, a small ‘sorry’ as Akaashi pulled away, but there was little remorse in either of their voices. If anything, Bokuto sounded just as happy as ever - happier, even, with all the childish joviality you’d grown used to and something else mixed in, an eagerness, an impatience. One that only seemed to grow more expectant, as he went on. “I’m not mad, but…”

There was a pause, a smile, a kiss pushed into the top of your head. For the first time, you wondered why you ever thought Bokuto was so harmless.

“You interrupted our study date. We should go over the material more thoroughly back at our apartment.”

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countryclubstarkey · 4 years

Text

Don’t Move - Rafe Cameron x Reader (Smut)

Not My Gif

Pairings: College Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Cockwarming, Dom Rafe, Public Sex, Fingering, Face Fucking, Choking, Anal, Sex Toys, Squirting

Word Count: 2.4K+ of literal Porn

A/N: I’m on break from my studies for a little bit, so I’m gonna be writing as much as I can, so send your requests!

A lot of people in the Outer Banks assumed Rafe Cameron is a lazy dumbass who has no potential, but he just never tried when he was in high school. However, college is an entirely different story; it’s a place where Ward Cameron isn’t judging his every move, and that freedom causes him to try harder and enjoy life a little more. The surprising thing is that Rafe is kind of a genius when it comes to math because he understands everything, and he somehow managed to pass freshman math with an A+.

Math is something you have been struggling with since the start of school this year, numbers didn’t come easily for you, and you were desperate to finish this class with a decent grade at least.

You’re currently at the local library in your town trying to focus and study for your upcoming exam, but the formulas aren’t working, and you’re getting all the questions wrong. The library is nearly empty as it nears eight pm, but you can’t focus at home and tonight is the one of the only times you can study in peace.

“Ugh,” you groan at the 10th question that you got wrong in a row. Not paying attention to your surroundings, Rafe Cameron sneaks up behind you and hovers over your shoulder.

You nearly jump out of your seat when Rafe speaks up, “What’s wrong with you?” Glaring at him over your shoulder, you gesture towards the work in front you scattered with paper and eraser shavings covering everything.

You both have a few mutual friends and taken a few classes together, so you’re somewhat comfortable around each other, but you’ve heard a lot of rumors about him being an asshole, so you never got too close to him.

He notices the material you’re working on and scoffs at you, “This shit is so easy what the hell are you struggling with.” You gape at him, in shock from his offensive words.

“What the hell are you talking about, are you einstein or something, this shit is impossible, and I am going to fail my test on Monday,” you dramatically exclaim. He rolls his eyes at your words and pulls up a chair beside you studying the material briefly.

Facing you, “I can help you if you want, I did pretty well in this course, and I can give you a few tricks on how to ace the test.” Excitedly nodding your head at him, you pull him instantly into a hug.

“Calm down, princess, I haven’t done anything yet.” He teases you, causing your cheeks to turn crimson from his words. Rafe chuckles as your reactions and turns his attention towards your work. For the next few hours, Rafe taught you everything you needed to know. The formulas you need to memorize and how to solve each question correctly, so that you can get the answers right each time.

Around eleven you check your phone and notice how long it’s been, “Shit, it’s getting late, are you sure you want to keep studying,” you ask Rafe feeling a little bad about disrupting his plans on a Friday night.

He shrugs his shoulders at you in a non caring motion, “It’s cool I didn’t have any plans anyways.” Nodding at him, you start doing a few more practice questions, not noticing Rafe’s gaze on you, more specifically the skin that isn’t covered by your skirt.

Finally, feeling his eyes, you give him your full attention, making him remove his eyes from your legs, focusing on your eyes instead. “What is it?” you ask him, the change in his behavior, making him act a bit strange.

His eyes flick towards your lips before returning to your own, “I want to kiss you so bad right now,” speaking softly. His words cause heat to rush throughout your body, especially visible in your cheeks. His palm gently grasps your jaw as you give him a nod of reassurance as he leans in, connecting your lips. Rafe’s delicate lips surround your own, not trying to rush into anything, but savoring the moment instead.

Feeling a slight distance between each other, you move onto his lap, wrapping your hands around his neck. His hands move towards your waist, pulling you further within his lap, trying to keep the distance as small as possible. His tongue begins to tease your lower lip as you give him access to explore your own. The two of you fight for dominance, not used to the feeling as you let him guide you through the process.

Rafe’s hand begins to wander around your body, finally landing on your rear slowly caressing the skin under your skirt, hearing footsteps approaching, you turn your body around pretending to be studying on his lap instead. The librarian glances at the two of you suspiciously before walking back to her desk.

Brushing your hair to one side, exposing your neck, his lips start nipping at the sensitive skin, trying to find the perfect spot that makes you melt in his arms. After finding it, he pays extra attention to the spot above your collarbone, making a small red mark, “Rafe someone’s going to see us, “ you breathe out, trying to control your own urges.

His hands move between your legs, massaging your inner thighs before inching upwards coming in contact with your clothed pussy, making you release a shaky moan, “Don’t worry, you’re just going to be quiet for me.”

Nudging your clit with his thumb, he circles around the sensitive bud feeling your arousal leak through your panties as you try to keep still in his lap. Pushing your panties to the side, you feel Rafe teasing your slit before thrusting two fingers, causing your moans to echo throughout the silent library. Your hands cup your mouth to stay quiet so that he doesn’t stop his actions.

“I’m just trying to stretch you out for my cock princess, you’re going to feel so nice around me,” he whispers in your ear. You hear his zipper moving and feel his hard-on press against your back. He urges you to spit in his hand before moving it around his length while keeping his fingers deep inside you hitting your g-spot a few times.

Removing his fingers, you feel his length against your inner thigh before moving it against your clit, spreading your arousal around, causing your legs to tremble from his constant teasing. Finally, he pushes into your heat, feeling you clench around him but stopping when before your ass presses against his hips, “Fuck, you feel so warm and tight for me,” he groans out. Your toes curl when you feel him press against your g-spot.

“Fuck, please move,” you let a strained moan trying to limit your noises as much as you can. Rafe fixes your skirt over his lap before scooting forward so that you’re trapped between the table and him.

You feel him shake his head behind before he hands you the pencil that you completely forgot about, “No, you got a few more questions to do, so sit tight and finish them.” You groan out loud as Rafe feels the vibrations go through his cock so his hand tightens around your hip, keeping you still.

“Rafe, I can’t please move,” you desperately tell him, rolling your hips around, creating some friction between the two of you. He pinches your ass, stopping your movements from going any further, “Don’t move, and maybe I’ll treat you good later.” he tells you. Agreeing with his words, you try to focus on your work, solving a few problems but getting distracted by his cock. Both of your thighs getting covered with your arousal as a new feeling builds up in your core.

Thirty long minutes pass until you feel Rafe delivering hard shallow thrusts as his hand stimulates your clit bringing you closer to the edge, “Fuck, you’ve been leaking all over my cock, are you already close?” Frantically nodding your head at him, you bounce on his cock, trying to meet his thrusts, tiny moans escaping your mouth as he constantly targets your g-spot.

Your body begins to shake harder as you clench harder than ever around his length, “Cum all over my cock, baby.” he grunts. Your juices flow around him as he hits your special spot one more time before spilling in you at the same time. You both try to calm down as your body continues trembling not only from your orgasm, but also from his cock remaining inside you.

Pulling you upwards, he cleans you up a little before gathering all your work, shoving everything in your backpack, “What are you doing?”

Rafe grabs your hand as you exit the library with the librarian glaring at the two of you probably knowing the deed you’ve done a few minutes ago, “My roommates aren’t home tonight, and I’m not done with you yet.”

He pushes you against his car, crashing your lips together, leaving you breathless as you try to comprehend and process everything that’s going on. Rafe’s hand stays on your left thigh the entire ride, the car ride feeling almost suffocating from the desire you both are feeling and wanting to release further, “You know, I always thought you were innocent.” Rafe breaks the silence. Your laughter fills the car as you near his apartment, “I’m anything but innocent,” you wink at him.

After a long wait, you get to his room as you try to take all of his clothes so that you can admire his body. He pushes your hands away and instead makes you kneel in front of him, his jeans barely keeping his cock hidden anymore. Unzipping him, you see his member for the first time looking more intimidating as ever, “Put it in your mouth, sweetheart, I want to fuck your face,” Rafe groans out, trying to control himself.

Opening your mouth, he thrusts in your mouth immediately, causing your gag reflex to react as you steady yourself by gripping his thighs. Giving you a few minutes to adjust to his length, as you notice his tip oozing red dripping pre-cum on your tongue. You bob your head matching Rafe’s pace as you feel him sliding down your throat easier. Tears are leaving your eyes smudging your light makeup even more, as he hits the back of your throat multiple times. Giving a few deep thrust, he gags you for a little bit preventing you from breathing properly before he releases you, “Fuck, I’m going cum,” he moans out. Struggling to control himself anymore, you feel him release in your mouth as his cum touches your tongue. Tasting salty but with a sweet aftertaste, you try to swallow him as much as you can, but some drips down your chin.

You collapse on your side, your knees sore from the position. Rafe picks you up and drops you on his bed.

“Please, Rafe fuck me,” you mumble delicately, the wetness between your legs becoming uncomfortable, with his help, you remove your clothes including your panties and bra.

Moving on your hands and knees, Rafe teases your entrance with his rough fingers before moving it towards your tighter hole circling around it, “Have you ever done anal before?”

“A few times, but it was really uncomfortable.” you answer honestly shuddering from your past experience. Rafe hands travel to his drawer, taking out a bottle of lube and a small vibrator.

Pouring some lube on his fingers, he teases your entrance, “Do you trust me?” he asks you.

“Yes, Please do something” begging him in a desperate tone wanting some pleasure. He pushes two fingers in stopping when it reaches his knuckles, so that you can get comfortable to the new feeling. You hear him turn on the vibrator as he moves it to your clit to relax you a little. Becoming distracted by the new feeling on your clit, he pushes his fingers all the way in going at a steady pace. Rafe feels you relaxing in his arms as it becomes easier to push into you.

Stopping his actions, he puts on a condom before flipping you over on your back, “You ready baby?” Nodding your head vividly at him wanting some proper release, he moves your legs on his shoulders, giving him better access.

Lubing the condom, you feel him gently thrust into your tighter hole as you feel yourself stretch from the new feeling, slightly uncomfortable. He notices your discomfort and places the vibrator back on your clit trying to distract you. Once he feels you relax, Rafe finds his rhythm as he goes at a vigorous pace hitting spots that you didn’t even know would feel this good.

He turns the speed on the vibrator up as it rubs against your clit, your body starts shaking from the pleasure. One of his hands travels to your throat, squeezing it tightly allowing your breathing to uneven. Rafe moves to finger your pussy as well penetrating you further as the pleasure becomes unbearable, “Fuck, Rafe.” Your screams fill the room.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Rafe hits your g-spot again and again with his fingers, making you clench around him causing him to hiss at your actions. Your hands try to claw at the sheets trying to control your urges as you feel your juices let go going all over Rafe making you cry out in pleasure. He doesn’t stop his actions instead he speeds up trying to reach his own orgasm, “Come on baby, you can squirt for me again.” He urges you further.

Your body starts trembling in his hands as you feel yourself gush all around again as your screams get louder than before. You try to move his hands away, but his grip tightens as you feel him release his load in the condom pushing your body against the bed to stop your thrashing. Moving the vibrator away, he pulls out, throwing out the condom in the garbage.

He holds your body caressing your hair trying to calm your body, “Good girl,” he whispers in your ear. You feel him rub a wet cloth over your sensitive areas cleaning you up as delicately as possible without overstimulating you any further.

“Fuck, I think you just killed me,” you giggle at him finally having the energy to speak as you feel your legs still tremble around Rafe.

He kisses your forehead and pulls the sheets over both of you, as your head lays on his chest listening to his heartbeat, “I’ve wanted to that for a while.” he tells you.

“Me too.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x reader smut #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks smut #smut #drew starkey smut

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lassieposting · 3 years

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ghasdug for couple questions if you like feeding me

1. Who said I love you first?

Ghastly. Mid-orgasm. The first time they slept together. He. Is. Mortified.

2. Who laughs and kisses their partner on the cheek while their partner isn’t happy about something trivial to try and make them feel better?

Skug. Ghastly has some inadequacy issues during their first century or so, mostly about being ugly and poor - he knows skug could do better. He's attractive, he's funny, he can be very sweet when he wants to be - he could make an excellent match with someone as landed and titled and wealthy as he is.

Skug does try to reassure him, but between his tactlessness and his tendency to not take anything seriously, he kind of sucks at it. Ghastly feels like his being "less than" is a big hurdle, while skug sees it as a trivial difference - he's much happier living with ghastly's family in their cramped farmhouse than he ever was at his parents' vast estate. So he tries to turn it into a joke - "good thing I'm handsome enough for both of us, then," - while completely missing the point that ghastly wants forever with him, and he's worried he's going to spend the rest of forever getting looked down on and whispered about because skulduggery could've done better.

3. Who cuddles up to the other after a long day at work, and this soon escalates to a playful pillow fight?

Ghastly is the cuddler. It escalates because skug is adhd as hell and cannot just lie still and snuggle for long without getting bored. He needs constant stimulation. He'll sit on the counter while ghastly works and chat for hours though, swinging his legs and passing over tools when ghastly needs them

4. What is something that they gave one another that has a lot of meaning?

Ghastly makes all skug's clothes, including his armour, because he doesn't trust anyone else to keep skug safe in battle.

Ghastly has skug's signet ring, which he found in the burned down-ruins of the pleasant family home after skug was killed. For decades, it's the only thing he had left of skug - the clothes ghastly made, the scarf wifey made, and the locket with wifey and skugbab's portraits inside were all cut away and burned, and the house was razed to the ground. Skug knows he has it, but he's never asked for it back.

