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muzansfangs · 5 months

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How they eat you out.

Starring: Aizen Sosuke x f!reader; Urahara Kisuke x f!reader; Ichimaru Gin x f!reader;

Format: short-imagines;

Warnings: nsfw, language, dom!aizen, dom!gin, dom!kisuke, sub!reader, oral sex (f!reader receiving), dirty talk, slight degradation kink, spanking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, praising kink;

Plot: they love you, they love you so much that giving you oral has become an art for them. But they all have a different style, their own unique way of doing it. How do they eat you out? What do they do to make you melt under their skilful tongue?

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

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Sosuke Aizen.

When Aizen wants to eat you out he will specifically ask you to lay on your back and let him take the lead. How does he enjoy feasting on you? With your legs draped over his shoulders, his slender fingers gripping the plush of your thighs both to keep you in place and drive you mad. The cute whimpers leaving your mouth, as his tongue swirls around your bundle of nerves for the sake of his sadistic side, make him go nuts, albeit he would never let you know about it. You want more, your hips bucking up as breathy pleas roll out of your tongue, when Sosuke locks eyes with you.

“Beg” he huskily demands, his hot breath fanning your dripping heat.

Chest raising and falling erratically, you shoot a desperate glance at him, teary eyes boring into his dark ones, as you give up. Trying to front, or display difiance with him will only grant you hours of torture and you are in no position to endure more teasing from him. He is unbothered by your bratty attitude most of the times, his annoyance showed off in the way he drags out your orgasms only to let you utterly unsatisfied in the end.

“Please, please, Sosuke, make me come! I can’t take it anymore!” you whine out, your bottom lip wobbling as he grins up at you, his mouth leaving open-mouthed kisses down your inner thigh until he reaches your aching cunt.

“You are lucky I am in a good mood” he states, before his mouth dives back between your legs and his lips wrap around your throbbing clit.

You moan loudly, your back arching as you squeeze your eyes shut to focus on the heavenly sensation he is blessing you with. He sucks onto it, his fingers digging into your skin, and you are more than sure that tomorrow morning you are going to find bruises in the shape of his fingerprints on your thighs. But it is worth the pain, this pleasure is something only he can provide you.

When you gasp for the overstimulation, he dips his tongue into your core, his thumb reaching up to your clit and pressing onto it in circular motions. At this point, incoherent words leave your lips as you squirm and your toes curl. He does not even care about the fact that your legs are now squeezing his head.

Looking up at you from behind his dark eyelashes, Aizen replaces his tongue with his index and forefinger and curl them inside you, having no trouble in reaching that sensitive spongy spot within your inner walls. You squeal out in pleasure, your jaw going slack, as your body jolts up for the sudden stimulation.

“Let me taste you, darling. Let me drink from you” Sosuke murmurs, his voice soothing and contrasting with his lustful and lewd gestures.

You cannot retaliate, replying is impossible at this point. When his tongue begin to twirl around your abused clit again, while his fingers thrust in and out of you in a depraved melody of squelching sounds, it is time for you to give him what he wants.

You arch your back, sinful moans filling the room as your orgasm rips through you and Sosuke is quick to withdraw his fingers, now glistening in your essence. He leisurely sucks them clean, before lapping at your core so sensually your body twitches.

“You’re so beautiful, when you’re fucked out” he comments, kissing his way up your stomach until he hovers over your writhing frame.

When his hand reaches down to unbuckle his belt, you know he is far from being done with you.

Gin Ichimaru.

This man is a real menace. He loves giving you oral more than receiving. While he is prone to do it pretty much at any given occasion, he has a thing for bending you over his desk and eating you out from behind. No matter how you many times you try to object that it is degrading, he does not give a damn about it.

He loves the control he has over your body, his large, calloused and bony hands spread your rears as his tongue explores your core deeply, until you bang your fist onto the wooden desk and squirm around under his ministrations.

“Stop squirming, little girl, or I might have to give you a punishment” he chides you, lapping at your folds assiduously.

Sweat beads your forehead, your foreteeth sinking onto your bottom lip as you whimper and, when he deliberately bites softly at your lips to earn a reaction from you, there is nothing that you can do but try to stand back up. Gin obviously sneers, his hands pushing you back down onto the desk as he delivers you a rather brutal spank. A cute yelp erupts from your throat, eyes widening even so slightly, as he slips his hand between your thighs to cup your sex.

“What a naughty little minx you are… What was that, huh? You are clearly asking for a punishment, you little masochist” Gin taunts you, smirking as his long fingers plung into your arching core without much of a warning.

You are dripping, your nails scraping the wooden surface of the desk as Gin watches the way your face scrunches up in shameful grimaces expressing your pleasure. It is not enough, he wants to really leave you thinking about this little session you are having for hours, before you are going back to work for your Captain.

“Gin! Fuck— Please, please, I can’t take it! I need t-to come” you beg him, as he kneels back behind you and pulls his fingers out of your entrance.

“Yes, you can. Now shut your pretty mouth and let me enjoy this pussy before you go back to Aizen” the Captain of the Third Division says, before delving his tongue into you and making your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

Your body is trembling, he can feel it, and the way your walls clamp down the tip of his tongue are a clear sign that you are close to your climax. A presumptuous smile gracing his thin lips, Gin does anything in his power to help you reach your climax. With a flick of his tongue, you scream out his name and the smirking snake below you is ready to collect your juices on his tongue.

Once he is done, he glances down at you and playfully spanks you again, leaning down towards your ear “Come on, let’s get you all cleaned up. I don’t want to hear Aizen complain about how messy you looked at the reunion” he teases you, earning a groan of frustration from you.

But, as much as you despise the way he drives you mad, Gin Ichimaru has elicited reactions from you no one has ever made you experience before.

“I’m coming” you whisper, standing back up for real this time.

“Again?” Gin jests, only for you to grasp a slipper and throw it at him.

Urahara Kisuke.

Listen to me. If he was about to die and he was granted one last wish, this man would be asking for someone to sit on his face. He enjoys, no, he adores eating you out. He could spend hours between your thighs, savoring your essence over and over again. But if you just sit on his face, he will not make you regret your choice. The way you whimper and cry out his name from up above makes him literally hard.

“Kisuke, gosh, that’s— ah!” you struggle to find proper words to describe the way he gradually making you crumble down at his feet. His tongue is relentless in the way it twirls and swirl around your bundle of nerves, or the way it hastily dips into your core to collect each and every drop of your juices not to let them go to waste.

“I know, kitten, I know… Just let this old shop-keeper lavish your pussy. I am so hungry, I swear” he whines, hands sprawled over your hips to help you keep your balance. While he is clearly in command, even if he apparently does not seem to have the upper hand, this lazy man might even ask you to help him in the said task.

“Ride my face, baby, come on” he rasps out, palming himself through his pants as you cannot help yourself but slowly start to move your hips at a sensual tempo.

He groans, eyes close as his lips, teeth and tongue work together to help you reach your third orgasm. Your muscles burn, you are on the verge of collapsing for the powerful and draining waves of pleasure he has made you experience, but as you cry out in pleasure again you realize he has ruined you forever.

No one is going to give you oral the way he does.

“Fuck! Fuck! K-Kisuke, I’m—” you chime then, a scandalous high-pitched tone of voice piercing his ears as you increase the pace of your tempo. You are so close, so close to bathe him into your juices once again and he is eager to taste you as if it is the first time.

“Yes, princess, just like that! Come for me, good job, baby” he utters, smiling in ecstasy as you whimper and your orgasm leaves your mind blank. His tongue viciously laps at your core, a guttural sound leaving his throat in the meanwhile. He is so glad you exist.

As you pant and climb off of his face, muscles aching and eyes closed, Kisuke humms and jokingly squeezes your thigh before tugging his pants down his legs and smiling.

“If you want, we can try a sixty-nine now” he breathes out, wiping his chin with the back of his hand and making you chuckle softly in return.

