—-  Mclaren Honda MP4/4 - Ayrton Senna - by nancorocks ————-

— Category Formula One Constructor McLaren International Designer(s) Steve Nichols
Gordon Murray Predecessor MP4/3 Successor MP4/5

Chassis Carbon fibre honeycomb monocoque Suspension (front) Double wishbones, pull-rod actuated coil springs and dampers Suspension (rear) Double wishbones, rocker-arm actuated coil springs and dampers Axle track Front: 1,824 mm (71.8 in)
Rear: 1,670 mm (66 in) Wheelbase 2,875 mm (113.2 in) Engine mid-engine, longitudinally mounted, 1,494 cc (91.2 cu in), Honda RA168-E, 80° V6, turbo (2.5 Bar limited) Transmission Weismann-McLaren 6-Speed manual Fuel Shell Tyres Goodyear

Notable entrants Marlboro McLaren Honda Notable drivers 11. Alain Prost
12. Ayrton Senna Debut 1988 Brazilian Grand Prix

Races Wins Poles F.Laps 16 15 15 10 Constructors’ Championships 1 (1988) Drivers’ Championships 1 (1988, Ayrton Senna)

anonymous asked:

Hello! These blogs are so super helpful, and yours is here just in time for me to begin writing my story! So thank you so much for your help in advance. I'm writing a story about a soldier that was captured during war. Part of the story is him struggling to trust his therapist enough to open up about what happened. During this time where he refuses to talk to anyone, how would PTSD affect his everyday actions, his thoughts, etc.? Thank you so much. I really appreciate it. Have a great weekend!!!

Hooboy. I’m going to just list several symptoms of PTSD and explain how they would each drain his energy and limit his ability to do things and how to include these in your writing. 

1. Hyper-Arousal

  • Hyper-vigilance: Every little sound and shadow is going to make his brain go into overdrive. It is going to kick his fight-or-flight mode on high and its almost never going to calm down. This is EXTREMELY draining. His brain and body is going to be a coiled spring, ready for danger, at all times. This is physically exhausting and drains spoons incredibly quickly. 
    • Some ways this will change his daily life - he won’t be able to spend as much time in crowds or even just outside his house because there is too much stimulation for him to handle for to long. He probably won’t sleep well because again, all those little noises houses make at night is going to make him panic and lose more spoons - he could combat this by getting a white noise machine. 
  • Emotional Outbursts: Many individuals with PTSD may experience unstable emotional states. 
    • It wouldn’t be odd for him to suddenly feel very angry or irritable with no recognizable reason or target. He may also swing the other way and start crying without any warning. These episodes are extremely draining and there frequency may prevent your character from getting things done. 
  • Lack of Concentration: High levels of distraction, the hyper-vigilance, the adrenaline constantly running through his body is going to make if difficult for your character to concentration for an extended period of time.
    • This lack of concentration may make it difficult for your character to work, attend school, do homework or fill out things like medical forms for doctors appointments. This could lead to him pushing such appointments back because he is unable to prepare for them.

2. Avoidance 

  • Situational Avoidance: Your character is going to try to avoid any situation that might remind him of his trauma.
    • If he was in a tank that was bombed, he may go out of his way to avoid driving. If something happened in a wooded area, he may take a longer route to avoid a similar area because it reminds him of his trauma. This could make your character miss deadlines, appointment times, or cause a significant amount of time to be dedicated to this avoidance which means other things will not get done. 
  • Social Isolation: Another type of avoidance is social avoidance - this means your character may avoid his family and friends, either because he doesn’t have the energy to be social or being around other people cause him to panic. Being forced into these situations would drain his energy very quickly.
    • This may cause him to avoid things like birthday celebrations, holiday parties, any type of gathering. These events are going to be extremely exhausting as your character is already tired and the amount of people and noise are going to exhaust him. 
    • Something else that might influence his social isolation is his PTSD influencing his view of other people - he may begin to mistrust others and feel as if the world is a dangerous place. This mindset is extraordinarily draining and would significantly impact his energy levels. 
  • Triggers: Triggers are sights, sounds, smells, situations, items; pretty much anything that reminds your character of his trauma. 
    • Before he is aware of his triggers, he will most likely stumble upon many of them and suffer from flashbacks or anxiety attacks, which is extremely exhausting.
    • When he knows his triggers, he is going to try his best to avoid them, which may mean changing his routine, getting up earlier to go shopping when it is quieter, not going to fun events like fairs or the movies because he doesn’t want to fun into a trigger. 
    • Triggers are often unavoidable or unexpected, prompting exhausting anxiety attacks or flashbacks multiple times a day, eating up time to get things done and exhausting your character.
      • Consider what his trauma consists of - does it involve guns? If so, it might not be just real guns that can trigger an anxiety attack or flashback. Plastic guns, guns in movies or TV shows, sounds that are similar like a car backfiring or fireworks, the smell of gunpowder, even just something that shoots something, like a Nerf Gun. Think through his potential triggers and then think about all the situations those could be found in - he is going to have to schedule his entire day around avoiding these triggers, especially when he is not actively working with his therapist on his trauma at this point.

3. Flashbacks/Remembering the Trauma

  • Nightmares: When he does fall asleep, he is most likely going to have nightmares. 
    • He may or may not remember the specifics of the nightmare, but he will most likely wake up in a panic, shaking, sweating. It’s going to take him a long time to fall back to sleep, if he even does. If he does fall back to sleep, it may be a very tense sleep, waking up frequently and not allowing his body to relax - this means he is going to wake up in the morning already exhausted, anxious, and running on panic. 
  • Flashbacks: Flashbacks are often one of the stereotypical symptoms of PTSD, however they are extremely common. Flashbacks may happen multiple times a day, at varying severity each time. 
    • One type of flashback is an emotional flashback - these flashbacks only affect the individuals emotional state, not their senses. So if your character is triggered and reminded of his trauma, his emotional state may quickly move to match the emotional state during the trauma - so intense fear, adrenaline, anger, sadness. These intense episodes that may come at anytime, last up to an hour, and are extremely exhausting. 
    • The common type of flashbacks you see in media are sometimes called ‘full flashbacks’ or ‘psychological flashbacks’. This is when the brain believes that it is back during the traumatic event, and the individuals senses - sight, hearing, smell, taste - are going to be taken back to the moment of the trauma. Your character will not be fully in reality at the time and any attempts to touch or otherwise break the individual out of the flashback could result in a negative or fearful reaction. These flashbacks can also last a significant amount of time and be draining. 

Now, you said that this was before your character began working with his therapist, but these symptoms won’t go away suddenly. As your character begins to work through his trauma and develop coping skills, these symptoms may decrease in severity or disappear all together eventually. However, some PTSD sufferers will always have some of these symptoms and have to cope with them. 

I hope this helps!

- Mod Riley

Sometime in the future...

…when Dex realizes he’s not poor anymore.

“can we get a headboard, too?”

Dex hated that voice. It was a voice he hadn’t heard come out of his mouth in a long time, since before him and Nursey got married, before they graduated, before he started seeing a therapist. It was a voice that said, ’a no would break me’ underneath the real words of his question.

It was how he used to ask for hugs, and how he asked, three months into their fuck-buddy relationship, for Nusey to please stay the night, just once, nobody ever stays.

Nursey gave him a long, appraising look, but Dex knew he wouldn’t ask why, all of a sudden, Dex sounded so unsure of himself. Just like Dex knew, eventually, he’d tell Nursey why something so silly as a headboard was so important to him.

He gave a small smile instead, kissed Dex’s cheek, and said, “That’s chill.”

They got out of their truck, a purchase that Nursey made without Dex because he knew his husband could never justify the price to himself, even though they could afford it a hundred times over. Between Dex’s NHL salary and Nursey and Lardo’s line of children’s books, there wasn’t really anything they couldn’t afford.

Which is why Dex hated how small and broken his voice sounded when he asked if they could buy a headboard.

With the new contract Dex signed, finally featuring a no trade clause, they decided to buy a house. Nursey went all out; he spent weeks touring places, picking out furniture, and giving Dex the silent treatment (apparently ‘whatever you want’ isn’t the right answer). The only thing left was a new mattress.