5. How would one another describe their partner?

Skug would either deliberately misread the question ("What, haven't you seen him? How could you miss ghastly? He's...he's this high and built like a wall.") or come out with something explicit to deter follow-up questions.

Ghastly mostly talks about how annoying skug is, but it's? Endearing to him. At this stage of their lives, he is the only person who's actually happy to listen to like, an eight hour infodump with no breaks. Skug is. A Lot to handle and society does not have the terminology for him yet.

6. Who wraps their arms around their partner as they look them in the eyes and compliments them with a goofy smile?

Ghastly. Skug, under all the vanity and egocentrism, has critically low self-esteem and very little self-worth. He's the Family Scapegoat, and got the lion's share of the abuse before he ran away, so he absolutely melts for compliments. The boy has praise kink up the wazoo. Ghastly will happily feed his ego to watch him get the smile and the sparkly eyes and puff up like a proud peacock.

7. Who loves saying ‘my wife’ or ‘my husband’ or ‘my spouse’?

They don't really have this tbh? Not only is the vocabulary of the period insufficient, they see the relationship differently.

Skug is like. Anxious-avoidant attachment personified. He doesn't like to get too close. He falls in love with ghastly a long time before he's able to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else. He essentially treats their relationship like a fuckbuddies kind of deal, and he feels safe like that, because he can't be hurt by someone he doesn't care about. He can't be let down or abandoned by someone who has no commitment to him in the first place. Admitting he loves ghastly leaves him vulnerable, and if he's learned anything in his childhood, its that vulnerable people are the ones who get hurt.

Ghastly on the other hand considers skug his boyfriend, and there's no equivalent term from the 1500s. "Gentleman caller" hardly applies when you live under the same roof and share a room (and, more often than not, a bed), so nobody is calling on anyone. Privately, he thinks of skug as his lover, but he knows skug is allergic to intimacy, so he keeps that to himself for the most part.

So ghastly usually introduces skug as "this is my - this is skulduggery pleasant" and skug usually introduces ghastly as "this is my dear friend, ghastly".

8. Who always talks about how amazing their partner is when their partner isn’t there and they just light up with genuine love and happiness?

Ghastly. Skug is his first love, and he's completely lost in it. He's had crushes before, on pretty girls who only ever spoke to him to enquire after his "handsome brother", and strapping young men at market who avoided looking at him to speak to his father, but he's never felt anything like this before. He lives with skug. He sees him first thing in the morning and last thing at night, he sees him happy and depressed and drunk and furious, he kisses him and fights with him and fucks him and defends him and laughs with him and cries with him and for years and years, they're inseparable. He's? Completely unprepared for how hard he falls for skug.

9. Who loves it when their partner kisses them good morning?

Ghastly. Drowsy morning skug is snuggliest skug. He doesn't get as many snuggles as he'd like, tbh, because skug is active and easily distracted and doesn't like staying still for too long, but in the early morning is when he's most likely to be warm and cuddly and relaxed, and when he's least concerned about keeping ghastly at arms length. He'll pull skug back against his chest and he'll wiggle round to press a sleepy kiss to the corner of ghastly's mouth and tuck his head under ghastly's chin, and he'll doze off again with his hand stroking idly up and down skug's spine.

10. Who shows the other how to balance a spoon on their nose?

Ghastly.

11. Who loves to pull pranks on the other? What type of pranks do they pull and do they pull their pranks off?

Skug likes to pick up the absolute ugliest thing he can find while shopping and pretend he loves it while ghastly cringes and swears blind that he will not be seen with you while you're wearing that thing, skulduggery, so help him god. What usually happens is that skug pulls his new purchase to pieces as soon as they get home, and then gets ghastly to make it up better.

12. What is something small that they would randomly pick up for one another?

Skug taught ghastly to read, so he'd bring home books for him while he was learning and get ghastly to read to him, lying with his head in ghastly's lap and lazily correcting his pronunciation or reminding him how to sound out the words.

Ghastly doesn't have the sort of disposable income skug does, so he makes him things instead, like stylish hats with feathers in them, even though he personally hates that fashion and is delighted when it dies.

13. Who is the one who can’t stop laughing when trying to tell a joke?

Skug. Ghastly loves watching him laugh till he chokes though. He adores seeing skug happy.

14. Who would plan the other a surprise birthday party?

Ghastly. Skug is an attention whore, he loves that kind of thing. An entire event all for him? Hell yes, baby

Ghastly himself, on the other hand, is painfully insecure and selfconscious at this stage of his life, and he'd be mortified at being the centre of attention like that. Skug is a vain, arrogant dick, but he's not cruel. He wouldn't make ghastly feel bad for funsies.

15. Who picks the other person up when hugging their partner?

Ghastly picks skug up. There's not much of a height difference between them, just two inches, but teenage skug is a lanky little twink and ghastly could benchpress him, which skug is rabidly horny over. Because, you know, muscles.

Once they join the army and skug fills out and gets all lean and fit and strong, ghastly can still pick him up, but he absolutely complains that he weighs a ton now.

Adult skug can lift/mostly carry ghastly in an emergency, like if he's injured and needs to be helped back to camp or carried off a battlefield. But it's difficult, and ghastly is really too heavy for him, so picking him up isn't something he'd do for fun. Teenage skug can't pick ghastly up at all.

#skulduggery pleasant #ghasdug #sp headcanons

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funkymbtifiction · 3 years

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moving on? hah!

The assumption seems to be that ENPs “move on” quickly from people. This is not the case for me, although my being a 6w7 makes me want to skip as much of the pain as possible and immediately find new friends… but that isn’t how it works, in reality. This year I’ve been dealing with three things in particular, lower Si nostalgia, higher Ne “romanticizing” of the past, and 2 fix “but now there’s a hole in my heart…” thinking.

I had a friend for over fifteen years. She was a 9 and prone to the “disappearing act.” Even though I did not understand it (until it was too late), I put up with it for almost the entirety of our knowing each other. This vanishing act brought out my 2ishness in that I would, after a period of not hearing from her, become more ‘seeking’ in trying to coax her out into the open. It got to feel, after awhile, like I was begging for attention and offering to host everything fun (doing all the work of staying connected), just to get a weekend of her time. And then we would connect, have fun, and she would leave… and the cycle would start all over again. Even before the pandemic started, we were having problems – our interests were no longer the same, we had grown apart, and our visits with each other had periods of long silences and awkwardness. Objectively, there was nothing tethering us together except “but we’ve always been friends.” But the pandemic finished us off. I didn’t hear from her for four months, in which I both wanted to keep her spirits up, and have her do the same for me, and when I did finally hear from her in an overly-gushy e-mail (because I had stopped commenting on her blog in a “one way” response system and she noticed and got anxious about me being “mad” so plied me with attention in her own low 2 fixed way)… things came to a head and we went our separate ways. But that was never “that.”

Ne/Si has a way, even without being 4 fixed, of forgetting about the reasons you left someone behind and fixating on the good times, or specific incidents that made you happy. It’s the myopic viewpoint tinged with romanticism and sadness that lacks a stronger Si’s sense of “everything” that went on between two people. And then there’s the high Ne desire to move on, but the inability to do so due to this… floating “but what if we could have changed it?” mult-faceted idealistic way of thinking. There so many ways it could have gone better… Yes, but we did not fix it. We tried. Endless times. We had the “let’s really stay in touch” chat. It never worked.

So for the last few months, since we parted, she has been often on my mind, just as she was for over a decade, only now it’s not my “job” to care for her. It’s my “job” to, whenever I start feeling nostalgic and thinking only about the good times, to remind myself that yes, we had fun watching Dracula and going to Comic Con, but let’s also think about all the frustrations, disappointments, misunderstandings, and “bad times,” too, and not just focus on the good ones. One needs to remember the pain and not just the happiness. Too much water under the bridge had passed and too much growth apart had come between us, and our friendship boat was held together with duct tape and me “trying too hard.” Still, the default mindset is “but what if…”

Then there is the 2ish side of things. When I adopt people, I naturally ease into a comforter role. This can mean people wind up telling me too much intimate information, because I’m a tolerant and supportive, reassuring listener, and I genuinely do care about their emotional well being. This girl is a 972 in need of constant stimulation and fun things to look forward to… and the pandemic has stripped all that away from her and taken everything she used to love about the holidays. All the events, the high teas, the special dinners, the Christmas mixers, and replaced it with social distancing. My 2 is still connected to her, in I find it easy to imagine and feel her frustration, disappointment, and depression over this. I occasionally run across her on social media and because she is a Fe, she is talking about that very thing. My instinct is still to console her. But it’s not my job to lift her spirits and encourage her anymore. The impulse is still there, held in check only by “… but we are no longer friends.” And it’s hard to fight the 2w1 tendency to self-lecture and say, “It’s not about me or my feelings, it’s about her needs.” This is the 2’s core/fix’s struggle: to let go of people, and let others, closer friends, better friends, “take care of them.”

This is why I thought I was 4 fixed for a long time. I have the “… but when they are gone, I long for them to return, and if they return, I no longer want them” trait. If we became friends again, we would fall into the exact same pattern of behavior that did not work for us last time, and I would quickly become frustrated and resentful. I’m always looking for a deeper, more romantic connection, not the hard, boring slog of a relationship. But the difference is, I’ll do it. I am thinking of what you need more than admitting that my needs are valid, too.

The 269 is the most forgiving tritype and… that is true for me. A few weeks apart and all my anger and active frustration in being “stuck” in a relationship that isn’t fulfilling to me dissipates and leaves me wondering if I could have somehow made it work. If I made the wrong choice, even if all the evidence says the opposite. If “we” deserved another chance. It’s a constant battle to remind myself of all the facts or even to remember them (ah, the bane of being a Ne-dom).

There really is no point to this other than to illustrate how hard it can be for an inferior Si to let go and move on and stop thinking about the past and only remembering the good times. That’s why so many ENFPs – with their endless optimism – “get stuck.”

#mod post #friendship #enneagram #enneagram 2 #enfp #269

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rockthingsbymeg · 4 years

Text

Party of three

Request: first off just wanna say that i love your writing so much. i also wanted to ask if you could write a smut with steven, duff and reader but its fine if not 🖤x

Pairing: Duff Mckagan x reader; Steven Adler x reader

Info: Smut; 1623 words;

A/N: Hey dears💛 . Sorry I’ve been away lately, life’s been weird. I’m slowly getting my motivation to write again, so hopefully I’ll be able to get all the requests out soon

Y/N walked around the club, drink in her hand, eyes scanning the strange faces around her in hopes of finding the one belonging to her friend Duff.

Okay, friendship might not be the word people would use to describe her relationship with him, but it's not like she cared. Friends were there for the good and the bad times. Duff just happened to be in many, many good times...

As her eyes landed on him and two of his bandmates sitting at a table in a corner of the bar, she made her way to them, smiling once her eyes met Slash's.

"Hey Y/N!" He greeted loudly, mostly because of the music playing, but also because his drinks were already affecting him.

"Hey!" She greeted back, sliding on a seat between Steven and Duff. "Hey, guys." She said to them, taking a sip from her drink.

"Hi, Y/N. How're you doing?" Steven spoke happily, drinking from his glass.

"I'm good, Stevie." She answered, and Steven promptly went back to his previous conversation with Slash.

Duff's eyes were on her as she turned her attention to him. He was looking all over her body, glass near his lips but not touching them, and he fixated his gaze on the skin of her thighs, which were practically fully exposed. His eyes wandered further up and stopped on her chest, taking in the low cut of her dress, and then finally he looked at her face, giving her a small smirk.

"How're you, sweets?" He said, finally taking a sip from his drink and leaning back on his chair.

"Good, Duffles." She smirked back, letting her hand fall on top of his leg, fingers caressing the inside of his thigh.

Duff took a quick look around the table, taking in the amount of alcohol consumed by his friends. It was a good lot, even if they haven't been at the bar for a long time, so he wouldn't have to worry about them making comments about what he and Y/N got up to.

Y/N took a quick look around as well, and as soon as she got the confirmation that no one was paying attention to them, her touch got firmer, and she moved it further up.

"Not wasting any time today, I see..." He smirked, leaning back and spreading his legs slightly, giving Y/N more room to work.

Y/N kept her eyes locked with his as she softly snuggled him. Her hand kept its work, teasing the steadily hardening bulge in his pants. "I've been thinking about you all day..." She said by his ear, sweet voice dripping with lust.

Duff groaned lowly at her words, eyes closing slightly as her hand ventured up to his half-hard cock. "What have you been thinking about?" He asked, taking a hand to cup one side of her face while his lips began to work under her ear on the other side.

"Fuck..." She breathed out, losing focus for a brief moment before she pulled herself together. "I wore those jeans today that you love so much... I kept thinking about you showing up during one of my breaks to fuck me in your car..."

Duff's lips had moved to her sweet spot and he bit down on it at her words. She could feel his cock twitch against her palm as she softly squeezed around it and moved clumsily up and down. "Fuck, Y/N..."

The sound of a conversation starting on their table louder than the previous ones captured their attention. The spell around them broke as they looked to the company that had joined them and that Y/N recognized as the drinking buddies the band had made last week.

As the rest of the band told them to sit with them at the table, Y/N took the liberty to simply move herself to Duff's lap and let Steven take her previous seat, so the others didn't have to get more chairs.

Duff's hands immediately moved to her thighs, calloused fingers stroking her skin. His lips attached to the back of her neck, kissing and leaving light hickeys wherever he could reach.

Y/N could feel her underwear getting wetter as his lips continued to move. She needed to do something to get some relief and to tease Duff at the same time, so she just started to discreetly grind on his lap.

