#if for no other reason than doing something i hate makes me never want to do it

[exhaslo]

English is not my first language, so I hope I can speak it correctly. I imagined a story where the shy!reader has hot dreams about Miguel, and for some "reason" (Lyla), Miguel finds out and decides to tease the reader until everything ends in an NSFW way. I hope I have given you the idea within the appropriate terms.

Hehehe, no worries my friend. I know just what to write.

Warning: MINORS DNI, SMUT, teasing, slow sex, masturbation, fingering, wet dreams, overstimulation

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This obsession you were having with one of your co-workers was getting out of hand. You knew it was a long shot that you could ever have a chance with the one and only, Miguel O'hara, but you couldn't stop dreaming about him.

Miguel O'hara was the smartest man in Alchemax. He was in charge of nearly everything that had to do with genetics. Every woman wanted to be his, hell, even men wanted a piece of that hot ass.

You? You were part of ordering team. It was a blessing and a curse, mainly because you got to talk with Miguel a lot more than others. You had to get with him to see what materials he needed. You loved it, but also hated it.

Why?

Because each time you talked to Miguel helped you dream of him fucking you raw. His hands pinning your head down against your pillow as he plows you from behind. The thought of his dick filling you again and again made your pussy throb.

His husky voice whispering in your ear, asking you who you belonged too. His balls emptying out inside your womb, coating your walls white.

Drool nearly rolled down your lips as your fingers rested gently against your throbbing bud. Oh, how Miguel O'Hara made your mind wander to the dirtiest parts. It was difficult because you knew something as glorious as that could never happen.

When you got home, you had nothing better to do than record your thoughts. Unlike the past where people wrote in a diary, the year 2099 made things easier. You summoned your AI and set it to recording mode, ready to talk about your wildest fantasies.

"Ah, and when Miguel's hand grazed mind when he handed me the list...mhm...I couldn't help but think how those fingers would feel inside me. Why does he have to be so hot? I can't mutter a word to him about anything other than work!"

You whined and cried as you let your frustrations out in your virtual diary. It wasn't fair. You wanted Miguel to notice you as a woman. You wanted him to ask you out. To make you his.

But who knows whenever that will happen.

---------

Miguel was stuck in his lab, working on some late projects before calling it a night. As he worked, he recalled you. Smiling at how shy you were, Miguel leaned back in his seat. Out of all the girls who fawned over him, Miguel enjoyed you the most.

The way your cheeks turned bright red whenever he spoke was adorable. How you doze off and let your mind wander only made Miguel curious. What could you be thinking of when he was standing before you?

"Lyla, could you find a way to contact (Y/N)? I want to add something to the list." Miguel demanded.

"Hmm," Lyla appeared and started to work, "Oh, looks like she is in recording mode with her AI. Let me patch us in-"

"Ly'a, don't! That's her-"

"Hah, ah~ M-Miguel..."

Miguel froze as Lyla hacked into your recording AI. His eyes widen and cock harden as you laid on your bed, fingered working furiously against your clit. Your body arching as you whimpered moans and cries of his name.

"Ah~ R-Right there....mhm~ h-harder M-Miguel...f-fill me up~!" You cried out before reaching your orgasm.

Miguel shuddered in awe as he watched your pussy spasm and clench to air. Your breathing heavy as you laid down to rest. You took a moment to sit up, whining softly before complaining that you needed to stop thinking about Miguel since he could never be yours.

Oh how wrong you were.

Miguel had Lyla turn everything off. He logged out and hurried out of Alchemax. How could he work when there was a beauty such as yourself desperate for his dick? Miguel had been wanting to make you his since the moment you spoke to him.

Hopefully you were ready for him.

----------

You laid on your bed, sniffing your thoughts away. Your recording ended much differently than you would like. Luckily it was your own personal diary, but you still should probably delete it in case something ever happens.

Upon hearing a knock at your door, you scurried to grab a robe. Who could it be at this late hour? Poking through your door peep hole, you gasped as Miguel stood in front of your door. Hurrying to open, you nearly forget about your exposed self,

"M-Miguel?! W-What....What are you doing here?" You asked with a squeak.

"Sorry-" Miguel glanced down at you, "I, um...came here without thinking."

"Oh...Well..." You could feel your heart racing a mile a minute, "W-Why don't you come in...let me get you some water."

---------

How could you be so carefree? There you were, in nothing but a robe, after just fucking yourself to him. If Miguel didn't have his spider powers this might have been a different scene playing out. Oh, the temptation to pin you against the counter and fuck you stupid.

"Actually...I need to confess something to you."

Miguel needed to control himself. Perhaps he could tease you a bit about what he saw. Perhaps he could make this a bit more natural and playful.

"Lyla-My AI, may have accidently showed me something that is confidential for you." Miguel said as he cleared his throat. The blood had drained from your face,

"L-Like?!"

"Like," Miguel smiled as he hovered over your trembling body, "You crying out so sweetly."

"Ah!" You covered your face as it turned bright red. Miguel leaned down, chuckling lowly,

"Who would have thought those hands of yours could move so fast?"

"M-Miguel-"

"I couldn't help but feel awful for putting you in such a....position," Miguel nibbled against your ear, hearing you whine, "Such a quiet girl making those noises...how naughty."

-------

You could feel your head spinning as Miguel pressed his body against yours. The warmth of his body engulfing yours as his voice whispered against your ear. Everything about this scene was making you wet.

"How long have you been thinking about me?" Miguel chuckled as his hands circled around your waist,

"Mhm~ A long time," You admitted, feeling flustered by his teasing.

"Oh? Do you touch yourself like that every night?"

Your robe was starting to come undone as your body went on full display for Miguel. His head against your head, causing you to press your chest against his.

"Y-Yes," You stuttered.

"How naughty."

Miguel chuckled once more as he kissed your neck. Your robe had fallen on the floor and Miguel's hands were firmly on your waist. His leg pushed forward, causing your pussy to sit against it. You whimpered a whine as he kept pushing his leg against your wet cunt.

"What an honest body," Miguel hummed as his hands grouped your breasts, "And here I was about to ask if you want me to stop."

"No." You begged before tugging against his sleeve, "Please...Please fuck me."

-------

This was heaven on earth. Never had you thought this moment was ever going to happen.

However, you expected it a lot faster and rougher than this.

"A-Ah~ M-Miguel~~" You cried out.

Miguel was hovered over your naked body like a god. Your legs were thrown over his shoulder and his cock was deep inside you. Miguel's body was even more perfect than you ever dreamed of. His dick was far bigger than your wildest dreams.

"Hm? Don't like it slow?" Miguel chuckled lowly as he slowly pulled out with a grunt, "Your pussy is sucking me in so much. Thought I give it a nice treat."

"Hah~ s-so deep..." You whimpered as he pushed himself back in.

Miguel's slow movements was making your body heated. The tight knot in your stomach was far different from what you've ever done to yourself. His dick was kissing every part of your pussy you didn't even know existed.

"Awe, about to cum?" Miguel asked as you shivered from his slow thrust.

You wanted him to ravish you. You wanted him to make you see stars, not make you go crazy. Gasping as Miguel rubbed your clit, you cried as you gushed all over his cock. Your walls sucking him in more, begging for him to fill you.

Miguel could only chuckle as he kissed your body. His hands roaming everywhere as you calmed down from your high. Miguel pressed his hips closer, hitting you deeper than what he was prior. You flung your head back, moaning in pleasure.

"Is this everything you've ever dreamed of?" Miguel asked with a soft pant.

"Mhm~"

You were squirming slightly as Miguel continued his slow, yet deep thrusts inside you. Your vision was slightly blurry as your body started to shiver, but you could have sworn that Miguel was groaning. He wanted to go faster too.

"M-Miguel...y-you can...mhm~ go r-rough~" You cooed. Miguel licked your neck, biting against it softly,

"You better not regret it then."

Before you could say a word, you gasped and moaned loudly as Miguel's pace became rough. His dick slamming into your gummy walls, making loud lewd sounds filled the room. Your juices soaking the bed sheets under you as he kept hitting that sweet spot you've gone nuts over.

Your moans became loud and pornographic as Miguel gave you no time to rest. You had cummed again, coating his cock white as he continued to ram into you. You body shaking and jolting with each thrust as your sensitivity grew.

"How lewd," Miguel groaned against your ear as his hips slapped into yours, "Don't know bout you, but I wouldn't mind getting used to this."

