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#THIS IS A DOOZY
ganymedian · 3 months
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You know, I believe the internet connectivity being required for so many things now is inherently a Bad Thing, but I also recognize that it’s inevitable. Consumer trends are by large geared toward internet connectivity being used for just about anything you could imagine. Could you ask everyone to stop online shopping? To stop using social media? Well, yes, but not everyone has the fortitude or will to do it.
So, I stand with the idea that Wi-Fi should be subsidized or funded by the government. Business owners can’t force Wi-Fi connection for quality of life things like a god damned restaurant menu, or a JOB APPLICATION, in the name of convenience, without it widening the already yawning gap between classes. The focus should now be to make congress pay for internet connection with our tax money. And it includes communication devices that use Wi-Fi.
The Affordable Connectivity Program has helped MILLIONS of USAmericans stay connected at a more affordable rate. Congress is talking about ending the funding for it. The government clearly has the means, but not the will. Email them, call them, snail mail them. Do SOMETHING
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inhibitionfreewriting · 5 months
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request again (if that’s okay?) i’m the noah kahan anon (and your fic was SO good im so excited for more) but butchered tongues by hozier as childhood friends to lovers with lud?
or first time (by hozier) with lud!!!!!
so while the second part to the original request is coming slowly but surely, once again i got into a zone and i just...
--
he was your best friend, who lived across the street and two houses down, who from the moment you met him always had you giggling. small bursts, full on fits of laughter, tiny snickers hidden by tiny clasped hands, trying not to wake the adults, trying to hide your secrets away from the world. but he's always there running around with you, scraped knees, dirt under your fingernails.
there's the time you almost drown in the nearby lake because you're both daring each other to go further out than you should and the mud beneath your foot slips and you're overtaken by water and panic. you're not the best swimmer and when you can't find your footing again, he calls for you, hoping it's just a joke.
he's there just out of reach for the first time and it solidifies just how important he is to you. he helps you up as soon as his little legs can cross the distance. you don't tell him that you think you have a crush on him, because you're only 11 and feelings are cringe and right now it doesn't matter. he's your best friend and you are his.
it's a few years later and you're walking home, crunching the autumn leaves under your feet, kicking pinecones in your path. he's talking about a girl a class you don't share and you can feel your heart breaking into a million pieces as he explains an over elaborate plan to ask her out on a date. in the end she says no and you're there with him for the heartbreak. you call her every name in the book at 14, explaining that she's the biggest loser in existence and anyone would be lucky to date him.
you wish it was you, to be the one cradling his heart and protecting it from the pain, but your friendship is number one and always above all else. he stays that night, too tired to walk back home. it's different, you think, staring at his back in your bed after having his heart broken, but your heart is broken too, isn't it? you stifle your crying to the best of your ability, roll over and force yourself to fall asleep.
he's thinking it too, staring at the pictures you have thumbtacked into your wall of you and he and the few other friends you both have made. there's a picture of you both with your arms around one another in red matching sweaters. he loves that picture even if he doesn't know it yet. it's his favorite. there's something in his chest that tells him to roll over, a paranoia that you're not okay but he mistakes the feeling as just more pain of rejection and doesn't move. it's the last sleepover that you both remember and on nights when you're drunk the memory still stings like a shot.
"ew - really? there's no way you actually like him." he embarrasses you, making a face at your admission of a crush on another classmate. you can't keep eye contact with him while you try to elaborate - he got you a carnation from the school on valentines day and it was sweet and you thought, maybe, just maybe it would be the way to get over the lump in your heart that he was. still, you keep that secret to yourself, going silent halfway through a sentence and curling in on yourself mentally. "look i'm - i'm just saying that derek on the soccer team is dumb as fuck and have - have you ever even had a conversation with him? he's probably just doing it out of pity."
"pity?" you snap, "oh, right, okay, because the only way i'd ever be able to get a date with anyone was out of pity." you stand up and knock the textbook and notes off of the desk in front of him before storming away. there's no way that he thought that low of you, but it's the ichor in your heart gumming up the gears. it hurts, it hurts so bad to think that- was he pitying you? all the time and years that you spent together? doing chores and spending allowances together, memorizing the others favorite ice creams and movies and video games and-
your mother holds you tight that night, stroking your hair as you cry into her chest, about how much you hate him. he's an asshole and he doesn't even like you clearly. she soothes you the best she can, but you're a few months shy of 17 and nothing stitches the wounds he's laid on your fragile heart. that doesn't come until much later in your story. you go to bed that night after clearing polaroid after polaroid off of your wall, throwing them into some school folder that previously lay abandoned in your room. you don't want to talk to him let alone see him before you go to sleep. the poorly sewed pillow from home economics he traded with you gets shoved into your closet.
he keeps it to himself when he gets home, telling his mother that he's tired and he just wants to get through his homework and go to sleep. he doesn't do his homework that night, too busy watching tv and the clock, ticking later and later into the night. his mother is worried but doesn't press, though she makes him eat that night even if he hates it.
not to be dramatic, but for a minute you feel like you forget what his voice sounds like, you haven't spoken in a week. stubbornness flows through both of you stronger than the harshest waters in a river, capsizing anyone who isn't certain of their path. he finds a new groove where he leaves for school 5 minutes off of you, whether it's before or after you can't determine but it's never the same time. a few kids at your lunch table take pity on you when you are eating alone for what feels like the billionth day in a row and you connect easily. as the loneliness gets pushed beneath the surface you wonder if he notices that you're not trying to catch his eyes as often.
he does, and he hates it, because he's trying to return the caught eyes even if he doesn't know it. but you're both foolish and angry over nothing. he passes 17 without you at his birthday party, the invite torn up and in a trash bag in a place where his mother won't find it. he lies when she asks, curious as to where you have been all this time, months and months at this point.
"i don't know," he shrugs, nonchalant to the best of his ability while he watches his friends play melee. he can't make an excuse before one of the guys sits up and scrunches his face in thought.
"didn't you throw her invite out because she's a freak?"
"woah - you can't call her that."
"you literally called her weird like 5 minutes ago!" ludwig's face turns red and sheepish as his mother gives him a look, disappointed and sad all in one. when she leaves, he sinks into his spot, covering his face. how embarrassing. "dude, she is a freak though, she's always by herself, it's fucking weird."
"she's not fucking weird!" he snaps, shoving him. nobody is allowed to call you weird except him, you are his weird friend. an argument breaks out and the party ends sooner than intended and his mother grounds him for fighting in the middle of the house. at least his birthday doesn't get worse outside of the sinking feeling in his chest.
you hesitate on a text saying happy birthday with the picture of the two of you in red sweaters attached. you remove the photo and the heart and send it, plain. it felt disingenuous - maybe he deserves it though, he didn't even invite you to hang out.
you 9:56pm: happy birthday
ludwig 10:27pm: thanks
you 10:30pm: do anything fun?
ludwig 10:36pm: party got cancelled cuz my friends are assholes
you don't think the laugh that comes out of your mouth is real, but his text gets the tiniest of noises from you.
you 10:37pm: all guys are assholes lol
he starts typing and then stops a few times. maybe that was too much and the regret swims through your veins immediately, you curl up into the poorly stitched pillow long rescued from your closet for comfort. the longer it takes, the more you sink, starting to type an excuse, 'i mean not you', but he responds faster than your shaky hands can type.
ludwig 10:50pm: you're right
ludwig 10:50pm: sorry i was an asshole
ludwig 10:51pm: ider what i said but i know it was stupid
of course he didn't.
you 10:52pm: derek would only go out with me bc of pity
ludwig winced in his bed, dropping his phone to his chest and smacking both his hands to his face. wow he was stupid, derek would have been lucky to go out with you. you were wonderful - fantastic even, you kept him up at night, his mind wandering to moments of you smiling and laughing with him, and then the way your face fell when he made that stupid pity comment. rolling onto his stomach he replied.
ludwig 10:59pm: wow 16 year old me was dumb huh
you 11:00pm: you've been 17 for less than 1 day 💀
you 11:00pm: you're so stupid
you 11:01pm: i h8 you
surely, you meant it in jest. you were talking to him, at least, hell this was the most you'd spoken in months so you absolutely had to be joking. he pulled a dramatic frown, took a picture and sent it to you before questioning the decision.
ludwig 11:03pm: [image attached]
you 11:03pm: can i be gay for a moment
ludwig 11:04pm: yes?
you 11:08pm: i missed your face a lot😞
you 11:08pm: i miss you a lot
you 11:08pm: can we hang out tomorrow
you 11:09pm: we can do w/e i dont care
you 11:09pm: we dont even have to do anything
you 11:09pm: can we just hang out
you 11:12pm: please
he missed you too, more than he would ever care to admit, eyes heavy with exhaustion and sadness as he stared at your near pleading.
ludwig 11:15pm: come over when you wake up
ludwig 11:15pm: im going to bed
ludwig 11:16pm: night
shoving his phone far under his pillow, he flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. you were mimicking the position in your own bed, your hands over your heart. how long had you been sitting on your infatuation? how many diary entries had you written about him? how many poorly drawn profiles littered the ripped pages of your notebooks? sleep took you both restlessly, carrying you along the rocky waters till daybreak where you wrestled yourself into shorts and a tshirt.
you couldn't bring yourself to care about how you looked or smelled (you couldn't quite remember when you showered last), you just wanted to give him a hug, the biggest hug you could muster. you missed him so so much. as you'd done hundreds of times before, you entered his home, locked the door behind you and all but ran up the stairs and towards his room.
badum badum badum
your heartbeat was loud and almost painful in your ears which caused you to stop and stare at your hand centimeters away from his door. you wanted to feign ignorance, that your broken heart was not beating like this for any reason, that it was silly and foolish and so very very stupid. chewing on the inside of your lips, you swung his door open. his body jumped a little, still under the covers and barely processing that you were already here.