"You're trying to get caught?" He chuckled, moving his hands to her hips, trying to slow her down so they wouldn't get caught.

"Trying to get fucked... C'mon Duff, everyone is drunk..." She pleaded, pressing her ass back against him.

Duff reached between them as discreetly as he could and undid his pants, and Y/N helped out by lifting her hips. He slid her underwear to the side and guided her down on him, biting his lip to stop a moan from coming out as her warm walls enveloped him.

"Shit..." Y/N breathed out, taking a couple of seconds to adjust before riding him as best as she could.

Everyone else was pretty drunk and into the conversation, but Steven was sitting right by their side, so it had become pretty difficult to ignore what they were up to. His bright eyes were dark as his pupils were blown with lust, and he could not choose between looking at her face and watch it twist with pleasure or watch her hips work on Duff's lap.

As time went by, her actions got bolder, and so Steven got harder. She had not noticed his constant stares, but Duff had and he leaned forward to encourage Y/N to help Steven out.

"You got Steven hard, Y/N... look at him, nearly drooling over you..." Duff groaned, adjusting his position so he could thrust his hips up slightly.

Y/N's eyes moved to Steven's, being met with almost fully black eyes. She looked down for a few seconds, and that was all it took to notice how hard he was.

With a sultry look and a teasing bite on her lip, Y/N leaned closer to him. "You need some help there, Stevie?" She chuckled lowly at the shy blush that covered his cheeks, but he nodded none the less. "Take your cock out for me..."

Steven obeyed and tried to be discreet, but if anyone looked for more than five seconds, they would have been able to notice the eagerness and lust in his face.

Y/N licked her hand as soon as Steven was done and reached under the table, wrapping her hand around his cock and slowly jerking him off. She spread his precum around and used it as an extra lube, the action working as a way to tease his tip.

"Fuck..." Steven moaned out lowly, covering his own mouth as Y/N picked up her pace to match the one created by her hips.

"Fuck, Steven... you're so fucking hard... wish you could fuck me just like Duff is doing... bet you'd feel so good." She moaned by his ear, trying to hold her quickly approaching orgasm back.

Steven said nothing, for fear that he'd end up being too loud, but Y/N noticed the way his eyes rolled back into his head. Duff had noticed he was hard, but what Duff didn't notice, was that he had been discreetly jerking off over his clothes, so he was just as close as Y/N and Duff were.

"Shit..." Duff groaned, reaching around Y/N's waist to rub her clit.

Her legs shook for a bit, but she quickly pulled herself together, not losing the pace on both of them.

"You close?" Steven asked her, eyes showing the faint embarrassment he felt from being so close, so fast.

"Fuck... yeah..." Y/N moaned out, holding a much louder moan when Steven leaned over to shamelessly kiss at her neck.

The feeling of Duff fucking her while she had Steven kissing her and his cock in her hand was turning her brain into a puddle. She could feel her insides burning and her orgasm right on the edge, but she needed an extra push.

That extra push ended up coming from both Steven and Duff at once. With a half warning, Duff was pulling her flush against his body and coating her insides in his cum. Steven was also cumming, keeping one hand over his cock to catch as much cum as he could, and his free hand was moving to Y/N's clit, keeping up the stimulation that Duff had been providing.

"Come on Y/N, cum for us..." Duff moaned brokenly by her ear, and Y/N obeyed.

She put a hand over her mouth, stopping any accidental moans from coming out, as her orgasm washed over her in strong waves, knocking the air out of her lungs for brief seconds.

The comedown felt weird with so many people around, but she felt so good that it didn't bother her. Duff was pulling out of her and fixing their clothes while Steven used a few abandoned napkins on their table to clean his own hand and Y/N's.

"That was... really fucking good..." Duff breathed out, and she could tell he was smirking behind her.

Steven leaned over a planted a single kiss under her ear, mumbling a soft thank you before focusing back on the conversation Slash was having with the others.

Y/N rested against Duff, doing her best not to moan at the feeling of Duff's cum leaking out of her and thinking about how weird it was that they hadn't got caught.

A few seconds after Steven had joined the conversation, Slash was looking at her with a smirk on his lips. "Do I get a turn too or...?"

"Fuck off." She rolled her eyes with a small chuckle, picking up her abandoned drink.

------

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, reblogs, comments and any kind of way you show me you liked this are endlessly appreciated💛

Requests are closed.

taglist: @curly-hudson @agroupiewhore

Thanks @dustnbones for beta-reading this; check out her fic blog @dustnbonesfics💛

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brytmoon · 4 years

Text

i feel like i'm being really annoying about it to ppl so i'm gonna vent here about struggles i have that might be undiagnosed adhd symptoms since i don't have a very big following except for two close friends (sorry y'all)

1. hygiene, such as brushing my teeth in the morning and showering, is hard. it's been hard my whole life but even now, i'll stare at myself in the mirror or scroll through my phone as i try to convince myself to brush my teeth. (this may or may not be related, but i hate going to the dentist, too.) with showering, it's hard to find the time. i always make sure to shower as often as possible (which is every other day, usually) or i make sure i don't smell if i haven't because i'm scared of having b.o. with both, i have to motivate myself to do it with fancy toothpastes and mouthwash or nice-smelling shower gels and lotions. I'm guessing this is executive dysfunction???

2. I've been incredibly disorganized my whole life. i once thought i had adhd when i was younger because of how disorganized i was. I've always had a super messy backpack and a super messy room (it's really messy rn) but i always know where everything is. i had a ds for at least ten years but lost it a couple months ago in the middle of playing it. where did it go???? i have no idea bruh. and i lose my phone all. the. time.

3. i'm terrible with procrastinating. turning in projects and essays at 11:59 after bullshitting it either all day or mere hours before the due date??? a constant. having failing homework grades and having ntis in every class, no matter how much i enjoy it??? a constant. i once did a whole project i hadn't started on until the morning of the due date. i worked on it while in other classes and at lunch and turned it in 3 minutes before the dropbox closed. anything that's not what i enjoy or zaps the fun out of what i enjoy, i procrastinate with. I've sat in front of the computer screen and almost cried so many times because i couldn't get myself to type up a scholarship essay, which OBVIOUSLY would greatly benefit me as a broke college student, but it doesn't matter bc my brain thinks it's boring so why not push it off?? because i procrastinate, i tend to overwhelm myself so much that i break down at least once when an assignment's due because I've formed a terrible habit of pushing myself to overexertion to get a project done that's meant to be done gradually.

4. bouncing off that last point, I'm terrible with time management and remembering events/due dates/assignments to complete. I've tried using schedule apps and alarms. I've tried to plan out my days. I've tried forming routines and habits to get things done at appropriate times and it doesn't work. that schedule app i downloaded and spent so much time filling out? completely forgotten in a week or two. i swipe away the notifications and pay no attention to them. since everything's virtual now, there have been important college information zoom calls, but i forget about them and miss them. i can't remember events, due dates, or assignments if i don't write them down. since i meet every other day or sometimes once a week for a specific class in college, i can easily forget something mentioned earlier that week that's due the next week over the weekend. i have to remember to write in my agenda in order to remember to do something important, which can be stressful and convoluted 🙃🙃 so my bad time management results in further procrastination and missed opportunities, which makes me feel awful about myself late at night when all i can think about is what i should've done better or differently.

5. chores and hobbies are... interesting. when i do get the energy or motivation to clean or draw, i will hyperfocus on them. if i finally feel like cleaning, I'll skip breakfast and/or lunch and won't take care of myself until I'm done. same happens with drawing. and as stupid or funny as it sounds, i find getting up to go pee so annoying!!!! I'm in the middle of doing something i FINALLY want to do and then i have to get up to go use the bathroom. i don't want to break my concentration bc it's an inconvenience. then with hobbies (y'know, things i want to do and enjoy) i procrastinate!! I've been trying to watch atla since everyone loves it and i like it too, but i put off watching it and other shows like crazy. i play instruments and love to do so, but don't practice very often and spend a couple hours doing so when i do because i remember how fun it is. when i do laundry, I'll remember to put the clothes in the washing machine and start it. but then I'll forget to either put them in the dryer, take them out of the dryer, or fold them. i often have to rewash loads because I'll forget they're in there or I'll have a pile of clothes sitting on my bed for days because i procrastinate with folding them and putting them up.

6. i am the most motivated and have the most energy at night. over the summer, I'd stay up until 4 or 5 am on a regular basis. I'd be the most productive during that time but my sleeping schedule would be so off because of it.

7. so people with adhd crave things that produce dopamine, right? well i snack on candy all the time. and i mean it when i say it's ALL THE TIME. my favorite one is red hots because they're crunchy and spicy. eating candy helps me focus and is probably a form of me seeking more stimulation, but it's bad because of my teeth hygiene issues and me hating to go to the dentist. i also can't do tasks quietly. i have to be listening to music or watching a video while working on something and there are times when i want to do both while working??? so now when i watch something or listen to music without working, i tend to need something to do so i scroll through Instagram while having the show on even though it makes me miss what's happening sometimes.

8. i don't really fidget much i don't think?? but i do weird stuff while listening to someone talk. in school, i often doodled on my worksheets and got in trouble for it. I'd draw eyes in the margins, characters I'm fixated on, squiggly lines, and would color in my o's. or while listening to a family member vent, i dance around or listen while scrolling through Instagram. i also have a baaad habit of picking at my skin (dermatillomania). I'd focus on picking scabs for a really long time when i was alone and bored and have scars on my face and legs from doing it. I've picked at my face since i was a kid and absent mindedly do it every day.

9. i can get quite distracted and have to ask for directions to be repeated because i won't hear them?? like my brain won't process what someone said until they say it again when i'm actually fully paying attention. my mom will ask me to run an errand for her and she'll need to repeat it to me because i'll get distracted while she's explaining or i'll forget what she said after walking away. i get off track in conversations a lot and can't really listen well when there's a lot of other noise going on, like in cafeterias. i'll be talking to one friend and hear another interesting conversation down the table and pause while speaking bc my attention shifted. i also can lose my train of thought quite easily when waiting to speak and forget what i was saying and not be able to remember it for the life of me. so I'll interrupt sometimes so i don't forget

10. when talking to friends, i feel like i talk about myself a lot. i like to use my personal experiences to connect with what they said and be empathetic to them, but i worry this comes off as being conceited. i heard that it might be an adhd thing i do to keep myself engaged in the conversation.

i think that's all of them??? I'm so sorry to anyone who has to scroll through all this jgjrjrj but i guess it's good to make note of this stuff in some way because i articulate my feelings better when typing instead of speaking. and this'll be helpful to reference when chatting with a future therapist which i will hopefully get soon! and if anyone sits through this and has any advice, I'm all ears!!

#adhd things #undiagnosed adhd #adhd culture #adhd inattentive

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sserpente · 4 years

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24 little kinks | Doors 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 🎄

“You remember that chocolate advent calendar I got you for December?”

“I do,” he chuckled and pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “You made me display it in the kitchen so I would not eat it all at once.”

Your smile widened. “How about we get another one?”

Loki raised an eyebrow, only now paying proper attention to the sex toy ad. Then, he frowned. It was an odd mixture of disgust, genuine curiosity and even a hint of arousal flashing in his blue eyes.

A/N: It’s been snowing all day here, I couldn’t stop grinning when I woke up! 😍🌨❄

NSFW warnings: public orgasm, knife play

Loki paid Banner a visit the following morning, to check on any progress made with the alien artefact they had found. Not even he had a clue what exactly it was and without his beloved books from Asgard, it would take him ages to do the necessary research. Hence, the God of Mischief spent the whole week teleporting from library to library, even visiting Doctor Strange in his sanctuary, for any useful information.

Thor had rarely seen his brother so passionate about a mission before—but perhaps it was simply because Loki harboured a deep hatred for the creatures he had once meant to use against humanity for power. Little had he known how much the sceptre had influenced his tainted heart back then.

Besides, the sooner the Chitauri were gone, the sooner he could go back to peacefully enjoying Christmas with you and let you pamper him with your traditions, customs and delicious treats. They never failed to calm him down after an exhausting day, after all.

At least, despite his lack of time due to the amount of research he did with both the Avengers and Strange, you still got to open your advent calendar.

Before he left, Loki eyed the nipple clamps inside door nine suspiciously, worried he would hurt you with the metal toy.

“How am I supposed to use these on you? They look like torture instruments.”

You hummed. He was right. You had never tried nipple clamps before but you assumed that the general rule was—as long as it felt good, keep them on, play and have fun, as soon as it started to hurt, take them off immediately.

Loki knew your body almost better than you did. He’d also know when to stop.

“I’ll look it up online while you’re gone.” In the meantime, you would also get some Christmas shopping done. You were late this year and there were only three weeks left for you to purchase everything you needed. Loki’s present you’d pick up no earlier than on Christmas morning. You couldn’t wait for his reaction.

Two hours later, you wished you had taken the God of Mischief with you. The shopping centre had been transformed to a Winter Wonderland. Giant trees towered up to the ceiling, richly decorated with thousands of ornaments and baubles; holiday lights hung from every railing and festive Christmas wreaths made every single store a little jollier.

You bought both Loki and yourself a giant candy cane before you returned home with two full bags of gifts for your friends—among them a pair of black silver earrings with a tiny storage function for Natasha and a giant box full of poptarts for Thor. All you were still missing was a present for Tony. That man was a billionaire. He could afford anything he wanted in a heartbeat… you pursed your lips. It might be harder than you thought to find something for him.

“Ready to open four doors at once?” Loki had just stepped out of the shower and was welcomed not only by the scent of homemade Christmas biscuits you had just shoved in the oven but also you wearing a Christmassy red pullover along with a black skirt and equally black and almost knee-high boots. He almost purred at the sight when you approached him.