They saved it specifically for a week when Dex didn’t have any scheduling conflicts. He tried to tell Nursey that it was fine, he could go ahead and buy one without Dex there, but he refused, insisting that a mattress was an individual experience, both of them had to agree.

They both knew that, in the end, Dex wouldn’t have an opinion. A bed was a bed to him, and any bed was better than no bed. It felt nice to have a full day with his husband, though.

They stood in front of a huge mattress store, and for some reason, Dex felt uncertain. There was something about this, buying a bed, that made everything real to him. He was an adult. He was well off financially. And he was about to walk into a store hand in hand with his husband. And he was happy.

He wasn’t the angry kid from Maine, anymore.

A saleswoman nearly a foot shorter than the couple (call me Cici!) dragged them all over the store, practically pushing them down on mattresses and asking about their firmness. She asked about hteir opinon on memory foam versus tempurpedic, about fabrics and springs and coils and all sorts of questions Nursey has answers for that Dex can’t make heads or tails of.

He zones out a bit, but jumps back into the conversation when the topic of temperature comes up (so, are you two warm blooded or do you use a lot of blankets at night?). He had no idea that they made some mattresses cooler than others, but yes they wanted to try those out, because his husband is a furnace and the three stupid cats Nursey snuck home were like little fuzzy ovens.

So, they go to the other side of the store and try out hybrids (of what, Dex really couldn’t say). Without even trying it out, Nursey pointed at one of the set-ups and declared, “it’s going to be this one.” Dex had to admit that it was pretty comfortable. He didn’t feel like he was sinking into the mattress, which was nice.

Nursey clamored on top, cuddling into Dex’s side with a smug grin. “Told you it was this one.”

Still grinning, Nursey asked Cici, “Can you show us some headboard options?”

There was an entire room of them. Bed frames and headboards and footboards. Big quilted ones that Dex thought would go great in his baby sister’s princess room, studded leather ones, wrought iron frames that looked a little too bondage for Dex’s comfort.

Dex wasn’t sure what his face was doing, but  Cici told them quietly that she would give them a few minutes to look around, even though she had been attached at to their side for the hour they had been in the store.

They wandered around, looking at all the choices. Dex knew he held Nursey’s hand a little too hard, but Nursey didn’t say anything. He let Dex take the lead, inputting his opinion but never tryng to influence Dex, never pushing him to talk about it.

They made two circuits of the room before stopping (for the second time) in front of a simple padded headboard. It wasn’t anything fancy, just smooth, cream colored fabric. Dex ran a finger over the display. It was softer than it looked.

“I don’t understand headboards. Or footboards. They’re totally pointless.”

In the past, that may have been an invitation for Nursey to chirp Dex, to ask what the hell they were doing buying one if Dex thought it was pointless. But after so many years together, Nursey knew Dex needed to talk it out, not have a conversation.

“Did you know that before I went to Samwell, I never slept in a real bed?”

“I didn’t, babe.”

Dex never took his eyes off the headboard. “For a while I had a matress thrown on the floor in me and Adam’s room, but then I gave it to Hannah and I started sleeping on some sleeping bags on the floor. I told myself it was like camping. Even when I imagined my house, I never imagined a having a real bed. What’s the piont of buying something that’s totally pointless? It’s just a waste of money.”

Nursey ran a warm hand up and down Dex’s back. Dex rarely talked about his childhood. It was one of the only things they still faught about sometimes: Nursey taking their money for granted and Dex not being able to accept that he can spend money when he wants to.

“But we can buy this. We can buy something that’s totally pointless, just because I want it.”

It wouldn’t match the room, even a little bit. The whole house was stark greys and bright whites, accents of bright colors. The cream fabric would stick out like a sore thumb. It was meant for a softer house. There was something about it that Dex like, though. He couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly, but he loved it.

“What do you think?”

Nursey didn’t bother to look away from Dex when he answered. “I think it’s great, babe. It’ll look good in the bedroom.”

Dex gave him a hard look. “really.”

“Okay, no. but if you like it, then I couldn’t care less.”

And just like that,they bought it. And later that night, in their brand new bed, in their house (their house, not a house they were renting), Dex slept better than he could ever remember sleeping.

M-I-A-M-I (PART 2)

Prompt: Please read Part 1 first. Inspired by Daveed’s Instagram post that made the fandom go wild. Y/N and Daveed are in Miami, and things are about to get hot.

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x reader

Warnings: Smut. It’s porn, basically.

A/N: *smokes a cigarette* Shout out to @imaginebeinghamiltrash, @tempfixeliza, and the anons who made sure I wouldn’t abandon this story. Also, @tallish-hobbit  here ya go. Ready to sin? Lehggo.

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Title: Aftermath
Characters: Hanji Zoe x Levi
Genre: Humor / Angst
Rating: T

@levihanweek​ Day 2: Nightmare

Levi’s Nightmare: Having a heart-to-heart with Pastor Nick.

“Are you worried about your wife?”

The question shocked him out of his musings.

Levi looked up, “My what?”

But the pastor was already speaking, “You’re obviously beside yourself with stress – and it’s understandable. Not knowing if your wife has survived-”

Levi cut him off, “My what?”

The pastor hesitated, apparently realizing he’d made some mistake, but misunderstanding precisely what it was. “Your…wife? The woman we traveled with before? She’s ah – forceful. You two uh – have the same, er – strident personality. When we first met, she dangled me off the wall.”

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Curvy Hips and Pretty Lips - Loki

Curvy Hips and Pretty Lips Masterlist

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson X Reader

Words: 1189

Warnings: it’s Loki the god of Mischief. You bet your sexy ass it’ll be the most NSFW of all of them

@dark-night-sky-99 requested: Hey!! I love your writing, and absolutely love how you take conscious of us curvy girls, not many care so thank you!!, I was recently reading your Curvy hips and pretty lips series and I know it’s closed but I was wondering if you could do something similar with Loki since he’s my favorite character and I’ve never read about him and a curvy reader before.

A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged HERE. Comments appreciated and welcomed. This is the first time I write for Loki so be kind :)

Originally posted by lokitty

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anonymous asked:

Could I request a story where Jason introduces the batfam to his s/o but they don't like her and in the end they find out that she's his fiancé and they maybe start to like her

youuuu got it bby! I’m quite fond of it, even though it’s short. I feel like Jason’s my easiest robin to write for, bc I too am always angry 

title: shine

theme: batfam being a dick about things they don’t get, ok in the end

warnings: mentions of death

“Hoodie, I just don’t know,” you sighed, back flipping over a Black Mask gang member before delivering a head shot to him, turning as he crumpled to the ground to dodge a fist. You broke the man’s arm before kicking him off the roof. “I just don’t think your family is too fond of me.”

“They’ve never met you, babe,” he chided, throwing a man at you, to which you roundhoused into some crates. “It’s just breakfast; we can go shower after this and get over there before we take a nap.”

There was a knot in the pit of your stomach; you wanted the bats to like you, you really did; but you knew how strained the the relationship was with Jason. You already knew they weren’t going to like you, having a feeling they knew of your nightly activities. Biting your lip in thought, you threw out a fist to deter a thug, sighing.

Jason could sense the doubt you had, and he stepped over a body and swept you up into his arms, peppering kisses over your face. “They will love you; they just need to meet you.”

A heartbeat of a pause, then you nodded and smiled, taking his hand as he grappled you both home so you could refresh before breakfast. Catching the glare of your diamond on your finger, you made a split decision to wear it around your neck and under your high collared shirt, hiding it. You picked your nicest outfit, fixed your hair and made sure your shoes weren’t scuffed, turning when Jason wolf whistled from the door at you.

“Where’d my partner go?” he rumbled, arms looping around you as he pressed kisses against your mouth. Laughing, you pushed him off and towards the door, citing that you were both going to be late if you didn’t leave now.

On second thought, you would have rather have been late, by maybe two centuries.

