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N - Blog Posts
Y’ALL IT’S TIME FOR A REVOLUTION I NEED EVERY ONE YOU GUYS TO POST THIS AND ASK LIAM OR GLITCH TO GIVE US WHAT WE WANT!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dear Glitch and/or Liam:
Please
Genderswap N!
N: Hey fellas! Ooh, deal me in! I love rummy! Wait no. Tsk, I'm going to murder everyone...
Rain check! 🐶
N: You good Uzi?
Uzi: I'm good. Better than good. I am God!
N: I'm serial designation N! Nice to meet you. I'm kind of the leader of the squad in this city.
That's not true, everyone tells me I'm useless and terrible.
Wait, I-I'm supposed to tell you that part! Biscuits!
1111...
Wow my name’s is pretty sexy. I honestly don’t think it is but hey, blame the “n” and “i”.
McKenzie
How sexy is your name?
Add the letters in your first name using the numbers below =) - Under 60 points= NOT TOO SEXY - Between 61-300 points= PRETTY SEXY - Between 301-599 points= VERY SEXY - Over 600= THE ULTIMATE SEXIEST
A=100 B=14 C=9 D=28 E=145 F=12
G=3 H=10 I=200 J=100 K=114 L=100 M=25
N=450 O=80 P=2 Q=12 R=400 S=113 T=405
U=11 V=10 W=10 X=3 Y=210 Z=23
Don’t forget to add your name and your total!!!
Sirius: you’ve always been jealous of me!
Regulus: jealous of what? Of your lack of responsibility? Your immaturity? Your total disregard for other people's feelings?
Regulus: your lack of any critical thinking? Your ignorance? Your unawareness to anyone but yourself?
should I let him out🤔🤔
inspo 😍😍👇
ngl I’m thirsty
Gender is a performance and I'm helping people burn down the cinema
This fic is SO GOOD I PROMISE YOU HAVE TO READ IT
For @skyloftian-nutcase
Fic: Elastic Heart Ch.3 (Fan Joy July day 20, my 13th pict for Fan Joy July).
I've only read this fic up to chapter 3, and I think this scene is so tense that I want to draw it! I really enjoyed the fight scenes.
Your story line writing is very clear and easy to understand, so I quickly understood the situation you were telling. Thank you for sharing your great work!
After Fan Joy July, I have to continue reading this fic!
Is it weird if I think it's quiet hot ?
New ‘American Horror Story’ Season 4 Teaser Shows More Freaks
If you’re not ready for things to get ridiculously freaky on “American Horror Story” Season 4, then we recommend you take a moment to prepare. Then watch the full teaser trailer here.
THIS IS THE COOLEST RHING EVER KMF OMG OMG OMG KM SCREAMING CRYING THROWING IP /VPOS WAAAAAAA TYSM
anyway guys check out this art crying
i wanted to do some really quick doodles/redraws before working on something else pokemon related, i hope you're okay with me tagging you ANDJSN @rabiesbites
sorry for any inaccuracies KAKSJSN,, OH AND there's a blue rose, narcissus, and fake orange flowers decorating ghetsis' portrait
N but if Ghetsis forced him to be the next leader instead of just the king.....
bad ending au about N? Guess you could call it a...a...a bad Nding HAHAHA
Hi, I've been obsessing over Murder Drones ever since the trailer came out and now that the pilot is out I'm gonna be obsessing over it some more because, holly crap I love it. Goodbye
I don't even know what my type is but imma do it anyway-
I would really appreciate ya'lls comments/thoughts because I'm confused myself..
Take this cringe fest, I loved making it
(This video is like… 3 years old 😭)
I can do worse
My fanfic where her Empire falls is even better the Sith Resurgence cânon
Lily Orchard, if you're reading this: The Last Jedi is 1000000x better then your crappy fanfiction The Sith Resurgence. Rose Tico is far, far greater character then your fascist Sith waifu Darth Amorosa. Heck, even Astarion, N and Hunter combined are superior to Darth Amorosa.
My favourite thing that I’ve ever posted on here was my story about N. I’ve tried writing a fourth part so many times but every time I do I end up getting carried away, humping and spurting ten losing interest until the next time.
I want to write it though. Because it’s a fun story to think about, but absolutely definitely really truly not something I’d want to happen IRL at all under any circumstances.