You had promised him to open the calendar before you left for Tony’s Christmas party. Because of all the panic and havoc the Chitauri attack as well as the discovery of another otherworldly artefact on Earth, both of you had almost forgotten it was tonight—on Friday the 13th. You both wondered whether that was a good or a bad sign.

You had promised to bring some biscuits and Loki had promised to behave and not to play tricks on the party guests—at least for as long as Stark and the other superheroes treated him with all due respect; and you simply hoped, sincerely, that Loki would be able to enjoy himself tonight. Christmas parties were a wonderful thing.

People came together after a long time of not having seen each other, they had mulled wine and hot chocolate, talked about what they are getting their loved ones for Christmas and sometimes even sang Christmas carols together.

“I thought you’d never ask, my sweet.”

Loki was dressed dangerously… scarce with only that towel around his hips. He knew you were very well aware he could magic on his infamous and outrageously handsome black suit to cover his well-defined chest, strong thighs and that v-line which made your mouth water whenever he wanted… you cleared your throat, eliciting a cheeky smirk from him when he followed you into the bedroom. Excitement cursed through your veins when you thought about what adventure the calendar would take you on next. You were yet to use those nipple clamps too, after all.

Two of the four boxes you had missed were rather big and heavy. Sheepishly, you handed one to Loki and allowed him to unpack it first. Door ten revealed a small vanilla-scented candle. You realised immediately what it was.

“It’s for wax play,” you stated, grinning to yourself as Loki fingered the candle with his head tilted slightly. He glanced at you with a playful glistening in his blue eyes.

“After all those little doors I had not yet considered how very depraved you are, my sweet little (Y/N).”

What could you say to that? Loki had seen the amounts of erotic novels on your bookshelf. They were a lot more enticing than porn could ever be—and they provided you with loads of information on sex toys.

“Come on, you love it.” You replied. Loki winked, making your heart jump.

“What is in yours?”

Quickly, you opened the next box. Perhaps you should always wait a few days and then open several doors at once to be more creative in bed… door eleven revealed a… oh.

You chuckled. It looked like a vibrator, although shaped a little unusual—not to stimulate your g-spot but to stimulate… the prostate.

“That’s for you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s a prostate massager. A vibrator for men.”

Loki frowned, clearly suspicious of the device. “And how exactly am I to use that?”

“It goes up your… butt.”

His gaze was outraged, his lips slightly parted when he looked back up at you.

“Absolutely not.”

“Loki… it’s meant to make you feel good. Lots of men say vibrators like these make them cum like crazy. At least give it a try.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No!”

You sighed. It wasn’t so bad—and it certainly wasn’t like you had asked to peg him. But fine… you’d convince him at some point.

“Oh fine…” Perhaps you’d be luckier with the next box. Loki took it from you impatiently. Yep… he would definitely like this one better. It was a little black flogger.

“Much better… I remember promising you to spank that lovely backside of yours, do you?”

You swallowed thickly. “Right now?” You chirped.

“Oh no… when you least expect it.” Loki tested it on his palm, bringing it down forcefully. The sharp sound sent shivers up and down your spine—pleasant shivers. “Oh yes… I am looking forward to using this on you. Last box, my sweet.” He mused. Blinking, you cleared your throat yet again and tended to the last box. Door number thirteen. Curiously, you pulled out a pink vibrator egg with a white removal cord and a remote control.

“That appears to be…”

“Oh, I believe I do know what that is, my sweet.” His eyes locked with yours. Loki’s grin was downright malicious. Your eyes widened. “You can’t expect me to… not tonight!”

“Especially tonight… you asked me to enjoy myself. I can ensure you that now, I will.”

He pushed you down on the bed, his towel falling in the process. He was semi-hard, the thought of putting that vibrating egg in you arousing him endlessly. Part of him wished he could simply skip that superficial Christmas party and fuck you already… but then again he loved teasing you—and he loved an interesting foreplay almost as much as he loved sinking his length into you.

Loki used his thumb to brush over your entrance, testing your wetness. Just like he had expected, he found you dripping, no lube needed for inserting that little toy. You moaned when he pushed it all the way in at once, testing the vibration with the remote control. You flinched, pressing your legs together. Oh dear…

The God of Mischief smirked. Good thing those toys came charged already.

“We will be late for Stark’s Christmas celebration, my sweet.” The constant buzzing made you even hornier than you already were. Damn… this was only the lowest setting. How on Earth would you survive the evening? The vibrator inside you hit all of your sweet spots. If he kept going like this, you would be coming undone for him soon.

Biting your lower lip, you forced yourself back up on your feet, adjusting your skirt. Loki simply flicked his wrist, wrapping himself in his all-black suit—except today, he had exchanged the black tie with an emerald green one matching the season.

He stopped you the moment he switched off the vibrator.

“Hold on. I want you to wear these along with the toy.”

Loki handed you a box he materialised—it was the crotchless panties you had bought along with the calendar in the sex toy. Your eyes widened. Loki would make sure to drive you crazy during that Christmas party, that you were sure of. Leaking through your panties was one thing but leaking all the way down your thighs? Entirely another.

Tony had outdone himself. The compound, although smaller, was decorated twice as much as the shopping centre you had been to today. It had been rather chilly on the way here—not short of a miracle since Loki had made you wear that thin excuse for panties.

He had not used the remote since your arrival. You were chatting with your friends—enjoying biscuits, drinking wine and painstakingly spending a lot of time with Tony to figure out what to get him for Christmas.

Loki was by your side the entire time, he’d even gotten involved in a few conversations—but thus far, the Christmas lights Stark had put up everywhere seemed to have been a lot more interesting for him than the party guests.

You had almost forgotten about the vibrator inside you—right until Tony put an arm around you and the instant punishment was the lowest setting of vibrations stimulating your walls, making you flinch. The good thing was, thanks to his raving about his current Iron Man project—you now knew what you’d get Tony for Christmas.

Loki seemingly pretended to focus on one of the wreaths on the wall, one of his hands in his pockets, fingering the remote. When he caught you staring at him warningly, he smirked… and then pressed a button to increase the power.

You suppressed a moan, clenching your fists. If Tony hadn’t been tipsy already, he might have noticed your sudden discomfort but luckily, nobody paid attention when you excused yourself and returned to Loki who was still grinning like a cat who got the cream.

“Enjoying ourselves, are we?” Anger flashed in his blue eyes. “Who gave him the right to touch you?”

“Loki, please, calm down. Tony is a friend, that gesture was purely companionable. Besides, I was merely trying to find out what to get him for Christmas.”

The God of Mischief growled quietly. There was not a lot he called his own. There was no throne, no kingdom, no army and no people he ruled, and certainly no women that threw themselves at his feet. All of those privileges had been snatched from him even before his birth in the cold of Jötunheim. Thor was the hero, he was the villain. Some things would never change, even if the Avengers pretended they did for the most part. But Loki would never allow them taking you from him. The only woman who took him the way he was, who listened and understood… who loved him. He could not possibly, in spite of his silver tongue, phrase how much he loved you too.

He took the freedom of jealousy, sometimes. Especially when he was in the possession of a little remote which could control your pleasure.

His torture continued for several more hours. Every now and then—whether you were dancing, talking, eating or checking your make-up in the bathroom, Loki would startle you by switching the egg on, slowly or quickly working you towards orgasm and then letting you cool down again. The panties only added to your arousal, knowing that if Loki slipped his hand under your skirt, he’d have instant access to your private parts, testing your wetness for him.

At some point, you wished he’d take you in the bathroom already, grant you some relief. But he didn’t. Loki let you suffer. It was almost midnight when you sat at the bar with Nat. You knew Loki was close by—you could practically feel him staring daggers at your back, yet when you glanced back, you saw him engaged in a chat with his brother. The vibrator was quiet… for now.

You had crossed your legs—making sure not to take any risks. You had just finished another glass of wine when the egg suddenly hummed to life again, making you flinch and sit up straight in an instant.

Natasha eyed you down. “You seem tense, are you alright?”

“Just tipsy…” You lied. Gosh… you felt like crying and smirking at the very same time.

“Tipsiness looks different.” You sighed. Nat was perceptive; of course she was, she was a master assassin. Loki switched to a higher setting—and he kept doing so until the vibrator had reached its peak. Thankfully, because of the Christmas music in the background, no one could hear the buzzing between your legs. What people would notice, however, was you cumming. If he didn’t stop… your breathing quickened.

“(Y/N)… what the hell is wrong with you?” She paused, eyeing you up and down a few times. “Bože moi, please don’t tell me Loki and you didn’t… did he put a—“

Your eyes widened. “Nat! Oh God, shut up! No! Nothing is… I mean, I’m just… he didn’t… If you lose a word about this, I’ll…”

The assassin lifted an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “I wish I never asked.”

“I’m… I should leave.” You squeaked.

She hummed in approval, shaking her head slightly when you stormed towards Loki before your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave. You squeezed your eyes shut, clutching at his black suit with a suppressed moan, your pussy contracting around the still vibrating toy. You would have dropped to your knees if he hadn’t supported you instinctively, letting your pleasure consume you. Luckily Thor had just left to pour himself another drink.

“My… that is quite a show you are putting on for me. Tell me, did you enjoy it? Knowing I control your pleasure, your orgasms wherever we are?” He chuckled when you didn’t reply. Finally, the vibrations stopped. You took a deep breath. “Am I right to assume you wish to return home now?” He then asked innocently.

You nodded briefly, allowing him to lead you back to the entrance to pick up your jacket. Your goodbyes were rushed and quick but you couldn’t care less as long as Loki finally brought you away from here.

You were angry with him; angry for putting you in such an embarrassing situation! You doubted Natasha would blab, still, her knowing in the first place was shameful as was. But there was more to your rage. You were angry with yourself too, for you had enjoyed this, thoroughly. You had loved how sexy and sneaky Loki had made you feel among the party guests, wearing those crotchless panties and having a toy inside you, with him, just like he had said, controlling your pleasure. Natasha had picked up on that aspect rather quickly too, so you figured. Damn it.

Once you were back in your bedroom, you reached between your legs. You pulled out the toy with a silent popping noise, throwing it on the bed.

“Loki, what were you thinking?!” You pointed at the wet toy as if it were to blame for what happened tonight. “Do you realise that Nat smelled the rat immediately? She probably even witnessed me… oh my God!”

Burying your hands in your face, you shook your head.

“What does it matter? Let them all see what is mine and what they will never have. Let them see what we share.” He spat, arousal glistening in his eyes. Rest assured, Loki had imagined fucking you before the Avengers’ eyes before. He would not actually do it… but the thought of demonstrating them how much you wanted him filled him with both pride and arousal. Natasha Romanoff knowing about your intimate… connection during the Christmas party did not worry him. He would not have taken it this far if he had had doubts the assassin would act on what she saw tonight.

“You’re such an animal sometimes!”

Loki lifted his chin, approaching you slowly and threateningly—yet you did not dare move away from him. “If that truly is the worst insult you can come up with when you are angry with me, my sweet, I gladly accept.” He growled. Unceremoniously, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against him. “Is there anything else you would like to say?” A barely visible smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, his lips only inches from yours. Oh…

“Yes!” You hissed. “Fuck me already!”

Loki happily obliged. He threw you on the bed effortlessly, removing your boots with magic. A dagger materialised in his hand, the green shimmer making you squint for a second. It was almost pitch black in your bedroom.

“Keep still…” He ordered softly. You nodded, unsure of what he would do next. You gasped for air when you suddenly felt the cold blade against the sensitive skin of your neck, the metal tip slowly trailing down to your collarbone ever so slightly, right until he reached the hem of your pullover.

“I have been waiting to take these clothes off of you ever since you put them on, my sweet.” He purred in your ear, making you shiver. Loki cut those annoying layers of fabric between you two open like they were made of paper, revealing your bare skin. You had relinquished wearing a bra tonight—a circumstance which he thoroughly enjoyed.

As light as a feather, he used his dagger to draw an invisible line all the way from between your chest down to your navel. Any wrong movement could mean serious injury and blood—the thrill of him using his weapon of choice to bring you pleasure catapulted your arousal to another sphere. Loki always knew how to keep things exciting in bed.

You stilled almost completely when the tip of his blade reached your skirt and crotchless panties. One tug with the sharp end—and they fell off of you and on the mattress. You flinched when you suddenly felt the knife on your outer lips, tracing your vulva lazily.

“Loki…” You whispered. The God of Mischief took your hand for reassurance, signalising you were safe with him. In all honesty though, you were already on the verge of orgasm again. All you needed was a little… just a little stimulation to come undone for him.

It was like he read your thoughts. You never learned when his own clothes disappeared—only when he thrust into you without any forewarning, claiming you fast and roughly. The dagger disappeared, instead, his skilled fingers began to explore you relentlessly all the while he fucked you into oblivion. Your fingernails dug into his back, wanting him even closer, your legs wrapped around his hips so he could bury himself inside you even deeper.

Tonight, there was no love making. Tonight, there was primal fucking, giving in to your most depraved urges for one another. Neither of you lasted long. Loki came inside you with a loud grunt the moment he made you climax with his fingers rubbing your clit demandingly—almost forcing that orgasm out of you. You contracted around him repeatedly, milking him for all he was worth all the while he spilled his warm seed into you, throbbing against your walls.

Once you had come down from your high and your jar of bottled-up emotions had emptied again, he flipped you over so you came to lie on top of him, still joined. Your eyes were already half-closed when you felt him draping a blanket over the both of you.

“I love you so much…” You mumbled, right before you fell asleep. His quiet ‘I love you too, my sweet (Y/N)’ was already part of a wonderful dream.

