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content: dark!ethan, stalking, thoughts of possible noncon
The sun had set and you still sat with a pout, shoulders sagging and eyes glassy. Even from outside the window, shrubs intertwined with his unruly curls, Ethan could sense your defeat. Another no-show date. Your desperation was a mystery to him, he was right there. And he was a much better choice.
The guy you were supposed to go out with was a piece of shit anyway. Dramatic, too. Ethan didn’t actually mean what he said about killing him if he showed up for your date. And the pocket knife he held under the sleeve of his jacket was just for emphasis. For the joke. Because that's what it was. At least he thinks so.
He tries to reason with himself as he watches you stand, slipping the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders, and leaving the slopes of your shoulders naked.
What a pretty dress, he thinks. Such a waste. It's a waste that you'll be alone tonight, pulling that useless piece of silicone out of your bedside table. As much as Ethan loved to watch you run the tip up and down your slit, collecting your arousal before pushing the toy inside and you fucking yourself feverishly, he still wished it would be him between your plush thighs.
But he couldn't force you, of course. What kind of guy would he be if he did that? He would never. Could never. He wouldn't. A thought appeared in his head and he forced it away. He couldn't.
As he expected, you jumped into bed with a groan, ruining your well-made bed. You didn't bother to take your dress off this time, your sexual deprivation making you desperate as you simply pulled it up, tugging your underwear down enough to access your glistening cunt.
You fingers got to work, the familiar circular motions picking up as frustration built within you. Ethan watched intently, eyes glued on your pussy. He couldn't. He couldn't just barge in and replace your fingers, shove his hard cock into your desperate fluttering hole.
But he could. It'd be so easy with your habit of forgetting to lock your front door, the furthest window to the right side of your house, and the one in your bathroom. So many possibilities. He could.
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It is so fucking funny that Fyodor was like 'but you got shot in the head?' and Dazai was like oh, that? That's every Tuesday night for Chuuya and I, we fake kill each other for fun all the time lol
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Hey. This is my possibly favorite Noble Phantasm line in FGO.
But you can’t appreciate it if you don’t get the Buddhist reference, so come over here and let’s learn some Buddhism with the sexy nun:
What, you might ask, is an abhisecana (or abhisheka) rite?
As I understand it, it’s an initiation rite for a practitioner who is advancing in their study of the Dharma. In some Buddhist schools, including Shingon—the school from which Tachikawa-ryu, Kiara’s school, branches off (which we don’t know much about, because it’s long-dead IRL and was subject to political book burnings, but that’s another story—this rite involves a student being assigned to a bodhisattva, whose teachings and/or qualities they will study to guide their development and give them direction.
Rather than let a student choose a bodhisattva based on their preconceptions at the time of the ritual, they are blindfolded and cast a flower onto a mandala—like the womb realm mandala, shown below—and whoever it lands on, that’s who they go with.
But Kiara is, as always, encouraging living beings to give up their heavenly aspirations—to cast their flower instead on the mandala of the realm of desire. Let it fall where it may—chase whatever vice or illusion your whims take you to.
But make no mistake.
However it falls, there’s only one bodhisattva that will watch over you as you dance in the palm of her hand.
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According to the waitress at the restaurant we went to after attempting lure coursing, this is an Italian greyhound. A new one for his mistaken ID list.
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