"Ah~ Mhm~ Y-Yes!" You cried out.

Miguel chuckled as you started to arch your back. Your expression getting more expressive as you started to get fucked out. Biting his lower lip, Miguel grunted as he bottomed out inside of you. His eyes sparkled as your mouth made a cute 'o' form.

"Now, how could I stop with just one?"

You gasped, gripping onto the bedsheets as Miguel flipped you over. Your head pressed against the pillow as he went balls deep inside you. Your body shaking in rhythm to his rough thrusts as you enjoyed the feeling of his cum pouring inside you.

"Ah~ Mig~"

You were in heaven. All you could focus on was how good your pussy felt with each thrust. How good Miguel was at hitting each sweet spot you had. You shook in pleasure as you felt Miguel cum inside you again, groaning to your moans.

"(Y/N), next time you think of me....call me so I can show you how to feel good."

"Yesh~" You cooed.

-------

Miguel chuckled as you fell asleep after his last load. Honestly, he could keep going with his stamina, but you weren't ready for that yet. Carefully picking you up, Miguel made sure to wash you up and change your bedsheets before tucking you in.

He may have went a little overboard. But you didn't mind. Smiling as he covered you in the blanket, Miguel kissed your head before heading out.

"See you tomorrow, (Y/N)."

Of course, Miguel took your panties home as a souvinier.

You weren't the only one who had wet dreams.

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Hope you enjoyed!

#spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel o'hara

[nottsangel]

hi guys. I’ve thought long about doing this post, especially since I’m trying to stay away from drama as much as I can, but this is going too far and i can’t ignore it any longer. I want to warn people and stop her, because this person’s behaviour is unacceptable and it has gotten to a point where people feel unsafe. besides my experiences with this person, there are many other people who i’ve talked to that have similar experiences, some even worse than others. this needs to stop.

the person I’m talking about is @/vampyshlut (formerly known as rafesbimbo).

this person has been harassing people, ignoring boundaries and not showing any respect whatsoever. she is manipulative, becomes obsessive real fast and will start love bombing. an example of this is intense clinginess; she gets upset and angry when you don’t respond in a certain amount of time and will spam you with many, many messages (e.g. saying that you hate her just because you weren’t online). another example is jealousy; she gets jealous when you interact with other people and will continuously push you (e.g. to commit) and make you feel guilty for not replying.

this was the case with one of my friends. she started acting like she owned them, and got mad when my friend would drink or smoke. after a while, my friend got fed up with this behaviour and blocked her, but even then she’d still send anon asks. when they texted her to stop sending asks, she said “i don’t want to, i miss you.”, and continued harassing them.

with one of my other friends ( @drudyslut ), she found out her real name, which she had never once mentioned on her blog before. when she asked her about it, she said “i did my research.” this is very scary and not okay.

to give another example, in my case, besides the fact that she was two separate emoji anons of mine and continuesly spammed me and asked me for attention with both, she also began degrading me at one point and called me names. it was very triggering and when i was evidently uncomfortable, she kept going and going. she never once asked if it was okay. she has zero respect.

mind you, these are just a few examples of the many things she has done to different people on here.

however, when people are fed up with her disrespectful behaviour and block her, she continues to contact them through many anon asks. and even when you block the anons, she somehow still finds a way to send anon asks from many different accounts and continue to harass.

and even though she claims that she has certain people blocked (and vice versa), when those people post something, she would post an indirect response on her own blog, meaning that she was/is still secretly lurking on blogs that have her blocked. not only that, for some weird reason she also wants them to know that she is watching them.

this kind of behaviour is NOT okay and being blocked means that that person wants nothing to do with you anymore. leave them alone and respect their boundaries.

the reason i decided to write this post is because this is still ongoing and it sucks that me and others don’t feel safe anymore on our own blog. with every anon ask we get, we fear that it could be her. it sucks that we can’t freely interact with other anons anymore because of this. it sucks that even though you block someone, they still find ways to harass you and you can’t do anything about it. i hope that this post will stop her and make her realise that she can’t keep going like this any longer. we all just want to feel safe on our own blogs.

to her: all we’re asking is that you leave everyone alone. if someone has you blocked, they have done it for a reason and do not want anything to do with you anymore. don’t try to get into contact again, don’t try to send anon asks through different accounts, don’t dm their side blog, don’t send texts to their phone number. move on with your life. and no, no one is ‘ganging up against you’, we’re standing up for ourselves and our friends because your behaviour is simply unacceptable and we are fed up. the way you treat people is not okay and it’s getting to a point where it’s really, really scary. i hope you can reflect on your own actions and will heal.

#important. #i am nervous to post this but this has to stop

[bsxcrxts]

I hate to sound like a broken record but I would love to hear a Drabble about tech w the pollen, like if you were both crushing really hard on each other and you wanted to spend time with him while he works on his studies and oops what's this jar of mysterious flower blossoms doing here in this little jar (be it tech or reader makes that mistake) and things happen

I am deeply sorry this comes like three months late 😭 but as my beloved TBB mutual and fellow sex pollen freak (affectionate) I owe this one to you and hope you enjoy <3

The Experiment - Tech x F!Reader

Content: 18+ MINORS DNI. basically the prompt! afab reader with gendered language (ie good girl), sex pollen (obvi lol), getting together, Tech being sweet in his own way, unprotected PiV, coming inside, praise kink (both ways tbh), workroom table sex (ooh fun) A/N: So much made up science in this fic. And a complete lack of safety protocols. For the plot. lol. Word Count: 2.9k :)

You poke your head into the room where Tech is deeply engrossed in whatever he's typing away on his datapad. He doesn't look up as you move across the space, but he greets you with a little nod of his head as you lean on the tabletop across from him a bit. You wouldn't interrupt him while he was this focused if you were any more of a stranger to him; in fact, you feel a little bit odd doing it even now, but you and Tech spend a lot of time together. He seems to generally welcome you hanging around his workstation, and if you didn't know any better, you'd say he was sometimes even a bit giddy to see you, happy to have someone around to listen to his long-winded scientific explanations.

"Am I bothering you?" you ask, watching him set his datapad down to start to tinker with a type of device you've never seen before. It seems likely that it's something chemistry related; another device attached to it appears to be malfunctioning.

"It's not possible for you to bother me by merely observing as I work," Tech says. "You are not disturbing me. I actually prefer your presence over others."

You feel a bit of heat rise to your cheeks but stay quiet, other than uttering a small thank you. Your feelings for Tech have only started to grow after you've begun keeping him company as he works, but you've always had a bit of a crush on him. It's hard to focus, sometimes, when he compliments you like that, though you tend to assure yourself it's often platonic or even accidental. Tech often blatantly states what's on his mind, so if he really liked you... wouldn't he have told you by now?

You watch his hands as he works, allowing yourself to be distracted. After a few moments, your curiosity about whatever he's studying gets the best of you.

"So what's that?" you ask, gesturing to a small jar sitting nearest you, across the table from Tech. There are flowers in the jar, incredibly red, and an abundance of blooms settled on the bottom of the jar. "Something you picked up while you've been out on missions?"

Tech looks up from his work finally, eyes settling on you. "Yes, that is a native plant species on an outer rim planet we briefly visited. It was implied to me there by the locals that the flowers could be used as a type of weapon, but I cannot identify the reasoning behind that assumption."

"The flowers aren't poisonous or toxic or... something?"

"The local fauna are not avoidant towards the blooms, nor can I find any documentation of such qualities. In fact, I can hardly find documentation on this species at all. So, I am aiming do my own experiment on the flowers myself, but first I had to calibrate some of this equipment."

You nod. "And you're... sure this is safe for you?" You venture. You know him well enough to understand that both he and the rest of his squad are well-known risk takers.

"The blooms should be, at a minimum, safe to handle. Myself as well as the locals touched them when I first acquired them with no ill effects. My hypothesis is that the bloom must be heavily concentrated or ingested to be considered dangerous," he answers, tone even and betraying no concern.

"Alright," you say, shrugging, trusting him. Tech is incredibly smart, he is very rarely wrong, and you're no toxicologist either; you know even less than he does about this mystery plant.

Tech looks up at you again, the final piece on the equipment clicking into place in his hands. "Would you like to assist me on some of the easier steps of this experiment?"