You love that pervert shop-keeper so much.

tags: @electronicwitchcollection @aizenwifey @stygianoir @brittscafe my way to apologize for the late updates❤️

#aizen x reader #aizen sosuke x reader #sosuke aizen x reader #aizen sosuke smut #aizen x y/n #aizen x you #bleach smut #urahara x reader #urahara kisuke smut #urahara kisuke x reader #kisuke x reader #bleach x female reader #kisuke urahara x reader #gin ichimaru x reader #ichimaru gin x reader #gin x reader #gin ichimaru #gin ichimaru smut

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imliketheiceifreeze · 1 year

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Human Miles Quaritch x Original character

American dream

She is a Polish girl in America Tall, tan, hot blonde called Anya I asked her 'Why would you wanna be a Hollywood wife?' "Because I don't wanna end up living in a dive on Vine A dive on Vine"

Warnings: Smut (and I mean pure filth), swearing, abuse of power, age gap, minors DNI

Short story (porn without plot)

4,841 words

It was late one evening in the RDA base, almost everyone had rotated back to earth by now, all of my squamates had been so cheerful as they wished me goodbye, talking of the parents, children, husbands that were waiting for them back home. That thought made me sigh as I took another generous gulp of my beer, it tasted like shit but was one of the only drinks at the bar and I wasn't planning on being sober tonight. The bar was almost empty aside from one other person who I noticed had also chosen to stay on pandora-my Colonel, Colonel Quaritch.

I wondered what his reasons were for staying, I knew my own, but the thought of him having no-one to go home to spiked an unusual feeling in my chest. I couldn't deny I had always been sweet on the Colonel-probably on account of my copious daddy issues-though, knowing this didn't make my feelings for him lessen any.

The room was already beginning to sway a little, to my delight, and as I looked around I noticed the Colonel getting to his feet- returning to his quarters most likely-meaning that I would be left completely alone, without even something to occupy my eyes. However, catching me off guard, his feet did not turn towards the door and instead moved him in close proximity with my table.

"Evening Anja."

It struck me that he hadn't addressed me with my title, I wasn't even aware that he knew my name.

"Colonel,"

I replied nodding as he took a seat in front of me, spreading his legs out in a dominant display as he leaned back, seeming surprisingly relaxed for the normally uptight man. He laughed a little at my use of his honorifics as he responded,

"you can call me Miles, we're off duty aren't we?"

His question had no real answer, yet I felt the need to reply to him, his presence still making me jumpy from the endless punishments he'd forced me and my comrades to endure.

"Yeah, I suppose so,"

I murmured thoughtfully, taking another sip of my drink as my eyes flitted over him much more shamelessly than I'd ever dare without some liquid courage. He seemed to mirror my movements, his lips quirked up at the sides ever so slightly.

"So, why are you still on Pandora Anja?"

My name slipped off his lips like honey, making me blush and turn away from his gaze, the steely blue eyes boring into mine much too intently for my liking.

"Don't have too much at home for me sir, no point wasting the trip to come straight back anyway,"

I spoke truthfully, feeling comfort in the fact that he was obviously in the same predicament. He hummed, eyes narrowing as he thought.

"what about you sir?"

I asked to break the silence that had fallen on us both, heart lurching a little when I met his eyes, suddenly realising how intimate the situation was.

"I thought I told you to call me Miles huh sweetcheeks, you don't need to be shy around me you know."

He chuckled, watching me curl into myself like a shrinking violet at his words.

"But to answer your question, there's no-one waiting for me at home either Anja."

An answer that should've been brimming with as much shame as my own, somehow seemed sultry when he said it, all kinds of implications swimming in his eyes as they scanned my blushing form.

"I'm sorry sir, you just make me nervous, you're a scary man you know."

I smiled shyly up at him with red tinged cheeks as I fiddled with the rim of my bottle, earning me a hiss as he drew in a quick breath.

"Don't give me those eyes darling,"

He scolded, eyes narrowed with an emotion I couldn't place, yet it caused my stomach to dive in fear....or excitement? I wasn't sure, but I found it impossible now to remove my eyes from his handsome face as I felt my body lean in.

"What do you mean sir?

I stuttered, taken aback by his words which were causing heat to spread through my body like wildfire.

"I think you know exactly what I mean Anja, don't think I don't notice the way you look at me in training as well. You think it's appropriate for you to be looking at a 50 year old man like that?"

He interrogated me with a harsh glare, the feeling of all my cards being ripped away from my chest causing my throat to close. I had thought I was more subtle with my feelings, but I couldn't help the way my eyes would drag along his toned arms, bulging chest, strong legs, especially when he was drenched in sweat and panting. Images flashed into my mind of all such situations he was referring to and I couldn't contain the small smile that graced my features. Unable to answer his question, I had unintentionally left him room to continue my humiliation.

"You know if you don't stop calling me sir I'm gonna start thinking it turns you on."

My breath hitched at his words as I watched him lean back, pleased with my reaction, spreading his legs further and taking another swig of his beer. I wondered if he was drunk, I'd never heard him speak like this before; however, I couldn't help but enjoy the attention, as heat crawled up my thighs, unable to meet his stare.

"I-I don't know what you mean sir, I look at you the same as anyone else,"

I spoke slowly, struggling to get any words out with my quickened breathing and dry throat.

"Oh really? Is that so, you look like that at Fike, Lyle, Mansk, Zdinarsk?"

He drawled, eyes glimmering with enjoyment, moving one foot forward he allowed his cargo-pant covered leg to brush against my own. It was only a small action but it elicited a shiver from my body, the heat from his thigh seeping into my own delightfully and doing nothing to quell the heat searing between my legs.

"No sir,"

I breathed in admission, finally deciding to meet his predatory gaze which didn't falter, showing me he didn't even need it, he already knew.

"Good girl,"

he rasped out, almost having me mewling like a bitch in heat at the nickname.

"Now, tell me, what's a pretty, young thing like you want with a man like me? Want me to hold your hand, give you special treatment, make you corporal someday?"

He asked intently, face too difficult to read for me to decipher if he was joking or not. Nevertheless, I humoured him with a response, although, somewhat offended that he thought I wanted to climb the ranks that way.

"No sir, that's not what I want."

My reply was harsh, causing him to chuckle at my intensity, however, this time he did not bite back, only staring with eyebrows quirked as he dared me to challenge him, fully utilising his interrogation abilities to play with me. Eventually, having weighed up the possibilities in my head, I decided to be truthful. He was still my Colonel after all and I knew he valued honesty. Taking one long breath, deep into my chest, I closed my eyes momentarily, praying to god that he wasn't about to kick me out of the corps for good before speaking boldly for once.

"I want you to fuck me Colonel."

It was his turn for his front to drop, choking on his beer with a laugh as surprise flashed across his face, quickly being replaced by a sultry gaze; he bit his lip harshly, letting it bounce out from between his lips as he looked me up and down, clearly envisioning my words.

"don't play with me girl,"

he growled, leaving the bemused façade behind, the effect I was having on him finally showing, and to my shock, he almost seemed to want me as much as I did him.

Not bothering to entertain the suggestion, I walked slowly to his side and leaned down to place one knee in the space between his legs, dubiously close to his crotch, before placing my hand against his rough cheek. My actions appeared to take him by surprise, still he wrapped his hands around my waist to steady me, eyes locked on mine in curiosity. Leaning down hurriedly, I pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, revelling in the sensation of his mouth against my own, feeling his breath on my cheek as I pulled away with a shudder.

"I'm not playing about Colonel, I'm being serious. If you don't feel the same then just tell me and stop letting me make a fool out of myself."

I whispered nervously, eyes flicking between his own, heart beating harder out of my chest with each passing second.

Out of the blue, I felt myself being tugged forward, crashing into his hard chest and giving my legs no choice but to spread out to a kneel on either side of his thighs, hands grabbing onto his shoulders to steady me.

"Fuck, you're so damn irresistible,"

he groaned, taking heavy breaths through his nose and dipping his head down to kiss and suck at my neck, nipping occasionally. The sensations overwhelmed me, causing me to whine in his hold whilst my fingers dug into his shoulders, pressing myself impossibly closer to his body, wanting so much to move my hips rhythmically against his own.

"That's it baby, let me know how good it feels,"

he mumbled against my skin, which I was sure was littered with marks by now. I couldn't take it anymore, his words causing a wave of desire to crash over me and I was ashamed to admit, the excitement of the situation almost made me cum there and then on his thigh.

"Miles,"

I released another, higher pitched whine as I gave into my wishes, rolling my hips almost frantically over his, I felt as good as feral in that moment, knowing I would've let him lay me out on that table and fuck me then and there in the bar if he wanted to. I only stilled when he seized my hips in an iron grip, and I was actually able to get a good look at him. He looked just as dishevelled as I was sure I did, eyebrows furrowed, eyes almost pleading as he swallowed hard, closing them as if in pain,

"don't,"

he growled, slapping my arse hard enough to sting, making me yelp and jolt forward, surprised at myself for enjoying the feeling as much as I did.