N part III
N thinks about my desperate plea to stay with her as I provide a few more orgasms to her. Afterwards she says yes. I’m absolutely elated that she’s allowing me to stay. I hate myself for this. I can see the basic manipulation she’s employing: she knows she’ll say yes but holds off on saying so to make me worry she’ll say no, which makes me more thankful at the eventual yes. I can see it but I’m powerless to act or bring it up. All I can do is obey her.
N pulls on a dressing gown and leads me, still naked, from her bedroom into the flat’s lounge. I feel exposed, helpless, vulnerable, and something about that feels very exciting to me. She settles me onto the couch and gently ties my hands together, then my ankles. I sit passively and allow this, screaming at myself to move or fight back, this is the perfect chance. But I just sit and allow N to bind me, a stupid idiot smile on my face because the traitorous part of my mind wants to make N happy and knows she wants me to smile. N said I look good when I smile.
N busies herself around the room and I find myself watching her. Her gown rides up and I see a hint of white, flabby buttock. It comes a little loose at the front and I see her breasts hanging free, catch a hint of nipple before she pulls it closed, seemingly unaware of what I’ve seen and the raging erection I detest myself for having. I don’t even know why I have it. N is not physically attractive to me. It must be the admitted eroticism of the situation, having my mind affected, or perhaps some sort of training she’s snuck into me.
Then N is standing over me and I’m looking up into her eyes. She tells me she’s going to make me better by making sure I’m permanently passive and pliable and submissive. I won’t be rude or argumentative any more. I won’t want to scowl or argue. I’ll just want to let N take care of everything for me. I’ll understand that N knows best and I’ll want to defer to her and let her make my decisions for me. I’ll be weak and mindless and obedient, and I’ll thank N for making me that way.
I sum up all my mental strength, absolutely desperate to stop this and get out. I force my mouth open, trying to push out the word no. But my jaw just hangs slack. I try to shake my head. I manage to move it a fraction of an inch to the right but as I move it back the other way it comes to rest where it started as I stare up at N. She’s smiling a broad smile. I’m convinced she knows. She knows I’m trying to get away and she’s enjoying watching the struggle. She knows I’m losing to her.
As I continue my futile pushback N brings her hand up to my jaw and gently pushes it closed. Some part of me knows that was my final chance and I blew it. I stare at N’s breasts, hanging out of her gown as she leans forward and pushes earphones into my ears. Her hand returns to my chin, gently lifting my head upward so that I’m looking into her eyes. She blows me a kiss and I feel myself return an eager smile. I begin to think about how disappointed I am in myself, how angry I am with the situation, but soothing music and tinkly sounds and N’s voice start up in my ears and I realise within moments that it’s so much better to listen to them than be angry.
N leaves. I’m alone and naked and listening to a recording. But I realise I’m happy. I’m happy that N will make me better and take care of me and break down the boy I used to be to make me someone better. I’m so lucky to have found someone as caring and giving as N. And she’s cute too. How had I not realised that before? She’s cute and intelligent and successful and I’m the opposite of these things. My role should be to make N’s life better in any way I can. I should support N by submitting my life to hers. That’s the sensible thing to do.
And gradually I zone out. Maybe I fall asleep, I don’t know. Time passes but I don’t know how much. It doesn’t matter. What matters is listening and learning. Occasionally I become lucid for a moment or two to find N standing over me watching me listen, or switching around the earphones, or casually molesting my little peeny. And I’m so happy to see her and be touched by her and have her attention before I drift away back into my lovely trance.
I come back around. It’s like slowly waking up from the most peaceful, relaxing, refreshing sleep ever. I can’t wait to see N and show her how good and obedient I can be. How well I can passively follow instructions and allow her to think for me. The part of me that hates N is still here but it’s subdued so it has to watch on as I obey and worship and unconditionally love N. It’s part of how I’ll become a better boy, having that little kernel of hatred locked away inside me being worn down by my love and adoration of N. Eventually it will see that it should have been loving and worshipping and listening to N all along.
As I continue to wake up I realise I’m lying down on the couch and I’m wearing what feels like a onesie. And a nappy. It’s a strange sensation. I’ve never worn one as an adult and it feels bulky and restrictive but also comfortable and right. I realise I’m very thirsty. My mouth is dry, like I haven’t drunk anything for a day or two.