A/N: Do not worry, I have not forgotten what the other doors revealed. ;-) Doors 14 and 15 will be opened on Sunday, December 15th!

These doors also contained three anon requests! :-)

Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! Also, if you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente

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houndin-around · 4 years

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First off I just wanted to say thank you so much to everyone that follows me and deals with me 🥺💕 I kinda can’t believe I’m at 100? I have a lot more up coming so bare with me!! I also wanted to try my hand at writing a few headcanons for some of our favorite boys involving how they handle their emotions when they first find that special one! Will do some more later! And since I reached 100 followers I will also be releasing some of my world-building headcanons about my CEO Maul AU that is in the works!

Wolffe- This boy gets extremely, overwhelmed with his emotions and in turn, he begins lashing out at others accidentally. It's simply because he doesn't understand how to control all these new emotions he's experiencing and he's confused and scared. After all, he's not even supposed to be feeling like this so he feels as if he's failing:

*Ever since you convinced Plo Koon to aid his men to Aleen for support, Wolffe has started feeling weird. Any time you tried to approach him though, he was rather reserved and sometimes gave you the cold shoulder. That is until you kept pestering him and eventually broke that beskar like a shield he had up.

*He doesn’t understand what it is, and he’s convinced he’s picked up a bug or something while planetside. Though he refuses to admit being sick and keeps it to himself.

*Part of him doesn’t understand why he has the constant need to get off 24/7 either, and somehow his mind always ends up wandering to you.

*Maker is he spiraling in the hell of feelings.

*During a skirmish with the 501st, he starts lashing out at Boost more than usual because it’s a “life or death” situation, and any mistake they make during these drills reflect on the battlefield. Even though it’s just a friendly game Skywalker organized to keep the troopers entertained but also practice strategizing.

*As days pass, and the more you’re around Wolffe begins secluding himself more. Trying to deal with the weirdness he’s experiencing, still not able to pinpoint what the hell is going on with him.

*“Good you’re here.” When Sinker manages to locate his Commander and he barges into his quarters while starting to interrogate him.

*Wolffe felt like a blaster shot got him right in the chest. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, knowing he couldn’t escape Sinker’s questions. The commander hadn’t even noticed his emotions were controlling his behavior he was too wrapped up feeling like a defective clone.

*Wolffe knows clones weren’t supposed to have feelings, only to do their duty by serving the republic and that was it. Not even allowed to have possessions and yet, the idea of you being his was something he couldn’t suppress. It was wrong but anytime any other man spoke to you, held your attention he longed to stun them with his blaster.

*Eventually, Sinker was able to get Wolffe to unravel everything he was hanging onto. At first teasing, the commander was his first instinct, however, once he noticed how uncomfortable and shrunken the man in front of him was he immediately began comforting him.

*Wolffe made Sinker swear not to tell a soul, in exchange for relentless teasing and inside jokes between the two now. Something Wolffe “hates” but it’s better than everyone knowing, especially you while he gets all the advice from his brother on emotions, love, and most importantly how to get you in his grasp.

*“Kriff Wolffe, I’ve never seen you blush so much,” All Wolffe could let out was a low growl, eyes too focused on you walking down the hallway. Just the way you smiled and greeted him left him in a trance. “Guess that’s why they call it puppy love! Get it, Wolffe! Maybe we should just call you Wolffe Pup!”

*“Cut it out di’kut.” He hissed, walking away to escape to his quarters.

______________

Echo- This precious baby is worried he's not good enough for you. He's super shy and just wants to treat you the way you deserve is that too much to ask?

*100% hopeless romantic, but not sure how to execute it.

*This boy is SOFT. But he’s not one to seek out that attention for himself, he just wants to bask you in that attention, making you feel like you’re his whole world. Because you are. He’d do absolutely anything for you. But in the beginning, it was hard for him to even consider himself worthy of your love. He never knew what love actually felt like until he met you, but he was always intrigued by the idea of love.

*When he first locked eyes with you, it was in a cantina on Tatooine. Wrecker insisted on checking the planet out to scope out any odd bounties to take care of since there were no current missions.

*Of course, once his eyes met with yours that was it. A chill ran down his spine, and his cheeks were dusted with a rosy hue. Butterflies filling his stomach. Once the rest of the bad batch caught on, boy did they give him hell.

*Majority of their time on Tatooine, Echo would wander off by himself into town in hopes to run into you, but knowing damn well he wouldn’t try anything. He was far too scared and self-conscious about it. Especially after meeting the Techno Union, he didn’t feel worthy of your time, didn’t feel like he deserved anyone. He felt like a monster.

*If he wasn’t looking around for you, he was sitting outside the bad batch ship, prosthetic knees pulled into his chest as he pondered the true meaning of love. Considering the possibility you are what most call a “soul mate.”

*All the secret reading of holo novels and never prepared him for the true experience and now he’s left alone with his thoughts. Hatred building at all his imperfections he now has.

*Tech at one point tried to explain the whole biological basis of love and theories supporting it, but that only made Echo’s head spin. On the other hand, he had Wrecker in his ear on the vulgarities of love. Though, because these troopers were different, they didn’t discourage their brother either. They fully supported whatever would make him happy which only made him think of Fives even more. Fives would know what to say and guide him in the right direction because after all Fives always had civies swooning over him.

*“For Fives.” He’d repeat over and over, trying to muster the courage to even approach you at the market. Echo wanted his brother to be proud of him for stepping out of his comfort zone in an attempt to discover if what he was truly feeling was love.

*Even though he was embarrassed to admit it to himself, he attempted some of Fives’ pick up lines but when the words tumble out of his mouth…they sound more like rambles, managing to forget the important parts of said pick up lines leaving Echo red and more flustered

*He’s honestly so precious trying to follow in his brother’s footsteps. Even if he’s making a fool out of himself, the giggle he gets from you is so rewarding that he keeps coming back to your vendor stall.

*The way he sees you look at him like he’s not broken and defective based on his cybernetics makes his heart leap. He finally found someone that hasn’t pitied him or trying to fix him.

*This is love. This is without a doubt the definition of love he was searching for. Crosshair was wrong. Soul Mates did exist, and it was you. Maker was it you, and he will do his best to try and show you how much he cherishes you as he learns more.

________

Fives- This man doesn’t stop at anything!! We all know he’s a popular man, but when that one special someone has his heart that’s it. He’s 100% devoted and will try to win their love every single day as if its started all over again. His pick up jokes are hella corny though and I will die on this hill!

*Confidence!!! Need I say more? Especially after a few drinks at 79s.

*This man will not hesitate to invade your personal space and whisper sweet nothings in someone's ear. Except when he tries it on you? He earns a swift smack to the face, damaging his ego a bit.

*Boy, the look on the rest of the 501st’ face should’ve been holorecorded. He’s NEVER rejected. But you weren’t the type to entertain drunk strangers. Despite the embarrassing encounter, Fives is plotting another scheme to get your attention. Although let's be honest, he’s always scheming!

*Even though he has a pretty high body count, it never meant anything to him. Just some stimulation and stress relief. However, that all stopped when he laid eyes on you. He swore to himself that he’d do everything in his power to be with you. But not just intertwined in the sheets, no, soul and all, hand and hand.

*Fives has heard about love before, but he never really thought he’d find someone who made him feel like that. If he was being honest with himself, he was kinda skeptical about it. After all, he didn’t really know anyone who experienced it. At least he wasn’t aware.

*It took him quite a few days of talking in the mirror and hyping himself up before he dared to try again before it dawned on him you may not even be there again. This kind of sends him spiraling a bit, anxiety starting to creep up on him like a Rishi Eel.

*One thing about Fives though is he’s determined. He was willing to wait as long as he possibly could to cross paths with you once more in hopes to patch things up and catch your attention. Some of the boys had Kix check up on their brother as he was constantly rambling to himself, thinking about all the possible scenarios he’d had with you at 79s. He managed to convince everyone he was fine though, just strategizing.

*His second attempt at winning you over went a little something like this; You were leaning against the bar, talking to a friend while he waltzed up to order a drink. He notices your friend begins to nudge you, only for you to roll your eyes once you see who it is. Of course, he’s got that stupid grin on his face, ready to work his magic. “You look tired darling.” His mouth hovers over the brim of the glass, eyes locking with yours. “I’m fine.” Your eyebrow raised, curious as to what game this clone was playing. You had to admit he was ballsy and hot…in an irritating kind of way. “Hmm...Surprised.” Fives mumbled taking another sip of his Trandoshan ale, “Cos you’ve been running through my mind all day.” The friend next to you ended up spitting her drink on the floor and your face beat red and not because of the alcohol.

*Once he laid out that card, that was it. He locked you in and you had no choice but to give him some of your time.

*Just the way he admires the words tumbling out of your lips, all attention on you, is surprising. Here you thought you had a man just wanting to slip into your pants and yet, he’s listening to your life story, asking questions about you. Your likes, dislikes, everything.

*He’s not one to admit he’s wrong, but he apologizes for his first interaction with you. Even admits that he was so awestruck with your beauty that his brain just stopped functioning.

*After several outings, his demeanor never changes. He’s so into you and remembers every detail about you. Any shift in your tone and he’s pressing you to talk about whatever is on your mind. Wanting to be the one to help you through it all.

*“Ya know Rex. I think I’m in love?” The captain couldn’t help but let out a snicker before realizing Fives is serious. “You? In love? Since when was that possible?” Fives just rolled his eyes and gave Rex a somewhat gentle push, before sneaking a peek at the holopic he has of you. Love was better than he expected, especially when it involved you.

#headcanon #star wars #star wars clone wars #clone wars #clone wars fanfic #commander wolffe #clone trooper echo #arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #clone trooper fives #fives #echo #wolffe

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exigencelost · 4 years

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this one’s gonna be rambly. this may or may not be a write-only post. continue reading at peril of wasting your own time.

I started to write this as an addition to that post about brain fog and capitalism:

Also, since I’ve now brought up ADHD, I’m just gonna clarify that this post isn’t in fact about ADHD. I know I opened with “unable to consciously direct your attention” and that that’s like, the signature ADHD symptom, and if ADHD people want to add thoughts on that subject go for it; but ADHD is not an illness, and this post is about illness. I’m not talking about “I can’t focus because of a basic static fact of how my central nervous system is wired” I’m talking about “I can’t focus because today, my brain decided to stop taking requests, and everything is either fluffy or way too sharp, because I am sick.”

Then I decided not to add it because the post was already long and it detracted from message focus and also required me to think too hard about like, how do I phrase this so it’s clear I don’t mean “ADHD isn’t important/ neurodivergents aren’t invited to the sick person club” but rather “These are two different conversations and conflating them isn’t helpful,” and after a certain point that becomes a rabbit hole and, crucially, my brain is fuzzy today. (philosophical ramblings on the nature of illness under the cut)

But I am now Thinking about this topic. About ADHD and chronic fatigue, and the differential nature of not being able to do things. I’m also thinking about that post that was called “how to unfuck your house in the minimum time possible” or something, that gave fantastic advice for a person with ADHD and/or various forms of executive dysfunction and/or just a person whose house is dirty to like, organize and execute the the task of aggressive superficial house cleaning on a deadline. And reading it was so stressful to me. Because the advice, which was detailed and friendly and enthusiastic, described a physically impossible set of tasks. Which. I could go down another rabbit hole here about “you can do it!” type language and its impact on sick people, but I’ll try not to. I did end up reblogging that post with a note that said “If you have chronic fatigue this absolutely will not solve the obstacles to you cleaning your house, and that’s not your fault.”

and like. Why did I need to do that? I really felt like I needed to add that. Why? The post was not claiming to be advice for chronic fatigue, the post wasn’t doing anything wrong, except not mentioning me, not mentioning sick people. Erasure matters; combating erasure matters; telling sick people that they exist matters and that’s a reason by itself; but I’m not trying to justify the impulse right now I’m trying to understand it, and like, get a handle on my Thoughts about the relationship between executive dysfunction management and chronic fatigue management. Disability liberation is a complex thing. Personal context: I’ve danced around an ADHD diagnosis with multiple psychiatrists over several years. Probably I don’t have it. Probably what I have is a mixture of avoidant anxiety and brain fog from CFS or something similar, which can create very similar symptoms, including but not limited to the most obvious of “I sometimes cannot force my way through this difficult linear cognitive task.”

Psychiatrists, in my experience, are only interested in the question “Do you have ADHD” as a precursor to the question “Should we put you on stimulants.” For a host of reasons, stimulants (at least in ADHD therapeutic doses) are probably a bad idea for me, so the ADHD discussion often ends in a stalemate: the answer doesn’t matter, the evidence is ambiguous, let’s move on.

But it matters a little bit, I think. There is a difference between disorder and illness. There is definitely a difference between neurodivergence and illness. The three terms overlap and are interrelated and in a fully liberated world maybe we wouldn’t use any of them, but here we are in this world, and I think the distinctions are important. (Another rabbit hole I’m stepping around here: the social vs the medical model of disability, and why I think they are both better understood in the context of each other than either of them are alone.)

I have a line I say sometimes, when I want to reset a conversation because I don’t like where it’s headed, or when I just need to express frustration, which is: “Time management is a pyramid scheme.” I cannot manage my time. The whole idea is preposterous to me. Time is a tenuous fluctuating infinitely powerful elemental force and I am like, not even clear on why you shouldn’t run the garbage disposal without the faucet on, you know? I’m not a match for time. I know my limits.

A lot of people have suggested I take courses in time management because I told them I was too tired to stand up long enough to cook breakfast. I did not find this response to be helpful.

For a while I had, like, an almost-trauma response to people talking about ADHD-flavored time management strategies.