"Just the 'easier' steps, huh?" you laugh. You push back a little at the perceived dig at your own intelligence.

"I assume there is still a level of risk once the plant is processed, and before I identify any toxicity levels that may possibly arise, which you may find unacceptable to be involved in. And one which the thought of exposing you to unnecessarily, does not sit well with me." Tech corrects you in a straightforward but not unkind manner, then states plainly, "However, I didn't want to exclude you entirely."

The heat comes rushing back to your face. In his voice, in his cadence, knowing him how you do, it sounds like a compliment again. Tech looks up at you from where he sits so genuinely, waiting for your answer, seemingly oblivious to your flustered state.

"Yeah," you nod. "Yeah, you're probably right. I'll help you."

"In that case, please hand me a few of the blossoms," he asks. You reach for the jar, unscrewing the lid, almost reverently retrieving a few flowers. Nothing happens as you handle them, and subconsciously, you relax.

The blooms are pretty, really. Vibrant and delicate. You look at them in your palm, almost transfixed as you reach your hand out to Tech. Your hand brushes against his, only barely, as the blooms leave your grasp, but that's when it happens.

It's almost comical, how fast you yank your hand away, a small cloud of pollen suddenly erupting from the center of the flower in Tech's hand, a little poof of yellow dust settling in the air. He rushes to the door, sealing any contamination to this room.

"What was that?" you ask, nervously.

"I am... unsure," Tech admits. "I have never seen it happen. The blossoms appear to have a volatile method of dispersing their pollen."

"Is it dangerous?"

Tech is uncharacteristically quiet, typing rapidly on his datapad.

"Tech," you demand a bit, feeling wary, a warmth spreading through your body. It isn't necessarily unpleasant, not yet, but your uneasiness has set you on edge.

"The locals claimed it could 'make anyone do anything'..." he trails off. "It is possible," he hesitates, "that I have misinterpreted this flower's use as a weapon, and instead, it is a libidinous agent."

"What does that mean," you ask, feeling a bit helpless.

"It could be an aphrodisiac," he explains neutrally, but his brow is furrowed. "Either way, we will find out shortly."

You bite your lip. The relief you feel of the blossoms not likely being poisonous is quickly replaced by a bit of a panic at being doused by a sex pollen and essentially quarantined with the man you've been crushing on for months. The feeling of warmth from earlier has morphed into a burn, a need, sitting low in the pit of your stomach.

Tech is still typing away on his datapad, but he has turned his body away from you. His posture, usually terrible, is worse than ever, as he is practically hunched over the screen, rapidly typing something.

"So, uh," you say, feeling a discomfort between your thighs form, "what do we do?" you ask, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, sitting on the edge of the table to prevent your knees from giving out. You cross and uncross your legs mindlessly, trying to appear normal, as if unaffected by the pollen.

It isn't easy. You've been attracted to Tech for a long time. Resisting the pull to him is hard even when you're not drugged.

"There is no known cure for the effects we are experiencing, as there is no record of the effects themselves, so we have little choice but to let the pollen take its course. I am documenting my symptoms. I suggest we also document yours."

"Tech, I don't think–" you start, then sigh. "Okay, um, I have a headache, and tenseness in my muscles, and a burning sensation everywhere, I mean, it feels really, really hot in here, and... I honestly don't think I should talk about the rest." You fidget again, squirming against the table. The arousal building in your body is nearly unbearable, but you resist rocking your hips against the table in the way you want to.

Tech turns to look at you, his brown eyes narrowing behind the amber of his goggles. His eyes actually trail down your body to where your legs meet your hips, and you have to physically turn away from him before you say something rash.

You know it's impossible to hide the other symptoms from him, because you've both inhaled the pollen. He knows exactly how you're feeling. You know exactly how he is feeling. You know if you looked at him, you'd see a bulge in his black under-armor, and your patience would snap.

Tech continues to stare at you. To almost study you, as you shift in discomfort and need. You can feel it; his watchful gaze on you, in any other situation welcomed, though flustering, now is nearly unbearable. As if you are now the experiment. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see he is equally restless, though his typing on his datapad must be distracting him to some degree. That too, is falling apart, if the way he has sat down and begun bouncing his leg rapidly is any indication.

Do not look at him, your mind screams at you.

Look. LOOK, touch, tell him, tell him everything, your body begs.

You manage to focus on the wall to your left for nearly five minutes straight, which is hardly an impressive number under any other circumstances.

"How long is this feeling going to last?" you choke out.

"It is unlikely I could predict that number with any certainty. It may be that the symptoms never go away, or may drive us to madness without... manual stimulation. That may be the most effective antidote, as it were."

The look on your face must not be embarrassed enough, because he keeps talking.

"These are less than ideal circumstances," Tech starts, "to confess to you the feelings I have for you."

What?

"I have weighed the pros and cons of telling you sooner. I'm somewhat upset with myself that I haven't, as this might not be so awkward now if I had. I've noticed your increased breathing rate around me, as well as your tendency to seem eager to watch my work even when it cannot possibly entertain you. I've repeatedly attempted to compliment you, to subtly show my emotions, though I'm fairly certain it has not landed well. Regardless, I have come to hope that you do return my affection."

You're pretty sure your eyes are as wide as dinner plates as you turn to look at him.

"Unless I am wrong?" Tech offers. He has a vulnerable look on his face; he'd never mess with you like this anyway, you know that, but when you look at him, he appears so genuine and desperate that the dam threatens to break.

"You're not wrong," you say.

"I rarely am."

You can't contain yourself anymore, really. You're across the room and in his lap before you can think; there's not much left of your brain that isn't clouded by either the pollen or Tech's confession to you. And then his mouth is on yours, kissing you and claiming you, heated and direct, and so very different compared to that soft confession he just gave you mere seconds ago.

You grind in his lap, the feeling of his bulge against your already wet and needy cunt almost instantly soothing the burning sensation coursing through your veins. As soon as the feeling fades it returns though, with a vengeance that makes you shudder and moan against him, folding in on yourself. It's not enough, not yet. Under different circumstances, you'd gawk at the bulge in his under-armor, kiss down his body, slow down and really appreciate this.

But you can't. You burn.

"I need you," you whine, and you almost hate how desperate you sound, if not for the fact that it makes Tech's hips buck against your own and his eyes widen.

"Say it again," he requests, but he's already complying, standing to lay you onto the table, tilting you back and pulling your hips to the edge. The pollen is having a great effect on him, too, and he seems unusually impatient; you wonder if things were different if he may have made you wait or beg for his attention.

"I fucking need you," you grit out, still trying to rut against him even positioned like this, back arching whenever his clothed cock manages to bump up against your clit. The layers of your pants and underwear are suddenly the most offensive thing you've ever felt, and you rush to undress, kicking off your lower layers until they're barely on, hanging around one leg. Tech has pulled his cock from his pants, sliding into your waiting cunt with one thrust. It shouldn't be achievable, not with his size, but the pollen has made you so wet and open that you take him effortlessly.

"You f-feel, ah, e-exquisite," Tech sighs. "Take me so well."

You've never heard him stutter before. You can't blame him; everywhere your skin meets his is a feeling of thrill, an almost soothing warmth instead of the awful burning sensation from before.

"Is t-this working for you, love?" Tech continues. "Is this what you needed?"

"Fuck yes," you whine at the new pet name, unsure of how Tech is even thinking clearly enough to be asking you such things as his hips slam into you. Meanwhile you say the first thing that comes to your mind, "Needed you, needed your cock inside me. Always want you s' bad."

Tech almost loses it then, but shudders and slams his hips into you again instead, caught up on the 'always' portion of your statement.

"Good, you're so good," he praises you softly, in direct contrast to the heady and animalistic way he's rutting his cock into you, his hands pinning your thighs open.

You gasp, never thinking you'd see Tech like this. He's typically methodical, precise, but the way he's fucking you right now is anything but. Through the pollen, you don't have the presence of mind to analyze what you thought your first time with Tech would be like; all that matters is how amazing he's making you feel now, the sound of his cock in your wet cunt as his thrusts grow sloppy practically makes your eyes roll back and you whine.

"M'close already," you rush out, the feeling of the effects of the flowers intensifying tenfold. "You feel so, oh–"

The table is digging into your back, the pollen is rushing through both of your veins, you feel crazed, but you've also never felt this good.