Then the door clicks open and I see N sweep into the room and she is a beautiful vision of loveliness. I had never appreciated how sexy and cute and pretty and fuckable she looked before. I feel my peeny harden in my nappy and try to greet N but there’s something strapped into my mouth stopping me. So I just smile up at her around it. And she smiles back! I know it’s a smile of condescension and triumph, but it’s still a smile from a strong, beautiful woman who is so much more than I could ever hope to be.
And then N is sitting down with my head in her lap and she’s removing whatever’s in my mouth and I’m staring up at her hoping I’ll get to speak. But N slips a bottle into my mouth and it’s the yummy, delicious liquid I like so much. I settle back and feel warm and safe and protected as I suck my bottle and N talks to me. I can’t remember what she’s saying but I know it’s true and very important and it will stay with me even though I can’t exactly remember it. I finish the bottle then drink another. And another. N has to force the third one into my mouth and hold it there and I realise I like N overpowering me and making me do things so I smile blissfully around the bottle in my mouth.
I begin to wet myself as I near the end of the sixth bottle. N coos at me and tells me how good I am when she realises. She says maybe she’ll keep me in nappies forever. And then she’s spoon feeding me a mushy paste that tastes similar to the yummy liquid and I eat it all up like a good boy and N tells me I’ve been very well behaved and taken to my training so well. She tells me I’m more submissive than she expected and that will make it easier. I don’t know what “it” is but I’m so happy I’ve made N pleased.
Then N is standing up and telling me it’s bedtime. I try to stand and walk but my body can’t seem to remember how. N settles me onto on fours and tells me if I can’t walk like a big boy maybe I should just crawl like the baby I am. And then I’m crawling after her, looking up her dress at her wobbly thighs and big pants and I’m in heaven. I realise I’m drooling at the sight and then N is turning around because she’s stopped walking and I worry that I’ll be in trouble for looking up her dress at her lovely bottom but I can’t help it and I’m still drooling… but N simply laughs at me and motions me into a large cot. N fastens a large dummy into my mouth and I feel more drool running down my already slick chin.
N tells me it’s bedtime and I have to be good and go to sleep like a good boy. I nod sleepily, trying to let her know I’ll do everything I can to be a good boy. Then she’s turning the light off and a recording starts up. This time it’s not in my ears it’s on some speakers. I’m so happy I get to listen to N’s voice and teachings as I drift off. N leans over the cot and tells me I belong to her now and there’s no escape. I’ve never felt happier, even with a tiny part of my mind screaming at me to rebel.
N walks out. A lock clicks shut behind her and I drift off to sleep as I stare at the early evening light filtering in through the curtains and listen to N’s beautiful voice.
A few days ago I talked about a fantasy I’d dreamt up about an ex-colleague I disliked (and, for the record, still do). This is a continuation of that, a scenario that I wouldn’t really be totally against getting into in real life…
N part II
I wake up naked in N’s bed. I can remember snapshots from the night before. I remember nodding along passively as N talked at me. I remember drinking a delicious drink. I remember finding myself in N’s flat and wanting, needing, to be naked and kissing her feet. I remember being overcome with the need to apologise to her again and again and again. And I remember having hot, sweaty sex. N had me take her from behind and, once she’d cum, had sat on my face to be licked clean.
I didn’t remember cumming myself. Because I hadn’t.
Now N is nestled against me, her naked body warm and her limbs entwined with mine. I realise I’m taking this all in very calmly and that what I actually want to do is scream and shake her awake and ask her what she’s done to me. I want to leave. I want to be gone. I want to escape whatever this situation is and pretend it never happened. I want out. But I don’t move. I lie still and watch N sleep peacefully.
Eventually N stirs and looks up at me, smiles lazily and gives me a good morning. I feel myself instinctively smile as she looks at me. I want to shake myself away from her but instead I lie there passively, smiling like an idiot. She tells me I look good when I smile, that it’s a nice improvement on my usual scowl, and I should do it more often. I want to tell her off for this, for telling me that I scowl when I actually don’t. I want to tell her I show my happiness as normally and naturally as anyone else. But I also love that she’s complimented me and want more. I want to meekly thank her.