"Don't do that,"

he reiterated, the low timbre of his voice making me moan shamelessly, glad to be alone in the bar because if anyone could see my desperate state, my reputation would never recover.

"I'm sorry sir,"

I whimpered, nuzzling my face into his neck, pressing my own kisses to his jugular needily.

"Look at you, such a whore for your Colonel. what would your comrades think if they could see you now Anja, all needy for my cock."

His words were turning me on more than I'd ever been in my life, making me so wet I thought it might have seeped through my pants as I choked down another moan.

"I wouldn't care, just please please,"

I virtually cried out, shivering pitifully in his arms. Having mercy on me, he hooked one finger under my chin, a grin plastered on his face as he cooed mockingly

"It's ok baby, is this what you need?"

thrusting his hips against mine, forcing my own hips to roll against him with his other hands, he surveyed my blissed out expression with dark eyes. Leaning in, he lead my head towards him, allowing me to connect my mouth with his and kissing me heatedly, one hand moving to my scalp, pulling lightly at the strands, seeming to have picked up on my masochistic tendencies. As I moaned into his mouth I gave him an opening to slip his tongue between my lips, moving it surprisingly sweetly against me.

Regrettably, he was a great kisser, gripping and touching me just right as his warm muscle massaged my mouth, letting my tongue explore him however I liked, it was only making it more difficult not to fall for him, imagining where else he could kiss to elicit even greater pleasure from me.

He was the one to pull away first, eyes blown wide as we watched the string of saliva connecting us snap at the distance.

"Sweetheart, I'm so close to bending you over this table right now,"

He grunted, shuffling his hips against me once more, I guessed his trousers were getting uncomfortable by now and I could feel his hardness straining against my ass every time he moved.

"that's okay, I don't mind, I'll do whatever you want sir,"

I replied, smiling up gently at the man through my lashes, hoping to crack his resolve enough for him to give in because I couldn't take his teasing any longer. His only response was another groan, head tilting back in frustration before I felt myself being picked up with one arm as Miles stood from his bench. I had no choice but to wrap my legs tightly around his waist, the stimulation of his broad chest bouncing against my clit with each step making me gasp. He walked fast, how he did when called to important meetings or to give someone a piece of his mind, this time however, his motivations were of an entirely different variety.

"Hang on tight darling,"

he teased in his gruff tone, releasing me with one arm to grapple with his door, unlocking it as swiftly as humanly possible, desperate to get me into his bed. And once we were both in, he marched me over to the neatly made bed in the middle of his room, lowering me onto it with a grunt, still keeping his body close to mine and crawling over me, until I was trapped with his arms either side of my head. I felt so powerless below him, below my colonel like this, it made me burn, my slick thighs only getting wetter as his hooded eyes pinned me.

"Is this what you wanted hmm? Laying tits up in my bed?"

He emphasised his point by massaging my breast in his hand as leant down to capture my lips again.

"Wait!"

I suddenly exclaimed, pushing him away by his broad shoulders, causing worry to spread across his face.

"I'm a virgin..."

I confessed shamefully, turning my head away so as not to meet his expression, I knew being a virgin at 25 was embarrassing and I didn't need him to tell me that.

"Anja,"

he breathed, moving my head with a firm grip on my jaw.

"Shit, I can't believe you've never been fucked by anyone, not ever? Not even Wainfleet? I see the way he follows you around like a lost puppy."

This made me giggle, pushing at his chest gently but only really as a ploy to feel the hard muscle beneath his shirt.

"Lyle doesn't want to have sex with me he's my friend,"

I replied humorously, Lyle called me an annoying, whiny child on far too many occasions to be accused of wanting to stick his dick inside of me.

"Oh baby, you're so naïve, I bet you don't even notice the way the rest of the squad looks at you, especially when you do all those fucking stretches in those tight little shorts."

He ground his hips against me as he talked and I could tell he enjoyed teasing me just a little too much.

"But I guess it doesn't matter does it sweetheart, cos this is all for me and I don't want you fucking any of them, understood?"

His grip on my jaw tightened as he waited for my reply, his words causing a fluttering feeling to well up in my stomach, the vaguely possessive sentiment untangling a kink I wasn't aware I had.

"Ah yes sir!"

I cried at the force of the slap he delivered to my upper thigh in the silence.

"Such a good girl isn't that right,"

he mumbled, attacking my neck as he slipped his hands underneath my shirt, lifting it gently over my head before reaching around me for the clasp of my bra, murmuring against my ear between kisses,

"Can I take this off?"

I nodded eagerly, and he ripped it off like a man starved, pawing at my breasts, flicking at my nipples to harden them, making me arch my back and moan in delight; even more so when he leaned his head down to take one into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking with expertise. I had never expected him to be such a passionate man, more of a quickie in a cupboard kind of guy, but he most certainly proved me wrong, seeming to love pushing me to the edge as much during sex as when he had me running laps in the field.

I moved my own hands under the shoulders of his tank top, quickly sending him the message that I wanted it off, to which he obliged. He was gorgeous underneath, muscular body showing years of hard work and dedication, littered with scars and a masculine dusting of hair on his chest. He was such a man, my body couldn't help but react to him, want him inside of me when I saw those bulging muscles and scars. I thought as I ran my hands up and down his beautiful form, luckily he was too engrossed with my tits to notice my dazed staring.

Eventually, his hands travelled down my stomach, tickling my skin with his fingertips, until he reached my belt, pulling blindly at the buckle as he kissed my lips once more. Frustrated with waiting, my hands joined his, yanking off my own belt and lifting my hips, almost begging him to rip off my trousers.

"So needy,"

he whispered against my lips before removing his body from mine, leaning back to sit on his heels making me sigh sadly at the loss of warmth. Soon enough though, he got to work removing my cargos, leaving me laying there in only my little lacy white panties, completely transparent with my juices. He sucked in a whistling breath at the sight of them.

"Jesus darling, almost a whole lake in there,"

chuckling darkly, he leaned down to run a finger over my core, as if in awe,

"I really turn you on that much?"

His words made my hole flutter as he hooked his thumbs in the band on my underwear, looking into my eyes as he pulled them down,

"You still ok?"

He asked urgently, wanting nothing more than to drive his fingers into my eager cunt, but knowing he had to restrain himself, especially since it was my first time, after all, he was my Colonel and he looked after his own.

"Yes, please Colonel, hurry up,"

I insisted, grabbing at one of his hands to bring it closer to me.

"Fuck, don't even need to make you beg,"

he mumbled, bringing his fingers to my dripping folds, parting my lower lips to expose the fluttering rim muscle.

"Just like a flower,"

he said smirking at me as he began to circle my clit with one finger, making me mewl, arching as I tried to grab at the pillows by my head. I almost choked on my own tongue when he finally, deliciously, slipped in his thick finger. Low, satisfied moans tumbled from my lips with every pump, feeling as though I may have expired if I had been left any longer without being filled. Adding a second, then a third, he hammered into me at a vigorous pace, the same I could imagine he would use with his cock, curling them up to hit that magical spot that had me seeing stars.

Looking up at him, I could see his expression, lip firmly between his teeth as he flicked between watching my reactions and my obscenely squelching pussy closely. I spied a wet patch on his cargos, that and the large tent giving away his excitement.

"Anja, I can't wait,"

he rushed out, letting me become privy to the distinct sounds of the clanking of a metal buckle along with a zipper dragging down. Before I could comprehend, he had his cock in his hand, fisting it vigorously, lining it up with my entrance and pushing the spongy head against me, slowly breaking into my warm cavern. The intrusion stung, but I somewhat enjoyed the feeling, especially with the vulgar faces the Colonel was giving me at the feeling of my insides.

"You're so tight sweetheart,"

he moaned, head falling backwards with jaw slack, pushing in little by little so as not to break me. He was so thick, I'd never had anything that size in me before, none of my dildos amounted to his length let alone thickness. But above all, the sensation that got me the most, was the pulsing heat spreading from his member through my walls, making me clench, my body already deciding to keep him inside.

With one last push he bottomed out, balls slapping my ass and he buckled forward, leaning on his elbows as he kissed at my jaw, waiting for my signal to move. I could feel all of him, his hard body above me, in me, it was overwhelming and I bucked up my hips aching for some friction to relieve the pressure.

"You ready sweetheart huh? ready for me to fuck you just like you wanted?"

He asked, leaving no room for answer, already having begun thrusting into me with swift, powerful strokes, having him hit that spot inside me with every collision, causing tears to brim in my eyes as I chanted his name like a mantra.