"I-I am not going to last either," Tech states, clearly also a mess. His goggles have slipped down his nose and been pushed back haphazardly, and are now slightly askew; his face is flushed, his eyes dilated so wide they're nearly black. He slips a hand to your clit, and, impressed with his clear thinking of your pleasure in spite of the pollen, and the rush of sensation that shoots through you at his touch, it's all you need.

Mere moments later, you clench around him, and the strength of your orgasm is something you've never, ever felt before, by your hand or anyone else's. You moan his name, bearing down hard around his cock, and he nearly doubles over.

"Good girl, good, good girl," he praises you, "Did s-so well for me," he continues, leaning down and murmuring into your ear as you finish, and it sends aftershocks wracking through your body. He's helpless but to follow behind you soon. Now that you've cum, he seems to have surrendered entirely to the brain fog created by the pollen, thrusting into you like nothing else matters, chasing his high.

"W-where?" he stutters again, ever as considerate, though he knows it would take every ounce of his willpower to fight the flower's effects and pull out from your cunt now.

Luckily for him, you don't want him to.

"Inside," you breathe, "Need it inside of me," and it's not an exaggeration, as you can still feel the effects of the pollen trying to return even after you've finished; you're pretty sure you literally need him to cum inside you to be free of the symptoms.

His orgasm is just as strong as yours had been, and he nearly collapses on top of you, shoving his cock into your cunt as you feel him twitch and spill inside of you. Tech's eyes never leave yours; his brow furrows and his mouth falls slightly agape as he maintains eye contact with you while he cums. His beautiful gaze once again feels welcome on your frame. It sends you into another weak orgasm, finishing around him, milking his cock, until he can take it no longer and pulls away from you, collapsing into the chair, leaving you lying on the table. The two of you are silent suddenly, but for both of you panting with exertion.

A few moments pass before you sit up, perched on the edge of the table, and find yourself feeling very vulnerable. You eye Tech, slouched in the chair just a few inches from you, and wordlessly, you slide back down into his lap, where he wraps a tentative arm around your waist.

Another few moments pass before he clears his throat.

"Please forgive me for my miscalculation," he says into your shoulder, pressing a light kiss there.

"What do you mean?"

"I should not have exposed you to danger by underestimating the flower blooms. Something worse may have happened."

"But I really like what did happen."

"As did I," Tech says. "I take it this is not the only time you would entertain such... attention from me?"

"Far from it," you laugh lightheartedly, pulling back from where you've tucked your head over his shoulder to look at him. "But we can skip the flowers next time, since we know how the pollen affects people now." you joke.

"You are not open to more experimentation?" Tech asks.

"Tech," you gasp, mock-offended.

"Kidding, love."

"Well," you hum back, "maybe some pre-negotiated experimentation isn't out of the question."

Tech's eyebrows raise and a little smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. The two of you are going to have so much fun together.

#tech ♥️ #tbb tech x reader #tbb tech smut #tech smut #tbb smut #tbb x reader #tech x reader #the bad batch smut #sorry if this one isn't all that I honestly can't tell if it hits or not😭

[abstract-talk]

I have to disagree with that last anon of yours.

I’ve never understood the theory of “people who have a good public image must be the opposite IRL.” So if this is true does this apply to every celeb with a clean image or just the ones you don’t like or are mad at? In CE’s case, he’s often compared to the same celebs (men) who more or less have done the same things (dated/married partners their fans hated for xyz reasons) and all of these men are usually more famous and well known than their partners too. But only his situation appears toxic because he’s toxic and money driven and terrible and not at all what he claims to be - but the same guys doing the same things are applauded as being private, stable, and also standup guys.

The unfair criticism seems a bit rich to me.

Also, how is the theory “he pretends to dislike her” make any sense? The angry narrative currently is that he doesn’t care about his fans and that’s why his team was fine to “scapegoat” them as crazy even though half of them are crazy to begin with.

If he’s pretending to hate her because he knows about her “past”, then wouldn’t that mean it’s because he cares about what his fans think? But if he cares that much about what they think would he have continued to be publicly associated with her knowing it would hurt his image with them?

The logic here is insane to me.

It’s very clear there is something off about the whole marriage thing, everything from the debut of the relationship all the way to the “nda” secret wedding day after leak for months. There was no need for all the nonsense fanfare but what really did it was the VF appearance.

Him and her showing up but literally not attending the party itself, not taking pics or interacting with any of his old costars (who all posed with each other), no posed photos with his own brother who was at the Oscar’s and performed, literal silence until she went to post her VF grid post. Her attitude in that post was “me me me” and if nobody could see through that facade then that’s on them.

Him “attending GG” after/pre parties but only seen in a photo with her. The same for the CAA pre Oscar party - a photo of them leaving. For someone who hadn’t been seen at a red carpet awards show party or event since before the pandemic, these sudden back to back fleeing appearances where the focal point was she got her pictures and name in the press with him should have raised a huge red flag.

Lastly, the tiny little narrative she and her “team” have placed her being someone who lives in NYC/LA and PT for her career. Does this not make it completely obvious there are conflicting narratives here? His side put out a narrative that he was retiring into the woods with her and they were going to settle down and live a quiet life. This benefited his words on what he wants, while her words benefit her for what she wants. But they don’t match and also contradict with each other.

Can’t believe how people haven’t noticed this or if they have, are turning a blind eye to it. None of it makes any sense and that’s why it’s fair to question mark the entire situation regardless of what you believe.

#anonymous talks #summed up perfectly

[starbuck]

various thoughts:

i would like to have a significant other

i would like to develop my personality a bit more before meeting a significant other

i should wait until after top surgery before even considering seeing anyone bc i’m gonna be much happier and more confident after that

i want to know my local area better

i NEED more pretentious local friends who are willing to experience new things with me in my local area

i need to read and watch and listen to and DO more and i have the time to do it now, so i need to make it happen

#there is literally just SO much i haven’t done that i need to do #every time i experience something new i am filled with more love and become more powerful #and it becomes something else i can share with others #i’ve always been hesitant to do this - but maybe i should set actual goals… #and select specific things ahead of time to keep myself on track #i think it’s fun to keep the film list loose - but i could still schedule them #and schedule out like. a book every 3 weeks or something REALLY reasonable like that #unless the book is super long and needs more time #book-scheduling makes sense to me bc i’m less sensitive about what i read than what i watch #2024 ‘resolutions’ incoming?? #i’ve never made New Year’s resolutions before bc i hate pressuring myself #but i actually WANT to do things so like. 🤷🤷 #i’m sensing some good potential here

[icewindandboringhorror]

sometimes looking at like Self Help Strategies lists for the symptoms I'm having is always just like:

thing that I already do

thing I have tried 10 times

thing I already do

thing that I don't have the money to do

thing I already do

thing I've been doing since I was 10yrs old to no avail

thing that is impossible given my situation

thing that doesn't apply to me

thing that I already do

thing I have already tried

hrmm, oh wait, maybe finally- OH, yeah.. okay. thing that I already do but it was just phrased slightly differently

thing I have already done

#I think maybe productivity tips help less if the reason you're unproductive is partially like.. physcial health and other extenral things #out of your control. rather than just like having trouble paying attention or spending too much time on tiktok or whatever #all the strategic to do lists in the world are not going to somehow prevent me from waking up with a debilitating migraine or whatever #or having external stressors or lacking resources and connections or other Productivity Essentials etc. #especially many tips involve stuff like 'cut off from social media' since thats the modern day time waster for so many poeple #and it's like.. lol.. i can hardly even maintain a blog even thuogh i actively WANT TO DO SO. 'shut off your smart phone!' already #done babey i fucking hate smart phones i shall never use an app unless i am forced to. 'delete tiktok' yep. already covered. tiktok and #all of those thinsg are my enemies. 'save money by cancelling some of your services' cool. already ahead of you. #who the fuck is out here paying for like 10 different subscription services. pirated videos uploaded to google drive and youtube to mp3 #my beloved. etc. etc. and so on. 'socialize less' .........LOL.. if only you knew.. mr.writer of the article. i can barely muster #talking to friends more than once a month and even less if I'm actively sick (often occurence) etc. etc. ... hewoo #I think maybe instead of generic productivity tips I need more like.. how to refocus and be productive anyway even if you have a headache #or are nauseous or etc. Not that those are always things to ignore. and of course you should let your body rest and etc. But plenty of peop #e have mild physical symptoms and just work through them. Ithink something about the way my body/mind is SOO hyper attuned to all #sensory information just makes it like... constantly 'GRR well I cant focus on WRITING right now because my lef #t ear feels weird and my socks are too itchy and my back has a strange pressure and I'm vaguely warm and my eye feels some ssort of #way it doesnt normally feel and I'm hyperaware of my breathing and also nauseous for no reason' and like half of those things I #think '''normal''' people wouldnt even notice or at least would be able to just live through. but for me it's like.. nealry impossible to i #gnore and soooo distracting always. like 'wahh.. nooo we can't draw or get anything done.. my legs feel slightly heavy or something!!' #like............. ok......... who cares. thats not even a PAIN sensation it's just something weird. but it's just like.. NO. constant #mental alerts about the 'heaviness' of your legs be upon ye. Though Imean like.. yes.. 70% of the time I am in genuine pain #or having some sort of actual ailment with trackable physical symptoms. but sometimes it's just like... we could totally be working right #now and ignoring this silly thing but my brain is fixated on it for no reason uncontrollably. etc. etc. I guess it's the same way that like #most people can go to a grocery store without the whole experience being so overwhelming and so much stuff going on at once #that they have to rest afterwards but like.. in my own HOME doing NOTHING i feel like I should be able to not get overwhelmed lol. ANYWAY #Rolling my bastard little rock up a dumbass hill and so on and so forth