"hey," came his groggy voice, the heel of his palm rubbing into his eyes as you nudged the door closed and kicked your shoes off. he propped himself up on his elbows and maybe it was the way you looked, slightly disheveled but jittery, or the fact that your breathing was a little choked and heavy, but he wanted to kiss you more than any other girl he'd ever seen. "why're you standing over there still?"
"i-i.. i don't know." he breathed out a tired laugh.
"so come here?" with the invitation you crossed the remaining space between you and flopped into the space next to him, on top of the covers. it takes him a minute but he lazily rolls over to face you. he smells of a late night shower and morning breath. he's warm with sleep and you're warm with the early morning sun.
"i have a crush on you," you blurt out, closing your eyes like you expect physical retaliation from someone who has never actually gone so far as to beat you up. when nothing comes you slowly open your eyes, peaking through the timid butterflies frantic in your stomach. the face he has on is awkward at best and you're trying not to read into what he may or may not be feeling. "s-s-sorry, that's. i shouldn't have-"
"no, me- me too!" he responds, stopping you in your frantic, panicked downfall, not wanting to hurt you again over a miscommunication that he was the cause of. he wraps his arms around you tightly and you let out a tiny breath of relief and returned his hug.
"i'm sorry you're so stupid," you snicker, burying your face deeper into him, still embarrassed. when you both finally pull back, your lips are pursed into a pout, and his mouth is open to say something snarky in return but nothing comes out. instead he kisses you the way he's wanted to kiss you for two years, since the first time he saw you wear a pink tinted lip gloss. you return with fervor and you kiss like that a thousand more times.
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jinuaei · 4 months
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I just discovered I can ask myself
This is crazy, people can fake their own asks by using anonymous
Not me thinking about those blogs who've been exposed basically copy pasting full fics and probably making fake anons that support them 💀 💀💀
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laundrybandit · 24 days
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might have just accidentally outed myself as a regressor to my irls 😨😨 i screenshoted something on my feed and didn’t realize the tags were showing-
hope i can just play this off :’(
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pinkatron · 1 month
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Hello all I am back on my buklshit again coming to you with a steaming hot and fresh new Witcher story which takes place in the continent's future!
Fic preview:
The city was alive. Really, that’s all one could say about it and one could barely say that on the best of days. Fall rains which had been blanketing the coast of Bremervoord for nearly two weeks, had finally begun to let up. But once it had let up, fog and smog filled the already tar dyed cobblestones which lined the main road leading into the city center. Every house was burning coal and the result was a toxic miasma, which was being held close to the ground.
People rushed to-and-fro, even during this late hour. Houses would open, laughter and music would pierce the veil of fog and bright light would flood the streets for a moment as a couple quickly left, scurrying into one of the waiting carriage taxis like rats. The taxis, often with lame horses foaming at the mouth, would rush into the fog, taking their occupants to parts unknown without a care for who or what may be in their way. Several times, the sounds of the city were broken by the shrill screaming of humans and horses, followed by the sound of gunshots. The smell of horse blood was thick in the air too as carts hauled by mules would pick up the unfortunate beasts and cart them to less than savory places to be pieced out and sold or utilized to make glue and ink.
Electric lights lined the main road, their warm buzzing bulbs providing another sound which made the city seem even more unbearable to those who would avoid it if they could. They stood proudly beside the oil lanterns and the listless men who lit the lamps looked to them in fear of the jobs they would soon lose.
The world was changing. It always was.
The sound of steel horseshoes on cobblestone was not unusual in the city at night, but a singular rider, draped in a thick oiled wool cloak quieted the noise. Men and women looked on to the rider, who looked as a specter of death, riding silently as carriages rushed around him with shouted words.
He truly was a specter of death, for who could imagine one such as he could still be alive, still be riding even though he was born nearly three hundred and fifty years ago? His eyes, glowing golden, were hidden behind dark spectacles. They stared forwards, as ladies clung to their friends and pointed, before coughing and hurrying to find themselves back through their windows and into their houses.
It used to be, in times past, he would enter a city and he would run the risk of either being stoned or challenged. But these days, people didn’t know of his kind like they used to. These days works of historical fact were looked upon  as fiction and the idea that something like him could have ever existed was told to young boys and girls with an air of glory. He was a hero in the stories, always. He died a hero in those stories too.
But Geralt of Rivia had not died. He had lived and so too had the rest of his caste.
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arizonapoppy · 2 months
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Tangled Web Book Club: Blindly Wise
I wanted to understand more about the "Blindly Wise" chapter heading, so I read the poem that I suspect LMM is making an epigraph of. It is called "The Two Voices," by Tennyson. And boy, is it a doozy.
The main character of the poem is someone who seems to have really screwed up their life. They appear in vague Victorian euphemisms to be considering suicide. I'm picturing a Prodigal Son situation (since LMM was a pastor's wife) or in a more recent metaphor, a George Bailey situation.
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The Dialogue
Similar to George Bailey, the Person wishes they had never been born. Then a voice, whom we'll call First Voice, with very flowery words spends several stanzas telling the Person "Yeah, you messed up." First Voice makes references to the myth of Ixion, who broke the laws of hospitality twice (!) and was doomed to eternal torment on a spinning wheel in the sky or in Tartarus for it. First Voice also may imply that the Person has been deceived when it mentions a "cloud," which is when Ixion had sexual relations with a cloud that he thought was Hera, but wasn't. (This resulted in the race of centaurs.)
The Person mentions that they made a valiant effort, and did everything they could to earn the praise and renown of their peers. The Person says "everyone will hate me after I die and remember my disgrace. I just wish I could drink a draught of Lethe" (the ancient Greek underworld river that wiped away memories of the dead). The Person wants a clean slate.
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The First Voice prevaricates and says maybe people will forget them, but maybe not. The First Voice points out that dead people will never be able to do anything again in the world of open possibilities. Even after death life goes on- bees will still visit flowers, the sun will still shine after rain. By dying the Person will be giving up their agency to strive to turn the situation around. The First Voice says that the key is to set one's eye on the horizon and goal and keep climbing or rowing or walking.
First Voice says that "there is one remedy for all" which I am assuming means faith in the Christian God. After a lot more back and forth, dawn breaks and it is Sunday morning and the Person sees a pious family going to church. The Person is knocked out of their self-pity, wishing the family well. (I'm picturing a full church bells and "Regina Coeli Laetare" from Mascagni's Cavalleria Rusticana here)
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The Person speaks again, but the First Voice is gone.
dunt
dunt
DUNNN
Is the Person alone and comfortless?
Instead, there is a new voice. Second Voice is softer and sweeter. (Confer 1 Kings 19:12-13, where the voice of God is not in an earthquake or a fire but a "still small voice.") Where First Voice was cutting and negative, Second Voice gives encouragement. Where First Voice used flowery purple prose and thee/thou, Second Voice speaks simply using "you." It urges the Person to "Be of Good Cheer." (This seems very similar to the albatross in Voyage of the Dawn Treader, which was also a religious allegory.)
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Person says "Who are you and what do you know anyway?"
To which the Second Voice replies, I don't. But I have hope.
From this the Person feels better after their spiral into depression and goes through the woods rejoicing. They regret listening to the one bad thought that sent them down a dark path. (But honestly, as one who struggles with depression, I sympathize with the Person and how quickly things can get bad and forgetting to hope.)
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What Does Blindly Wise Mean Anyway?
I still don't fully understand the "blindly wise" part after reading it many times. I have a couple theories, neither of which I am settled on. One interpretation is that I think the First Voice is saying that the Christian God is the one who is blindly wise, reading the soul of each person and determining their overall balance of good and bad like Justice wearing a blindfold.
The other interpretation is that I think the one who is blindly wise is a human being, that people have an inner conscience that they can consult, if they are willing to listen. Even though a person might have "a baseness in his blood (a)t such strange war with something good" there is another option to choose good.