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Good Morning, Jamaica

A little part two of my other fic ‘Jamaica’, thanks again to @sing-me-a-song-harry for helping me out with it! Enjoy!! xx B



You were so hot, and no matter how you twisted or turned, you couldn’t escape the heat. It radiated off of the solid body behind you and off of the heavy arm slung over your waist as puffs of breath huffed against your neck. Your eyes widened. Who could you have possibly…? Then it all came rushing back. The wine, a ringed hand slipping further up your thigh with each second and the sloppy, wonderful fuck against the dining room wall. It was Harry’s taste on your tongue. Harry’s moans in your memory. Harry’s body heat at your back. Trembling slightly, you rolled away from the man sleeping behind you, taking the bedsheets with you to cover your nakedness as you did. Harry didn’t stir as the bed shifted, and you cursed under your breath as you remembered your clothes being discarded on the dining room floor in your haste to undress each other. Hopefully anyone who actually made it back to the house after a night of drinks was too tired or too tipsy to notice the clothes scattered around.
Just as your hand grasped the doorknob, the bed creaked, a soft grunt reaching your ears. You froze in anticipation.
“Y/N?” His voice was soft and gravelly from sleep, his knuckles coming to rub at his eyes as he sat up. Harry took you in, your pretty form clutching the silk sheets around you like a second skin. “What’re yeh doin’?” He asked.
You swallowed, heart racing. “I’m…I’m going back to my room before anyone realizes I’m in here, without clothes on,” you said shakily, glancing over your shoulder at him. His hair was ruffled from sleep and the multiple times you’d tugged on his roots the night before, and his lips were swollen and pink. You wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed with him. You didn’t leave the door, though.
“Love,“ he said quietly, eyes darting over you as he slowly rose from the bed with his hand extended toward you as he approached, like he was trying to calm a wild animal that would run the instant he got too close. “Yeh avoidin’ me? Tryin’ t’ leave before I woke up?” Your eyes squeezed shut, his hand landing on your wrist as flashes of those hands running along your skin went through your mind. You swallowed.
“I’m..I’m not avoiding you. Just…need to do some shopping, s'all.” Harry let out a low chuckle, green eyes understanding as he came to stand in front of you. The rest of the house was still silent and you were thankful for the alcohol that had provided the peace.
“’M sorry, love, I am. We were both just in t'moment, and a lit’le drunk, we don’ have t'make it into more than that.” His words had the opposite effect than he intended and he knew it immediately by the way hurt flashed in your eyes.
“You…you didn’t want it?” Your voice cracked, eyes looking anywhere but at Harry as tears welled in them. For so long, you’d secretly had feelings for him, wanted to feel his lips on yours and his skin against your body, and now that you had, he was acting as if it didn’t mean anything to him at all. You turned away from him, sniffling as Harry made an affronted grunt.
“No, no, angel, tha’s not wha’ I meant. O'course I wanted it, wanted yeh. O'course I did, still do.” You paused, wiping at one of your eyes and angling your head to glance back at him. “’Ve always wanted yeh, sweetheart. If y'don’ feel th’ same, tha’s fine, but don’ yeh dare think I didn’t want yeh, or I just wanted a quick fuck. Don’.”
Sincerity and concern shown in his dark eyes, and before you could over think yourself, your hands were cupping his jaw and your lips were against his, the sheet falling to the floor without your hands there to hold it. Harry took in a shocked breath through his nose, but his hands fell to your hips and he pulled you closer, molding your body to his. Now that you were both completely sober and not locked in a lust-driven race to get to your orgasms, the kiss was slow and hot, your heads tilting and lips smacking softly. Your hands slid to his chest and Harry’s came to your jaw, thumb rubbing softly over it as he urged you towards the bed. His lips moved down your cheek to your neck, sucking gently on the skin there as your head lolled back, eyes fluttering shut.
“Harry,” you whined, “I need you.“ A low growl left his throat as his fingers trailed down your body. "Yeh wan’ it, pet? No runnin’ away this time?” A cheeky smile pulled at his mouth as he raised his head to meet your gaze and you nodded seriously, tugging on his necklace to connect your lips again.
“No running.” You agreed. Your bare back met the mattress again, and you whimpered as you dragged your mouth along his throat, tongue darting out every now and then to taste him. Harry moaned above you, his arms trembling as he rubbed his hardening length against your center. He was all slow, warm hands as they ran down your sides, his body sliding down to rest at the foot of the bed. His soft lips began to sponge kisses from your ankle up to your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh. You whined impatiently when Harry returned to hover over you, still slow and wild eyed. After a few more needy kisses, you trailed your eyes over him in the morning light. He was gorgeous; from his bedroom eyes to his flushed, weepy cock, he was the prettiest thing you’d ever seen.
“S'pretty.” Harry laughed and sweetly kissed you before his mouth returned to the hollow of your throat, moving down to your breasts. Desire flooded through you, your body humming at the notion of having him buried inside of you again, your belly tingling in anticipation.
“‘M gonna fuck yeh nice ‘n slow, sweetheart, show yeh how bad ‘ve wanted yeh. Yeh feel tha’?” His hard cock pressed into your thigh and you whimpered, mouth falling open. “S’what y’do t’ me.” He slowly trailed his fingertips down your body until he reached your center, immediately finding your clit and circling it with fervor. A strangled moan fell from your lips.
“Please, Harry!” The words were all you could manage, head so filled with the haze of lust you could barely see. Harry smiled against the skin of your chest, hips shifting as he lined himself up.
“Yeh need me, angel? Hm?” Your fingernails clawed at his back as he entered you, stretching you in the most delicious way. Harry’s words trailed off into deep, drawn out moans as your walls clenched around him, warm and wet. “Pet, yeh feel s’good fo’ me.” You pulled him down for a kiss, tongues tangling and breath mingling. Harry’s teeth sank into your lip with a grunt, his hips thrusting forward at a steady pace. His cock dragged slowly in and out of you, and his eyes squeezed shut, the feeling indescribable.
“Wanted you for so long,” you wheezed, wrapping a leg around his waist to pull him deeper into you. “So, so long.” Harry groaned, head falling to rest on your collar bone.
“‘Here! ‘M here, angel, ‘m righ’ here,” Harry bit out, teeth clenching when the headboard knocked into the wall. “Christ!” The heat was stifling, the sounds of your pants and dirty moans filling the air, and you couldn’t find it in you to care that anyone in the house could probably hear the noises. Let them hear how well Harry fucked you, how good he was to you. A ringed hand slipped down to rub your clit, eliciting sharp cries from you as Harry’s hips thrust deeper. Each stroke was long and measured, making sure to fill you to the brim and push you to the limit faster. A light sheen of sweat covered yours and Harry’s skin, making him difficult to grab onto, but as you sank your nails into his back for leverage, a hoarse cry of pleasure left his throat.
“Do tha’ again, pet, c’mon, be good fo’ me.” You raked your nails down his skin, sure to leave scratches, but you didn’t think twice about it when you felt his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, love, y’feel s’good.” You were taut underneath him, barely able to catch a breath, and you found your hands pushing at his shoulders roughly.
“Wanna ride you, please.” Harry’s eyes rolled with pleasure, his length barely leaving you as he rolled to his back and you moved to straddle him and sink down onto his cock. The new angle pushed him even deeper, and Harry was quick to start pushing up into you, not wanting to wait a minute more. “You feel so good, Harry. Oh my God, please don’t stop!” His hands cupped your breasts, tweaking your nipples as his eyes roamed over your body as you moved above him. Heat curled in your belly, coiling tightly like a spring as you slipped a hand down your body to rub at your clit.
“C’mon, angel, look s’good fo’ me, ridin’ m’so well. Need yeh t’ cum all ov’ m’cock.” You moaned at his words, grinding down on him as he thrusted upwards. Your walls clenched around him, squeezing his cock so tightly you could feel the vein that ran along his length pulse inside of you. It didn’t take much longer for you to throw your head back as your orgasm rolled over you, your mouth falling open in a loud cry. Harry was quick to follow, teeth gritting and neck veins on display as he climaxed. With him still buried inside you, you slouched forward, breathing hard against his chest. Chaste kisses were pressed to your sweaty forehead and Harry tenderly rubbed your back, eyes fluttering shut.
“Still no running?” He managed to wheeze, a small smile curving his lips. You let out a shaky laugh, nipping at his throat playfully.
“After that, I’m not even sure I can walk. I’m not going anywhere.” A rumbling laugh was Harry’s only reply.