I am sick in a way that means I walk through most of my life in a fog. This is not a complaint. I like fog. I mean literally, I find literal fog very beautiful and comforting, and I use it as a metaphor for my cognitive experience quite consciously. You see shapes in fog that are related to, but not identical to, the physical reality around you; your understanding of distance and presence is distorted in fog but not erased; when you walk through a fog you must be engaged in the constant project of imagining the world around you, of guessing its textures and colors based on tenuous evidence. This is what my illness does, a lot of the time: requires me to imagine my reality, rather than simply perceiving it. Another rabbit hole: explaining what I mean by that would take me hours to nail down. I’m not going to try very hard. Like I said, this might be a write-only post. Here’s me trying not very hard: My capacity changes every hour, every day, every week. It is difficult to remember where and how my body hurt yesterday, let alone this time last year. There is definitely no way to know what it will do next month. I hate keeping symptom logs; they feel like reading my own entrails. I refuse to answer mundane questions on scales of one to ten (“on a scale of one to ten how bad would you say that movie was?” “I wouldn’t”) because I refuse to do the work of computing infinitely varied reality to numbers, because when I was twelve years old I was asked over and over to rate my pain on a scale of one to ten and every answer felt like a lie and every answer was treated like a lie. Or—not so moralistic, no one got mad at me, exactly. Every answer was treated as though it were imaginary. If the answer changed, it was like I’d broken out of character. I thought there was a magic number that might make people understand that and how I was sick. There wasn’t. The whole thing began to feel like a process of imagination. The doctors and teachers and nurses were imagining a child who wasn’t me, who didn’t feel what I felt; I was imagining someone who could understand what was happening and help me. We were trying to conjure each other. To pick shapes out of the fog.

I am never going to get an accurate sense of how much I can get done in an hour. There is no answer to that question. There are answers, plural, ranges based on predictive omens that are closer to reading the future in tea leaves than they are to using mercury to measure pressure.

So, I can never plan what I will do with an hour. I can try to do things, and often I succeed. But I don’t get to sit down and say “X set of things will happen by Y time.” It doesn’t work like that. It never will. As far as I’m concerned, everyone else is just pretending that it works like that, and as long as they keep pretending everyone else feels that they have to pretend too, and so it goes on. Time management is a pyramid scheme.

I have a document where I keep a list of things I need to do for work. In my experience, trying to divide that list by what day I’ll do what thing is an exercise of imagination, and not a very interesting one. As a sick person it is more effective for me to be always ready to improvise, always set up to recover from a sudden incapacitation, always ready to pounce on a sudden moment of cognitive clarity and physical function to do whatever is most important right now, than it is for me to try to make a schedule and stick to it.

When I make plans with friends for the future I am reaching for a distant shape in the fog. I am asking someone: help me to imagine this thing. If we imagine it, together maybe we can make it come true. And when we get to the day of the plan we made, sometimes the shape emerges full-formed from the fog, and sometimes it dissipates, drifts out of reach. That’s okay. You have to always be ready to imagine something else.

What did I start this post talking about? ADHD? Okay. I remember why I started on how much I can get done in an hour. When my psychiatrist sent me to an ADHD-informed attention management class, the teacher of the class told me that people with ADHD often have drastically inaccurate ideas of what they can accomplish in an hour. The teacher suggested that we all set a timer for an hour and start doing something and when it ends, see what’s done. Do that a few times, and then you’ll have your answer, and you can use that to make plans.

I thought that was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard. What does today have to do with tomorrow? What does this hour have to do with the next?

It wasn’t stupid. It just wasn’t about me. Okay, finally, here we are: the answer to my initial question. Why is it important to differentiate chronic illness from ADHD, when we’re both slipping on the wet stone stairs of time? Because the answers aren’t the same. And if you try to pretend they’re the same, then sitting in the back of that time-management class listening to someone offer solutions that have nothing to do with you, you become a little bit more invisible to yourself. The shapes in the fog shrink a little further away from you.

I don’t have an ending point here. feel free to add one of your own.

#this post makes no attempt to do the accessible emphasis thing because i have no ability to identify what i should emphasize #disability #chronic illness #adhd #chronic fatigue #chronic fatigue syndrome #anxiety #not gonna tag long post bc there's a readmore #sick

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vampyrly · 3 years

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: / i need any help and/or validation for a situation im dealing with

ok heads up this is going to be potentially very long to read and get through, like possibly 10 minutes at most but it is detailed and information heavy, i dont want to leave anything out

if anyone knows me/knows me on twitter and has seen my tweets where i've detailed the bullshit my roommate has done in the past you'll know i dont particularly like their presence based on their immature and gross antics. well ladies and gentlemen just when i thought they couldn't possibly sink any lower as a person, they pulled through the shit olympics and won gold.

my roommate has a cat, they had it prior to moving in and on their account the cat has been by their side 24/7. it is very attached and has most definitely developed a form of separation anxiety because of this. there hasnt been an issue with how often they stay with their cat up until recently... their girlfriend got her own apartment and over the past few months my rm has been staying with her 24/7. as in, is practically never in the apartment. they only come back to refill their cats food/water and is immediately out the door again. occasionally they will sleep overnight but after that they are back out the door.

as anyone who understands cats or animals in general would realize, this is essentially neglecting a cat, one you have gone from being with every day, to essentially never seeing. and this was not gradual, it was a damn near sudden change. you can probably imagine this is putting a lot of confusion and stress on the cat. over time, the cat has reacted more physically. they have become prone to crying by the door, biting the gf's toes, glaring at her (i guess), and such.

now, about a week ago, the cat had bitten my roommate incredibly hard to the point of drawing a lot of blood. apparently this was so traumatic to the rm that they now refuse to even be in the same room with the cat (there have only been a handful of times where they've slipped into the room to grab an essential and shimmy back out) so much so that they brought an air mattress, set it up in the living room, and is now temporarily sleeping there. no, im not joking.

now im not going to go into detail about why this buildup from the cat occurred, i think it should be pretty obvious already why, but to my rm, they fully believe this behavior is aggressive and unusual. as in, this cat had malicious, negative intent to do harm on its owner. its owner which, up until months ago, they were so attached to and clearly loved. as a friend has pointed out, this isnt signaling aggression. this is signaling a need to get attention in any way possible. their own cat had scratched them up so bad to the point they almost had to go to the ER, but it wasnt because the cat was aggressive, it just thought it was playtime! the case is different here yes, because unlike my rm the friend actually takes care and gives attention to their cat, so this was a very rare occurrence. simply put, this cat is lacking so much stimulation, attention, and basic interaction that this, to me, felt like a last resort. because clearly, the constant cries of sadness wasnt doing anything for them. they're currently in the process of rehoming the cat and will permanently ditch it on the 28th. thats still another 5 fucking days of this cat being in these neglected conditions, and thats not counting when this started, which was 17th, 18th if were being generous on account of me misremembering the date of events because who can blame me so much has already happened its becoming difficult to keep track.

a cat that they up until this point loved and gave attention to as apparent by them claiming she is for emotional support, is being thrown out of their life without remorse over one instance of """aggression""" (dont make me explain why it wasnt again.)

my roommate knows full and well that they have every ability and every second on their hands to bring the cat with them to the gf's apartment but guess what? they simply choose not to do so! i guess those toes getting bitten was so traumatic because oh yeah may i add, the girlfriend is a massive enabler of the roommate and sees absolutely no issue to the actions they are taking in response. i doubt they even tried to properly warm the cat up to a person who is a newcomer to the relationship. im sure they both think in their heads that this is the most responsible thing they can do as pet owners and that they're such good people for rehoming a cat they cant take care of anymore. yes, nothing more responsible than neglecting an animal that needs social interaction as much as that one in particular is in dire need of. responsible pet owners would have never let it escalate to such a point, i'll have you know.

my roommate has done a lot of bullshit that has made me want to pull my hair out, but at the very least, it didnt involve a living creature. this however draws a line as i refuse to stand for animal neglect simply because im an outsider and have no direct say in the situation. i've taken as much action as i possibly can, phoning and texting and emailing as many people as i possibly can. i hesitate to say this is straight up animal abuse because as firm as i can be i try to give people the benefit of the doubt BUT. i will say that every single person i have relayed all of this info to thus far has told me that this is grounds for animal abuse.

yesterday i ran into my rm and they told me "heyyy sorry about her crying constantly, its just not possible for me to be in there whatsoever!" and when i asked if they have someone refilling the bowls and litter on their behalf they said "nope just me" ????????? simultaneously on the same day i said fuck it, i am going to break out the secret key i have to their room to check on the cat. yes i have a key to their room, i have never used it until now and if you want to ignore everything thus far to give me some shit about trust or whatever consider: i dont fucking care. as it turns out the food and water bowls are the type that automatically refill. so, hmmm. theres that part out of the way, but of course, you cannot put in a machine to automatically interact with a cat on the level of a human. as for the litter, i couldnt see since i didnt step more than a foot into the room as to not impede boundaries on the cat and i didnt want my roommate to suddenly come home to me knees deep in their shithole. it was probably in the closet but then how is that being cleaned? those automatic cleaning cat litter boxes dont come cheap and i know damn well they cannot afford one. and may i just add as a tidbit, the room has a sitting scent of pee. though seeing as how gross my roommate can get im betting its just them and not the cat. also that room was cold as fuck. were at 60-70s right now in terms of weather right now it does not need to be that cold......

here is a video i was able to capture. i mounted my phone on a monopod in order to get a scope of the room without stepping in too far.

i decided that the least i can do at the moment is to head out to dollar tree and get a toy or two so i can at least provide some amount of stimulation. before i left, i checked on her again.

she was just laying there, keeping her distance, and didnt lurch at me whatsoever. i came back with a feather wand and played with her for a couple of minutes. she responded a little to it, but for the most part she was peering out the door wondering where the hell her so called responsible owner was. i took my sweater off and let the cat sniff it. i have zero relationship with this cat, infact its the first time i've ever properly seen it as it is locked in the bedroom 24/7.

now you may be asking yourself, why is this cat locked away in a room 24/7 like rapunzel locked in her tower and not roaming freely in the open apartment? i too would like an answer to this! i rarely spend any time in the living room but even if i did i have NO issue with it chilling in there.

someone i phoned did bring up a good point that for AS to consider a legitimate case of abuse or even do anything, there'd need to be no food or water. so essentially, unless you're straight up physically harming an animal outside of their headquarters they dont fucking care. want to be proven further on that? my rm actually did speak with AS at the start of bite-saga. surprisingly they werent 100% truthful, and, get a load of this, they told them that the cat potentially has a virus, and that they need to be quarantined the entire 2 week period. thats some lying bullshit if i've ever heard some!!! not only that, just a few hours ago i peeped the girlfriend had the vet get back to them about lending a muzzle!

SO. heres the current situation as of today and what will occur to tomorrow: i finally phoned someone who is going to drop by the apartment tomorrow, potentially with another person (these are not random people, im simply keeping their status as anonymous as possible to maintain their privacy) to check on the cats conditions. they'll also call AS again and nudge the rm in a way where it seems AS needs them to expedite the surrendering process sooner than later. i cant imagine another 5 days of this going on, but theres only so much that can be done that doesnt involve me straight up catknapping the poor thing and rehoming her myself. this is the condition of the cat as of a few hours ago:

if i were someone uninvolved and saw this, i would have assumed she were a stray that broke into the room........

i try not to be petty and villainous, but a line has been crossed and the disgusting mistreatment of an innocent creature is a crime i refuse to allow be sweeped under the rug. if theres any benefit to living in a relatively small town, its that everyone knows or at least recognizes everyone. far too many people already get away with animal abuse, at the very least i can make as many people here as aware of their antics as i can. is that wrong to do? should i not air all that i can out about them? im so tired and exhausted. i've lost so much sleep over this and im probably going to lose a lot more. thanks for reading.

#cw animal abuse #animal cruelty #pet health

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saxxxology · 4 years

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A Different Kind of Therapy: 2

When the strains of life, broken relationships, an angry boss, and other stresses get a bit too much to bear, you seek a very particular kind of treatment.

PAIRING: Sexual Therapist!Sam x Reader WARNINGS: mentions of a breakup, stress/anxiety, sexual therapy, smut, slow burn

This work is 18+ only. Do not save or repost my work without my consent.

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Saturday morning drags by. You spend the day in the house, drinking cup after cup of mint tea to calm yourself down. Charlie thankfully has a gaming thing at a friend’s house and is still gone when you’re getting ready. You have no idea what to wear, and eventually settle for a long flowing skirt, flats, and a tight-fitting tee shirt.

The drive to Sam’s office is long; you leave in the middle of rush hour and constantly check the clock, terrified of being even one minute late. Thankfully, there’s a free parking lot in front of the office, and you pull into the space furthest from the street before getting out of the car and steadying yourself.

There’s only three chairs in the office. Behind the counter, a petite brunette woman is typing into her computer. The name RUBY glares up at you from a gold-plated nametag. She glances up when you enter.

“Y/N?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you clear your throat and watch anxiously as she slides a clipboard and a pen over the marble counter.

“You’re right on time,” she smiles warmly, “there’s a few forms for you to sign. You can have a seat, there’s water, tea, and coffee if you want to help yourself.”

You nod your thanks and retreat to the corner chair to fill out the forms. There’s multiple questions about your medical and psychological history which quickly extend to past relationships, levels of sexual activity, and more.

When the forms are filled out, you hand the clipboard back and return to your seat while she scans your information into the computer. As soon as she’s done, she presses a button on her intercom.

A few seconds later, you hear a door down the hall open, and then Sam’s standing in the doorway, dressed in a white button-down and black slacks. His sleeves are rolled up over his forearms, and you fight to keep your attention on his face instead of the powerful muscle.

“Y/N,” he beckons for you to follow him and lets you pass by him into the hallway, “how’s your day been?”