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Where this comes into the story:
Several characters in this book have gone through Long Dark Nights of the Soul. Gay and Joscelyn have both suffered intense heartbreak and social humiliation. They both thought their lives were over with no hope of a second chance or future happiness. There are other things coming up that I won't mention because of spoilers. I think that LMM is making a reference to the various tribulations and revelations that the characters are going through. They have done foolish things and feel remorse, or awful things have been done to them, and feel that they are without hope. Now they are gaining new happiness out of sorrow, or at least Gay is. I won't say anything more, because
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ghcstvalleychief · 2 years
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Ahh in one of your earlier tags about Mile Apos chemistry, you said 'there's things I want to say, but I'll keep them to myself' Seing as we'll miss the boys very soon, can you plse share your thoughts with us? 🥺
Whatever do you mean, anon?  🤣 
I'm not saying I know anything about anything. I don't want anyone to say I'm feeding into the agenda of anything these days, because I'm a semi-normal adult and I understand boundaries, yes?
Now. I think whatever relationship these two have outside of this show is hella deep. I'm not putting any sort of title to what type of relationship they have; I'm just saying it's fairly deep. Their connection is deep. I don't think people realize how much trust and comfort you have to have with another individual to pull off the shit these two have pulled off in their scenes together. I've said this so many times and I stand by it - you can have two actors who are conventionally attractive but that still won't guarantee high heat and scorching chemistry between the two of them. It just won't. Talent and skill can only do so much if two actors just aren't comfortable doing what they need to do with each other. The level of trust these two have for each other to be able to just go for these scenes and deliver these scenes in a way where it seems so real is amazing.
I have never seen anything like it before. They play off each other really well and their acting sense is so finely tuned where every acting choice they make actually works. Acting is sort of like a conversation, right? When you meet certain people, the conversation just flows and there's not a single bout of awkward silence even though you just met each other. It feels like you've known them forever. With other people, the conversation can feel stilted, forced, and straight up uncomfortable because of how difficult it is for you and this other person to find the natural rhythm where the conversation flows.
Well, I believe MA has the former. Not every acting duo will give you the former scenario. In certain sex scenes, a lot of duos will give you the latter where they don't even seem to be on the same page let alone the same book. It's like they're fighting each other because they can't seem to agree on how they're going to do this scene, but on a subconscious, unspoken, nonverbal level. Actor A may want to slip Actor B tongue but Actor B refuses to open their mouth. Actor B may want to sensually caress Actor A's body while Actor A wants to play this scene in a more rough sex kind of way. Actor A may want to play up the physicality of the scene by ensuring every piece of their skin is pressed up against their acting partner's skin whereas Actor B may not want that at all and refuses to go along with it.
Essentially, some acting duos are figuratively fighting each other when they act out these scenes. They don't seem to be in agreement on what they're going to do and how they're going to play it. So, it often feels like they're in a stilted, painfully awkward conversation where they haven't found their rhythm with each other. Whereas MileApo seem like they've had multiple conversations about it and they've been open and honest enough with each other where they've agreed on what they're comfortable with and what they're not comfortable with. It seems like they've talked about what their character will and won't do, but they're okay with whatever the other one needs to do to convey whatever emotion/feeling their character is trying to convey. They're not fighting each other once the scene is being carried out on our screens.
If more acting duos were able to do that, we'd be better off as an audience. Unfortunately, I don't think you can teach this in an acting workshop. That's just something some actors will naturally have and others won't. However, if more actors had it, we wouldn't have so many damn cringeworthy sex/'love' scenes. There is a certain level of openness between MileApo that's fairly obvious and I think that's what some people fail to acknowledge and celebrate. Doing what they do, there has to be some openness between them if they're going to sell that their characters are in love. That's the whole point - getting the audience to believe and buy into this love story. Otherwise, what's the point?
(Also, I just want to drive home the point that this just doesn't apply to their sex scenes either. This applies to all of their scenes. )
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unclekaz · 6 months
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Tears
FNAF Springtrap x Y/N
Word Count: 5,550
Summary:
Your hands were steady. Your breathing was calm. You knew what you were doing. The air conditioning made you uncomfortable. Especially with who was in the driver's seat. You weren't looking forward to returning to Jackson. But you'd do it. Just this once. Then everything is done.
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timetheoldman · 2 years
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any parenting tips? Apparently Sidon and I have a kid now -wild
Love them. Love them with everything you have.
Kids mess up, they get dirty and gross, they do silly things and don’t think about things like adults do. They can’t, because they haven’t lived to learn about life yet. The little things hurt so much more when you don’t understand losing things that you love.
Having kids is patience. They are a treasure and absolute terrors all at once.
Having a kid is having a small person who is learning how to be a person. They love things, they hate things, and they are very perceptive. They love to do literally the one thing you tell them not to do, and then they giggle and look so darned cute that it’s impossible to stay mad. Oh, and they put everything in their mouth (kinda like you), so be very careful. Bugs, dirt, rocks, hair, shoes, boogers, coins, I really mean everything.
Once little kids can walk, they run. Everywhere. All The Time. And they run into things and they fall. Then it’s Big Emotion time and they need a minute until they’re ok, even if they aren’t really hurt.
So, watch them. Make sure they don’t play with knives or poison or eat things. Make sure they eat child-appropriate food. Love em to death and then a little more.
You got it. You’ll do great, the kids gonna love you, and you are going to be a great parent :-)
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wetworkseventy · 5 months
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Football dad or baseball daughter
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sutorus · 7 months
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THE GRUDGE PROFESSOR!GETO for KINKTOBER 2023!
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DESCRIPTION: everybody loves professor geto, and judging by the thousands of viewers you get on every live, a lot of people love you, too. but you and professor geto hate each other. you’ve had enough of his humiliation rituals, and decide to do something about it.
PAIRING: mean professor!geto x student!reader
WC: 5.3k i am an unstoppable beast
WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, teacher/student dynamic! adult age gap! (reader is in college, unspecified age), sw/camgirl!reader (don’t like don’t read! no shaming 😤), strong language, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel, darling), reader calling geto "sir", unprotected relations, creampie, afab reader and terms
A/N: this switches between povs a lot so i hope that’s okay or at least readable lol! also i set out to write him so much meaner but he’s just kind of a simp... enjoy?
reblogs are very much appreciated i'll uwu for u :pleading eyes emoji:
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it is said that those who cannot do, teach. 
geto suguru could have done many things. he had the brains, the muscles, the features, the traits. the ambition to succeed in any field he desired. satoru says in a world ruled by the strong there is no place for humility. 
but humility is not why suguru became a teacher. neither is ineptitude. no, he’d become a teacher because it was the right thing to do. 
to use his gifts to help shape new generations, help unlock potentials long dorment and buried deep under years of a lackluster schooling system. geto suguru prided himself, above all, in being a righteous man. 
but japan’s most upstanding citizen for 28 years in a row held a shameful secret. a secret in the shape of you. 
he saw the darkest sides of himself on your face (eyebrows scrunched, eyes shut tightly, jaw slack as you—), your voice (higher in pitch with desperate moans that sound almost scared on the brink of your—), your body (taut and plump in all the right places, glistening with sweat, bouncing up and down on a—). 
when you walked into his classroom that fateful day, the world tilted on its axis. his first thought was, fuck, then, it can’t be, then, most embarrassing of all, i’ll finally find out what she smells like. 
(he did, when you went up to his desk to hand over your test. a whiff of vanilla, argon oil shampoo. too sweet, too youthful. and he’d watched you leave, tennis skirt flowing like a water lily, dick already chubby in his pants.)
it was slowly starting to consume him.
the first time you spoke in class, he knew he hadn’t been mistaken. it was really you. the cute, slutty girl he’d been milking his cock to for the better part of a year. 
god, when you finally said his name. you would never in your wildest dreams think that he’d been imagining those words coming out of your mouth, of him coming out of your mouth, dripping out of you, all over you—
he was losing it. this was not like him. this was never supposed to happen, and he has to put an end to it. 
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everybody knew of geto suguru, the prodigy professor. already getting a phd despite not even being 30, handling the administrative slack for the department while managing office hours every day of the week, promoting student events, helping organize spirit weeks and charity drives. 
everything he did, he did for others. those not as capable as him — which was most people. in other words, it was really, really hard to hate him. 
but you damn well managed to. 
and to think you were excited to take his class. everybody told you to run, not walk, to sign up for his twentieth-century Japanese philosophy chair. 
“oh, professor geto is just the best,” they’d said. “he makes it sound so interesting and engaging, he gives the most life changing assignments, he really cares about us.”
bullshit. 
the first time you stepped into that classroom, suspiciously full for a philosophy class, you felt a shift in the air almost immediately. 
and sure enough, professor geto suguru was eyeing you down like he’d just seen a ghost. it made you self conscious, like he’d taken one look at you and decided right then and there you were too dumb for the class. 
it made your blood boil. sure, you stood out a little bit from the actual philosophy majors, but that doesn’t mean he gets to judge you. he literally doesn’t know you!
but fine, first impressions are tricky like that. for all you knew, you could’ve been misjudging him right there. 
however, with each passing day, you grew more and more assured in your suspicions.
you knew the man had it out for you, always calling on you to answer when he knew you weren’t paying attention, never grading your papers above a B even though you did everything right, somehow managing to fucking avoid you during his excessive office hours. 
his looks were almost the most infuriating part of it.
his beautiful face constantly set in that nonchalant look, his big veiny hands always gesticulating, his huge fucking arms straining the fabric of those dress shirts, his ear gauges and man bun contrasting the prim and proper image the rest of him conveyed. 
under different circumstances, he’d make your mouth water. under different circumstances, you’d imagine him going down on you all night long, singing praise about how good you taste and how tight you are. 
but in this timeline, you absolutely loathed him. and he loathed you too. why? you didn’t know. 
but you knew for a fact that it was personal. 