Dean x reader

Warnings: SMUT. As always. Oral sex, squirting, multiple orgasms, swearing, alcohol, a tiny bit of angst with a dash of fluff.

Side note: I’m sorry this took so long, I literally could not get passed the writers block. Hopefully you all enjoy!


You watched as Dean swayed side to side with the beautiful waitress he’d been flirting with all night. She tried ignoring his attempts at first, like the other ones always did, but those green eyes always got the best of them. You knew it wasn’t long before they headed out, back to Dean’s room and did things you’d only ever dreamed of.

Pining over the brooding, stubborn, broken hunter was never fun. Especially on nights like these. But you’d gotten so used to it, it barely hurt anymore.


You threw back your last shot and headed out, not wanting to see the way Dean cupped the waitresses ass as they stumbled out.

Walking out into the cool air, you realized just how much you’d drank. The motel was only across the road but it seemed miles away. You slowly made your way across, looking both ways like a small child without an adult. As you made your way up to the door, you realized Dean would be bringing the waitress back here for the night. You scolded yourself for not getting a separate room.

Miserable and drunk, you finally managed to get the door open, stumbling a bit before stabilizing yourself and turning on the light. You glanced at both beds, groaning at the lack of space between them. This was going to be a long night.

You shut the light and fell onto your bed. It wasn’t the most comfortable but you’d slept on worse.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour later when the sound of keys fumbling and the door opening woke you up. There was only one set of footsteps so you figured Dean had struck out with the waitress. Relief washed over you. Atleast you’d actually get some sleep tonight.

“You awake?”

You turned over, expecting to see Dean disheveled and confused from the alcohol, but to your surprise he seemed perfectly sober. Standing straight with a strangely serene look on his face.

“What’s up? Waitress wasn’t buying what you were selling?” You chuckled, hoping to break the odd tension that was suddenly between you two.

“I told her I had to wake up early. Gave her a fake number… I’m sure she’ll get over me in a little while.” He smirked.

“You… let her go?…. Are you ok?” You didn’t hide the concern in your voice. It wasn’t like Dean to turn away a perspective one night stand.

“I’m good, sweet heart. She was nice… I just wasn’t feeling it tonight.”

He was still standing, right at the end of his bed facing you straight on. His eyes were hooded, looking at you with an intensity that burned into your core. You sat up, realizing there was something more he wasn’t telling you.

“Dean, what’s going on?… is there something you wanted to talk about?” Your heart was starting to beat out of your chest. This was serious.

“How come you left?”

Ok… Not what you were expecting.

“Left? Where? The bar? I was just getting tired. Long day of driving can really tucker an old girl out.” Your nerves were starting to show, making stupid jokes to lighten the mood.

“Y/n….”, Dean’s voice dangerously low, eyes never leaving yours. “Why?”

You looked down, the uneven blanket on his bed catching your eye. You fidgeted with your fingers, not sure how to voice your reason.

Dean moved suddenly, taking 3 long steps forward and kneeling down in front of you so that he was eye level. Gently placing his finger under your chin, he lifted your face until there was nowhere to look but those bright green eyes.

Starting slow, in a barely audible whisper, you confessed…

“I can’t watch you with all those women. You’re not mine… but it still hurts.”

“Why does it hurt?” His expression guarded, unchanging.

“We’ve known eachother for what? 4 years now? We spend everyday together. We hunt together. You’re my best friend…. after a while… I started hoping…” your voice faded off, not sure how to finish.

Were you in love with Dean? Absolutely. Did he love you? Probably, but not the way you wanted. How can you confess your love to someone who could never love you back?

Tears clouded your vision, threatening to spill over and make you look even more pathetic. You tried to look anywhere but Dean, but his proximity was making it damn near impossible.

“Y/n… do you think I went home with those girls because I didn’t want you?”

His gentle tone pulled you from your embarrassment. Hesitantly, you brought your gaze back to his, seeing the kind smile and slight amusement in his eyes.

“I went with them because I didn’t think I was good enough for you.” He looked away, clearing his throat. “I still don’t think I am. But seeing you walking out of the bar, seeing the way you looked at me and that waitress… I knew I had to say something.”

You were both silent for what felt like forever, searching each others eyes.

Finally the tension was too much.

“So what are you saying?”

It was amazing what one question could unleash.

Dean’s lips were on yours in a second. The passion was unbelievable, but there was no rush. You melded together in a slow heat, his tongue gently massaging yours. His hands wrapped around your waste as he pushed against you, laying you both down on the bed. You stayed like that for a while, just enjoying the feel of his lips, the soft moans that escaped him, and the way his hands ran up and down your side, sending shivers through you.

You tugged on the hem of his shirt, raising it up and over his head. He lifted his arms to help you, and then brought them back to your side to continue they’re smooth back and forth motion. Your hands explored his chest and arms, marveling at the muscles underneath. Working your way down to his belt, you felt him tense under your touch.

Breaking the kiss, you gestured to his jeans as you began removing your shirt. Throwing it to the side, you heard Dean’s zipper come down. You looked over his beautiful 6 foot frame and your heart fluttered. This gorgeous being was almost naked, very obviously hard and waiting for you. You yanked down your jeans and removed your bra so you were both just in your underwear.

“You look amazing…”

Blushing at his words, you reached a hand out to him. He grabbed it instantly and you pulled him back down on top of you. Continuing your lazy kisses, you rolled over so that you were straddling Dean. You sat up and looked down at his boxers. Reaching under the hem, you pulled his cock out, stroking it gently and watched as Dean’s eyes shut, giving himself over to you.

Moving your panties to the side, you placed your wet pussy right over his dick and let him slide through your folds. He grazed your clit every time.

“I wanna taste you.” He practically begged.

Smiling, you scooted yourself up until your pussy was right over his face. He placed both hands on the underside of your thighs, flattened his tongue and licked one long, slow, line from your entrance up to your clit. You bit your lip to cover the moans that were threatening to escape.

“Taste so good, sweet heart..” he brought his tongue through your folds again, going around your clit but never actually touching it. His movements were slow, but deliberate. He circled your clit one way and then another, but never repeating the same pattern. You could feel yourself getting hot, a spring coiling inside that you knew was going to explode if he continued his pace.

Without warning, he flipped you on to your back, legs in the air and pinned you to the bed. There was no more amusement in his face. His eyes were focused, his jaw was tight and every muscle in his body was ready to pounce.

This wasn’t Dean. This was the Hunter.

He placed his mouth around your clit, continuing his circles but this time at a pace that would surely kill you. You couldn’t stop the moans this time.

He had your entire lower body pinned to the bed so you couldn’t move, making the pleasure so much more intense. You grabbed the sheets and practically screamed his name over and over.

“Dean! Oh fuck Dean, don’t stop! I’m gonna cum!” You cried.

Dean started to suck on your clit and that was the end. Your orgasm exploded. Your back arched off the bed and your cries were heard throughout the motel. It came in waves, almost never ending.

When it did finally subside, you laid back in the bed, trying to concentrate on your breathing. Dean stood up, gently massaging your thighs.

“That was beautiful, y/n. I could watch you cum like that forever.”

“It definitely felt like it was going to last forever.” You laughed.

Dean laid over top of you, gently kissing you, and running his cock through your sensitive folds once, twice, and one last time before gently pushing into your entrance. You moaned at the feeling, loving the pain of the stretch and the way it faded into a dull pleasure.

He entered you in one, agonizingly slow thrust. Giving you time to adjust to his size, he stayed still, peppering your neck and shoulders with kiss after kiss.

“Dean…move.” You growled, digging your nails into his shoulder blades.

Dean’s muscles tensed, stopping in the middle of planting a wet kiss just under your jawline. He lifted his head, looking you square in the eye.

“Yes ma'am.” He purred with a sly grin.