“Good,” you reply meekly, arms crossing over your stomach as he leads you down into his private office space. “Yours?”

“Long, but good.” He closes the door behind you and motions you to sit on a brown leather couch. The office is sparsely furnished, only a mahogany desk, couch, and armchair. You sit up straight as he lowers himself into the armchair. “So,” he begins, “I usually do a preliminary interview with new clients. Are you comfortable answering anything I ask you or do you prefer having limits? Everything here is confidential.”

“Um…” you pushed a lock of hair behind your ear, “yeah, I can answer anything.”

“Good.” He smiles warmly and settles back, fingers pressed together in his lap. “So, how did you find me?”

“My friend has a friend who recommended you,” you reply, “I looked you up, found your website, watched one of your TED talks.”

He chuckles lightly. “So you know what I do… that being said, are you looking for regular therapy, or the more focused therapy I provide?”

“Um…” a twinge of nervousness stops your voice in your throat, “I-I guess… focused.”

He frowns when he hears your voice growing tight and leans forward. “I’m not here to judge you,” he explains softly, “I’m here to listen and give you what you need in order to help you. If you want to just talk, we can make appointments to talk, but I want to hear what’s going on in your life and help you figure out if you need special care.”

“I know,” you say, “I just… I’ve never really been open about this sort of thing.”

“Completely understandable.” He offers a reassuring smile. “Are you handling any sort of trauma or fears?”

“Well, uh, my boyfriend broke up with me six months ago. We were together for three years… it was just really sudden and I wasn’t expecting it at all.” You swallow thickly. “It’s stopping me from… y’know, finding other men.”

“Ah.” Sam licks his lower lip. “Is there anything else?”

You shrug. “My job… I’m a secretary for the CEO of a bank and we’re going through a huge merger. He’s always been an asshole, but this whole month he’s just… he gets angry easily and I have issues with men being angry, so…”

“So you’ve been having anxiety?”

“Yeah. Pretty bad.” You swallow. “I’ve been having attacks, and I have to take a lot of melatonin to fall asleep.”

He nods understandingly. “Do you have nightmares?”

“Not really… I just get sad.” You shift on the couch and take a steady breath. “My roommate says I need a pick-me-up, but I just don’t have the time or energy to…”

“Masturbate?” he suggests. When you nod, he clasps his hands. “From what you’re telling me, I think it might be smart to continue with the sexually-focused therapy, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Your cheeks flush. “What exactly is it like? I know you have stuff on your website, but I really wanna talk in person about it.”

“It’s no problem. I like it when clients ask me questions.” He smiles and sits back in his chair. “I like to focus on all aspects of female pleasure, starting with pressure points and external stimulation before anything else. I do appointments both here or at my client’s houses for a small fee, if they wish.”

“Okay.” Your breath hitches in your throat at the soft husk of his voice. “Do I have to… is it mutual?”

“I don’t engage in full intercourse, and I don’t allow my clients to service me,” he replies, “all I require is a clean STD test from a doctor. If you’ve had one within the last six months I just need is a copy of the results and I’ll provide one to you in return.”

You nod. “I got one after my boyfriend left.”

“Good.” He leans back in his chair. “I only work with complete consent. I go as far as you allow me to and if you feel uncomfortable at any time, I’ll stop.”

“Okay.” You nod shortly. “Do we start n-now, or…?”

He shakes his head. “No. I want to have another session of regular therapy before we confirm an appointment to start using more sexual methods.”

You blush. "Okay… not sure I’m ready for that, anyway.”

He smiles. “Perfectly all right. Now,” he reaches for a pen and a pad of notepaper, “let’s talk about you.”

***

“Oh my God, you’re seeing him!?”

Charlie’s practically shaking with excitement. You’ve come home from your appointment to find her curled up on the couch with a bowl of ramen, and her constant pressing for where you’d been has resulted in you telling her about you therapy appointment with Sam.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “I have an appointment next week.”

“Ooh…!” Charlie claps her hands when you blush, “are you gettin’ right to it, or…?”

You shake your head. “No, not yet. He said that I need to have another session so we can really talk.”

Charlie grins. “Girl, you’re gonna have to tell me all about it.”

“I will.” You can’t stop the giggle that leaves your lips. “I’m gonna take a shower and call it early.”

“Sure.” Charlie eyes you suspiciously. “Was he that hot?”

“Shush,” you shake your finger at her as you turn away, “I’m not there yet, Charlie.”

She giggles. “From what I’ve heard, you will be soon.”

***

Your next appointment with Sam is scheduled for a week later. You feel more comfortable now, having opened up to him during your first appointment about your relationship with Caleb, how you’d come to work as a secretary, and how the aggression from your boss combined with the stress of being alone while all your friends are happily in committed relationships is dragging you down.

This next appointment is much easier, and Sam lets you talk more about your sexual experiences. You’d had a boyfriend in college, and then only Caleb, who loved you and was an amazing man, but in the bedroom he had little to offer other than standard sex. Oral, if he was feeling up to it, and then a half hour of passionate lovemaking three times a week. Nothing spectacular, but it kept you satisfied.

When he asks you what you want sexually, you’re lost. You’ve never taken into account what you most desire intimately.

“I just want to feel like I have someone who can give me what I ask for without asking questions,” you answer, lifting your shoulders in a soft shrug. “It’s just… it’s just hard to find a man who’s willing to do that.”

Sam nods, watching your eyes flicker to the ground. “There are more men out there who are willing to do that than you think. The trick is finding the one you’re most compatible with.” He checks the time and stands up, signaling the end of your session.

“Same time next week?” you ask, rising with him and slinging your purse over your shoulder.

“Of course,” he smiles and walks you to the door. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

You blush heavily when he leans against the door, smiling down at you. “Okay.”

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#sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester reader insert

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hollenius · 4 years

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Talking Heads: Are These Guys Trying To Give Rock A Bad Name?

Having fun trawling the internet for more old interviews and things with different bands & musicians. Here’s a Talking Heads one from 1977.

Talking Heads: Are These Guys Trying To Give Rock A Bad Name?

Nick Kent, New Musical Express, 25 June 1977

TALKING HEADS: it's a term they use up in the high-rise skyscrapers that house all the cogs in the corporate machinery cranking out network television for the American people.

The big-wigs in the boardroom – the William Holdens and Robert Duvalls of Network land – have a name for the lowest common-denominator programme non-personalities – the newscaster, weather-reporters, and other old warhorses who sit head and shoulders directly on camera mouthing out their obligatory tasks. These are the "talking heads" of American TV land; utterly boring, but necessary.

Talking heads with greying hair, dabs of make-up and dandruff removed from the shoulders of their suit-jackets, they sit austerely informing the public of the nation's daily occurences – the rapes and murders, the military campaigns abroad, the latest government manouevres. No opinions, no subjective slant to their reports – they simply precis it down, feed it out to those millions of tubes and when it's over they go away, back to the bar or to the suburban home, wife and kids.

David Byrne, guitarist and singer for the Talking Heads, an American rock group, has a song that he wrote and performs entitled 'Don't Worry About The Government'. It usually gets played early on in the set, with no prefacing explanation – just Byrne's reedy high-pitched voice almost stammering "This next song is called..."

And every time he introduced it to an audience in England, certain factions would snigger or boo or howl derisively because Talking Heads after all are a NEW WAVE group and if you are a New Wave group you must write direct anti-status quo, sloganeering songs of dissent. Just like The Clash or Chelsea or...

But Byrne's song isn't like that at all.

It's about an ordinary man who owns an apartment in some American suburb and who lives a quiet, fairly inconsequential existence, going to work in the morning and returning in the evening, who gains pleasure from life simply through drinking wine with friends or reading a book. There is no hint of moral castigation, no hint of cynicism, Byrne just places himself in his character's psyche and explains himself through his song.

It's a rare talent this, something much closer to the art of the very best short-story writers, a talent that only Ray Davies and Randy Newman before him, out of all the thousands of post-war song-writers, have bothered to identify with and explore perceptively.

"I just thought," said Byrne, "that lyrics could be used to strip down conversations, just normal day-to-day converstions and dialogues, and strip away all the phoney embellishments and posturing right down to essentials so that they would actually say something directly, without having to throw in all the 'Oh yeah, baby' or 'Hey, bitch I'm coming to get ya right now' or...

"Pa-a-arty," chips in Jerry Harrison, the Talking Heads' keyboard player.

Everybody laughs.

NOT AN easy band to write about, these Talking Heads. They mystify arid confuse simply because they so patently lack any dint of the arch brand of mystique that forms a patented cloak for the rock star enigma. Four intelligent, straightforward individuals, the very straightforward nature of their music and their image is somehow unique to the genre they have chosen to work within.

Not that the press haven't attempted time and time again to write about them, almost always in flattering terms.

They emerged as a live attraction in the hot summer of 1975 when Manhattan's CBGB's had suddenly been designated the centre-point of all new-wave rock activity, and were immediately slotted in with the likes of Television, Patti Smith, The Ramones, and Heartbreakers as the pace-setters right there at the vanguard of this brave new scene. Convenient tags like 'punk' and 'art-rock' found themselves strange bed-fellows in numerous articles consummated by the inevitable bandying of the term 'minimalism'.

New York rock critics, having witnessed the ugly death of the New York Dolls brand of gashed-up rock, latched on fast to this new austerely dressed-down form of the music, and the Talking Heads, suddenly caught in the swell, found themselves holding down the cover of the prestigious Village Voice with a photograph taken at only their third gig. Inside was a rave-review of said show with an extensive article.

Since then, coverage has been as extensive as it has been perplexingly unforthcoming in regard to mere bottom line info on what the band were actually all about.

What was disclosed was that the band was a trio then, led by the angular, neurotic-looking Byrne who carried all guitar, vocal and composing chores, while the bass-player was a slight blonde-haired girl called Tina Weymouth whose basic feminist features were undermined by a slightly asexual manner. Drummer Chris Frantz was baby-faced and pleasantly effeminate.

Their music, though, seemed incapable of being pigeon-holed and continually presented reviewers with a daunting problem.

Having witnessed the band on four separate occasions over this last highly successful European tour, it became at once apparent that the care of Talking Heads' repertoire – principally Byrne's songs – is not something that casual acquaintance can unveil. At first, they intrigue as much as they bemuse, but the deeper you dig the more you uncover. Like Television, Talking Heads must be divorced from pigeon-holed surroundings because there is nothing currently existing in the rock context that they can be favourably compared to.

Byrne's melodies are so insidious that they often totally by-pass the conventional quarters that rock music usually attempts to stimulate, instead going deeper, often lodging themselves in your subconscious. One song, after I'd witnessed the band only once at the Rock Garden, somehow kept manifesting itself in my dreams – this strange, utterly disarming descending chord motif would haunt me until I'd wake up desperately trying to recall it. It was only later that I even got to learn the song's title, 'The Book I Read'.

THIS IS how the band's music works – in a way that transcends conventional avenues of 'rock criticism' where parallels to established musical forms become redundant and trite. When one has finally achieved some intimacy and contact with the repertoire, the music alone is overwhelming at times. One song – Byrne's 'I'm Not In Love' – twists and turns, its twined guitar rhythms chattering and spitting like snap-dragons with sudden unsettling changes, its chorus brash and pointedly announced – before it charges off, climaxing in a devastating one chord richochet of sound. Each song takes on a personality of its own as one becomes more and more acquainted – the jagged paranoid thrashings of 'What Is It?' full of technical malevolence, the richly textured abrasive changes of 'No Compassion', that utterly disarming motif to 'The Book I Read'.

Similarly the lyrics make themselves apparent in this same insidious fashion, via sudden dazzling couplets or single lines that grab you as Byrne's introvert-gone-psychotic delivery tortuously builds up and up, eyes reeling like wild horses in a flood, his pitching often totally awry but his sheer intensity galvanising because this man is truly grabbing hold of his songs, each and every utterance, like a drowning man grabbing straws.

Byrne's performance is, in fact, full of the tortured passion and gut-commitment that many of us were hoping for and found so disappointingly lacking in Tom Verlaine's recent shows in Britain. Like Verlaine, Byrne is totally the master of his chosen medium, yet there is an edge to Byrne that is so much more human.

Where Verlaine is oh-so calculatingly distant, Byrne's thrashing desperate need to communicate his songs grants his music a whole other dimension of sheer humanity and warmth a million light years removed from the cold arch-romanticism of Television's guiding light.

OFF-STAGE, sitting with his cohorts in Talking Heads, Byrne exudes all the cooped-up mannerisms of a caged bird. He seems to be suffering from some arch nervous defect that would need a constant ingestion of valium to assuage. Twitching almost, he sits hunched up in a chair, ungainly like a parody of look-alike Tony Perkins. When he talks, his voice is weak and reedy and often his attempts to explain certain facets of his songs – particularly his lyrics – lead him into weird tangential awkward ramblings that cause other members of the band, Tina Weymouth in particular, to open displays of ridicule which make him even more edgy. He looks embarrassed and bows his head slightly.

Observing him, I can't help feeling concerned for his obvious discomfort, as if any form of socializing causes the man to undergo real psychic pain. He later admits to the gross discomfort of what is really just a fairly casual conversation, and claims that performing affords him infinite more relaxation.

"I can express parts of my personality on stage that I would never dare do in any other context."

Byrne's past remains obscured by the haziness of his own recollections. He talks about working in art galleries in the past, though he didn't in fact paint, while he claims his previous vocation while in college was to write up detailed questionnaires, until song-writing became an infinitely more agreeable pastime.

In contrast, the other three members of Talking Heads carry themselves in this social set-up with an ease and general open-ness.