[angellurgy]

i dont fucking need money or reminders of my old blog to be rbed when you guys are just fucking killing me anyway. it doesnt fucking matter cause im not gonna fucking live long enough to see any of that have use when you're just digging me into the fucking dirt. god do fucking ANYTHING else you status-quo loving fake fucks fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

#WHAT DOES MUTUAL AID MATTER WHEN I HAVE NO REASON TO LIVE. WHAT DOES IT MATTER WHEN YOU FUCKING KILL ME RIGHT AFTER #ITS ALL A FUCKING JOKE. YOU THINK THIS SHITS A FUCKING GAME. SHALLOW FUCKING FAKE SOLIDARITY BECAUSE ITS EASY. THE REAL SHIT #IS TOO MUCH FUCKING EFFORT FOR YOU PEOPLE. #JUST FUCKING KILL ME YOURSELVES THEN I DONT CARE. ILL FUCKING DOXX MYSELF IDC FUCKING DO SOMETHING. #INSTEAD OF MAKING ME FEEL LIKE IM GOING FUCKING CRAZY FOR WANTING SOMETHING MORE THAN DETACHED HOLLOW RECOGNITION #JUST SAY YOU WANT ME DEAD. SAY YOU DONT CARE WHO I AM. ALL YOU CAN DO IS HATE ANYWAY. NO LOVE. JUST HATE. #HATE THE BIGOTS MORE THAN YOU LOVE THE VICTIM. LIKE ANY OTHER. ITS FUCKING PUTRID #NO LOVE. NO SISTERHOOD. NOTHING. FUCKING TOWER OF LIES BUILT ON THE BONES OF EVERY DEAD TRANNY YOU IGNORED #YOULL NEVER REMEMBER MY NAME. MY FACE. MY BEING. ALL YOULL REMEMBER IF ANYTHING IS THIS ANGRY POST N NOTHING ELSE. #ALL YOU CARE FOR IS RAGE. #ok im done

[reikunrei]

it really honestly cracks me up that even when this idea of moral grayness is stated Explicitly on screen time and again, people still don’t take it to heart and actually apply it to all of the characters. yes, even our “big bad.” like, y’all didn’t realize that was the core theme of the show in season 1? and season 2? are you for real? “i’m the monster” “no you’re not. you saved me.” like that wasn’t clear enough for you? to see this little girl do bad things like kill people and call herself the monster right after doing something to help someone she just met? the fact that she opened this gate and let out this monster that killed and kidnapped people all across town and that is a Bad Thing, but she’s not a bad person for it? that wasn’t clear enough for you? and now they have to say it On Screen in the Fucking Script that there are no monsters and no superheroes, nothing is ever that black and white, and you’re STILL not??? listening??????? bye

#sorry im mad fhgjsdhkf it's just !!!! i dont fucking get it!!!! #moral grayness is only okay if you're the Good Guy i guess #but also you can't do something Too bad like *checks notes* hate cats #because NO THEYRE GOOD THEYD NEVER DO THAT #listen. sometimes. people who are trying to be good. also do bad things. and have bad things in their past #like that's normal. that's a normal thing #and more often than not. someone who is coded as Bad or Evil #either has a reason for the choices they made. or theyve misunderstood something. or they are being misunderstood by others #get off of the internet and out of your preachy self righteous echo chambers please please please #go talk to a stranger at the supermarket i beg of you #stop making moral goodness into a performance WE ARE ALL ON THE SAME LEVEL PLAYING FIELD. WE ARE ALL HUMAN #go take an anthropology course or smthn jesus christ #i say things #stranger things #you dont want me to start going on about how brenner had a reason for being as fucked up as he was and he thought it was a Good reason

[scientia-rex]

When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”

He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)

I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.

What is your objective?

Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.

I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.

I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.

Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.

Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.

How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?

Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.

Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?

[medicinemane]

I do wonder what people would do if they felt all the pain they'd caused in the world

Not even the big stuff, we're not even talking stuff like politicians being forced to feel just how much damage they've done, we're talking about the small scale stuff

All the off hand comments that were thoughtless and hurt someone, all the harm done without even realizing how much harm you're doing

I think if I could I'd like to know, I'd like to see the places I've hurt others around me

But I don't know... I listen to some people and it's just like... I don't think you even begin to imagine the damage you're doing around you. I don't think you even remotely begin to think about not even strangers, but the harm you'll do to people you claim to care about

What are you gonna do though? People are allowed to say and act however they want at the end of the day and even if I tried to explain I don't think they could hear me

#ever since I had shit I liked really shit on I kinda changed my mind of how funny it was making fun of other people #and while this applies to stuff like fandom or whatever; it's really about things as a whole #you never know what people around you are dealing with and like... #I don't want to be the person who pushes someone into a darker place; way rather try and help them out of stuff #so I'm not saying I'm perfect; but I do try to choose my words with intention when I'm talking about certain stuff #I try to call my shots and make sure the my ire is hitting where I want it to instead of risking it splashing out and hitting people I like #none of it matters; people will behave how they wanna behave and there ain't shit I can do about it #and in the end we'll all defend what we do; me as much as anyone else I'm sure #but like... that's why I'm always talking about just checking in on the calibration of your moral compass #making sure it's where you want it; I'm not gonna tell you what that should be #though I suppose I will say that for me it tends to be focused on minimizing harm and maximizing help #you think I can't be sucked into hateful points of view? #get real; of course I could... might even already have some I'm just to blind to see; you know? #all I can do is try and check myself and check I'm not letting something like skepticism towards say a political group #start bleeding out and tagging unrelated people who are just standing next to them into my anger #make sure I've got a specific reason I'm mad; try to talk about behavior more than anything else #that's what I do; that's how I value things and how I try to keep my shit calibrated #but you do you; you're gonna do it anyway; so why would I try and stop you? #but there it is #...can I let you in on a little secret that I'm expecting no one's gonna read down here in the tags? #I wish I could breath all the pain and suffering and hurt anyone's ever caused me as a toxic miasma to seep into their bones #I wanna make everyone hurt just by making them understand the hurt they've put out into the world #one or two people that I'd spare cause despite the fact they hurt me often I like them way too much #and there's of course people who haven't hurt me #but I just want to fill people with every ounce of darkness they may have caused me; not even as a punishment; as a way to learn #people in this world are so thoughtless #but... whatever; there's a little bit of a secret I don't really ever say aloud #I want Soulcutter; I want to make people feel like I feel just so they grow some damn sympathy #the way it's described is so familiar; I think that my depression is severe enough I could use it #never draw it; hand resting on the hilt so you can remember how pointless it is to even both keeping your hand there

[autismserenity]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

#covid isn't over #covid 19 #disability rights #disability advocacy #wear a mask #covid conscious #covid cautious #mask up #wall of words #public health #health care

[thelostboys87]

beau is such a trailblazer of an oc cause he's the first dallonwrites protagonist to have a good relationship with his family