Then her hand is on my erect penis and she’s giggling and telling me it needs taking care of. But no, that’s wrong. It’s not a penis. It’s a peeny. I have a little, unimpressive peeny and I’m very lucky N is touching it. I open my mouth to try and speak. I don’t know what I want to say. Do I want to demand answers? Do I want to thank her? Do I want to ask her to take care of my little erection? No sound comes out. My jaw just hangs open and I find that I’m vacantly staring into N’s eyes. She tells me I look stupid, so very very stupid. But she likes me to look stupid because that’s my true self. And she’s stroking me slowly and firmly, telling me how stupid and boring and rude I am, but that she’ll help me improve and become a better boy. I find I’m nodding along as I stare into her eyes, and then her pace quickens for just a few seconds and I’m cumming and cumming and cumming, grunting and moaning and humping her hand. I can feel my cock pulsing and jetting liquid into her hand, one of the most powerful orgasms of my life. And she’s telling me what a good boy I am and at that moment I so so so desperately want to be that good boy. I want to impress N. I want her approval and love and acceptance. In that moment gaining these things from her is the most important thing in the world to me.
N continues talking, informing and guiding my stupid, rude, inferior mind with her words. I’m rolling onto my front and propping myself onto all fours. And then she’s sitting in front of me and her hand appears below my face and I’m lapping up the salty treat she’s offering me. N is laughing and telling me I’m being so good, so very good. She asks me if it tastes nice. I can’t answer, I’m too busy licking her hand clean. But N seems to know this and tells me she knows I love the taste and I realise I do love the taste, she’s absolutely right. And I’m vaguely aware again of how much I hate her but I’m also grateful and thankful and I love her and need her to approve of me.
Then her hand is pressed to my face, smearing the sticky liquid all over my cheeks and lips and chin before drawing away and patting my head, wiping herself clean on my hair. N’s still laughing. She’s laughing at how stupid I look. She’s laughing at getting away with treating me like this, revelling in her acts of humiliation. I feel angry and weak, my cheeks burn with the impotence of embarrassment. She’s telling me I should thank her for such a delicious morning treat and my hatred for her sears again. She reaches forward and roughly grasps my jaw, raising my eyes to look into hers. I’m told to thank her. Her voice is icy, sharp, commanding.
I tell her I love her and thank her. She laughs uproariously. Then she’s laying back and guiding my face to her crotch. I immediately kiss and lick and suck, desperate to please and make her happy. Internally I’m screaming at this, desperate to walk out, close my eyes, just stop! But outwardly I’m passionate and attentive and I can hear myself making mewls of pleasure, blissful little sounds that indicate nothing but abject happiness. N is breathing heavily, gasping, and occasionally giving instructions which I cannot quite recall but that I know I followed immediately. I hear her tell me to thank her again and I do, my lips brushing against her lower ones as I do so.
This tips her over the edge. N giggles and squeals and moans in delight as she orgasms. After a few moments of leaving me to continue attending to her she lifts my head from her crotch and we each kneel on the bed looking into one another’s eyes. N tells me she’ll let me stay if I want to and I ask her very, very nicely. I’m furious at her arrogance and desperate, frantic, to get up and run, just run as fast and as far as I can away from her and whatever it is she’s done and is continuing to do to me. I open my mouth, determined to scream and swear and rant and threaten and declare that nothing could make me want to stay.
“I love you, N. Please, oh please, oh please may I stay here with you and be made into a better person? I want it. I need it! I’m sorry I was rude and arrogant and naughty. Please please please? I love you!” I hear myself say.
She giggles and tells me she’ll think about it as she takes hold of my head and pushes my face back down into her crotch.
To expand on this…
The woman in question, let’s call her N, took an immediate dislike to me when we worked together. She’d talk over me, make personal comments about me, interrupt conversations I was having. When she found out I was dating a girl N told her she should break up with me. There was even an occasion where N sent me an unprompted Facebook message that began “So something about me is, I can’t abide negative people.”
Seems pretty clear from that she saw me as negative, right? I don’t know for sure because I never confronted her about it. I’m not particularly good at that sort of thing and by the time of the message I was just trying to interact with her as little as possible. I don’t think I was (or am) negative. But I am very shy and not particularly outgoing, not getting especially chatty with people until I’ve gotten to know them. This clearly came across to N as rudeness. But I’d say interrupting conversations, loudly declaring your most recent ailment to a staff room, and making comments about people you haven’t taken the time or effort to get to know is rude behaviour. More rude than someone who just feels a bit uncomfortable talking in a crowded room to someone he doesn’t really know.