Tina Weymouth appears fairly disinterested at first, more concerned with scanning the pages of the latest Oui, but is suddenly forthcoming when a question is either directed her way or else grabs her attention. Chris Frantz seems perfectly in sync with the whole interview routine, lavishing over most of his answers with great and entertainingly 'camp' detail.

And then there is Jerry Harrison, the newest member in the group, a veteran of only six months or less, but who has already obviously orientated himself into the consortium with great alacrity. Harrison is the most locquacious of the band and, with Frantz, the most forthcoming. His history as a musician is already full of worthy fodder for discourse, since he started his career as an integral founding force with Jonathon Richman in the Modern Lovers, about whom his reminiscences are nothing if not extremely witty.

"Well, you probably know that we started the Modern Lovers as a real cause – y'know, we were anti-drugs for a start, due to the fact that at that time in the States all the kids were just oohing themselves on quaaludes. So we'd go onstage and start our sets with this number called 'I'm Straight' which would immediately cause all the audience to start throwing things – oh, rotten fruit, bottles, cans, anything – at us."

The Lovers' history was short due firstly to their corporate snooty attitude to playing clubs of the ilk of Max's Kansas City – "We didn't want to be associated with the N.Y. Dolls or this or that...so we never played anywhere" – plus the traumas that followed the band being signed by John Cale to Warner Bros, who after financing an album (produced by Cale – it was finally released last year by Beserkley) decided to drop the band, leaving them penniless in Los Angeles.

Even when the album was being made, Harrison claims there were problems.

"Well this was around the time when Jonathan was starting to want to write and sing only happy songs (laughs). So there'd be continual arguments between Cale and him over how we should sing certain numbers. Cale would be saying 'Now, Jonathon, I want you to sing this in a mean way. And Jonathon would just look at him, y'know – 'Mean? I won't sing mean! I don't feel mean!"

"And he (Richman) kept going through changes of direction. Like one time he'd be totally into the Velvet Underground and early Stooges, and then he was suddenly enamoured with Van Morrison's Astral Weeks and he'd want to alter his whole style. Also he's a total astrology freak. You know that song, 'Astral Plane'? Well he was always having these visions – or so he said – and writing songs about them. Things like....oh God (he starts laughing again) 'I saw you by, the waterway, the waterway, the waterway' – just on and on. We'd have to tell him to forget it."

After the Modern Lovers broke up, Richman briefly went onstage backed only by a bunch of kids beating rolled-up newspapers in time to his songs, before disappearing altogether for a long spell to (according to John Cale) lock himself in his bedroom.

When Harrison is asked whether he feels more comfortable being in Talking Heads than Richman's motley crew he simply sighs, "Infinitely."

MUCH OF the conversation is taken up with the subject of the British New Wave and how the remarkably civilised T. Heads have found themselves having to cope with the more agressive elements at their concerts, particularly as they've been supporting the head-banger's friend, The Ramones.

Seems the atmosphere has never actually soured and that circumstances have been pretty agreeable all the way along.

From the other new wave bands of this country, T. Heads claim not to have incurred any particular animosity.

"Only Rat Scabies has caused a scene," claims Weymouth. "He appeared backstage at the Greyhound in Croydon and tried to get one of us to fight him. When we showed ourselves to be totally disinterested in that course of action, he contented himself with spitting on the floor and walking out. I felt rather sorry for him."

Meanwhile back in New York, the band have yet to break out of the New York club circuit set-up they've been working in for at least the last two years.

A record deal with Sire (whose head, Seymour Stein, is the only executive to have fully committed himself to the New Wave, having also inked The Ramones, Richard Hell, and now, apparently, The Dead Boys, – a Cleveland pastiche of England's punk excesses) has produced the single 'Love Goes To Building On Fire', an addictive though comparatively slight song from the band's repertoire.

A Talking Heads album however is scheduled for September release produced by Tony Bongiovi and with five backing tracks already in the can. Ten tracks are scheduled – all Byrne originals including 'Pyschokiller', 'The Book I Read', 'No Compassion', 'Happy Day', and 'I'm Not In Love', the only unfortunate matter being the probable exclusion of the band's brilliantly terse rendering of Al Green's 'Take Me To The River'.

The band are still a guaranteed sell-out at C.B.G.B.'s on any given night, a not inconsiderable feat as many other similarly prestigious local bands are unable apparently to do the same – and on their own minor league waterfront they've gauged a strong cult audience.

But then there is something extremely addictive about this band's music – potent enough to make Byrne an object of paranoid fear in the eyes of Tom Verlaine (who according to Weymouth is very nervous of Byrne's status on the New York scene – as perverted a compliment as anything that can be divined from Verlaine's psyche one supposes). Meanwhile Byrne is also considered the most singularly brilliant new songwriter currently in the States by John Cale, and even Lou Reed has lent a sizeable quota of suspiciously paternal advice.

Weymouth: "Yeah, I'd say he was actually genuinely trying to help us. I wouldn't say he was trying to rip us off, for example."

Byrne: "That's not true."

Weymouth: "How can you say that, David? I mean..."

Byrne: "Because he told me he ripped some of my ideas off. Not that I'm angry or anything."

How did the...uh gentleman go about this paternal business then?

"God...he'd invite us round to his apartment and insult us for a solid hour, particularly me. He'd always insult the clothes I was wearing, or my shoes. Then after that, he'd start to be more reasonable and actually have an agreeable conversation with us."

Byrne goes silent for a minute and then, for the first time, he seems calm and relaxed.

"Do you want to know...I'll tell you how much we've come on in the last two years, the real symbol of progress in Talking Heads, Now I can go round to Lou Reed's apartment and I can be rude to him!"

#talking heads #articles #david byrne #jerry harrison #tina weymouth #chris frantz #new musical express #nme #1970s

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funkymbtifiction · 4 years

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Hi guys! I I'm an ENXP and I was looking for some advice about knowing myself better. I saw the mods are ENPs and maybe you guys could help me. I recently noticed a pattern regarding my own actions that is basically ruining my life. I seem to rely too much on my Ne, specially about my future and my career. I'm ruled by a need of pursuing anything that catches my attention in a determined moment. I obsess over it for a while and then move on. I've changed my major 4 times now. Every activity I do is temporary. And if I don't find something I can obsess over I get depressed and bored. Anyways, I think this has led me to not trust myself anymore, since I can't commit to anything because I lose interest in everything and I'm always looking for new possibilities. I have reached a point where I can't allow myself to pursue everything I want and I have to make decisions and commit. But I'm too scared to become trapped and take responsibility for my own decisions. I think this would be easier if I knew myself better, but I don't think I know who I am besides my own random interests, which is weird I guess. How can I develop my own Fi? Or Ti? How do you guys deal with your dominant Ne? How do you commit to things? I'm 23 by the way. Shouldn't I have developed some Fi or Ti or something by now? I turned to mbti because I wanted to gain a better understanding of myself but holy shit this is hard. I could only recognize my dominant Ne. All this self analysis seems useless if I don't really know myself, I realized I'm not self aware at all. So anyways, as fellows Ne doms how did you guys developed your auxiliary functions? Any advice will be amazing! Thank you guys for everything you do here!

The first thing you need to do is recognize is you are an Enneagram 7 and all of this is ‘normal’ for them in lower health levels. To overcome this, you have to ‘grow up’ as a 7 and stop allowing fear of commitment or quick loss of focus from dominating your life. You have control over yourself, you are not utterly helpless to your whims (said the Fi user who has a moral tone of ‘you make your own choices and messes and you have to get out of them’ ;).

7s have to learn to be open to the scary idea of commitment to reap the dividends of hard work.

Read the 7 profile and see how allowing yourself to ‘run away’ from commitment (which includes not finishing or devoting yourself to any project) can hinder your life. Once you recognize WHAT you are doing, and WHY you are doing it, you can develop the power to STOP YOURSELF from doing it, or from allowing ‘excuses’ or fear to run you away from good things.

ENTP Mod. : Charity is right. Here is also where the judging functions come into play. With Fi, you can eventually weed out that which you aren't personally passionate about/ those goals which don't align with your personal values. With Ti, you can see a chain reaction of the patterns in your life, and determine the most effective path to help yourself using logic to streamline your processes, make it more elegant.

Slow the hell down. Force yourself to stop running toward the future and live right now. Repeat the mantra of ‘right now is all that matters today’ a 100 times an hour if you have to. Be present. Be invested. Bring yourself into ‘now.’

My co-mod is a 7w6 ENTP who suffers from a lot of the same issues; I will nudge her to offer her two cents to this post, in regards as to what she is currently doing about it. Basically, she had to talk herself into getting a permanent job rather than talking herself out of it. Once she got into it, she realized it didn’t suck as much as she feared. Her brain is her own worst enemy.

I had to talk myself into this job. I gave myself lots of reasons why I would love it. It might sound a little unrealistic going in with pre set expectations but at least you will not go in blind. Making a pros cons list is always a good idea. It helps to sift through your multiple ideas, and narrow down the ones which can really work. Test out the feasibility of your ideas, opportunities before hand. Talk to people, do your research. Just remember that things will never be as bad or boring as you think them to be. This is a cliche but something which helps me in the mornings when I know I have boring work to do is "Get up, dress up, show up. Never give up." Also it helps to live from day to day. Don't worry too far into the future, you never know what variables might upset your plans.

Work-wise, a 7 needs to travel, get the ‘high’ of meeting new people, and not to be involved in sheer detail-driven grunt work. They need challenges to work toward and obstacles to overcome. Pick a career that offers you all of that. If you do not, you will have a string of 6 months at ___ jobs that do not look good on your resume. Find a career in something that you feel passionate about, that offers some kind of mental stimulation.

ENTP 7 co-mod is an attorney who loves to find ways to ‘get around things’ in the law.

ENTP Mod. note: Always try to remember the root of your passion when you feel like defecting from one option to another. If you must leave, leverage what you have learned in one place and how you can dress that up to make your hopping about look good. That's what I did, and it worked for me. Some of the reasons I love my job are the constant intellectual stimulation, creative aspects of it, my love for criminology pays off, meeting interesting people. Sure there are sucky days when you have to deal with the bureaucratic demons. But that won't be every day. Unless your role requires you to do something like it. In which case I would suggest that you avoid picking up detail heavy, low Si or adherence related work which will make you feel miserable and frustrated. Try to pick something that plays to your strengths, improve your weaknesses. Compete with nobody but yourself. Every day you are better than you were, yesterday. Even with a little effort. It is important to not give up. It is so hard for 7s but we have the gift of rationalizing. So instead of using it as a mechanism to justify dropping things, use it to tell yourself why you should stick around. You as a 7 can make most things fun. So find little tricks and ways to make the work day fun. Whether it is achieving small, impactful targets or making games out of small, low stakes things. Also, having money and being able to live nicely is fun. Nobody is gonna pay you if they think that their money will be wasted on training you if your pattern is just leaving jobs. It took me a long time to develop this perspective but I am glad I did.

I (ENFP 6w5 sp/so) chose a career in magazine editing, because it gives me time to do what I actually love, which is write novels. I’m afraid I can’t give you advice from my own life that would work for you, because a 6w5 sp/so is far more focused and driven to finish their projects than a 7w6, which means I push through ‘the boring, tedious bits’ of projects regardless of how ‘excited’ I am. It’s not fun to edit a book 7 times, but I still do it. I force myself to show up to work, to sit there for 3 or 4 hours, and commit to X amount of words, pages, etc.

Do you think it’s “fun” for me always to keep this queue stocked, or to type up characters at the end of a long day because the queue is low? Or go back and update old profiles and move them from this blog onto wordpress? No. I hate it sometimes. It’s boring as hell. But I committed to it, I will see it through, even though looking into my “to update” folder makes me want to scream. I tackle huge projects one step at a time. I’m disciplined but I can procrastinate at work, rather than doing whatever needs doing.

Which really is the bottom line. You want to finish things? Just do them. Force yourself to show up and do the work, even if it’s “boring.” Most of life isn’t fun. Paying the bills isn’t fun. You do boring stuff to make a living, so you can have the money to do fun things. If you do not learn to do it, whether or not it is fun, you will wind up ‘stuck at home this month, because I have no money.’

That frustrates a 7 even more than being bored at work.

Accept that your fear of commitment is a fear-driven lie.

You are not going to get trapped by committing to something or someone. Head types massively over-think things and allow fear – in the 7’s case of “missing out” on better things – to dominate their life. Admit it’s fear. Admit that allowing fear to ruin your entire life is stupid. Then do something against the fear. Do the thing fear tells you not to: commit and work at it. Fight the urge every day to leave. Stick it out, and prove you ‘can’ to yourself.

Middle functions. You’re in college so you should be seeing either some Ti analyzing or Te “buckle down and set goals and get this schoolwork finished by the deadline” kicking in. Are you more inclined to self-doubt and beat yourself up like a young FiTe user after ‘failing’ to organize your time efficiently or to make excuses and blame external circumstances like a young TiFe user?

My Fi has always been strongly evident, though I didn’t know what it was at the time. Things that set off a NOPE response in me vs. the ‘rest of everything, which I don’t care about.’ The intense sensitivity as a child. The compassion for other people and especially for small animals. The understanding of emotional dynamics and how people ‘feel.’ The constant angst between caring too much about people’s feelings and being low Te blunt or rude when I’m having an off day. The ‘going away from everyone’ to deal with my feelings in private. I have always fiercely, Fi-ishly known what I like and do not like, and have no ability to ‘tolerate’ things that I do not like. Once, I didn’t like half the people seated at my table at a public event, so I shut down completely and did not say a word to anyone at the table for two hours. My Fe friend also hated them, but smiled and charmed them all. Lucky girl. She can fake her feelings. I can’t.

- ENFP Mod

#enneagram #enneagram 7 #enfp #entp #mbti #7w6 #entp mod

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