#LMAOOOO LIKE #i know they're the type of family who would have a group chat together and that concept is so wildly foreign to me #my relationship w my family is actually fine dw it's just like all recovering from things. we make do #felix and dorothy were definitely like the product of me fully realising i had a fucked up childhood and not being able to get therapy #i think my whole pov on it is changing now though which is interesting #like i havent outgrown RR but i would never write the things i decided for that story if i came up with it now #but 20 year old me wanted to write about those things for a reason so it's almost become a time capsule #i actually have sooo many thoughts of this because my brain is so interesting to me lately #recently more often than not i hate reading characters with fucked up childhoods from other writers #idk why but i'm just like. i want the kids left alone for the most part! #some more than others and its like i dont know what the reasoning is because its not like i can know where their inspo is coming from #(that's another thing i want to write about one day because i do think some people esp newer writers like #don't fully know how to write an interesting backstory yet or aren't confident in it so they lean on #very traumatic childhood things like abuse neglect addiction etc. #and without saying what I Went Through it's very interesting when you see things you went through IRL #that for others are just like interesting character development ideas #NOT TO MAKE ANYONE FEEL BAD! because i mean i do and have done it before with things irrelevant to me #it's just something i've noticed and like. i think easy to sensationalise when you're a newer writer #even things you HAVE gone through) #not me testing the waters for essays in the side blog tags again. i need to actually write something for my silly little substack #actually similarly to this i rly want to write abt how i can't get with the whole my old writing is so bad and cringe!!! anymore #bc now i know younger me was in such a scary place and needed those cringey stores #but i need to do it in a specific way bc i dont think that line of thinking is problematic. i just cant do it

[aestatismors]

I'm just going to post the summary vent as I write things out

#I was a child She was an adult yet it's my fault for not coming to her when she wanted to spend time with me #lying about the fact that you wanted me and saying that my dad didn't #when he didn't want kids and didn't know if I belong to him? and also believed I would be better with anyone else #I'm sorry am I supposed to feel love towards you? #apologizing that you don't do hugs??? when I literally told you I didn't like hugs and you told me to get the fuck over it #also what the fuck have you ever done for me #her apology includes “You see a lot of things the wrong way” #at that point just flat out go I'm sorry it's your fault #“once you think something there's no changing how you think” #funny you can't give me a reason you hate your sister other than the fact that she's out to get you and always has been #She also has never forgiven anyone for anything #also I'm very open about the fact that I'm not very forgiving after a certain point at all #I literally sat down and told my parents to their face that their children do not have to respect them #And yet it's a fucking surprise that after being neglected I don't respect her? #also we have tried to explaining things to her and she'll agree that it makes sense and then circle back to her original argument #also it sounds like she thinks I'm upset about something about separating from my dad that she didn't really do #like we are way past the point of me caring about how sick you are from your meds #that is not even relevant #like oh you weren't around You don't know #I don't fucking care #we were complaining about her not having a job because she was living on her own could have a job and wanted us to support her entirely #and was also still having my dad support her until he killed himself #You could have had a job 19 years before that and refused because then you couldn't complain #And then to end it with I want things to be better between us #I told you months ago I don't want a relationship with you #I understand that you went back on all your words #I didn't #I meant what I fucking said

[joycrispy]

I wanna talk about The Angel Who Would Be Crowley.

Because I had a certain set of expectations, which got thoroughly trashed in the first five minutes of S2, and my genuine response is, "Oh, fuck, yup. You're right. That's WAY better."

Looking around at GO fandom, I'm not alone in this. So let's talk about it.

Basically, a lot of people (myself included) believed that he was a high-ranking angel, and therefore as chilly and remote as every other powerful angel we'd seen at that point. We pictured Crowley-To-Be as long-haired, regal and imposing --and the fanart at the time reflected this. I'd link some if Tumblr didn't hate links.

Something like this:

We were collectively drawing on a few things --mostly, Crawly's appearance and general bearing in the Biblical scenes of S1--

--But also scattered hints of his importance, backed up by conspicuous absences in Heaven and a few profound displays of power. That's all better covered elsewhere, so I won't reiterate the arguments here. All I'm saying is: I think our headcanons were justified.

But it turns out he was this:

!!!

With his curly little--!!

And his neat white--!!

IT TURNS OUT, he was an angel who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty. Furfur, who knew him before the Fall, says:

"You used to jump on me back, little monkey in a waistcoat..."

(The use of a diminutive there, 'little'...oh, that fascinates me.)

In a pretty huge subversion of expectations, we're given these glimpses of an angel who was sweet, and joyful, and heart-meltingly silly.

In sum...an innocent.

(Perhaps innocent to a troubling degree.

We see how he troubles Aziraphale, during their first conversation. He starts looking around and behind them, checking to make sure that no one can HEAR the blithe and reckless things coming out of this angel's mouth. This angel who talks like he's never been reprimanded in his life; like it's never occurred to him that anyone would want to hurt him.

Before the Beginning, Aziraphale understood Heaven better than he did. The danger is plainly occurring to Aziraphale.)

So now, we the viewers are in on a cruel joke that Aziraphale has known all along, which is that this --THIS-- is the angel who--

*checks notes*

--did a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulphur. For asking questions.

...Imagine you are Aziraphale, and everything inside you wants to believe Heaven are the Good Guys, and God is Good and Everything She does is capital-R Right...and now try to reconcile that. Keep trying. I don't think he ever totally managed it in 6000 years.

All this gets further complicated when we learn that, despite all of the above, we were still right. That sweet excitable babby up there?

He WAS a powerful and high-ranking angel.

That much is explicitly confirmed, with significant evidence that he could have been among the mightiest of archangels...

...Who apparently accosted his fellow angels for piggyback rides. And was remembered millennia later by those (now fallen) angels as something 'little.'

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

Hell, Aziraphale has known to be wary of the archangels (and the judgements of Heaven in general) since before the Fall even happened. He chooses to believe they are Good; he can't fool himself into thinking they are Safe.

Yet he's absolutely certain that Crowley won't hurt Job's children. Enough to stand in a burning building and say to them, "I can't save you, but don't be afraid. I won't need to."

And what reason does he give?

("I know you."

"You do not know me."

"I know the angel you were.")

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

("The angel you knew is not me."

But how is Aziraphale supposed to believe that, when he can see him all the time?)

tl;dr --yes, this is better. I love the tragedy of it.

'Innocence died screaming' and all that.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #Crowley #Aziraphale #good omens 2 #good omens meta

[aromantic-pantyanarchy]

It's me. I'm the cis, heterosexual, aromantic man. I will never marry, I will never be married, I will grow into middle age and elder age and I will die unmarried. I will be forced to support a household of myself on only my wages alone for the rest of my life. I will be asked about women and marriage and children by my family for the rest of my life (or men, the progressive ones might say). I may not ever come out to them. I feel like I burned my coming out on something stupid. I don't want to explain it. I don't want to run them through the definitions and intricacies. I don't want the acceptance without understanding, placating me with ceased questions and poor explanations to other, drunk adults.

I like my hair to be long, I spent a year with it dyed a golden blonde with dark roots because I like the trashy party girl aesthetic. I want to dye it again with pink tips. I like painting my nails, black and blue are my favorite colors. I like wearing chokers. I also like wearing baggy jeans and ratty hoodies. I like having stubble. I like having chest hair. I like having a square jaw and broad shoulders. I wish I had a flatter stomach and a thinner profile frame. I don't know what this makes me, perhaps this is something no more GNC than Machine Gun Kelly. I think about this a lot, how queer my appearance truly is. I should think about it less. I have thought long and hard about if I could be trans or if I could be non-binary or if I could be genderqueer and the conclusion I ultimately came to is that I most enjoy being a man open to whatever self-expression I want.

I don't date, but I've thought about it. I would like to meet people, and I would like to have sex with them. But I don't want to hurt them. I fear if I explain what I am beforehand it'll scare them away. I fear if I explain after they'll feel manipulated or abused. I don't know how many people in the dating scene want what I want. I fear my own lack of experience will make me a bad lay, an embarrassing story to tell to confidants in hindsight. I fear my own virginity, a boundary to those I wish to be like. All of these fears are baseless, as I've not been able to even begin a single relationship in my life. Despite this I still heavily identify with terms like "slut" and "manwhore" and "thot" because my interests lay so deeply within casual sex, sex without great intimacy or emotion. This may be some form of stolen valor. I hope the true sluts are not too mad at me.