“i don’t care,” megumi said around a mouthful of meatball, cutting your monologue short. “i’m not doing it.”
you sigh, melting into your chair. “megumi. please. i am literally begging you, i just need some hard evidence so i can go report his ass.”
he eyes you curiously. “report him for what?”
“i don’t know. bullying? sexism? whatever the hell his problem is,” you pick at your food, huffing in annoyance. 
“you’re overthinking it,” megumi replies, dismissively. 
“okay, how about this,” you lean forward, putting an elbow on the table. “if you write the assignment for me, i’ll get your dog that expensive halloween costume you’ve been wanting.”
megumi lifts an eyebrow. 
“you need to get one for each,” he says simply. 
you grin. “deal.”
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suguru really does give it his all to make your life with him a living hell. pulls out all the stops, years of friendship with gojo satoru paying off as he comes up with ploy after ploy to get you to drop his class. 
it feels bad, being mean to you. but for the hidden, twisted parts of him, it feels delicious. 
watching you huff and puff, all hot and bothered when he corrects your answers on the spot. watching you nibble on your pen at the increasingly difficult exams he hands out. letting himself wonder if you missed a stream this week because you were too busy cramming for a make up test. 
he knows he’s pushing you to your limit, and even if there’s some sort of sick satisfaction in seeing you so agitated at his hands when it’s usually the other way around, he doesn’t enjoy upsetting you. 
the problem is, suguru knows it’s either he gets his shit together or he continues tormenting you, and, well. 
the spirit is willing but the flesh is so, so weak. 
he knows it’s getting worse, too, because he’s not infatuated by you only when you’re undressing on his screen, or all dolled up in class. 
when you tie your hair up in a ponytail, when you suck on a hangnail, when you lick your thumb to erase a smudge on your paper… all of it drives him wild. 
he can’t teach with a permanent half chub anymore. this has to end, one way or another. 
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you sit down in front of your computer, adjusting the camera before turning it on. soon, viewers start trickling in, little dings notifying you of their messages. 
you smile, waving at the screen. 
“hi everyone! i know i’m a little bit late today, i hope you can forgive me…” your eyes scan the chat, giggling at the compliments. “‘you look tired, sad face’, ah. i’m sorry. i guess i’ve been a little stressed lately.”
your robe falls over your shoulder as you readjust your position. a few donations come in, accompanied by supportive messages.
“you guys are so nice. it’s not a big deal, it’s just this dude giving me a hard time at college.” 
you absentmindedly trace your collarbones, reading what your viewers are saying. 
“you’ll kill him for me? that’s so sweet,” you joke. “nah, it’s not a student. it’s a professor. exactly, ynlover444, a grown ass man picking on me!”
you sigh deeply, allowing your body to finally unwind and relax on your chair. you prop a knee up against the armrest, giving your viewers a little peek in between your legs. you’re wearing one of your favorite sets, trying to get in the mood after the week you’ve had. 
“ugh, sometimes i wish i could just…” you suck in a breath, clenching your hand into a fist before releasing it. “sit on his face and get him to shut up, you know?”
you laugh at the countless me firsts that flood the chat, bringing a finger to your lip. 
“anyway! enough about that horrible man,” you reach beside you to grab a box your viewers know all too well by now. “let’s get to the fun stuff, shall we?”
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as always, satoru is no help. 
“why don’t you just fuck her?” he asks, eyebrows arching above his sunglasses. “ya gotta just fuck her.”
suguru clears his throat before taking a drag of his cigarette. “i’m not fucking a student.”
satoru shrugs. “everybody does it. besides, you basically already do.” 
suguru wonders, not for the first time, why he ever told his friend about his situation. about your streams, that he’d stumbled upon randomly and innocently and had gotten instantly hooked, about you barging into his classroom like an angel at hell’s gates, about you you you you, everything about you. 
“that won’t fix anything.”
satoru clicks his tongue, swirling his soda inside the can.
“poor, naive suguru. did you not just tell me about what she said on her stream?" and yes, regrettably, suguru had told him. "it’ll fix everything.”
suguru doesn’t even let himself consider it, except he does.
at this point it’s no secret that he’s thought about being inside you, but now that you’re here it’s just too real and too risky and completely fucking wrong. 
it goes against the entire life he’s built for himself. 
he’s lost. he wants you so fucking bad, wants you close, wants you so far away, wants to ravage you and never have to see you again. 
it’s fight or flight. if he got you alone, it could go either way, he realizes that. 
suguru wonders what part of him will win by the end of all of this. 
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your heels clack on the linoleum floor of the hallway as you approach professor geto’s classroom, megumi’s graded paper clutched tightly against your chest. 
the thing about megumi is that he's a star student. he’s never gotten anything below an A on any of his essays, makes the dean’s list every year, tutors his seniors. so the big, bright B- on the page tells you everything you need to know. 
damn right it’s personal. 
you don’t even bother knocking, slamming the door open while still trying to contain your indignation. 
geto is sitting at his desk, piles of papers sprawled on top. he has his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and a surprised look on his face that would be cute if you didn’t want to slap it right off. 
he says your last name like he’d been expecting you all his life.
“to what do i owe the pleasure?”
your jaw clenches as you take a few loud steps towards him. you slam megumi’s paper down on his desk, leaning over. 
“professor geto, i demand an explanation. a real one, this time.”
the man takes a deep breath, lips twisting disapprovingly. he smoothes the paper over.
“as i already explained in my notes right here, the structure is fine, but i couldn’t help but miss a more in-depth analysis of the four nodal concerns of philosophy that we talked about in class, such as—“
“no,” you interrupt. “just no. you know you’re bullshitting me and i’m sick of it. this paper deserved an A!”
“miss—“
“what’s your problem with me?” you spit out. your eyes finally meet and there’s nothing in geto’s that could answer your question. your chest is heaving, lips wobbling and hands shaking, trying to contain your anger. 
geto clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “like i said, your paper could’ve used a bit more—“
“no it fucking couldn’t have, because it’s not my fucking paper, it’s fushiguro’s fucking paper and the only reason you gave it a B is because i was the one who handed it in!”
he sits up, straightening his posture.
geto sounds austere when he asks, “do you realize how much trouble this could be for both of you if i reported it?”
you can’t believe this man. he’s been picking on you the entire semester and when you finally confront him about it this is what he chooses to focus on. 
“are you fucking kidding me?” that earns you a stern look from him, eyebrow raising taller than that fucking high horse he sits on. “professor geto. what did i ever do to you?”
there must be something earnest in your voice because geto sighs, getting up from his chair. 
he walks until he’s standing in front of you, leaning against his desk and crossing his feet. 
“do i bother you?” is all he says. it surprises you. 
you jut your chin out. “as a matter of fact, you do.”
the man hums. 
“i bet that’s really difficult for you,” he speaks like he’s sympathetic, like he understands. he sounds almost sheepish when he says, “i bet sometimes you wish i would just shut up.”
you blink rapidly. “no, it’s not like that. it might shock you but i genuinely do enjoy your class, it’s just that—“
“or maybe you wish you could shut me up,” he continues, ignoring you. “maybe going as far as to say that you could… sit on my face to get me to shut up.” 
your mouth goes dry.
before your brain can fully process the shift in the atmosphere or the fact that your professor is maybe possibly hitting on you, you realize where those words are coming from. 
it’s what you said. about him. on stream. right before fucking yourself on your hot pink dildo. 
you can’t speak, can barely even look in his general direction. 
you had really thought things couldn’t get any worse. had barged into his office with nothing to lose, almost hoping he would cordially invite you to remove yourself from his class permanently. 
but now? now you have no idea what’s going to happen to you. 
“i…” you start, the words dying in your throat. geto chuckles, crossing his fat fucking muscly arms across his chest. 
he says your name, low and syrupy. “is it true? you’d like to?”
you can feel your face flush hot in embarrassment, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, wishing desperately that you’d never walked into his classroom. 
you have half the mind to apologize to him, right now.
“it’s just a figure of speech,” you try. geto clicks his tongue. 
“what a shame.”
your wide eyes shoot up and meet his. “w-what?”
he smiles sweetly. 
“it’s a peace offering. you can take it, or we can forget you ever said anything,” and isn’t he just so slimey, actually, when he’s the one who brought it up. he had said it, and now… 
now you can finally allow yourself to look at him.
those delicious, broad shoulders, the ever-present bored look, the stubborn fringe that falls out of his bun. 
you could so easily forget what you came here for. 
“so, like, a truce?” you ask, taking a daring step forward. geto nods, uncrossing his arms. “and you stop treating me like i’m fucking dumb?”
he tilts his head. “i think you’re a very smart young lady. determined. entrepreneurial…”
“geto—“
“professor geto,” he corrects you, hands reaching out to graze your hips. “you’re intelligent. i just like to push my students.”
you both know that’s a lie, but it’s okay, because now you know exactly why you got under his skin and it makes your own burn. 
you run a hand down the line of buttons on the front of his shirt, looking up at him through your eyelashes. 