"Oh fuck baby, so fucking wet I can feel you dripping, you gonna gush on my cock angel?"

Nonsense streamed from his lips, speeding up with every word, making my mind go numb, only focused on the way he filled me to the brim, legs clenched around his waist, fingers dug into his hair, clinging on for dear life as he brought me closer and closer towards my petite mort.

"Colonel, please, make me cum,"

I sobbed, biting at his shoulder, but he didn't seem to mind, revelling in how he was ruining me more and more with each stroke.

"Always thought you were so polite and cute huh, but this is what you imagined every time you called me sir, that's fucking filthy baby."

He growled, balls slapping my cunt with increasing power, even without our voices, anyone walking past his quarters would easily be able to tell what the two of us were doing with only the sounds of our bodies.

"I know, I'm sorry sir, please punish me."

I wasn't sure where this side of me was coming from but the words flowed out of my mouth like lava, burning hot in my throat.

At this he stopped all together, pulling out completely as I lamented, although the view of his engorged cock, glistening with my slick was almost enough to make up for it.

"Turn around and get on your hands and knees,"

His gravelly voice commanded, causing my hairs to stand on end. I presented myself to him, a little shy at this new, exposed position, until I felt a slap on my ass, hard enough to leave a handprint. It had me arching my back and wailing euphoniously, leaving the Colonel almost no choice but to plunge into my weeping pussy, setting an equally merciless pace that caught me off guard, pushing my face into the bed below as he abused my twitching hole in time with harsh slaps delivered to either cheek. The mix of pleasure and pain caused the coil in my stomach to tighten tremendously, bringing me to the edge much faster than anticipated.

"Cumming,"

was all I managed to shout out before my walls were milking the Colonel. Yet the pressure still had not dissipated, not until he reached down to rub at my clit, causing an unfamiliar feeling, almost like the need to piss, flow over me, causing me to try to grab at his had to stop him. But to no avail because he was a man out of control, his only mission to bring us both to completion.

"That's it baby, I know you can do it, give me another one."

"augh-ah-ahhh,"

a choking moan, trailing off into a high pitched whine forced its way out of my body as the waves of pleasure finally came crashing down, making me go limp against the pillows as I felt my muscles contract violently, realising in horror that I was currently squirting all over my Colonel's chest, unable to stop, and forced to watch as more clear liquid shot out of me, all over him. I was thankful that he fucked me through it without hesitation, slapping my ass again as he murmured something unintelligible to my blissed out ears. I just lay there useless as he took his pleasure, one hand in my hair, the other against my spine, forcing me to arch against him before his hips finally stuttered.

"Such a good girl aren't you Anja, Colonel's good girl, yeah that's it, keep clenching that pretty pussy around my cock like you didn't already squirt all over it."

His words made me blush in the post orgasmic haze, suddenly realising how dirty he really was, not that it made me want him any less. Turning my head I looked into his eyes lazily,

"cum inside me Miles,"

it felt intimate to say, in spite of the fact that he could see everything from my asshole to my calloused feet from his position. It seemed to push him over the edge though, shouting my name as he came, giving me three hard thrusts before I felt it. Like a volcanic eruption, hot and pulsing inside me, god I wanted him to cum in me every day like this for the rest of my life, his breathing laboured, moaning softly as he did it, his face so scrunched with pleasure, he looked beautiful.

It took a few minutes for the fountain to cease, eventually able to open his eyes he took in my wrecked form below him, causing a chuckle to rise in his chest at the sight of what he'd done to me. He stroked my spine with one rough hand as he caught his breath, not having fucked that hard in years, he needed a few minutes to recover.

"You okay sweetheart?"

He asked, uncharacteristically sweetly, as he caressed my rib cage at the same time as he pulled his softening cock from my heat.

"I'm good Miles, thank you."

I wasn't sure why I was thanking him really, for fucking me? that seemed stupid, yet I was the one saying the words. It made him chuckle again, I was still so polite after everything.

Crashing down next to me, he pulled me into his chest with strong arms, seeming to want to bask in the afterglow as much as I did. And I took the opportunity to kiss his chest tenderly, running my fingers up and down through the light hair there, still a little in awe of his presence.

"Can I use your toilet?"

I broke the silence with my question, expecting a harsh glare or mocking remark, but receiving neither, only a soft gaze and nod of a head in the direction of the ensuite. Wriggling out of his hold, that he apparently didn't want to let me out of, I attempted to walk on shaky legs, almost falling multiple times as I hobbled to the toilet weakly, much to Miles' amusement.

Once I had finished, I wondered if he'd want me to leave, this was only a one night stand after all....

"Should I go then?"

I asked quietly, leaning on the doorframe for support, feeling the full weight of my nakedness under his stare.

"After all that you think I'm gonna kick you out? Come here before I change my mind"

He rolled his eyes in annoyance, pulling up the covers as an invitation, one which I accepted happily, snuggling into him for warmth, I told myself, as he wrapped his arms around me from behind, stroking at the skin of my stomach with his thumb, the feeling of his deep breathing and steady heartbeat helping to lull me to sleep.

I knew, deep down that I had fucked up, this man would be leading my squad on the next mission and many more to come. Yet in this moment I couldn't bring myself to care, focusing only on the feeling of his skin against mine as I hoped this wouldn't be the last time.

Taglist:

@ab-haya

@isabellekenway

@mechformers

@lvangel98

@htnw004

@jayedillon

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

#miles quaritch smut #miles quaritch #stephen lang #avatar fanfiction #avatar movie #avatar #human miles quaritch #colonel quaritch

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iwaasfairy · 7 months

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fairy fairy fairy!!!! Your first kinktober 2023 fic got me screaming crying throwing up, it is so well-written!!!!!!!! I’m a real sucker for asylum-themed stories during the time when science was full of inhumane sht and women were considered mad when they don’t fit the stereotype, so perhaps it’s best to throw them in a mental institution. That lobotomy procedure was bone-chilling, you really did so well describing the scene and it really did convince me to also search where the rod should be inserted during the surgery (And it really hurts ugh pls tell me she at least passed out a few minutes bc of enduring too much pain SHDJDNND). The fic is so amazing AHHH though pls spare me bc i have some questions and i think it’s my tiny brain’s fault for missing a lot of details in the story >_<

1. reader may or may not have killed her partner bc of getting abused so she was sent to the asylum? Was she given the verdict of being a mad woman instead of going to prison bc someone pulled some strings?

2. Who is iwa really? He is a doctor, that’s for sure, but how did he know reader? Like what is their history?

Have a lovely day, fairy! Happy spooktober/kinktober 💀👻

Thank you so muCH LOVELY ♡♡♡ me too me too thiS WAS SUCH A FUN IDEA N prompt to write because it’s just really ?? dehumanising and sad by nature so I had a lot of fun playing w it

AcKJFJDJR AND Yea she most definitely passed out after, I think it’s impossible to get a metal rod jammed through your skull without having a little nap pFFFFGETRHE I laugh but it’s really not funny, some of the stuff I learned while researching for this fic was actually very upsetting

As for your questions !!! I think that Iwa probably pulled some strings to get her to come down with “insane woman disease” instead of just normal judging of second degree murder. But then again, reader doesn’t remember anything :< did she even commit the crime? was it self defence? or was there maybe another option that the judges didn’t even consider?? who knows, if Iwa says she belongs in the insane ward, she probably does right? Hehehhe

And as for their history, you can have your own backstory or ideas! I left it open for you to interpret. But personally I think Iwa probably does have prior knowledge of the pretty, soon to be newlywed down the street. Maybe his crush has dragged on for a bit longer than he’d like to admit. Maybe he’s got his own house where a sweet little housewife that doesn’t have to worry about nothing at all would fit really really well- and well, isn’t he just so very lucky that you happened to kill your fiance, and that you’re able to be in his care 24/7. Life is full of little coincidences ·◌̊ˈ*(⁰̶̶̷ ˙̮ ⁰̴̷̷๑ॢ॓).°◌̊

#honey mail #ty ty ty for the lovely words aAAHDHFJF #IM SO GLAD YOU LIKED ITTTT #tw.lobotomy #tw.yandere

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adamwatchesmovies · 1 month

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We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011)

It’s impossible to imagine anyone calling We Need to Talk About Kevin their favorite movie. Even saying that you ‘enjoyed it’ would raise some eyebrows but that’s because it’s so well made. Watching it alone would be nearly traumatic but if you catch it with a group of friends and set aside some time to talk about it (the movie’s title says you should, after all), it will be an illuminating experience you won’t forget anytime soon.