Lifting his hips and thrusting back into you, he created a friction so intense you knew it would consume you. His cock hit your sweet spot every time, causing the pressure in your core to build with every thrust. You’re nails dragged down Dean’s back, leaving long red marks and causing Dean to hiss at the pleasurable sting.

His eyes never left your face. He watched the way your eyes closed from the pleasure… the shape of your beautiful mouth as you moaned his name… the sweat that rolled down your cleavage. He wanted this image of you burned into his mind.

“Fuck, Dean. Don’t stop. Faster.. please go faster.”

He quickened his thrusts, setting a pace that could put any pornstar to shame. Your orgasm started slow, until Dean stood up, changing his angle and hitting spots you didn’t know you had.

Your second orgasm was nothing like the first. It hit you like a freight train. Your legs shook so violently you were sure you were having a seizure. The heat in your core expanded, spreading to every part of your body. Dean’s pace never slowed and the pressure never died. Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, the pressure erupted. You felt yourself release like a waterfall all over Dean’s cock. Squirting wasn’t something you’d done before and your eyes went wide with surprise.

The look on Dean’s face was pure ecstasy. Being covered in your juices pushed him over the edge, his thrusts stuttered and he spilled into you. His release was fast but powerful. Three hard thrusts and he was finished. He collapsed on top of you. The only sound in the room was your heavy breathings.

You stayed locked in each other’s arms until you both fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up feeling sore… everywhere. The dull pain reminded you of last nights activities and you smiled.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.”

You opened your eyes and saw Dean staring at you, a gentle smile on his lips. Happiness radiated from him and you couldn’t help but smile back.


“You feeling ok?”

“I’m a little sore… but I’m not complaining.” You both laughed. “Last night was…” your voice trailed off, no words were good enough to describe the events that took place.

“Yea it was.” He grinned. “Starting to think I should get you jealous more often..”

Smacking his arm, you gave him the best disapproving look you could muster, but you were too happy to be irritated.

You sat in a comfortable silence, staring into Dean’s eyes and thanking whichever gods were listening. No matter what happens, you were his. And, finally, Dean Winchester was yours.

YUZU DAYS, 6 March 2017.
Reason for evolution “Heading for greater heights”

Olympic champion, current world records holder, 1st person with 4 consecutive GPF victories, Yuzuru Hanyu says, “I am still far from the skate that I am aiming for.”  Not content with the present situation, Hanyu continues to strive towards greater heights. 

I really hate to lose. I absolutely want to win all competitions and I don’t want any kind of regretful feelings. Even during training, on days that I cannot jump well, I feel that I have lost to myself and I will be very frustrated. I cannot help it.  (I’m) already the extreme type of ‘hate-to-lose’. [laughs]

My 'hate-to-lose’ is not just about the win and loss of a competition. When I make a mistake, I have lost to myself who have not grown. When I decide that I want to do this performance, it has to be that performance, I will think that way. Even if I can do it, I am very uncompromising (t/n. or rigid or stubborn) and so until now there has hardly been any time when I felt satisfied.  But failure and frustrated/regretful (kuyashii) feelings are a certain kind of experience. Because there is failure, so there can be reflection;  frustration and regret can also become (coils of) springs. I think that’s why I can keep moving forward.

Figure skating has many components like jumps, spins and steps; it requires not just skating skills but also expressive skills. It is a sport that is extremely multi-faceted. If there is one part that is not going well, there are other parts that can be stretched. For example, if you are not making much progress in jumps, you can polish up steps, spins or expression; there are many areas that you can grow in, if you search for it. As long as you don’t fix your own limits, there is no end to how much you can grow / improve. Further on ahead, with more years of age, even if jumps cannot be done anymore, expressive abilities can be refined, so it can become better in a different sense. When I think of this, there is still a lot more that I can evolve. This is why I think figure skating is so interesting.

Figure skating is a sport that is done by one person on the ice, but the bigger the competition, the bigger the group of people that supports that one competitor. Until I finally reach the ice, there are people who help to get my body ready, the coaches who teach me, and the people in the team. Then there is my mother who supports me in everything from daily life to competitions, and also everyone who sends me cheers at the venue. Heading towards the same direction, all these people are competing together with me. I have the feeling of competing in a team. And because I can feel that I am not alone and everyone is here for me, I can focus, I can work hard and do my best. To all the people who support me, I am truly grateful.

Translated by me.
Source: P&G,

My past translations of YUZU DAYS:  HERE


It’s a two-fer! Courtesy of @dcwomenkickingass, and specifically this post, I had to do an edit of these, while my storyboards wait. 

I’m not going to go into long explanations here, I hope the drawings do speak for themselves. In the first case, it’s a Land being Land, although I do have to say that he did give a butt to Silk, as opposed to his usual ablation of hips and gluteus maximi. However, he unfortunately did it wrong. 

Artistic anatomy is all about drawing structure, from the inside out. Your muscles by themselves can’t look right if they aren’t placed on top of a properly proportioned skeleton.  Boobs won’t look right if they aren’t drawn as following the curve of the ribcage, its center line, or the movement of the arms which either pull or push on the pectorals on which the breasts hang. The arms back mean the shoulders are lowered, and the angle of the hands will be different since there’s a ¾ turn on the torso. It shows that Land is drawing by guessed shapes, copied contours and practiced repeated motions. There’s no real structure underneath his shapes.

And if we look at the legs, I can only picture Kitty Pride phasing out of a wall: the legs look like they got mangled up to look like stumps. But even structure-wise, there is no thought put into whether the pose actually works, which is why it looks so clumsy. The legs should be reversed due to the line of action that’s in the torso but not followed through into the pelvis and legs. And I’ve been using the coil technique a lot in order to make my volumes work - it should be obvious by the roughs above - which help me figure out things like foreshortening. 

Silk too was a problem of lack of structure, proportions all over the place, and lack of weight and purpose, but it felt moreso than Spiderwoman. I used the same pose Land did but worked out the skeleton first, using rotation arcs in order to properly proportion the length of the various limbs. I don’t know these characters and I might not have used these poses, but Silk here definitely looks like she’s dancing.

The variant cover by Manara looks like a pose right out of porn, pelvis up and cheeks spread, costume looking like body paint, and it makes me very uncomfortable. She doesn’t look like a superhero about to strike, she looks like she’s about to get… well, it’s a porn pose. This is sexualisation. It also reminds me of the Dog Bone sexy shape. 

So I turned the pose sideways to figure it out, and to see what would work better. The sideways pose as is, as you can see, is angled to do quite the opposite of ass-kicking. Were she to try to leap from that pose, she’d fall flat on her face. The second pose is the “coiled like a spring”, but in the camera angle of the cover, it’s an ugly, ugly pose. So I tried to do something in-between, and just by making the pelvis horizontal and lifting the torso off the ground, I’ve managed to move the center of gravity so her weight is on her feet instead of her knees, she can use her arms to maneuver in most directions, and you still get an interesting body shape to look at. I think this works better, and much more ready to spring into motion.

Wanted also to say thanks for all the reblogs, likes and recent follows! I appreciate each one of them, and it’s because you’re still sharing and commenting that I came back to do this. However I’m still really busy! I won’t be posting a lot, but I do plan on posting more than I have. Back to storyboards for me! 

Requested by Anon: Sherlock x reader. The reader is Sherlock’s girlfriend and she is allergic to latex and there is an accident when a new police officer hands her a piece of evidence causing her to have a bad reaction.

(gif not mine but writing is)

Not the evidence you need

Standing in the kitchen of 221B Baker Street, you watch as your tea slowly brews. Occasionally you glance at your boyfriend who was sitting in his chair, Sherlock Holmes. He wore a purple shirt, black jacket and trousers. His cheekbones were chiseled and his hair fell in dark curls. Sat in the chair opposite was his best friend Dr John Watson. A shorter man who wore a checkered shirt and had hair that was a mixture of light brown and the odd strand of grey. It can be quite difficult being the girlfriend of the world famous ‘consulting detective’. Sherlock isn’t very affectionate a lot and you could not think of a time that you were really intimate together. Come to think of it becoming his girlfriend was something that sort of just happened. You had now been together for two months and despite the peculiarities, you enjoyed every second of it. 