“then… push me, professor.”
it’s so incredibly lame, the porn line you hit him with, but to your surprise it works, a low groan rumbling deep in geto’s chest. 
he swiftly closes the distance between the two of you, grabbing both sides of your face and crashing your lips together. 
it’s ravenous, the way geto dips his tongue inside when you gasp in surprise. you moan against his mouth, slipping a leg in between his two. 
he’s half hard already when he rubs up against your thigh. 
geto picks you up with ease and sets you down on his desk, and it’s so fucking cliché, the papers crinkling under your weight, the pens clattering to the floor. but it turns you on beyond belief. 
you share a few open mouthed kisses, an exchange of tongue and moans and hot breaths between your lips. 
if you were honest with yourself, you'd admit that you've fantasized about it before. a silly idea, at first, something you'd just blurted out mid-stream.
but that little seed had been planted, and when you got yourself off that night, you might've imagined for a moment that it was your mean professor's cock squeezed tight inside you, making you come undone.
geto slips his hands under your skirt, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to him. you line up your crotch with his, moving your hips in tight little circles that make the both of you groan. 
his fingers are tugging your underwear down, down, the soft patch sticking to your gooey cunt. he lets the soaked fabric dangle from your ankle, grazing the back of his knuckles on your core. 
“mmm, fuck,” geto breaks the kiss, swallowing. his pretty lips are flushed and shiny, parted around his panted breaths. “you always get this wet or am i special?”
he’s smirking, the bastard, leaning back in to kiss your neck.
god, you smell so good, like lotion and perfume and sunshine and sin. 
“shouldn’t you know?” you sneak your fingers up into his bun, pushing your chest against him. he works his lips expertly on your skin, using just the right amount of teeth, of pressure.
geto hums against your neck, kissing a line up to your jaw. he snakes a hand under your skirt, thumb pressing down hard to rub on your clit, two fingers slipping inside. 
you immediately clench, a soft, drawn out mewl leaving your lips. 
the slide of his fingers against your walls send a chill down your spine, filling you up so perfectly. you feel the thin skin at your opening stretch around him, burning at the friction as his fingers plunge in and out of you. 
“god, look at that,” he rests his forehead on your shoulder and pulls the hem of your skirt up. “do you hear that, baby? so fucking wet for me.”
you whine, hands cupping his jaw so you can kiss him again. 
“please…” you mumble against his lips. “more…”
you wonder how much of what you can say he's heard before, which exact words have left your lips and sent him over the edge. it makes you self conscious, oddly, like he can see right through you.
not-so-kindly ignoring your request, geto removes his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth.
you watch as his eyelids flutter in pleasure, a hum rumbling low in his throat. 
he looks so good like this, just edible.
you pull him in for a kiss before he can, relishing in the surprised little noise he lets out. your knees are wobbling, feet dangling from your seat as you taste yourself on his tongue. 
he swallows your moan hungrily, forearms trembling with the need to hold back.
geto knows this is wrong, so wrong on so many levels, puts both your positions in jeopardy, it makes him feel perverted and primal and so fucking alive. 
he’s been watching you fuck yourself on those silly toys for god knows how long now, knows every spot that makes your hips buck, knows exactly how to make you cream like a debased slut around a cock. 
it should feel unfair, how easy it’s going to be for him to make you cum, only if it weren’t for the fact that your mere presence is enough to get him hard as fucking diamonds. 
“tastes good, huh?” he whispers, thumb caressing your chin. you nod, smiling devilishly. 
“tastes better on your tongue, prof.” 
geto groans low like a starved animal, holding your throat in his hand with a loose grip. he’s overwhelmed, that much shows, not knowing what to do with you or where to start. but there’s one thing he’s sure of. 
he presses one last kiss to your spit-slick lips before dropping to his knees. 
you can hardly believe it. sulky, big bad bully professor geto suguru on his knees for you. you prop a foot up on his desk, your sole skidding on a piece of paper. 
“scoot closer, please,” he asks, cordial even like this. you bring your ass to the edge of the desk, your dripping pussy hovering over his face. 
he looks so good under you, hair already disheveled, a delicious tent in his tailored pants. 
you tuck the hem of your skirt into the waistline so you can watch as he sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning like he’s fucking relieved. 
you throw your head back, fingers buried in his silky hair as geto’s fingers find their way back inside. 
he fucks them in and out of you lazily, pushing out strings of slick. geto slurps it all up, spreading your wetness all over your clit and sucking it back in his mouth. 
god, his cock is straining in his pants but he doesn’t dare touch it, can’t until he’s inside you. you taste like fucking heaven, like all his fantasies, like he always knew you would. 
you’re whining softly, bucking your hips into his face almost shyly, as to disrupt his pace.
you sound so much better in person, although he can’t wait to have you moaning into his ear without needing the headphones. 
“god, this perfect pussy,” geto mumbles into you, his breathing labored. he runs a thumb all over your cunt, gliding it over your soaked lips. “been dreaming about it for so long.”
“yeah?” you ask. “tell me. tell me how you stroke your cock to me every night.”
and every night might be overselling it. geto is a busy man. 
but your words do make him realize that no girl he’s had since he found your stream has satisfied him quite like you do. your flirty smile, your moans, the way they sometimes turn into uncontained giggles as you stuff your pretty cunt with a dildo. 
so he tells you, blush spreading across his cheeks. 
“fuck, i do,” he tongues your clit, tracing lazy circles. “i do. just look what you do to me.“
and there it is, that cheeky, slutty giggle, directed at something he said this time. 
he takes his fingers out, spreading your opening with both thumbs as he licks you all over. 
geto gulps, tongue dipping inside of you, sucking your clit into his mouth, sliding down to your entrance, every clench of your pussy pushing out more and more slick for him. no one's ever eaten you out as thoroughly as this.
“oh, fuck, sir,” it slips out casually, the way it would were you talking to any other professor. but given the circumstances, you revel in the deep moan geto buries into your cunt. 
you trap your lips between your teeth to keep anything else from tumbling out, but it’s useless.
“please, sir, i’m so close—so close just keep doing that, yeah just like that—“
“fuck,” he mumbles, pulling away to suck in a desperate breath. then, “fuck,” sultrier, right into your core. 
you grind against his face, finding purchase in his hair as a final few flicks of his tongue push you right into the crest of a mind-numbing orgasm.
it’s so good, so much better than when you're alone. the friction so perfect, his long, thick fingers plugging you up last minute to viciously fuck into you. 
“god…,” you breathe out, legs trembling as he runs his hands up your thighs. 
his chin is glistening, bubbles of spit and cum gathering in the corner of his mouth. he looks so good like this, like he was meant to please you and nothing else. 
geto feels like a fucking teenager, so goddamn close to busting in his pants at the sight of you. his dick hurts, balls tight and the head throbbing where it’s tucked into his underwear. 
“please, sweetheart,” he can’t hold himself back any longer, slick fingers already undoing his belt. 
you get to work on his zipper, pulling his pants down along with his underwear and damn. 
you figured he was big. he was a tall man, broad shoulders, shoes the size of a yacht, and the bulge in his trousers was a pretty good indication. but it couldn’t have prepared you for the sheer size of him. 
longer than it is thick, cleanly shaven, pretty veins and ridges and standing angry red in attention. god, you want it inside you. 
he notices you looking. 
“do you need more prep? i can—“
“no, fuck no, suguru, need it inside me now,” you wrap a hand around him and he hisses, caging you in with his arms on the desk. 
he huffs out a laugh, blowing the fringe framing his face. “what happened to sir?”
you kiss down his jaw, squeezing right below his tip. 
“sorry, sir,” you say against his ear. “are you going to punish me for my slip up?”
geto groans, pulling on your hair hard and making you face him. 
“take your shirt off for me,” he instructs, and you obey, maneuvering around his tight grip on the back of your head. 
his spirit is so unbreakable.
here you are, teasing him, coaxing him to rough you up, push you around, relieve both your frustrations properly once and for all, but he’s just so… adoring, and hungry, and just so irrevocably into you, and you find out that’s so much better. 
geto relents his hold on you to unclasp your bra, cupping your breasts and sucking a nipple into his mouth. you whine, caressing his hair. 
“so fucking perfect,” he massages your tits, looking mesmerized. 
“yeah? they haven’t gotten old to you yet?”
he laughs, so cute, and you can barely remember that just hours ago you hated the sight of him. you stroke his cock up and down, squeezing harder at the tip trying to milk all that delicious pre he’s been wasting on the inside of his boxers. 
“no, f-fuck—never gonna get old,” he pushes your boobs against each other, imagining his cock sliding in between them, his balls nestled underneath, his load blown all over your pretty face—
fuck, he’s gonna cum if he keeps going like this. 
he rips your hand away from him, ignoring your knowing smirk and pushing his tongue into your mouth. 