Once a successful travel writer, Eva Khatchadourian (Tilda Swinton) has lost everything and now lives alone. Hated by her neighbors for a crime her son Kevin (played by Ezra Miller) committed, she thinks back to his upbringing, trying to figure out where things went wrong.

If We Need to Talk About Kevin has any flaws, it’s that 1) the story is unpleasant and 2) you can sort of piece together some aspects of it before the big reveal. I'll argue these flaws should not be held against the film because they're necessary.

There was no way to make We Need to Talk About Kevin a good ol’ time at the movies. Kevin is a horrible collection of cells. He is a manipulative psychopath whose life has brought nothing but misery to everyone who ever met him. When he dies, the world will be a better place. No insult you throw his way is too harsh and no punishment he endures could ever be agonizing enough.

As for that second “flaw”, the film’s predictable “reveal” during the final act, I’m going to argue that Kevin's crime is a forgone conclusion. The point of the movie is that we are revisiting the past through Eva’s eyes. She's exploring her memories, wondering how she could've missed all the hints that we see. It allows you to understand and maybe even sympathize with her, which is a difficult thing because you don’t like Eva. You might not want her to end up in the darkest, most painful circle of Hell Kevin is sent to, but even before her son completely destroyed her life, she wasn’t a particularly nice person, a good mother or a good wife (Eva's husband is played by John C. Reilly) either. Ever wonder how the parents of someone who overdoses on drugs, becomes a serial killer or abuses their spouse must feel when they learn that what they knew would happen actually happens? That's what We Need to Talk About Kevin is about.

We Need to Talk About Kevin is difficult to watch but in the end, it all builds to something so unexpected you have to pause and think about it. Look at the way director Lynne Ramsay uses the colour red, for example. It's an obvious choice for a story about violence like this one, but the true meaning of the colour is not obvious. It triggers memories or ties flashbacks to scenes in the present. Noises are used similarly. There’s the sound of sprinkler systems that come back over and over. You don’t know why at first. When we find out, that information recontextualizes everything. You're so busy thinking about the way the story flows and its themes that you nearly overlook the other technical aspects. The performances are the kind that are so convincing you'll overlook them. You forget you're watching actors; you just see the characters they're playing. Although the emotions the film raises are negative, the techniques used to generate them is nothing short of masterful.

Throughout We Need to Talk About Kevin, you’re unsure about how the mother and son feel about each other. Every fiber of your being tells you that Eva hates Kevin and that he hates her. You hate Kevin too, so how could she not? Everything he’s ever done has built up to a deliberate choice that has ruined her life. It's like everything else was just collateral damage. It was always solely about her. They are always on each others’ minds and the last scene makes you wonder. To me, it seems as though Kevin has kept ties with his mother just so he can continue to torment her, just so he can see his hard work pay off. If he can get her to say “I hate you”, he’s won. Sensing this - after all, Eva knows him better than anyone - she puts up with him. The big question is whether, in that final scene, something has changed. The last time we see Kevin there’s something different about him. Certainly on the outside. On the inside? It’s hard to say. Maybe he’s realized something’s about to change and he now realizes just where his actions are about to bring him. Maybe it’s just a new tactic. Maybe hatred has turned to love. Maybe there was love there all along. Figuring out what's actually happening in that final moment is what this movie is ultimately about, which makes it a powerful experience. I said powerful, not necessarily enjoyable.

As time passes, I find myself thinking about We Need to Talk About Kevin a lot. Are the thoughts loving? I'm not sure. Perhaps they're similar to the thoughts parents of terrible children have about their kids; yeah you hate them, but you know, they’re your kid so one way or another, you love them too. (February 25, 2022)

#We Need to Talk About Kevin #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #Lynne Ramsay #Rory Stewart Kinnear #Tilda Swinton #John C. Reilly #Ezra Miller #2011 movies #2011 films

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faintingheroine · 1 year

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Random "Wuthering Heights" passage (tw: abuse):

‘Is Mr. Heathcliff out?’ I inquired, perceiving that the wretched creature had no power to sympathise with his cousin’s mental tortures.

‘He’s in the court,’ he replied, ‘talking to Doctor Kenneth; who says uncle is dying, truly, at last. I’m glad, for I shall be master of the Grange after him. Catherine always spoke of it as her house. It isn’t hers! It’s mine: papa says everything she has is mine. All her nice books are mine; she offered to give me them, and her pretty birds, and her pony Minny, if I would get the key of our room, and let her out; but I told her she had nothing to give, they ware all, all mine. And then she cried, and took a little picture from her neck, and said I should have that; two pictures in a gold case, on one side her mother, and on the other uncle, when they were young. That was yesterday—I said they were mine, too; and tried to get them from her. The spiteful thing wouldn’t let me: she pushed me off, and hurt me. I shrieked out—that frightens her—she heard papa coming, and she broke the hinges and divided the case, and gave me her mother’s portrait; the other she attempted to hide: but papa asked what was the matter, and I explained it. He took the one I had away, and ordered her to resign hers to me; she refused, and he—he struck her down, and wrenched it off the chain, and crushed it with his foot.’

‘And were you pleased to see her struck?’ I asked: having my designs in encouraging his talk.

‘I winked,’ he answered: ‘I wink to see my father strike a dog or a horse, he does it so hard. Yet I was glad at first—she deserved punishing for pushing me: but when papa was gone, she made me come to the window and showed me her cheek cut on the inside, against her teeth, and her mouth filling with blood; and then she gathered up the bits of the picture, and went and sat down with her face to the wall, and she has never spoken to me since: and I sometimes think she can’t speak for pain. I don’t like to think so; but she’s a naughty thing for crying continually; and she looks so pale and wild, I’m afraid of her.’

One of my favorite parts of the book

““Is Mr. Heathcliff out?” I enquired, perceiving that the wretched creature had no power to sympathise with his cousin’s mental tortures”.

“Wretched creature” - Linton being likened to a creature yet again. I also love the adjectives Nelly uses in labeling people she dislikes like Heathcliff and his son.

“Mental tortures” - Nelly seems to regard Cathy not being able to see her father - that is, her “mental torture”- as worse than the physical tortures she endured.

“He’s in the court,” he replied, “talking to Dr. Kenneth; who says uncle is dying, truly, at last.”

I love the detail of Heathcliff inquiring after Edgar’s state from Dr. Kenneth. Also “at last” is a weird echo of Heathcliff calling for Catherine’s ghost? Probably unintentional.

“I’m glad, for I shall be master of the Grange after him. Catherine always spoke of it as her house. It isn’t hers!”

This is the moment where all the sympathy the reader might had for Linton Heathcliff before evaporates and this sickly boy becomes yet another patriarchal oppressor. It is perhaps the moment in the entire novel where a feminist message can be gleaned from most clearly. The Entail and the marriage laws that deprive Cathy of anything of her own are clearly being condemned through these very grotesque utterances.

“It’s mine: papa says everything she has is mine”.

Heathcliff’s influence on his son. I would like to see them interacting one on one more but of course the narrative structure makes it kind of impossible. Heathcliff is cruel and awful here. Aside from his usual sexism (Heathcliff is sexist towards women in his revenge I will die on this hill) he is both torturing Cathy and corrupting his son.

“All her nice books are mine; she offered to give me them, and pretty birds, and her pony Minny, if I would get the key of her room, and let her out;”

The details of what Cathy offers to give is a clear indication of her most valued possessions and is a callback to her happier days when she shared books with Linton. She doesn’t offer money but pets and books, they are clearly still children. It is heartwrenching that she has to offer things to induce him to free her.

“but I told her she had nothing to give, they were all, all mine”.

The first half of this is brutal and again drives home women’s helplessness. The repetition of the word “mine” also illustrates Heathcliff’s psychology at this point. He got everything. In a way Linton’s entire character is a grotesque illustration of Heathcliff’s revenge (this is ofc problematic but that’s a discussion for another day).

“And then she cried, and took a little picture from her neck, and said I should not have that; two pictures in a gold case, on one side her mother, and on the other, uncle, when they were young. That was yesterday”

Cathy’s locket is like Catherine’s locket but instead of the hair threads of her lovers it contains pictures of her parents. This perfectly illustrates both her childishness and immaturity and the dependence of the second generation story to the first generation one. Also like Catherine had traits pertaining both her lovers Cathy takes after both sides of her family.

Edgar and Cathy must have gotten these miniatures when they first married. I guess that they got their larger portraits at that time too. Heathcliff was probably not even aware of this miniature.