Taking out the teabag and adding a splash of milk, you dust off you black skirt and blue top. Hearing the faint buzz of Sherlock’s mobile phone, you watch him stand up almost automatically and put on his long dark coat. “Murder” he exclaims with a smile on his face. “John, (Y/N), I need your help.“Following Sherlock’s lead all three of you walk down the stairs and out of 221B to hail a cab. On the way you hand your cup of tea to Mrs Hudson. “It’s fresh, enjoy it for me.” you say to her smiling as she accepts the cup. 

Sherlock’s job always intrigued you so when he started to ask you to accompany him, you jumped at the chance. Even Sherlock noticed that the idiots on the force stopped calling him ‘freak’ when he starting flaunting his girlfriend. It took them a while but they have finally stopped offering you gloves when you arrived at a crimescene. You are allergic to latex and it was always best to be safe. They now started to have new forensic and police members at the crime scenes that Sherlock attends to as special training. Greg the inspector at Scotland Yard thought that the newbies should learn from one of the best and well Sherlock loves to show off. 

Stepping out of the cab the three of you approached the house and you could see the signs of a forced entry. Following Sherlock you look around the scene. A lifeless body of woman lay on the floor. A struggle had taken place by the looks of it as shattered glass lay scattered around the body.  There were familiar faces at this scene Greg showing Sherlock something of interest he had found, Anderson hiding in the corner. 

“Hi” said a face that you had not seen before as he slowly approached you. He was a new police officer, around the same age of you, tall and fair haired, he looked a bit nervous. You smiled and raised your hand in acknowledgement. “I’m Jack. So you are a friend of THE Sherlock Holmes.” he asked.You giggled to yourself. “I guess you could say that. I’m (Y/N).”  you chuckled. “How long have you been on the force?“ "My second week but my first murder.” he replied smiling at you and his eyes sparkling. He suddenly nervously looked at the floor. “I… was wondering if maybe sometimes… we could…”

“Jack I need you to have a look at this.” Greg called. You also noticed Sherlock glaring at Jack with a look that said don’t ever do that again. "It looks like that guy has really taken a shine to you and it made a certain someone very jealous.“ John laughed as he walked to stand next to you. "Oh Sherlock, always the idiot. The poor guy was only introducing himself.” you say as you stare at your boyfriend. 

You always found it fascinating and mesmerising watching him work. He was like a coiled spring as he studied the scene and examined the body. You weren’t sure what expression you had on your face when Sherlock looked up at you but your pupils must of dilated because he had a smirk on his face.You could feel your cheeks growing warmer as you blushed, making Sherlock’s smile even wider. 

Staring over his shoulder, you glanced at John’s notes. Despite Sherlock never admitting it, John was a lot smarter than he claimed to be. Judging by what was written and the deductions that Sherlock was making aloud, this case will be solved quickly. Though the boys occasionally valued your input, you did sometimes feel that most of the time you stood around agreeing with what they were saying. 

“Hey (Y/N), take a look at this.” said Jack, he must have sensed your boredom. You stretched your arm out, with your hand open. “We think it may be significant. Originally I thought it could have been a domestic dispute but I think that a baby could be the key to this case.” he said placing the item in your hand. “There are several of these around the room but the one taken for testing could have something hidden inside of it." 

Your fingers stroked the object as your hand opened. Jack had given you a pacifier. You took a closer look at the object in your hand. "There are some strange scratches on the handle.” you deduce as you examine the pacifier. “Odd for these materials. The strong plastic and the… latex.” Your eyes widened as it fell from your hands. Almost instantly your throat began to tighten. “(Y/N) what’s wrong?” Jack said with a look of panic on his face. “Sir?” he called as he turned his head round to look at Greg. 

Clutching to the wall your body falls, making you sit on the floor. Heavily gasping for air, desperate for oxygen as you could barely breath. “(Y/N)!” Sherlock yells with worry as he rushes over to you. “Move!” he shouts at Jack as he pushes him out of the way. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t Jack’s fault it was an accident. But you could not speak. John hurriedly called the emergency services on his mobile, he knew how serious this was. 

“Where is it?” Sherlock murmured as he rummaged through your handbag whilst kneeling over you. A tear starts to roll down your cheek as continued to gasp for air, you were starting to feel tired. Finally Sherlock had found the epipen he was looking for. He looked down at your skirt and then back up to your face. “Everyone look away!” he shouted. Even in that moment of emergency it seemed that your dignity still came first. As if working by clockwork, everybody turned away from you and stared at the wall. They knew better than to defy Sherlock, especially on such a serious matter. As gently as he could under the circumstances, he hitched up your skirt. “(Y/N), keep your eyes on me. Just look at me.” he said tenderly, he knew that you hated needles and wanted you to focus on something else. 

With urgency he jabbed the epipen into your thigh, making you flinch and grab onto the sleeve of his coat. After ten long seconds had passed he removed it and rubbed your thigh where the needle had been and then pulled your skirt back down. Holding one of your hands in his, he gently stroke your face with the other, wiping the tears from your cheek. Slowly your breathing became steadier, though your body began to shake with the shock of it all. The adrenaline was working its magic. You mouthed the words ‘thank you’ to him, making him smile. “John, she’s Ok now isn’t she?” he said. 

Kneeling down next to him, John began to examine you. Glancing at the discarded pacifier, Sherlock’s smile faded. “Where is the idiot who gave you that?” he growled whilst he began to stand up. Quickly your hands began to claw at Sherlock’s coat, pulling him back down towards you. “Sherlock. Be. Nice.” you said whilst breathing loudly, as you looked into each others eyes. Sherlock still looked worried, even though he was trying not to let it show.  

“She’s reacting well to the adrenaline but we should wait for the ambulance to get here so they can check her. As long as she does not move, she’ll be fine.” said John with a reassuring smile. 

“Guys, I’m fine.” you say confidently whilst standing up. The sudden movement made the room spin and your legs buckle. Sherlock held you supportingly as he gently pulled you back onto the floor. 

“Idiot.” Sherlock said sarcastically making you giggle. The sound of your laughter made him smile. He leant over you and tenderly placed a kiss on your forehead and then another on your hand. 

Relief washed over him as the sound of ambulance sirens began to drone in the distance. 

 An older story I came across. I hope everyone likes it. And, yes, I’m still working on the next part of Her Torment.



           Kara quietly opened the door and looked into the almost bare room. Her tight baby blue tank top hugged her full breasts and clearly showed off her hard nipples. The short shorts were just as tight and pink in color with a white stripe running along the hip line. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a loose bun on the top of her head and stray wisps of hair floated lazily around her face. The only items in the room were a dresser along one wall and a metal framed bed with a bare mattress on it. Her bare feet made no sound of the carpet as she stepped in.

           The girl on the mattress was naked and constantly trembling. Her brunette hair was damp with sweat as was her writhing body. Besides the leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles, the girl wore a thick blindfold. Her arms and legs were pulled tautly out to the corners of the frame.

           Kara let her eyes roam over the girls glistening flesh. Her large heaving breasts wobbled slightly with every spasm her body made. Both of her nipples were pierced and adorned with matching stainless steel loops. Twin Japanese clover clamps were pinched to her erect tips, connected by a chain. A string ran from the chain to a pulley anchored to the ceiling above the bed. At the end of the string were four eight ounce weights, adding extra pressure to the bite of the clamps that had been tormenting the suffering girls’ nipples for the last four hours. The flesh around the breasts and thighs were mottled with red splotches, indicative of a recent flogging. Crimson streaks crisscrossed the girls’ skin from her collar bone to her knees.

           Her gaze traveled farther down and stopped at the girls’ shaven cleft. It was red and swollen, the swollen labia glistening with wetness. The distended bud of her clit poked from under the fleshy hood that usually concealed it and was visibly throbbing. The mattress between the girls’ spread, quivering thighs was completely soaked from the copious liquid that was seeping from the enflamed mound.          

           Stopping at the side of the bed, Kara pushed the hanging weights, causing them to swing in slow, lazy circles. As the girl moaned at the increased pull on her aching buds, Kara said, “And how is my little tease slut doing?”