“i’m gonna fuck you now, okay, sweetheart?” you moan, nodding, shimmying your hips so he can have the perfect angle. 
a big hand clasps your thigh to wrap your leg around his hips as his tip pokes around your entrance.
you’re whining in anticipation, clenching around nothing, nails clawing his clothed back. 
when he slips in, it feels like coming home. you’re like warm honey around him, cunt pushing him out but clinging to him at the same time, with every stroke. it’s fucking maddening. 
“ahh, g-god, sir, ‘s too big—“ you swallow around the lump in your throat, feeling the tip of his cock in your guts. 
he’s huffing, concentrated, bullying his cock into you inch by inch with shallow thrusts until he finally bottoms out. 
“fuuuuck, angel,” he grips your waist with both hands, like he could just fuck you up and down his length if he wanted to. “took me so well, look at that.”
you do, dropping your heavy head to look at where you’re connected. you clench around him and he whines, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in. 
the metal legs of the desk skid on the floor, papers and pens raining down to the floor as geto starts roughly plunging in and out of you. 
you let out little ah, ah, ahs in time with his strokes, the ache deep in your stomach finally starting to fade. 
“f-fuck, you’re gonna—topple us over, suguru, go easy—“
“can’t,” he chokes out, wheezing as he pushes his cock in as far as it can go. 
he gives shallow little thrusts, his length straining the fine skin at your entrance so good, hitting a spot inside you over and over that makes your head spin. 
your fingers twist into the back of his shirt, pulling him in to whine right into his ear.
he’s so big, stretching you out so thin that you feel every ridge and vein, can feel both your heartbeats inside your cunt. 
“ohhhhh fuck, fuck sir, please please touch me—“
he grabs your ass before you can even finish your sentence and presses you flush against his hips. 
geto’s tip is kissing your cervix now, his balls sticky and creamy against your ass, your clit grinding against his pubic bone as his thrusts violently shake the both of you. 
“fuck, wanna do it so fucking loud but i can’t, we can’t, what if someone walks in—“
you moan wantonly at his words, expecting to be chided, but geto seems to love it despite his worries because his cock kicks deliciously inside of you.
“look how loud you’re being, listen to yourself,” he grunts out, the belt pooled around his feet clanging with every stroke, the absolutely lewd squelches from your pussy resonating in the entire classroom. 
you two sound so good together, better than you’ve ever had, better than he could’ve ever imagined. 
“so loud, so wet on this cock,” he spits out, sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead. “do those toys make you feel this good? this full? answer me.” 
“hahh, n-no, no one but you,” you can’t think straight, head thrown back in pleasure and eyes squeezed shut. “only you, sir.”
geto whines like he’s aching, pounding into you mercilessly and making a mess under the two of you. 
“fuck yeah, that’s right. i’m making you feel good, baby?”
“mm-hm,” you mumble, tongue lolling out. geto's going so hard now, has you pressed up so tight against him, body caging you in, fucking every breath and thought right out of you. “close.”
“yeah?” he speeds up his effort slightly, and you’re sure he’s going to have desk-edge shaped bruises on his thighs tomorrow. “gonna cum on my cock? cream all over me?”
you let out a long, drawn out whine, tits bouncing up and down with the force of geto’s thrusts. 
“let me see your face when you cum, darling,” he cups the back of your neck, breathing hard through his nose. “keep your eyes on me. that’s right, sweetie, so good, you’re doing so good.”
you preen at the praise, feeling suddenly self conscious with the man's laser focus attention on you. 
you coo out little noises, growing in desperation, holding onto his biceps for dear life as his hips piston in and out of you. 
your pull him into you closer and rub your clit against him, grinding helplessly as your orgasm creeps closer and closer. 
the moment you open your eyes and meet his hungry ones, you’re cumming. your walls spasm around him, making the glide of his dick impossibly wetter with your release. 
geto chokes on a sound, his cock hostage of your pussy’s vice-like grip as your greedy cunt milks him for all he's got. 
“f-fuck, baby, look so pretty when you cum, always look so fucking sexy so fucking perfect that you’re gonna make me bust, i’m gonna cum for you god gonna cum inside, gonna blow my load all deep inside this pussy—“ 
it’s the most desperate he’s ever sounded, speaking through clenched teeth and a soaked mouth. you moan in return, letting him use you. 
he slams his forehead down your shoulder when he thrusts once, twice, three times and cums, his balls drawing up so tight that it hurts. he fucks it into you with shallow thrusts, panting, almost wheezing in pleasure. 
it feels like it lasts forever, his orgasm. like all of the blood in his body goes straight to his balls to push out the thickest, most satisfying nut of his life into the prettiest girl he's ever seen.
you feel it fill you up so good, hear it, too, squelching and sticking to both of you. 
geto’s body slumps against yours and you stay like that for a while, catching your breaths. there’s cum sliding out of you, down his balls, onto some poor student’s essay you have your ass on top of. 
when he pulls out of you, he takes a beat to watch it spill out of you some more, his face and chest red, his smile groggy. 
“god, this,” geto has to fight the urge to say thank you for letting him fuck your brains out. he swallows. 
“yeah,” you blink away the haze, feeling sore and fucked out. “this.”
“…is probably going to happen again, right?”
he knows it shouldn’t. he knows it will.
maybe both parts of geto can learn to coexist.  
you grin, touching the tip of your tongue to his lips. 
“well, i still haven’t made good on that promise of sitting on your face, have i?” 
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the next morning, in class, the students erupt in happiness at the news that professor geto had an accident that ended up ruining most of last week’s graded papers he had in his possession. 
so he decided to give everyone an A for their troubles. 
and finally, finally, there was peace in the world.
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10K notes · View notes
h4mmiee · 12 days
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it feels fitting that i was working on this while watching x men 97 and then ep 5 hit... i might come back to it when my emotions recover but for now i'll leave it unfinished
2K notes · View notes
martiniluvr · 14 days
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18+ minors dni
1,000 follower celebration!! I love u all wow. thank you for all your support, truly. be warned, this is long. enjoy 💫
warnings: nsfw alphabet for dick grayson and jason todd, so there’s a variety of things under the cut. please proceed with caution 🩷
★・・・★・・・★・・・★
A | Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
jason is very different after sex. it’s a major act of trust for him, so when it’s done, all he really wants is to be close to you. in other words: he’s a big cuddler. he’ll mumble some things into your skin as you run your fingers through his hair, and after, you usually end up ordering enough food to feed a small family, because that man can eat.
dick is a loverboy at heart. once the dust has settled and you’re both down from your highs, he’s doting on you—bringing you water, a snack, cleaning you up with a damp cloth—with doe eyes and a big old grin. always invites you to have a shower with him afterwards, and you always say yes, because his shoulder rubs are divine.
B | Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
unsurprisingly, jason has some…issues with his body from all the shit it’s been through. that being said, I think he intentionally trains his back and shoulders the most. it’s what makes him look as huge as he does. as for his favourite thing about you, jason todd is an ass man, argue with the wall. he likes something he can grab. hard.
dick grayson knows his ass is fat. he’s not shy about it. but his favourite body part is actually his arms, and how muscular they’ve become over the years. as for you, he loves your hips. they trigger something primal in him; the second you put on a fitted dress, he’s thinking about giving you his children.
C | Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
jason gets nasty. he’ll cum anywhere on your body just for the obscene sight, but he especially loves to cum in your mouth when he’s feeling that extra bit dominant. he doesn’t care if you spit or swallow, it turns him on either way—but, god, he’s proud when you open your mouth to show him it’s all gone.
let’s cut to the chase. dick wants to cum inside you over and over again. he hardly even contemplates doing it anywhere else; that man wants to fill you up and watch you drip. maybe it’s his out-of-control breeding kink, maybe it’s how intimate it feels—whatever the case may be, rest assured dick grayson loves a creampie.
D | Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
voyeurism. jason likes to watch. it happened accidentally once when he walked in on you practicing some self-care, and he’s thought about it ever since. he enjoys the performance aspect of it; it’s a power play, watching you get yourself off, knowing he’s right there but refusing to help you.
this ties in with Q, but dick borders on exhibitionism sometimes. fucking you in his car, in the bathroom at a charity event, or in a changing room—anywhere you might get caught, really—god, it gets him going. it’s the daredevil in him, constantly yearning to test the limits of what he can do.
E | Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
I think jason had very limited to no experience before his death, and most of what knows today he learned by being with you. ever the fast learner, though, he sure as shit knows what he’s doing now. I think he’s very in-tune with your body and his needs, and it shows in the way he fucks you.
we have to face facts here. dick definitely got around before committing to a serious relationship. despite that, I think he knows what he’s doing thanks to his impeccable observational skills; sometimes you think he knows your body better than you do (but don’t tell him that; it goes straight to his head).
F | Favorite position (this goes without saying)
jason is a sucker for good old-fashioned doggy style, of course, but fuck, does he adore the prone bone position. trapping you under his body, hitting you deep with each thrust, and he gets to watch your ass jiggle at every movement? it borders on religious ecstasy for him.
dick goes feral—feral—for the mating press position. it’s erotic, carnal, and raw, and that’s exactly what he wants when he’s fucking you. he’s also partial to cowgirl, especially when he can tell you want to take control. the view it offers him is enough to have him whining underneath you for more.
G | Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
jason is more on the serious side; sex with him, intense as it may be, is still a big act of vulnerability on his part, so he doesn’t treat it lightly. he will, however, crack a warm smile on those occasions when you make love in the small hours of the morning, when he thinks you can’t see his face clearly.
dick is a tease, and sex with him is fun. he likes to flirt with you while he bends you into compromising positions, and he gets very cocky when you cum. he can’t help but make little quips after the fact, either; “something wrong with your leg, baby?” as your limbs twitch and tremble from your orgasm. jerk.
H | Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
in keeping with his rugged exterior, jason is only doing what he needs to in order to keep things manageable and convenient. he is not dedicating hours to manscaping. much to your elation, that means he keeps his happy trail intact.
dick is a little more meticulous in his grooming, being the “pretty boy” that he is. he prefers keeping himself neatly trimmed, partly to ensure more comfort in his nightwing suit—he’s learned the hard way that the pornstar look is a one-way ticket to chafing when you’re jumping off of buildings.
I | Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
jason really restrains himself from being outwardly intimate. he finds it hard to be that vulnerable, and while he loves the passion between you when you fuck, he’s only really able to tap into the romantic aspect if he’s wholly at ease. that’s not to say it never happens! it definitely does, just give him time.
he may be cocky and unserious when he’s fucking you, but sex with dick is always very openly intimate. he sees the beauty and romance in what you do together, and it’s truly special to him that he gets to witness you like this. sex is absolutely one of the ways he expresses his love and admiration for you.
J | Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
jason only really masturbates when he’s away from you on a mission, and needs to take the edge off. it’s less interesting without you, so he wants it done quick. he imagines you touching yourself as he does it—legs wide and eyes hazy—and that gets him to his peak extremely efficiently.
dick likes to edge himself. I said what I said. he’s thinking about how he’d much rather save his load for your pretty cunt, so he’s bucking his hips and screwing his eyes shut as he forces himself to stop right before his climax, reminding himself how good it’ll feel when he gets to fill you up.
K | Kink (one or more of their kinks)
overstimulation is jason’s go-to; he gets off on dragging orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re hardly able to speak. he also loves forced eye contact, especially when you can barely keep your eyes open. oh, and he has a massive size kink. when you’re as huge as he is, everyone is small by comparison, and he likes how big you make him feel.
say it with me. dick grayson has a breeding kink. the visual aspect of cumming inside you is enough to drive him crazy, but the thought of getting you pregnant…now that makes him rabid. face-sitting is another big one; any variation of pussy-eating drives him wild, but having you sit on his face is his favourite way to do it.
L | Location (favorite places to do the do)
if you’re at home, anywhere is fair game to jason. he’s fucking you in the kitchen, in the bedroom, on the sofa, against the wall, in the office—anywhere. outside of home, he’s more restrictive, but he has thought about fucking you in the batmobile on the many occasions he’s stolen it.
the bedroom is definitely dick’s favourite place to fuck you; aside from making things feel more romantic, he wants you to be comfortable as he’s bending you into crazy positions. he also loves a shower quickie and car sex, impractical though they may be. don’t worry, he’s an acrobat. it’ll work.
M | Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
is it crazy to say that jason gets turned on when you argue? because he does. a moderate disagreement where you’re getting huffy with him is a surefire way to get bent over the sofa. oh, and if he feels even a little jealousy creeping over him, you’re in for a ride. also, if you nestle into him during the night, you’ll be contending with his hard cock pressed against your lower back until one of you caves.
dick is whipped. whatever you’re doing can get him going. cooking, reading, wearing his clothes—he loves everything you do. but, he’s particularly turned on whenever you dress up for a special occasion. it can be a little inconvenient when you’re running late for an event and he’s groping you over your gown in the limo, but how can you refuse those blue eyes?
N | No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
jason would be very resistant to anything that puts him in a submissive role (this goes for ak!jason too). this includes both sex acts and the use of props/toys that take control away from him; he’s just not into it. he’d also refuse any kind of roleplay, saying it’s unnecessary. he’s a pragmatic guy.
I think dick would really dislike the idea of hurting you. he’s not opposed to spanking, and he’ll even engage in some light breath play (ahem, headlock, anyone?), but he would never take it any further than that. if he bruised you through anything other than hickies, he’d be sick with guilt.
O | Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
it should come as no surprise that jason loves receiving head. there are few sights as enticing as watching you take his cock in your mouth while he instructs you to keep your eyes on him. he’s also very skilled in returning the favour, and his preference is eating you from the back so he can see your pretty ass move each time you squirm.
you know my stance on this. dick is a munch. he’s eating pussy like it’s his last meal before the end of the world, and he’s doing it for him. needless to say, he’s fucking good at it. receiving head is quite literally the last thing on his mind. that being said, when he does remember to let you reciprocate, all he can think about is how pretty you look while doing it.
P | Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
jason can get pretty rough, and he likes to fuck you hard, but he knows how much you can take. sex for him is partially an emotional release. but, he’s good at alternating between destroying you one day and being gentle the next; despite his tough facade, jay enjoys soft, passionate sex as much—if not more—than you do.
dick is kind of a hedonist; once he starts feeling pleasure, he doesn’t want it to end—especially when you start feeling it too. he’s happy to give you fast and rough if it’s what you want, but his preference is sloppy, erotic fucking. the messier you get, the better. although, if he’s got you in a mating press, the roughness seeps back in quickly.
Q | Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
while he’ll never say no to a quickie, jason prefers to take his time with you. once he starts, he finds it hard to stop, and he loves to see how much you can take from him before you’re spent. quickies are sporadic with him; he prefers to enjoy your body at his pace.
if he gets the chance to fuck you—hell, even just tease you—dick is going to take it. he loves the thrill and the sense of urgency that comes with quickies. whether it’s a hookup in his car or an impromptu blowjob when he’s supposed to be on patrol, his eyes are lighting up like it’s christmas.
R | Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
jason is not a risk-taker. he needs time to warm to any kind of experimentation, but he’s more likely to try things on you than on himself, like using light restraints on you or dabbling in sensory play. as long as he feels he has some control.
dick is a different story. he’s willing to try most things at least once, and he’s able to laugh it off if something goes south. he’s not opposed to switching (ha) things up and giving you the lead, either; he likes a woman in charge.
S | Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
maybe it’s his extensive training, maybe it’s just who he is; whatever the case may be, jason can go for a long time. but, it’s usually just one round that he draws out so he can really work you to your limit.
dick can handle multiple rounds if you give him time. his recovery consists of burying his face between your legs until he’s ready to go again, which doesn’t take very long once you start convulsing against his tongue.
T | Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
jason wouldn’t even think to use sex toys unless you brought it up, but he’d be open to using them on you if you asked. he’s quick to see the potential in your little pink vibrator when he holds it against your clit while he fucks you, noticing how much easier it is to overstimulate you this way.
ever the experimentalist, dick isn’t opposed to trying out toys in the bedroom. in fact, he’s the one who would show up with fuzzy blue handcuffs (“I got them in my colour!”) to restrain your hands behind your back, so he can devour your cunt without interference from you.
U | Unfair (how much they like to tease)
he’d like to tease you more, but jason doesn’t really have the restraint for it. as soon as you’re splayed out in front of him, he wants to take you. when he does tease, though, he likes to touch you everywhere but where you need him most, until you’re begging for him to make you feel good. then, he likes to make you regret it—over and over again.
dick is the world’s biggest tease, and you can look that up. he’s got you grinding on his lap, making out with you until you’re panting, only to say he needs to do some work as he stands up with a smirk. and when he finally gets you naked, he makes you tell him what you need while his fingers hover over your aching pussy, never reaching you.
V | Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
jason isn’t very loud at all, but the sounds he does make range from grunts and groans to the occasional low moan if you tug at the hair on the nape of his neck. he’s a big dirty talker, and he likes to get up in your ear to do it, so he knows you’re listening. he notices the way you shiver at his gravelly voice, and it drives him crazy.
dick is far less concerned about being quiet. he’s moaning, swearing, telling you how pretty you are, even occasionally whining, and he’s not worried about what your neighbours think—in fact, he’s making sure you’re just as vocal as he is, insisting you tell him how you feel. he’s also expressive when he cums, especially when he does it inside you.
W | Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
I know this is controversial, but jason would never agree to a threesome. this man is possessive. the mere thought of seeing someone else touch you in front of him is enough to make him see red, so no—he’d end up committing murder (not that it’s a far leap for him on a good day).
dick has a thing for watching you work out, especially when you’re doing yoga in the living room in those skin-tight pants. watching the way your limbs elongate and contract as you bend and stretch does things to him, but he never interrupts; the images stay in his mind for those long missions.
X | X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
jason is a behemoth of a man all over. and I do mean all over. he’s packing. an easy 8 inches (slightly more), thick, with a slight upwards curve and a prominent vein from the base to the tip—which is a mauvy pink, by the way. you’re still shocked you’re able to take him, and he was too the first time.