I made this blog several years ago because a mutual of mine reblogged memes making fun of aro and ace people, making fun of the concept of aphobia, and in addition well known aphobes. I didn't feel comfortable talking about aro stuff on my main blog, for as little as I talk about it. Living through the ace discourse of the 2016 era has largely caused me to cringe in embarrassment any time I am forced to discuss my orientation with people who aren't aro or ace themselves. I no longer follow this person. I unfollowed many people I was mutuals with from that time, most of them because they posted too often about how much they hated men and I didn't want to see that, some because our interests simply drifted too far apart, only one for explicit aphobia reasons. (Also one because they became a "both sides are bad, any vote is wasted" libertarian, but that's unrelated.)

I guess at this point I don't care deeply about what strangers on the internet think of me. If a trusted friend told me that they don't think I'm truly queer that may hurt. But I am going to continue to use the word for myself. I take up no resources. I go to events that are open to me. If an event was not open to me, I think I'd not want to go anyways. I am not a hypothetical, I am not a strawman, I am a person with lived experiences both within and exterior to the queer community. If you hate me, I will permit you to continue to do so. But ultimately, I am who I am, I cannot change these facts, and I would not choose to do so even if I could.

#aromantic #aro #aro positivity #reference to aphobia

[supercutszns]

rotten to the touch; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc: 3.2k

pairing: pre-tlt luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: you’re pretty sure you’re an awful person. you’re pretty sure luke castellan is too. and you’re pretty sure you want to make out with him.

warnings: reader is flawed & not the greatest, luke is ... a little dark🫣, small mention of blood, swearing, lots of making out but no explicit nsfw, a bit toxic, & no more more ‘i can fix him’ or ‘i can make him worse’ it’s ‘he can make ME worse’

notes: this is… sluttier than my usual stuff so it’s not as good but i’m trying, feedback is appreciated! also i wonder what cabin we think this reader would be in, let me know where you’d place her im curious :) maybe i’ll write more of her in the future she’s interesting!! and thank you for 100 followers i am so grateful<3 designated song for this fic is crush by ethel cain

You are a miserable, wicked, asshole of a person, and everybody knows it. Including you.

It’s unclear to you why you turned out this way—every reason to blame never satiates the fury searing your insides. All the campers hate you. The counsellors, too. Even Chiron looks down on the viciousness inside you. You are Camp Half-Blood’s black sheep; a mean, bitter person with no love for the people around you. And it’s not just for show. You know you’re rotten. You know the anger will never go away.

It’s evident in the things you think about other people—the way you pick them apart in your head, toss them aside, because they just don’t see it. This miserable, unforgiving world, with children sleeping on wooden floors because the people who created you think you disposable. Because they can just make more of you. More, more, more, until one of you comes out rotten, born of all the ugliness they have inside them. You are the worst parts of Godly blood. The wrathful parts.

Everyone hates you. Everyone hates a person with an unquenchable anger.

But everyone loves Luke Castellan.

He’s a saint at Camp Half-Blood if there ever was one. Handsome, generous, kind. Goes out of his way to help out the new kids and gives them homes in his cabin. He’s the best swordsman in camp by a mile. Shit, you’d even love Luke Castellan if you didn’t know any better.

But you do, and you don’t, and it’s complicated, okay?

Because there’s something you know about Luke Castellan that nobody else does: he’s miserable and wicked, too.

You see it in his eyes sometimes. The way they look at you at dinner, when you’re picking at your food away from anyone else at your table. Something familiar rises in them, and your stomach twists. His body tenses whenever someone mentions his father, but the smiles he flashes are so charismatic nobody notices. But you do. It’s exciting.

During sword practice, he quips back and forth with the kids and laughs whenever they take a jab at him. He’s light, easy, carefree. But you see how he holds back, the tension in his shoulder, the way the arc of his sword never fully finishes. So you wait until everybody leaves and he’s alone, with the training dummies and the setting sun. And you. Hiding.

He slashes through them and spears through their heads. You see it, the gnashing of his teeth, the sweat curling down his cheeks. There’s something there. A chasm he’s hopeless to fill.

Before you know it, you’re going out of your way to catch him training alone. It’s creepy, you know, and awful, you know, but the more you watch him the more you see a sort of violence scabbed under his skin.

Whenever you see him now, the feeling you get is entirely foreign to you. It’s almost . . . longing.

Wherever she is, you’re pretty sure Aphrodite’s having a cosmic fucking laugh. And you’re sure she’s laughing double tonight.

The Aphrodite cabin is hosting some secret party for the older counsellors. You’re definitely of age to be a counsellor, but you’ve never been made one because that would probably make half the campers drop out. Chiron and Mr. D don’t know what to do with you. You’re sure you’ll be kicked out of camp soon for good.

But you’re here anyways, for a reason you don’t want to admit, and you stay tucked in a corner as the world around you mingles. Luke is on the other side of the room, lovely as always, laughing with a few other counsellors. He brings a drink up to his lips, and you have a startling thought of what it would be like to kiss him. And you’re fucked. You’re so fucked. Because for the first time in your life you want something tangible, something real. You want to hear him and feel him and pry him apart, and a part of you wants him to actually see you, see all the awful things that might make you the same. You feel like a teenage girl with a crush, and it is infuriating.

An Aphrodite girl comes up to you with a foolish smile. “Hey, sorry, you want a drink?”

“Fuck off, you idiot,” you snarl.

You wait for her to leave. She doesn’t. “You know, you don’t have to be so mean all the time,” she says evenly. “If you’re here, you might as well enjoy it. So yes, I want to give you a drink.”

“Have you ever thought that I’m not being mean? Maybe I just am.”

You glare at her. She looks you up and down. “Sure,” she shrugs, walking away. There’s a vivid picture in your mind of her falling through a hole in the cabin floor. It doesn’t soothe you, but at least the fantasy is there.

The night drones on. You’re sick of the smells and the laughs and the heat. And you’re sick of yourself. You can’t believe, underneath all your sourness, you came here to stare at a boy you barely know, and you don’t even know why. He’s fascinating, and you resent him, and he’s also beautiful. But he’s looked back at you all of three times tonight and you’re sick of the way your skin crawls when he does.

Leaving the cabin brings the relief of the cool night air, and the singularity of your body. You are the only one who feels this rage. You are the only one who hates.

To stave off your discomfort you walk around to the back of the cabin, to the crest of the hill facing the water. The stars above twinkle at you in spite. There’s a bitterness in your throat you want to wash down with something worse (maybe you should have taken that drink), but you know it won’t matter. Nothing matters. Those stars and whatever they hide are apparently the only important things in the universe, so why should anyone care about anything?

They stars only get brighter. It’s probably their goal to piss you off. You grunt, “Oh, fuck you,” to them. It’s not enough, never nearly enough to expel the rotten part of you. “Fuck you. Fuck off!” You groan at the sky. Nothing happens. Until:

“I’m guessing you’re not having a fun night.”

You whirl around. It’s hard to see in the dark, but whatever light is left catches a long scar on a cheek. Your stomach knots.

“Yeah, me neither,” Luke Castellan says, hands in his pockets as he meanders towards you.

Even when he’s close enough, you don’t say anything. If you do, you’re afraid it’ll be something ugly. Like I kind of want to make out with you. Are you awful too? I need a lobotomy.

The thoughts almost make you laugh. Been a long time since you’ve been funny.

He nods at the sky. “Those things don’t talk. You do know that, right?” He’s still so captivating, so self-assured, even when there’s no one around but you.

“Gods, you’re the worst,” you scoff. You really mean it, so you can’t look him in the eye.

“Then why have you been staring at me all night?”

It catches you so off-guard that you whip back to face him. He has an eyebrow raised and the itch of a smile that makes you burn with shame. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He shrugs, leaning against the cabin wall. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been brooding in the corner watching me the second you came in.” He cocks his head to the side, adding, “Actually, you stare at me all the time. At meals and stuff. I really hope you don’t think you’re being subtle.”

You huff. “Okay, if we’re really being honest here, you started that! You do it too! All the time!”

His hands shot up like he was being arrested. “Hey, I never said I minded it. A guy’s . . . just gotta wonder. What’s up with you spying on me when I’m training alone, anyways?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You watch me when there’s nobody else around. I’m not blind. It’s weird. If you want tips you can just ask me. Or if you like what you’re looking at, at least be upfront about it.”