“I said they were mine, too; and tried to get them from her”.

Possibly an illustration of Heathcliff trying to control Cathy’s bond with her parents? Him trying to control the narrative? (Remember him telling Linton that Catherine hated Edgar).

“The spiteful thing wouldn’t let me: she pushed me off, and hurt me”.

Cathy pushed Linton once before and it was when he said to her that her mother hated her father and loved Heathcliff. Her parents is Cathy’s button to push if you want to get pushed.

“I shrieked out—that frightens her—she heard papa coming, and she broke the hinges and divided the case, and gave me her mother’s portrait; the other she attempted to hide”.

Having never known her mother, Cathy of course values her father’s portrait more, especially since Edgar is dying. She is also afraid of Heathcliff, understandably so.

“but papa asked what was the matter, and I explained it. He took the one I had away, and ordered her to resign hers to me; she refused, and he—he struck her down, and wrenched it off the chain, and crushed it with his foot.”

Heathcliff taking Catherine’s portrait is understandable enough, but him taking Edgar’s portrait and crushing it with his foot is just unnecessary cruelty. He absolutely hates Edgar.

““And were you pleased to see her struck?” I asked: having my designs in encouraging his talk.

“I winked,” he answered: “I wink to see my father strike a dog or a horse. he does it so hard.”

More previously unknown details of Heathcliff’s violence towards animals. Linton likes to act the petty tyrant but he is not beyond the point where this violence doesn’t even effect him.

“Yet I was glad at first—she deserved punishing for pushing me: but when papa was gone, she made me come to the window and showed me her cheek cut on the inside, against her teeth, and her mouth filling with blood; and then she gathered up the bits of the picture, and went and sat down with her face to the wall, and she has never spoken to me since: and I sometimes think she can’t speak for pain. I don’t like to think so; but she’s a naughty thing for crying continually; and she looks so pale and wild, I’m afraid of her.”

This is potentially the most violent part of this already violent book. I am astonished that some people unironically think Heathcliff was not that bad???

Conclusion: Great, great, great passage. My analysis certainly hadn’t done it justice. Great details. I can’t express myself it is just great.

#wuthering heights #heathcliff #cathy linton #linton heathcliff #wh paragraph game

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nerdygaymormon · 2 years

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Did you see President Nelson's talk to the young adults of the church where he spoke about which labels to use for our identities? What do you think it?

I watched a recording of President Nelson's remarks from Sunday.

The part of the devotional you're referring to is when he said the most important labels we have are:

Child of God

Child of the Covenant

Disciple of Jesus Christ

He spends a lot of time going through other sorts of identifying labels and warns "the adversary rejoices in labels because they divide us and restrict the way we think about ourselves and each other."

He goes on to warn that no abuse or prejudice towards others is justified because of how they choose to identify themselves (such as by their nationality, race, sexual orientation and gender).

He also warns against any label that isn't compatible with the first three labels, which he says are unchanging identities.

————————————————————

Where did "child of the covenant" come from? I can't recall ever hearing that phrase before. Never before was it taught as one of our core, eternal identities.

Being a child of the covenant and being a disciple of Christ are both choices, so I don’t know why he says they are “enduring,” especially when there are other characteristics which are more enduring and difficult/impossible to change

I agree those three labels he put at the top are important to believers, but they also are ways of dividing ourselves and can be impediments to unity

————————————————————

I’m glad he said if we’re being prejudiced to people based on their nationality, race, sexual orientation and gender, then we are not following God.

I hope he really means it and the Church will terminate all such discrimination. Even if he means individuals in their private lives shouldn’t treat others differently or refuse them service, but the church will continue to limit opportunities, that’s still moving a step forward. No marginalizing individuals based on traits they can’t change and are intrinsic to them.

————————————————————

This is much softer than how the church leaders have spoken about labels in the past, which usually included cautions against LGBT labels. This time he didn't specifically caution against LGBT labels, but the language is such that it could be implied.

I want to point out that the Church's mormonandgay website & same-sex attraction website both say it's okay to use the LGBT labels (even though the Church clearly prefers the term "same-sex attraction")

————————————————————

I noticed he used “gender” and not “sex.” There is a difference between the two. Gender is a construct, gender is performative. Consequently I would say gender identity is implied or included with the term “gender.”

————————————————————

There's a certain simplicity and charm in thinking if we could get rid of labels, we are getting rid of the things that divide us and it would help us to be united.

It's an especially compelling idea to those in the large, dominant group. Removing labels is a way of saying everyone is basically like yourself, labels perpetuate or emphasize differences that don't matter much.

It's invalidating to those who differ from the larger population. Our differences are important in how we understand ourselves and should be seen and appreciated.

It reminds me of when a white person says "I don't see race," or "I don't see color,” which is a way of denying the racial identity of others. To say you don't see another person's race is to negate the reality that their race contributes to the experiences they have as they navigate society. It also implies they should deny or get rid of their racial identity and that you don’t want to learn about how racism impacts their life. It denies the current reality and history we live with.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has a long history of denying that gay, trans, and queer people exist. Has said people should not use words such as lesbian or bi in describing themselves, and described having same-sex attractions as something to be struggled against. For decades the church was a proponent of reparative therapy, for hiding your sexual orientation & entering mixed-orientation marriages. The Church has a history of fighting against marriage equality and other basic rights. Just this year, a church leader described the rainbow flag and coming out at BYU as divisive and encouraged metaphorical "musket fire" against LGBTQ+ equality.

Given that history, when the president of the church says we shouldn't label ourselves, or that only these 3 labels are important, it can feel like this is yet another assault on LGBTQ+ individuals, another attempt to erase us or diminish us.

————————————————————

Here's the thing, identifying as gay doesn't replace my identity as a child of God. I can be both and I am both. One doesn't negate the other.

You can be a Queer child of God, a queer disciple, and a queer child of the covenant. You can be any and all of these, or none.

————————————————————

It feels like the invitation from the Church is that LGBTQIA people are welcome to come be a part of us...

but don't bring the rainbow flag

and don't use identity labels

and don't tell others about this part of you

and don’t transition

and don’t make us uncomfortable

and you aren't going to the Celestial Kingdom

and you won't be gay or trans when you die

and...

that's not welcoming

#queerstake #hope Elder Oaks heard the part about no prejudice

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muthaz-rapapa · 1 year

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A Brief Study of Loneliness Analysis #4 - alone against the world

To be honest, I’m questioning if I’m mentally well enough right now to do a proper analysis post. And this isn’t the topic I intended to write about either (that post will be published later) but something I decided on this morning after I woke up feeling too many emotions from thinking a lot these past few days.

Since writing is often an effective way for me to purge my state of mind…I owe myself this space to release some of that turmoil. So feel free to look the other way if this bothers you. And plz don’t interact with CLAMP-related commentary or whatever cuz that isn’t what this post is about.

{TW: mental illness, depression, topics of abuse}

Loneliness. Solitude.

These are the things Kaito has always known as far back as he can remember.

Isolated because of his powers, he was always alone. Even the few who genuinely reached out to him weren’t able to lift that belief from his mind.

Because he’s been carrying this emotional and psychological trauma from his childhood for so long that the thought of connecting with people, trusting others, is greatly damaged as well.

The only exception to that is Akiho. She had to endure abuse similarly to how he did so he could relate to her suffering. But she was also always beside him as a positive, healing influence and that helped alleviate some of that pain he felt.

However, it didn’t erase it because there were many things that kept that wall up between them.

He had to hide the fact that he is a magician from Akiho in order to not frighten her. Because every other magician she knew had only ever hurt her for not having magic. Kaito didn’t want that. He wanted her to feel safe, to grow up feeling that she can be treated normally. So he never used magic in front of her (or, at the very least, not in any way she would notice) so that she could interact with him without being afraid.

He hides his schemes in the shadows because he doesn’t want her to become aware of what her clan and the Association did to her, what he’s trying to fix right now. Finding out that she was turned into a magical artifact would be the ultimate thing that could destroy her heart and she’d immediately lose her soul to the spells carved into her body from the magnitude of that revelation.

He deflects her concern for his rapidly deteriorating health for the same reason.

“Don’t ask, don’t look this way, please think of yourself first”

All this is done for Akiho’s peace of mind.

Kaito shoulders the heavy burden of secrecy, his own massive guilt, anxiety, and despair so that Akiho wouldn’t have to. So that she wouldn’t worry and can be free to be happy like he wants her to be.