‘prettiest man alive also has a pretty cock’ would be dick’s headline. just over 6 inches, with enough girth to make you feel full, and a rosy pink tip that matches his lips…you could honestly just stare at it if he’d let you (and he probably would). he fits you like a glove every single time.
Y | Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
jason’s sex drive is pretty consistent; it’s always simmering a little ways below the surface. he’s able to compartmentalise it when he has to, but sex doubles as a form of stress-relief for him, so it happens…often.
dick has an incredibly high sex drive. like jason, he can reel it in when needed, but if it were up to him, you’d fuck every single day, twice even. I also truly believe that he’s regularly plagued by morning wood.
Z | Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
he’s going to make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of, but the truth is jason could probably pass out in your arms about 10 minutes after you’re done. take it as a sign of how safe he feels with you as he’s snoring softly into your neck.
he’s definitely tired after sex, but dick is waiting until he notices you dozing off before he closes his eyes. once he’s out, though, good luck waking him up again without an air horn. he’s going to need his full eight hours to recharge.
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nightlight-rising · 1 month
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final commission from my batch! Don for XXVeil. this one was a doozy
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rafeandonlyrafe · 3 months
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tears snot and drool
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words: 1.6k
warnings: 18+ ONLY! SMUT, DARK!RAFE, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, NONCON, R*PE, FORCED ANAL, kind of r*pe kink from reader?, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cum play, degradation, dacryphilia, brief male receiving oral and brief mention of fingering
“so good for me, darling.” rafe drawls out, his voice deep and smooth as he pushes forward, sinking into you. “so tight.”
“slow-” you gasp out when rafe pushes in again, his hips swinging into yours in a smooth motion. “slow down, please rafey.”
“you feel so good.” rafe says, ignoring your pleas, ignoring your hands pushing at his hips, trying to stop his thrusts, trying to squirm away, but he grips your waist, holding you down into the mattress.
“it-it hurts.” you plea as his fat cock juts into you, feeling like you’re being split in half.
“stop fucking squirming.” rafe grunts. he liked it at first, liked you trying to get away, knowing he was too big for you, but now he’s starting to get upset, wanting you to let him fuck you without the whining. “if it hurts, you wouldn’t be so fucking wet.”
you hear it then, the wet sounds every time rafe pushes inside you, your pussy squelching as he fucks into your wetness, falling down your body, making a mess of the sheets.
“im gonna bruise.” you complain, already feeling the soreness on the walls of your cunt, knowing when he fucks you again in the morning, like he always does, that its going to hurt more than usual. rafe likes to build you up, likes to fuck you with his fingers while you moan on his lap, and you appreciate him warming you up and stretching you open, but he came home in a mood, pushing you down onto the bed and stripping you, shoving his cock in your opening without any prep.
“i dont give a shit.” rafe grunts out. you’re supposed to be his little plaything, supposed to be ready to be a toy for him whenever he needs.
“stop, stop!” you whine, finally being able to move, even with his hands squeezing your waist so tight it hurts. you manage to get away, for his cock to fall out of your cunt. you try to move up the bed, body shaking as you feel tears sliding down your cheeks.
rafe moves faster than you can, taking those hands on your waist and flipping you onto your stomach. you try to get on your hands and knees, try to crawl away, but rafe presses his chest into your back, using his massive size to pin you against the mattress.
“no, let me go!” you shout, feeling rafes cock push against you, rubbing against your ass as his hand grabs your wrist, holding them together above your head, preventing you from fighting.
“this is what you get for being a fucking brat.” rafe spits into your ear. he reaches down with his free hand, grasping his cock, still splitting hard. he rubs the head through your pussy, wetting his length, but he moves past your cunt.
“no!” you squeal, trying to buck your hips, but rafe delivers a hard slap to your ass to get you to stop.
rafe presses his cock against your other hole, the tight ring of muscle not opening up to him, not when you are strung so tight, muscles clenching.
“fucking relax for me before i force myself in.” rafe warns, but you can’t, you can’t calm down as tears flow down your face. 
rafe keeps the base of his cock held tightly in his hand as he shoves into your asshole, the stretch causing you to scream as he continues in, slowly, but only because he can’t move any faster with how tight your squeezing him.
“it hurts so bad, stop, please, fuck my pussy, just stop!” you beg, willing to let him destroy your cunt if it could keep your ass from hurting this bad.
“its too late.” rafe says, rocking his hips forward, moving one hand to your ass, gripping the flesh and spreading your cheeks open for him, your hole already turning bright red from his abuse.
rafe eventually opens you up a bit, allowing him to move faster as he pounds his hips down into you, a slapping sound every time his skin connects with the plushness of your bum.
you give up, give up on trying to get away as you sob into the mattress, not caring that you are staining rafes sheets with your tears, snot and drool.
“dont cry baby, you’re gonna make me fuck you even harder.” rafe smirks, liking seeing you like this, trapped under his muscles, hands held tight above your head, a complete wreck.
“i hate you.” you grit out, twisting your head to see rafe out of the corner of your eye, his jaw slackened open in a moan. you bare your teeth to him, the pain obvious on your face as he continues to fuck you, your cunt still leaking onto the bed.
“i know you do. and you’re still gonna let me fuck you.” rafe says. he’s done this one too many times, used you when you didn’t want it to happen, only for him to apologize and shower you with kisses, getting you to spread your legs once again for him.
“no i wont.” you vow, vow to yourself in the moment, but despite the pain, it feels to good, too good to get rafes attention, even if it meant him violating your asshole. you’d be back. you’ll always come crawling right back.
“whatever you say baby girl.” rafe laughs, mocking you as he moves deeper, making your feet kick out uncontrollably, unable to help the movements as sharp pain stabs through your insides. “want me to touch your clit?”
“yes.” you cry out, knowing the pleasure would help distract you from his cock splitting you in two, breaking you in half.
“tell me you love me then. tell me you love my cock, that you love me forcing myself on you.” rafe spits out, moving his hand from holding your wrists to grip either side of your ass, moving faster as he puts every pound of his weight into every thrust.
“no!” you shout out. you can’t say such sweet words to him, not when your nails are clawing at the sheets and he’s pumping inside of your ass. not right after you told him you hated him.
“then you don’t get to cum.” rafe says. he wants you to cum, he always does, he just prioritizes himself first.
“fine!” you whine out, lifting your hips up, wondering if a different angle will help the pain, and you let out a low moan when the thrusts suddenly become pleasurable, at least somewhat as he hits a new spot inside of you. “i love you!”
rafe smiles, moving a hand to your clit, rubbing over your sensitive bud without caring how harsh the rough pads of his fingers feel. 
“you gonna cum for me little whore?” rafe questions. 
you don’t give him a response, but you know he feels the way your clit pulses underneath his fingertips, still able to force an orgasm out of you despite the state he’s put you in.
“want me to cum in your ass? or should i fill your pussy up?” rafe asks. “switch to your other hole, breed you?”
you’re on birth control, and rafe knows it too, but it doesn’t stop him fantasizing about filling you up, making your tummy swell with his kid, just another way of possessing you, owning you.
“fuck you.” you manage to grit out, hating the semblance of choice, as if rafe won’t do what he wants, like he always does.
rafe smirks, knowing you are about to cum as he moves faster, jackhammering into you at a blistering pace, all from his need to get off as well.
you feel his cock swell inside of you as his fingers pinch harshly at your clit, trying to get you to cum in time with him.
“fuck!” rafe shouts out, releasing into your ass as you cum as well, your high hitting you like a brick wall as you scream out, rafes nails digging into your clit as his cum floods your ass, long spurts filling you up.
rafe collapses against you, his hand moving from underneath you on your cunt as you ride out your orgasm with no stimulation, making you whine as his weight squishes you, taking the breath out of your lungs.
rafes breathing slowly returns to normal while you struggle underneath him, tears still flowing down your cheeks.
he finally manages to move his tired muscles, kneeling over you before pulling his cock out, watching as his cum begins to spill. rafe places a hand on your cheek, spreading your ass open as it falls out in white globs.
“such a tight little hole.” rafe pushes his pointer finger against your skin, rubbing the cum around. “i’m gonna have to play with it more often.”
you press your face into the mattress as his finger enters you, not caring that your cheek is now pressed against the wet spot of your saliva and snot. 
“please.” you manage to whimper out. you’ve had too much for tonight. you can’t even fight him back, can’t clench your ass to stop his finger from entering your abused tunnel.
“fine.” rafe sighs, pulling his finger out, but not before slapping his hand over your ass. “but my cock is still hard. pussy or mouth?”
you move as rafe does, flopping down against the bed, his head on the pillows. you lay yourself between his legs, thighs still shaking, but glad that the mess that is your private parts is going to be left alone for a while as you grasp his cock in your hand, sinking your lips down, wondering how much longer he is going to play with you for tonight.
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montereybayaquarium · 8 months
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Every spring, pelagic cormorants find a safe and snuggly spot under the Aquarium’s back deck to build nests, lay eggs, and raise their chicks. These awkwardly adorable avians grow up quickly! Within 40-50 days, they’re ready to fledge the nest and take flight on their own adventure. 
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