           The girl whimpered pitifully and began thrusting her hips up and down, causing the old springs under the mattress to lightly squeak. “Desperate, Mistress,” she whined pitifully. “Please let me cum.”

           Kara had been constantly teasing and tormenting the girl for the past three months without letting her slip over the edge and climax. The constant teasing was tempered with frequent floggings and other forms of punishment. Through it all, Kara had immensely enjoyed making the girl suffer. She had learned the little tell-tale signs of impending orgasm and knew exactly whey to stop to keep her from exploding.

           Smiling at the spasming girl, Kara lightly ran a single fingernail over the sticky petals and barely touched the straining little bundle of nerves. Watching the girl helplessly arch up to attempt to get more contact on her needy sex made Kara laugh. “Of course not, my little tease slut,” Kara told her. “You may never orgasm again. I so much adore you being tortured like this.” Pausing for a moment, she looked over at the dresser. “I wonder what we can find in your toy chest to play with next?”

           The girl cried out in frustration. She had never in her life thought she could be so desperate, so willing to do anything just to experience the blessed relief of an orgasm. Her body felt like it was constantly vibrating from the tension she was feeling. Her entire existence revolved around her unquenchable need to climax.

           Padding over to the dresser, Kara opened the drawer and looked over the assortment of implements inside. While trying to decide what to use next, she said, “So, my little tease slut. How long has it been since you’ve had an orgasm?”

           Trying to force her brain to function, the writhing girl attempted to recall the length of time she had been teased and denied release. Due to the constant torment, the days and nights were a blur of constant frustration, a nightmare of unrequited need. Finally giving up, the girl said, “I don’t know, Mistress.” Her voice was strained and harsh.

           “Oh, come now,” Kara said. “Surely, you have some idea how long it’s been.” She finally made her decision and removed a pair of bondage mittens and two spreader bars then silently padded back to the bed. “Can’t you even guess?”

           The girl involuntarily tensed, then thrust her hips up off the saturated mattress. That caused the biting clamps to mercilessly tighten on her tormented nipples. Her ragged breathing caught in her chest and she whimpered pitifully. Panting harshly, she tried to calm herself. The endorphins raging in her mind made cognizant thought almost impossible. Her entire consciousness was totally focused on her spasming, dripping sex and her overwhelming need to climax. Feeling helpless tears seeping from under the blindfold, the wailed, “I don’t know, Mistress. I can’t think about anything but cumming.”

           Sighing happily, Kara smiled and said, “Today will make three months since your last orgasm. She paused for a moment, letting her fingers glide over the girls’ sweaty skin. “So I’ve decided to give you a chance to finally cum. How does that sound, my tease slut?

           Moaning loudly and pumping her hips, the girl said, “Thank you, Mistress. I need to cum so badly.”

           “You’re welcome, tease slut,” Kara said. She laid the mittens and bars on the bed then retrieved a small tube from the dresser. Opening it, she squeezed a dab on her finger then began lightly rubbing it on the straining, throbbing clit.

           As soon as the girl felt the finger on her button, she involuntarily pushed herself up in an effort to get more contact on her screaming bundle of nerves. But it was only a fleeting touch before the stimulation was removed. She slumped back onto the mattress and groaned miserably.

           Kara quickly put the mittens on the girls’ hands, the three foot spreader bar between her ankles and the two foot bar between her knees then unhooked the rope from the chain before untying the girl. As the weight on her aching nipples was eased, she clenched her teeth and hissed. “Roll over on your hands and knees, tease slut,” Kara said.

           Trying to force her sore, tense muscles to work, the girl awkwardly managed to comply with the order. Her entire body was tight as a coiled spring and ached from the long hours of restrictive bondage. The twin spreader bars made it impossible for her to close her legs and added to her misery. Her hips were unconsciously thrusting back and forth and there was no way to stop them.      

           Picking up two vibrators, Kara slipped one between the girls’ engorged petals and the other in her ass. She then placed a course pillow on the mattress and turned both vibrators to their highest settings. “Since it has been three months since your last orgasm, I’m giving you three minutes to make yourself cum by humping against the pillow directly under your dripping pussy, tease slut.”

           The girl began to sob with relief and attempted to awkwardly ease her suffering sex down to grind against the pillow. Due to the spreader bars keeping her legs splayed, it was almost impossible for her to maintain any kind of pressure on the fabric. Grunting and moaning with the effort, her hips began frantically jerking. The wildly moving toys in her sex and ass kept her right on the very brink of climaxing but would not push her over without direct stimulation to her clit and the pillow was not providing enough. Her movements became even more frenzied as she tried to push herself over the edge. Then something strange began to happen. All the feeling in her throbbing button was starting to fade. Whimpering pitifully, her hips took on a life of their own as she rode the pillow. With each passing second, the very release she do desperately sought slipped a little farther away. Sobs wracked her tense body as she tried desperately to make herself climax. Even the dancing clamps on her abuse nipples wasn’t enough to push her over the edge. Her muscles began to cramp from the gyrations but still she continued to furiously grind her gushing sex on the pillow.

           Kara watched with malicious glee, knowing the girl could not climax no matter what she did. Her own sex was dripping and twitching from the torment being inflicted to the girl. Glancing at her phone, she watching the seconds slip by until the three minutes were up and the alarm beeped. “That’s it. Time’s up. Stop right now,” she said. But the girl was lost in the throes of desperation and need and kept her hips moving. Grabbing a handful of hair, Kara pulled hard, wrenching the girl into an upright position. “I said stop,” she snarled, her voice low and tight.

           The girl struggled for control, fresh sobs causing her body to heave. Her hips were still frantically working towards an unobtainable orgasm. The clamps on her compressed nipples danced as her wobbling breasts shook liquidly. With no other recourse, she began mindlessly babbling and pleading, the words pouring out in an incoherent stream. She had never known this much frustration in her life and was starting to loose herself in the over powering need threatening to consume her.

           Still holding a handful of the girls’ hair, Kara said, “You might as well stop grinding. There’s no way you can cum now, tease slut. The cream I put on your clit was numbing cream. For the next several hours your little button with be dead.” She released the girls’ hair and paused for a moment, then said, “But when it wears off, all the feeling will return. Then everything I’m about to do will make your frustration even worse. Isn’t that nice?”

           As the words slowly sank into the girls’ denial addled mind, she began to wail wretchedly. Her body flailed around helplessly on the mattress as she sobbed. Her mittened hands went between her legs and began viciously rubbing her needy sex, her hips thrusting up and down. She could feel the twin vibrators still mindlessly churning in her clenching sex and ass but that was it. No amount of friction or contact was going to make her climax.

           Kara grabbed both of the girls’ hands and pulled them over her head, hooking them around the bars on the head board. She then did the same with her ankles, once again spread-eagling her. She watched as the girls hips frantically convulsed while she slipped off her shorts. Crawling on the bed and placing one leg on either side of the girls’ head, she lowered her humid folds against the thrashing girls’ face and said, “Make me cum, tease slut.”

           The girl’s mind was almost beyond rational thought. At first, she just lay on the mattress sobbing, ignoring the wet sex on her face. Then she felt the cruel clamps on her aching nipples tighten. She screamed into Kara’s pussy then began pleasuring the woman that had been tormenting her.

           Kara began grinding her tingling pussy against the girls’ mouth, her own body tensing as the urge to climax, never very far away, rapidly approached. Feeling her muscles tighten, she hunched over as her climax hit her. She felt the tremors of her orgasm cause her shake and jerk. She then sighed happily and unsteadily got off the bed. The girl had always managed to make her orgasms spectacular and now was no different.

           “Very good, tease slut,” Kara breathed.

           The girl was writhing helplessly on the bed, her body screaming with need. A pink fog of denial and frustration was starting to envelope her brain, carrying her to a place beyond sensation, beyond feeling. Her sex relentlessly contracted around the wildly moving vibrator inside it. Guttural sounds poured from her mouth as she struggled. Then both vibrators stopped. The sudden cessation of movement caused her to wail helplessly.