And that in itself is another loneliness for him to bear.

The loneliness of being at the top by yourself.

The loneliness of taking on a goal only you can fulfill, one that you absolutely MUST fulfill. A task that you can’t trust or rely on others for and are running out of time to complete.

The loneliness of not being able to be your true self, especially in front of the person you love most. Because that just might be what breaks her and you lose her forever.

The feeling that you are up against the odds, the world, alone.

“You’re on your own, you always have been”

Even when half of these issues are dealt with and made better post-climax-finale-whatever, the fact that Kaito had felt and experienced this pain won’t ever change. It will remain buried deep in the corners of his mind and at times, it will come back to haunt him when he’s at his weakest and most vulnerable.

Because it’s already part of him, what made him who he is now.

It is a pain unique to him so…even Akiho will never fully comprehend why or how he feels this way.

That’s just how humans are. It’s very difficult and perhaps impossible to completely understand one another because others can’t be you and you can’t be anyone but yourself. That’s the barrier that sets us apart.

And it made me realize something at the end of the latest chapter (68).

Knowing his story, his background, I have always stood on Kaito’s side and prayed for him to achieve what he wishes for (i.e. saving Akiho’s life). So from that position, I have to also come to understand how he perceives the world and how (he assumes) the world perceives him.

The world (or the majority) will typically side with the protagonist, the hero, the one considered “sane”. Like the boy holding up his sword right in front of him or the heroine Kaito placed in this story he wove. The side that is overwhelmingly painted as “good” and in that effect, sheds a negative light on the one standing opposite of it.

The “good” side (talking in general here, not Sakura) is willing to accept things they consider clean-looking. “Pure”. Sanitized.

So it’s easier for them to accept Akiho because despite her problems, she is shown to behave in what many still think as the “proper” way (by keeping her head down to herself and not starting any trouble).

The reaction and the reception towards Kaito’s actions, however, is more alienating and wary and outright hateful even with the bigger picture there to illustrate why. Even though he has good reason to explain his behavior (he acts sneakily and drastically precisely because he’s been pushed into extreme desperation), he will always be deemed as crazy and harmful and by some, even “evil”.

Because those people can’t register in their own brains the extent of the suffering in someone else’s mind and how that affects whatever that person does. So they shun them. They shun what they can’t understand and automatically label it as “bad”.

When in reality, most people who are mentally ill don’t have it in them to look and behave in the ideal standards that others ridiculously hold them up to.

It’s already a huge struggle to get up in the morning and to act normal before those we have to interact with. It’s already a constant and exhausting fight with yourself beneath the surface to not let your inner demons win.

Once something breaks that fragile façade, what do you honestly expect to see? Cuz it’s definitely not a perfect angel. It’s the broken and the ugly but still very much human part that we’re doing our best to reconcile in ourselves.

That, I believe, is a way to describe another loneliness Kaito possesses.

Nobody but him understands the conviction he has to hold onto as he faces every obstacle that blocks his way. Nobody knows what it’s like for him to do everything on his own for the sake of this plan to save Akiho. Nobody can comprehend the terrors that he and Akiho escaped from, that magician society that he had to likely fend off regularly while making sure the plan in Tomoeda goes accordingly without a hitch.

They just see him as “wrong” because they don’t want to accept what he’s gone through. What he is going through right now. Cuz it’s easier to blame something they don’t understand.

And it’s sad because Kaito believes this, too. That he is wicked, “evil”, and that there's no saving him.

That’s not true at all. He’s just doing his best in the limited ways available to him to ensure that Akiho survives.

And if life didn’t fuck him up like this, if it didn’t shape him into someone who couldn’t trust others, if he weren’t still so affected by his trauma and factors beyond his own control, do you honestly think he would go to such dangerous lengths just to poke in someone else’s miracle fountain? When there are probably safer ways to save Akiho out there?

No.

If a person’s mind was clear and healthy, mentally stable…they wouldn’t be viewed so derogatively. But when they aren’t those things, they’re thought of as less than a person. That it’s their fault they are that way.

It’s no wonder why he said “I am alone”.

Indeed, he may not be completely alone because Momo will not stop trying to make him see otherwise and most importantly, Akiho will never abandon him for anything and already loves him wholly and unconditionally…and those two are all he’ll ever need to go on…

…but he has known and experienced too much to ever forget this feeling.

The loneliness that nothing can totally cure, that nobody else but he can really understand. Because again, it was born within him, exists only within him and will always be a part of him.

But even so, even if the loneliness never vanishes, I will still be on his side. I don’t think his actions were “wrong” because if I were in his shoes with not many choices to pick from, I’d probably be pushed to do the same as well. I want to try to understand that much about him at least.

And of course, I want him to succeed in his plan, whatever it is, because I don’t believe for a second it can be malicious in any way.

More importantly, I want him to survive this ordeal and live to see better days. I want him to have the chance to overcome that loneliness because it’s not always going to be like that and he has the right to know what that feels like as well.

Because nobody deserves happiness more than Kaito. Because nobody in this entire goddamn story worked as hard as he did and actually put their life on the line and suffered through hell after hell after hell as much as he did.

#i hate depression #it messes up everything on my schedule #but i ain't so weak that i can't fight for my boy #going to bed now plz give me space thx #yuna d. kaito #🕰️🌾🐇

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cassianus · 1 year

Text

The "freedom" of the world is a precarious and fragile thing, often taken for granted and often lost quickly and unexpectedly. The freedom of the kingdom, however, endures all things and cannot be taken away since one has already given everything to God. Therefore, we need the Eucharistic school of freedom. A school that speaks to us the language of giving. The great tragedy of our world is selfishness, the withdrawal into oneself. Man wants to keep himself for himself. The antidote is the Gift.

When we come before the Most Blessed Sacrament, the Eucharist speaks to us this language of the Gift. He has given Himself up in a total vulnerability. One can take Him. We can move Him. He lets it happen. Not only is He given, but given up, that is to say thrown to the wolves. And for those who want to nourish themselves on Him, He becomes the food of eternal life. But for those who want to profane Him, an act of sacrilege is possible. He permits Himself to be thrown to the wolves. The Eucharist teaches us the logic of the Gift.

Consider this story:

"I have a friend who lived nine and a half years in the Gulags: Alexander Ogorodnikov was tortured, beaten, abused. I asked him: 'but how did you resist so many horrors, so much suffering?' While being very discreet about what he experienced, he told me about some of the torture to which he was subjected to. According to him, without the grace of God it was impossible to bear them. He said, 'You know when you have given everything to God, down to the last cell of your body, they can no longer take anything from you, even when they tear your flesh, it is already given.' Here, you see, we kneel. We'll have to move from servitude to myself to the freedom of self-donation. The Eucharist, the Most Blessed Sacrament teaches us that freedom."

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starblaster · 2 years

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I can't speak for op of that post but autism itself ISN'T solely a good thing. It's a disorder and a disability and while I'm happy for a lot of people who are comfortable being autistic, a lot of people are actively harmed by the symptoms that come with the disorder itself not just the social aspects of it and I think it's really unfair to act like it's always a gift for everyone who has it. I don't have to love something that makes it harder to live my life. I'm happy for you if you do, but I don't.

with respect, i don't agree with the categorization of autism as a 'disorder' to begin with. we are pathologized as disordered when compared to allistic people.

i never said autism itself was “solely a good thing”, i said i hoped the original poster meant ‘diagnosis isn’t always a good thing’ because autism itself is just autism. it’s not inherently good or bad. i didn’t disagree with most of that post. i disagreed with some of the wording, and had ideas i wanted to add in the tags. i wasn’t formulating a structured argument or anything. but, now that i am:

i also never said that autism is always a gift, or implied that it is a gift at all. like, that’s straightup not what i said. my comment was about how an autism diagnosis is something i never wanted and didn’t need because all i got from it was trauma; what i needed were accommodations and i never got them. instead, i was put in “therapy” where i was dehumanized and trained like a dog for nine years of my life. and now i’m an autistic adult and i desperately wish i had some external support, but there is nothing and no one that can provide me with the support i need outside of the psychiatric system, which has done nothing but harm me. if allistics accepted and embraced autistic people, we wouldn’t be left in the ‘care’ of people who harass us, abuse us, and control us.

yes, i am comfortable being autistic. but my executive dysfunction frustrates me. i don’t enjoy having meltdowns. it took me my entire life before i began accepting myself as an autistic person, and all that entails.