I say all this for context because N is the woman I mentioned in the reblogged post above. And I’ve been thinking about a scenario involving her since. N and I are both still working in the same industry so it’s not impossible we’d end up seeing one another through work at some point. And this is what I kind of sort of actually definitely low key want to happen if we do…
I see N is at the function soon after arriving and spend a while trying to avoid her. Eventually she comes over, smiling and hello-ing like we’re old friends instead of people who have a mutual dislike then talks at me for several minutes, offering me no way into the conversation. I stay and listen and nod along because this is a work thing and I don’t want to appear rude to anyone. Walking away isn’t an option.
After a few minutes of talking N suggests I try a drink from a nearby table. Awkwardly, I say no thanks, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. But she keeps on, maybe draws a few people nearby into proceedings until, just wanting to shut her up, I relent and take a swig. Then another. And another. Because it is actually quite good.
And at this point N casually switches course and tells me I was very rude to her when we used to work together. She reminds me I never joined in with her discussions and debates in the staff room, tells me that I should have done. I was arrogant and rude and obnoxious, N says. And I find I can’t reply. I don’t really want to either. I take another mouthful of the drink and realise she’s right. I really was very unfair to her and owe her an apology. But I don’t seem to be able to speak right now and besides, N is still talking. I shouldn’t interrupt her. That would be rude and I’ve already been too rude to her as it is.
The function spins on around us. N keeps talking and I realise I’m feeling a little dizzy. N steadies me as I lose my balance, gets me into a chair and settles down beside me. It’s lucky she was here, N says, otherwise I might have fallen and hurt myself. She tells me I owe her a thank you now, as well as an apology. I try to open my mouth to speak again but still can’t. This time I slur out something not even I can make out and realise I’m drooling. I’m drooling and N is laughing. She tells me not only am I rude but I’m boring party company too. But, she says, I was boring for her to work with so that’s not a surprise. I feel incredibly, monumentally guilty for being so appalling to N. First I was rude and boring at work, now I’m doing it years later at a party. I’m really lucky she’s still interested in talking to me. Did I think that or did she say it? One or the other. Or maybe it was both.
N tells me I look dehydrated and helps me by lifting some more of that absolutely delicious drink to my lips, wiping the drool away as she does so. I gratefully, hungrily accept the drink and hope N can see how much I appreciate her in this moment. Then I’m getting even dizzier and things go blurry and fuzzy for a while. Then I’m in the back of a cab and for a moment I panic because I don’t know how I got here and I don’t even think I can tell the driver where I need to go. But it’s okay. N is here. I don’t need to worry, she’s taking care of everything, she tells me. I feel relieved, pleased N is here to think for me.
We’re inside. But it’s unfamiliar. Not my flat. I don’t know where I am. Now I’m sitting down. Sitting down on the floor. That’s the best place for me. I can’t fall off the floor. And it feels nice to be down beneath N, looking up at her. I can make out the occasional glimpse up her dress as she moves around the room talking to me. She tells me those glimpses are probably the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen and I nod slowly but eagerly that yes, they absolutely are. Or did I just think that and nod agreement to my own thought?
Then N is right above me, looking down at me. I look up at her and feel myself smile broadly. She tells me I still owe her an apology and a thank you and I manage to slur out some sounds that might be a thank you, an apology. But N doesn’t think so, so it was probably just me being rude and making silly sounds. N reminds me that a great way to show sorrow is to kiss someone’s feet and beg for forgiveness. She suggests I try that, and that when I move on to thanking her I can add a thank you for allowing me to kiss her feet.
And then I’m doing it. I’m slurring words I can’t comprehend as I cover N’s feet with kisses and licks. I’m trying to praise and thank and love her feet, because that’s what they deserve, but I know I’m not doing them and her justice. And I’m humping as well. Humping a cushion that has appeared on the floor and it feels so nice on my dick, only N is telling me a rude, immature boy like me doesn’t have a dick. I have a peeny.
The next thing I know is N is down on her knees, telling me I should be naked. I should want to be naked when I’m before her. She’s helping take my clothes off and away. And I realise she’s right, I want to be naked and exposed and humping at N’s feet. And I am. She’s stood back up and I’m kissing her bare heels and looking up her dress at her underwear and I’m humping and humping and humping and N is talking to me with her phone to her ear, saying it worked like a charm and he’s completely her’s, and I don’t understand but that doesn’t matter because I have N to make me better and think for me…
I just had a moment making my hand sticky thinking about a woman I worked with years ago and didn’t get on with.
Not to sound desperate, but I really need to have some fun. Any kind of fun. I'm too sober for this existence.
#nmstonerdad