You speak before you can take in that last sentence, or the way his smile took pride in itself when he said it, or how embarrassed you should probably feel. “You didn’t answer my question about why you started staring at me first.”

The anger (shame) blinding you made you forget how close you are to him right now. Close enough to touch, but not enough to see. But almost there. Almost.

“People think you’re mean,” Luke says after a moment, his dark eyes probing you. The words curl out of his mouth slowly, like he’s choosing them all with care. “You’re rude. You never listen to anyone. You judge everything. They all think you’re awful.” Again, he looks you over. “I’m not so sure.”

“If I’m awful, then you’re awful,” you spit before he can say anything else.

He just shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m not sure.”

It’s irritating, his calmness. He has the same anger you do. How come he can just . . . shove it down? You try to unearth any fury in his eyes, but it’s too far back. Simmering. “Jesus,” you mutter, “You’re worse than me.”

He looks genuinely taken aback by this. His scar deepens when his brows wrinkle. “What?”

“You’re a pretender—that’s what you are.” It’s your turn now, to step closer, to make his skin crawl. “Look at you. Everyone loves you. You’re this perfect golden boy and you’re sweet and attentive and whatever the fuck but you know it’s one giant lie. At least I’m honest, but you just sit pretty and act like you don’t have that . . . thing that I have. Resentment. Insanity. Whatever you want to call it. We’re the same, but I’m the only one getting shit for it.”

Now, you are close enough to really see him. The patterns on the wood behind him frame the vision of his ever-shifting face. You realize that this, like most things are to Luke Castellan, is a challenge. You also can’t remember the last time you saw him lose one.

But when you play, you play to win.

“You don’t know that,” he dares.

“Oh, I do. You’re rotten, Castellan,” you sneer, index finger jabbed into his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate. “And you’re not owning up to it, so you’re also a coward.”

However scathing you look, it isn’t enough. If anything it only makes Luke’s manner more playful. Nothing feels playful anymore. Everything, inside and outside of your mind, feels like constant, exhausting war. Maybe that’s why you don’t slap his hand off you when it wraps around your wrist, keeping it pressed to the middle of his chest. His heartbeat thrums through you.

He tilts his face towards you, grinning, “Then why do you want to kiss me?”

All right. What the fuck. It feels like you’ve been electrocuted.

“What the—what are you talking about?” You blunder, but he knows, of course he knows, because there’s something between the two of you that has been formed and understood by eye contact alone. He can probably read your mind. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you’d like to read his just as much.

He cocks his head. “I mean, you did call me pretty,” he teases, and it’s almost endearing. “You’re pretty like this too.” His other hand comes up to your face, and you’re surprised you don’t flinch when his thumb gently smooths the crease in your eyebrows. “Don’t call me a coward, heathen. Then we’ll both be embarrassed.”

The nickname makes you want to fight, but the touch makes you dizzy. “You don’t want to kiss me, Luke,” you say with all the control you have, which, right now, is increasingly sparse.

“You’ve gotta stop telling people what they want,” he muses. The hand on your wrist traces further down your forearm. The one on your face snakes around your hips. “One of your more disagreeable qualities.”

His words fan over you. That fire simmering in his eyes has finally come to the surface.

“One of?” You challenge.

“You let me make out with you and I’ll give you a whole list.”

You snort, hoping it hides the shortness in your breath. “What a charmer you are.”

His lips brush yours. “Well, that’s what makes me so rotten, isn’t it?”

There’s hardly time to unravel if that’s a question or a statement because you grab a fistful of his shirt and he kisses you. Your heart detonates. It is not rotten in the slightest.

His body is warm and firm. You smell the cabin wood and the drink on his breath. It all matters, and none of it does. You’re warm everywhere as he wraps both arms around your back, and the way he kisses is, unfortunately, exactly how you thought he would. Your hands are tentative in his hair. So is your mouth on his. But Luke is so deliberate in the way he kisses that you know he’s thought about this, too. It makes you all the warmer.

His hand takes your jaw and tilts it up. You know your neck is shaky with breath, and you’re pretty sure he’s admiring it. You don’t complain when he presses a kiss to your jaw, then another one, like he’s testing the waters. “You’re so nice like this,” he mutters almost to himself, thumb running across your neck. “If only people could see you.”

“Then they’d see how mean you are too, no?” You huff. “You don’t want that.”

Another kiss to your jaw. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

Whatever feeling is harbouring in your body right now, it’s so fulfilling it almost makes you uncomfortable. You want to reject it. You’re not supposed to want things. Worse, you’re not supposed to get things. Luke starts marking a path down your neck and you are so determined to enjoy this that you’d kiss a fucking baby if someone asked you to. You might as well be a saint.

He bites the pulse point on your neck, sure to leave a mark, and a shudder rips through you. You’re pretty sure the bastard starts laughing. You hit his shoulder in retaliation.

“Easy, heathen,” he reprimands in your ear, and you know he’s still smiling.

“Don’t—don’t call me that.” You hate that you start to smile, too, and that your stomach burgeons with butterflies when he pulls back to look at you.

He touches the corner of your upturned mouth, kiss-bitten and red. His expression is boyish. “Hard to when it makes your face do that,” he goads. “I thought it was impossible for you to smile.”

“Be quiet.” You thread a hand through his camp necklace and bring him closer. You can almost taste his mouth on yours, but he sweeps past you at the last minute.

He gently tugs your earlobe with his teeth and whispers, “Yes ma’am.”

Fuck him. Seriously. You might have to.

It’s a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath his shirt and he does the same, and you’re both angry and greedy and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet. Now you’re just teenagers fooling around at the back of a party, and it’s the first good thing either of you have had in a long time. Luke leaves you gasping whenever his mouth hits certain places, maybe too many places, and he teases you accordingly. “So sensitive,” he taunts, pressing his knee between your legs so he can see you squirm. You rake your nails through his scalp and he tilts his head back to groan. It shuts him up for a while.

He bites your neck until you say his name. You trace lines on his stomach till he takes your hand in his own. You’ve been hungry for something your whole life, and you finally have something to sink your teeth into. For better or for worse.

After Hades knows how long, laughter floats out from the front of the cabin. Sounds of feet tripping over each other and muffled goodbyes. You pull away from Luke, chests heaving together. His hair is wild, his shirt crumpled, and he looks entirely satisfied with it. Smug little shit. “Party’s letting out,” you mutter.

“What a damn shame.” His hand rubs your jaw, and it’s too tender a gesture so you angle your head away to peek over the side of the cabin. You barely pay attention to the kids straggling back to their bunks.

“Is now the time you tell me all my horrible qualities?” You ask once you’re ready to look at him again.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually, I came up with more since I said that so I’m pretty sure it’ll take more than one night.” He fakes a wince, “Might have to spread it out for a few days.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, you ass.”

“I’ll give you one for starters.” You feel like a tornado when he kisses the juncture between your jaw and your neck. “Your hands are too cold.” They’re tucked underneath his shirt right now, pressed against his back. You don’t move them. “And,” he adds, “you’re incredibly crass.”

“Thanks, dipshit.”

“Thank you for proving my point, heathen.”

The commotion at the front gets louder, and you know your time to go undiscovered runs short. “You meet me again tomorrow, and I start telling you the rest?” He raises his brows.

The prospect both repulses and excites you, although perhaps they’re hand-in-hand. You tentatively reach up to trace the scar on his face. A faint, jagged line that holds scripture within it. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Even though I’m rotten?” You ask, and there’s an echo of mischief in your voice, too.

He’s got a strange expression when he looks at you. “That’s not true.”

He leans down, angles his head to kiss you. It’s slow, but bitter, and he bites down on your lip until you’re pretty sure there’s blood. “Luke,” you murmur, and he kisses you softer. You lean into him like a hapless, lovesick fool.

After you part, he loosens his grip on you. The bumbling campers have gotten louder. He stares at you, and you see the chasm in his eyes again, brimming with fire. Same as yours. You know you’ll see him tomorrow.

He says, “You’re not rotten. You’re right.”

And damn it, you really do believe him.

#perrie’s fics #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo x reader #pjo series #pjo tv show #luke castellan smut #pjo #heroes of olympus #charlie bushnell #i like sexy evil people making out okay. #maybe will make a part 2 to this series because i’m just so fascinated by their weird little dynamic but we’ll see #i kind of hate this but WE MOVE ANYWAYS!!