           Smiling happily, Kara said, “I love the way your pussy is so red and swollen. It’s almost begging to be touched.”

           The girl frantically nodded, her body quivering. In her present condition all she heard was that her needy, aching sex was going to be touched. All thoughts of the numbing cream were forgotten.

           Picking up the small slapper, Kara got onto the mattress and sat between the girls’ splayed, trembling legs. She slid her fingers into the sopping hole to retrieve the now silent vibrator, feeling the muscles vainly trying to gain purchase on both. More nectar spilled out as the girls’ body once again arched up. Kara waited until the girl had finally slumped back to the sodden mattress, then said, “I know you’re in no state to count, but I still want you to try. Do you understand?

           Panting harshly, the girl made an unintelligible noise and nodded. Her body was still trembling uncontrollably and occasionally, a tremor would make her jerk.        

           Kara once again smiled down at the girl and said, “Okay tease slut. Let’s start.” She slipped three fingers into the girls’ wet pussy and began thrusting. As she did, she brought the slapper down on the girls’ swollen, engorged clit.

           The girl pushed her sex against the digits and moaned. All she could feel was the fingers pistoning into her denied hole. The slapper barely registered thanks to the numbing cream. But there was enough contact to her enflamed labia to let her know what was happening. Then she made a sound that could have been a one or just a moan.

           As the strokes landed on the tormented flesh, Kara began violently fucking the girl with her fingers. She knew she could punish her for not actually counting each spank but at least the girl was acknowledging each one. After five, she pushed a forth finger inside the humid sex. After another five, her thumb slipped in. With her whole fist inside the girls’ clenching pussy, she began pumping while continuing with the slapper.          

           The girl was almost consumed with the sensation of the fist forcefully pummeling her aching hole. The slapper was only an after thought as all sensation to her clit was nonexistent. She had no idea how long she was tortured in that fashion, her mind laser focused on the fist and slapper. Her hips were thrusting up to meet both, her brain overloaded on being relentlessly tormented. When everything finally stopped, she continued to hump the air, her body almost beyond any semblance of control. After another unknown length of time, she slumped back to the sopping mattress and sobbed helplessly.

           Kara sat and watched as the girl slowly calmed down. The sex in front of her was even more red and swollen now, the lips spread and showing the interior. She absently wiped her hand on the mattress then said, “How do you feel, tease slut?

           The girl barely moved except to randomly jerk, her mind nearly gone.

           Reaching out the hand that had recently been ravaging the girls’ hole, Kara gave the still clamped breasts a vicious slap, delighting in the way the large mounds moved. “I said how do you feel, tease slut?”

           The stinging to her breasts caused the girl to grunt as her brain slowly focused on something other than her soul consuming need. “I need to cum, Mistress,” she wailed, her voice hoarse and tight. “Please, please, please let me cum.” Helpless sobs then overtook her.

           Watching with evil enjoyment, Kara said, “No tease slut. You are not allowed to cum.” That brought fresh sobs from the girl. “Maybe we’ll try this again in another three months.” Finally standing up, she said, “I’m going to take up upstairs and get you cleaned up. I’m having company over tonight to celebrate you three months of denial and you’re going to be the center of attraction.” Reaching down, Kara squeezed both clamps, opening them. The compressed flesh of the girls agonized nipples clung to the smooth ends of the clamps briefly then was pulled away. She screamed as the blood began to flow back into the tortured nubs. Smiling again, Kara said, “Don’t worry. All three of your holes will be well used tonight. But you still won’t cum, no matter what happens. You’re beautiful, sopping, denied pussy will be continually coated with the numbing cream. Tonight, you’ll be nothing more than three holes to be used and abused by my guests. Doesn’t that sound delightful, tease slut?

           The girl began to cry pitifully, knowing she was going to be repeatedly fucked in her pussy, ass and mouth and not get any release. The pressure would continue to build and build and build. She was going to be nothing more than a fuck toy for everyone’s amusement and there was nothing she could do about it.

           Kara breathed a happy sigh and began untying the girl, knowing that she was mentally torturing herself by thinking about what was going to happen in a few hours. Helping the almost unresponsive girl up, Kara helped her to the door.


Nursey met Dex when they were just kids, 14, and Dex was clutching his backpack like he thought someone was going to steal it on the steps of Andover. Nursey was a legacy student, so he wasn’t nervous about getting in (the fact that no one else looked like him here put him on edge, he knew better than to curl up in on himself and give people a reason to attack him for being “antisocial” or “angry” even though he was just nervous like every other prospective student) so he latched onto Dex with a “hey man, be chill, act like you belong and they won’t know the difference” and Dex melted right into Nursey like he took all the stress right out of him.

15 and Nursey gets into Andover for his sophomore year of high school, and he thinks he could spend his whole life laying on the quad with Dex, the sun shining through the leaves that were just starting to turn the same orangey-red as his hair. Dex looked up into Nursey’s eyes and understood for the first time that old cliché about seeing galaxies in someone, and Dex could lean into Nursey’s calm composure the same way that Nursey could be sparked by Dex’s fire. They both felt complete, and that was more than either of them could have ever dreamed of.

16 and Dex is different when he comes back from summer vacation. He has bruises on his ribs and he’s coiled like a spring, and he snaps at Nursey when he tells him to “chill” (because that’s always been what worked before) and he’s started carrying an old catholic cross and going to mass, and once Nursey tries to hold him and Dex pulls away and Nursey can see the tears-what is he supposed to do? He’s not an asshole who pushes people to do things they don’t want to do, and if Dex is pulling away, he doesn’t know how to fix any of it, so Nursey lets it go, let’s Dex go, and tries not to think about what he’s missing.

17 and Dex drops out of Andover. Nursey graduates at the top of his class, and gets a hockey scholarship on top of an academic one from the Samwell English department. He writes about a lot, about the hot pavement of New York in the summer, the chill of the pond at Andover in February, the soft buds that poke their way through the mulch in springtime, and not a single word about fall.

18 and Nursey sees Dex, clutching his backpack on the steps of Faber, looking so nervous, so young, like he was just a kid again, and Nursey walks up to him, and does the one thing that always worked-he tells Dex to chill, and he means the same thing he always did. Let me help. Let me hold you. Let me be there.

18, and Dex just keeps pulling away.

Using the power of fiction - Similarities between Kaneki and Saiko

Remember how folks have been seeing similarities between Kaneki and the original Q squad? Some go trough similar events or share character traits with him. With these thoughts in mind, this new chapter revealed something very interesting about Saiko. She has incredible imagination and skill to manipulate the shape of her kagune. She reads a ton of manga, watches anime and plays games, which inspire her to try and copy some of the interesting things she sees there.

During the fight with Urie she was reminded of Urie’s weightlifting so she created macho hands to counter him. Saiko copies stuff she reads and sees in fiction and in real life.

Well who, another nerd this reminds you? Our beloved bookworm Kaneki Ken. He read books to master and copy all kinds of skills, either them being martial arts related, or stuff like being able to turn into Sasako. Kaneki also copied peoples moves, like Shuu´s coiled spring kagune and sword, and as Sasaki his fighting style started to resemble a lot like Arima’s.

I think this skill for Saiko is very, very fitting and I like it a ton. It’s very like her to take something terrible like a kagune and turn it into a super cool and fun anime weapon. I think with her stances she also mimicks some typical shounen battle stances.

not every closet story has a sad ending - or, zimbits huddling for warmth

In retrospect, this was probably Shitty’s fault.

Jack thought it was odd, sending Bittle on a jock run as a sophomore. Ransom and Holster had moved onto hazing the new frogs as soon as they’d moved onto campus, but Bitty would always be Shitty’s favorite underclassman, Jack supposed. Still, he felt uneasy about Bittle going off on these silly errands by himself; what if he thought they were targeting him?

So Jack volunteered to join Bittle on this “totally necessary jockstrap quest, brah.” If Shitty thought anything of Jack knowingly subjecting himself to hazing, he said nothing, waving cheerfully as they left the Haus.

But now here they were, locked in the Faber supply closet, one dead phone and no heat.

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