it's not that we don't know how to communicate, it's that allistics lack the compassion to learn how to communicate with us without treating us like we're subhuman. it's not that we're "slow" learners, it's that allistics keep forcing us to learn things on their terms, at their pace, and in their learning styles instead of our own—and punishing us when we can't conform to their impossible standards. we have physical limitations that allistics either accuse us of faking, exaggerating, or they ignore our limitations completely and do nothing to meaningfully, non-judgmentally help us.

the world around us was built to hurt us for being autistic. it was built to make our lives hard by ableists. i’m not saying we wouldn’t still have frustrations and pain and hardship related to being autistic if all of the ableism around us went away, but i am saying that we probably wouldn’t experience nearly as much of it. the reason autism positivity is important is because it is not possible to “cure” autism. we can’t be ‘turned allistic’. allistics need to accept us, especially high-support autistics.

high-support autistics deserve to receive the care and assistance they need without that support only being provided under the condition that they submit themselves to the inherently traumatizing ordeal of having their very autonomy ripped away from them. they deserve support that isn’t contingent on how ‘obedient’ they are. they deserve support from people other than ‘mental health professionals’ who dehumanize them and talk down to them and hurt them. they deserve caretakers who actually listen to them.

and all autistics deserve to get the treatment and assistance we need for high-instance concurrent physiological things like seizures, gastrointestinal issues, and incontinence, too, without also having to be forced to endure the various so-called “therapies" (operant conditioning) that force us to behave and conform according to allistic standards and be obedient to make allistics more comfortable with our existences while we suffer for the sake of appeasing them. and we deserve the right not to work, like all disabled people do.

if we could get actual care and actual accommodations for things without the strings attached, without caretakers and healthcare providers controlling our lives without our consent, wouldn’t our lives be easier?

#and i’m not even mentioning the ableism we face from our own families #who refuse to care for us or accommodate us or they call us burdens to our faces #who shame us for existing etc. etc.#autism tag

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casspurrjoybell-28 · 5 months

Text

Alpha's Addiction - Chapter 3

*Warning Adult Content*

Fireflies - Kao

A servant's forced me to bathe and has groomed me in all ways possible for my first night with Zacan.

Just the thought makes me want to vomit.

In the past, I used to imagine Des and I discovering we were fated mates when we came of age and running away together.

He'd bite and claim me, then we'd have our own family, far away from this evil place.

But that was just a dream, an impossible fairy-tale.

If Des was my fated mate, he's long dead and if it's someone else, he'll never want an impure Omega like me.

Alphas want their Omegas untouched and certainly not with the baggage of a child.

I've accepted it... I don't need Alphas, anyway... in fact, I hate them... so much..

All I need is my Oliver but of course, Zacan has to ruin even that.

He has to pit himself between us, force me to be his mate, even though we are not fated.

Maybe people would tell me this is the best I'm ever going to get... it's a sad thought.

When Zacan comes into the room, I try to act like I'm asleep.

It's a slim chance but maybe he won't try anything.

But then I feel the bed dip, a cold, callused hand closing over my bare thigh.

I flinch, a shiver rolling down my spine... definitely not the good kind.

And now I've revealed that I'm awake.

"You smell amazing," he murmurs, shoving his face into my neck and breathing in deeply.

My stomach churns in nausea, hating every second of his touch.

But I need to do this for Oliver.

If I don't please Zacan, he'll throw me out and I'll never see my baby again... I couldn't bare that.

But then his hand slips under my waistband and I can't breathe.

My chest tightens up, terror washing over me and suddenly it's like I've traveled back in time.

All I can see is his huge figure looming over the younger me, pressing a hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming as he took what he wanted.

No one was there to stop him... No one would have, anyway.

I rip myself from his grip, scrambling towards the edge of the bed.

In seconds he's on me, snatching my ankle and pulling me back toward him.

"Oh no you don't," he growls, grasping a fistful of my curls and yanking my head back.

I cry out in pain, scratching at him in an effort to make him let go but he doesn't.

"Don't be a prude. I know what a little whore you are, Omega," his prickly beard scratches against my ear.

"You let the other Alphas do whatever they want to you."

"That has never been my own choice," I exclaim as he flips me over, pinning me to the bed under his immense weight.

His hands are wrapped so hard around my wrists I'm sure there will be deep bruises on them tomorrow.

"But I'm better than a whole group of Alphas, aren't I? Or do you want me to bring a few friends like you're used to."

His expression is devious, like he's enjoying this.

Enjoying how I shake beneath him, scared out of my mind.

"I hate you," I tell him, tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

"I wish you'd just leave Oliver and I alone."

"Awe, poor you," he says mockingly, caressing my face in faux sympathy.

"But how can I, when you cry so prettily? It really turns me on."

I fight... I try so hard to get away but he's just too big and too strong.

He holds me down, forcing me to take it and all I can do is close my eyes, trying to tune my brain out.

I'm used to this... it's just what Alphas are like.

They use and abuse and we Omegas just have to endure.

There's no way out... he has every advantage here, physically.

No matter what I do, he'll win in the end... Alphas always do.

As he fulfills his desires, I try to go to a happy place to block out the pain.

I think of sunny days, daisies blowing in a field, memories of Des when we used to sneak out to the lake by moonlight.

I think of Oliver's smile as he plays with the other pups.

Most of all, I pray to the Moon Goddess that this will be over soon.

I sit with Oliver in his room, which feels much too giant and lonely for a pup.

There is no decoration or toys in sight.

My heart aches for him, thinking of him trying to sleep in this dreary room all alone.

I still haven't been able to convince Zacan to let Oliver stay with me at night.

"Mama?"

Oliver looks up from the book he's been reading.

"Why is Alpha Zacan my dad now? I thought Des was."

The dreaded question... one I'm not sure I can answer.

"It's... complicated. I guess I just wished Des was your father but he wasn't."

Oliver thinks for a moment, before looking back to his book.

"I don't like my new dad. He's scary."

I couldn't agree more... as Oliver continues reading, I notice that he winces every time he adjusts his position.

My chest tightens, hoping it's not what I think it is.

"Are you hurt, baby?" I ask.

Oliver avoids eye contact, pretending to be deeply absorbed in the book... that confirms it.

He's favoring his right side, avoiding putting any pressure on it.

"Oliver. Lift up your shirt," I demand.

Reluctantly, he puts the book down and does as I say.

My heart drops when he lifts the fabric, exposing the huge bruised welt up the right side of his rib cage.

It's red in the center and yellowing on the outsides, indicating just how much force was dealt into the blow... I see red.

"Who did this?" I ask in rage, although I already know the answer.

"Alpha Zacan said I was being 'disobedient,'" he confesses, lip trembling as he starts to cry.

I hug him close, careful not to irritate the wound.

"I'm so sorry, Oli. I should've protected you."

I cradle him in my arms for the longest time, sorrow overcoming me when I think of how Oliver tried to hide it from me.

Who knows what abuse he'll hide in the future if things stay like this... which is why we need to escape.

I spoil Zacan tonight... I let him do all the vile things he wants to me in bed with less of a fight than usual.

It's all to avoid suspicion, although it makes me sick to my stomach.

The whole time I fantasize about him getting his dick cut off.

Once Zacan is satisfied, he lays back on the pillows, closing his eyes.

"Shall I bring you some tea?" I ask him sweetly, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

He smiles and accepts the offer.

"It's nice to see you finally treating me how an Omega should their Alpha."

I roll my eyes when my back is turned, heading to the door to fetch the tea that I'm going to infuse with mushroom wort.

It'll knock him out for a few hours, giving me the perfect window to carry out my plans.

Once Zacan is out cold, I pack a bag before getting Oliver from his room.

Then we tiptoe around the halls, which I try my best to navigate through memory.

There should be an exit around here somewhere but just as I spot said exit door a hand clamps down on my shoulder.

"Alpha Zacan's Omega. What do you think you're doing?" a cold voice comes from behind us.

I turn to see one of the Alpha guards, a stern expression on his face as he regards us.

'Shit. What do I do now?'

"M-Mama's taking me to see the fireflies. They only come out at night," Oliver chirps up.

The Alpha raises as eyebrow in disapproval.

"Oh come on," I tell him, quickly adding on to Oliver's story.

"My mate obviously approved of this, otherwise he wouldn't have let me leave our room. Would you be so kind and escort us? We're just going to the field near the lake."

There is no way he'll let us go alone and asking him to come with is a way to avoid suspicion.

It makes it seem like we really only want to see the fireflies... I'll have to find some way to get rid of him.

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