#C-body

[stars-and-branches]

Chronic pain pisses me off cause I'm not even incapacitated for like a cool or badass reason instead my body is throwing the world's biggest temper tantrum because it's raining outside

[psykopaths]

[nikonuee]

Shen Qingqiu but he's an ugly crier.

No single tear rolling down the face, immortal beauty for this transmigrator! He gets the full red, puffy-faced, swollen-eyed experience!

He's at the Immortal Alliance Conference trying to be cruel to Binghe but he's got snot running down his face and has to try and wheeze/hiccup through his Bad Guy Speech™️.

Meanwhile, Binghe's watching his usually inflappable Shizun fall apart and uses all 300 of his Protagonist IQ points to realise something's off.

System feels a sense of foreboding wash over it.

[theorist-fox]

Simon breaks your fever

Because I can't stop thinking about this

18+

CW: you're sick (fever, high body temp), fluff, established relationship, smut (clit rubbing, unprotected p in v sex, premature ejaculation). you're so hot (literally) that simon busts a nut

Masterlist 🦊

Your fever hasn’t gone down.

Despite you telling Simon that it’s okay, that it’s just seasonal flu and pretty much half of your colleagues have had it, that man can’t stop fussing.

On day two, you heard him grumble over the phone that he had to take some days off for family matters. And while it was cute to listen to him refer to you as family, this whole thing was an overreaction.

You had a cold and a mild fever; you weren’t on your deathbed.

But then he came into the bedroom straight after ending the call, holding a cuppa in one hand and your pills in the other. Left them on the nightstand before pressing his lips to your forehead to check if you were still warm—grumbled something about you heating up the room when he pulled back with a frown.

And then he helped you sit up, fluffed the pillow behind your head, and smoothed away the hair sticking to your forehead. Made sure you took your pills, made sure you were comfortable and cared for and—

—and oh, isn’t your heart melting into a puddle.

You decide that being sick can’t be that bad, when he makes it feels this good—even if you’re cranky and feverish.

And so, you start offering bright smiles when he presses cold, wet towels to your cheeks. Brush kisses on his knuckles when his palm comes to feel your forehead. Whisper thank yous when he insists you eat in bed, your bowl of soup carefully placed on a wooden bed tray.

And when he gets in bed at night, seemingly unafraid of catching your same bug, you press your back to his chest and fit in his arms. Simon’s already a walking furnace on his own, and your fever doesn't help with the uncomfortable stickiness that grows between your bodies through the night.

Simon doesn’t care, especially on day three, when you decide that a reward is on schedule. Poor man’s been at your beck and call ever since your early symptoms have appeared, so why not give him a reward of sorts.

You press your ass against his crotch, rolling slow circles that rouse him from his slumber.

Simon’s first instinct, however, is to stop you. A big hand flattens on your belly, fingers twitching to resist the urge to curve around your waist and grasp until he dimples the fat there.

A hum leaves him. “What are you doing?”

You nuzzle the pillow and act all innocent, even if he can’t see it in the pitch-dark room.

“Nothing,” you tell him. “Can't sleep. Feel a little restless, with the fever and all.”

“Restless,” he echoes with humour, already catching on. “Need me to wear you down?”

You turn your head until his nose bumps with your cheek. He presses a kiss there.

“Mmh,” you hum with a smile. “Maybe."

His hand rises slowly, and you’re delighted to feel the pads of his fingers reach your chest. He cups your breast through your shirt and thumbs your nipple, already pebbled and stiff. 

Hard like his cock pressing against you.

Your skin is unbearably sensitive due to your fever, and the slightest touch could easily turn into stinging pain. That’s why as soon as he skims over your nipple your body goes haywire and you jolt, grinding the swell of your ass against him. 

Simon presses forward, meeting your inadvertent movement. 

There’s a moan coming from both sides. Yours is more cracked, a wonderful cocktail of relief and soreness—though you’re liking this more than you should, probably. You’re never one to say no to a bit of pain now, are you?

Simon, on the other hand… oh, Simon. His voice is low—gravel against the road. A groan that sounds like it’s coming from a dry throat, strikingly possessive when paired with the gentleness with which he’s holding you.

“Lemme take care of you then, yeah?” He whispers, leaning closer to your ear. 

He tucks his arm under your neck, letting you nestle your cheek in the crook of his elbow. You’re sure he must be running hot too, but you’re sporting a whopping 100.4 body temperature, making his skin feel like an ice pack. 

You sigh beautifully at the slight relief he provides.

Simon takes care of you first, like he's so kindly offered, and you don’t fight against him.

You don’t fight against his hand snaking under the waistband of your sweats. Don’t fight against the pads of his fingers drawing slow eights on your clit. 

What you do instead is bury your face in his forearm, as he presses soft kisses to the exposed skin on your neck.

You get wet embarrassingly easily. He collects it with his middle finger before returning to the tight knot of your clit, circling gently—no rush whatsoever.

He checks in every once in a while, whispering soft questions to your skin as he explores it with his lips.

Are you okay?, and a kiss. You hurtin'?, and another kiss, right under your ear. He waits for you to reply each time, before finally giving in and nuzzling the nape of your neck through your hair. 

He goes on, murmuring sweet nothings when you whine and he can’t pinpoint if it’s from pleasure or your body aches.

“That's it, love,” he whispers, coaxing moans from your lips as his fingers guide you closer and closer to the edge. Steadfast on your clit, he keeps a rhythm he knows will crack through you—break the mould of stiff muscles and sore skin.

Your orgasm catches the breath in your throat. It almost stings, burning through you in waves that stem from your sex and ripple in all directions.

Until your body undulates with it, pressing back into his. Until your voice follows suit too, cracking gently as you bite into the thickness of his forearm to keep quiet.

Simon’s panting against your shoulder like he came as well. It’s impossible not to notice the girth of his cock indenting the fat of your ass, how deliciously hard he is just because he’s touched you so thoroughly.

It gets you drunk on power to know how little it takes for you to do that to him.

His lips are pursed in a kiss ardently left to the crook of your neck. You feel the wetness of it, the heat seeping through your much hotter skin. His fingers slow down, until soft circles turn into mere flicks on your clit that gently drag your consciousness back into your body, back into his arms.

“Alrigh'?” He murmurs to the skin of your neck, as he huffs from his nose to balance his breathing.

“Mhmh,” you reply absentmindedly, still foggy and dipped in a dreamy state.

Gingerly, the hand buried in your knickers travels to your waist, leaving a wet trail that slowly dries up—from the curls on your pelvis all the way to your hip. He pinches you softly.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks.

In response, you press your ass to where he’s waiting for you.

“Yes, please—yes.” You say, not bothering to veil your willingness. 

If your bones weren’t aching, you’d let him fold you like cheap paper. Knees to your ears and all.

Simon’s fingers tug down your pants and knickers at the same time, exposing the burning skin of your ass to the air. Even under the duvet and pressed against him, everything feels so unbelievably fresh—it’s utter relief that has you softening against his chest. 

Relief that ratchets up when you feel the head of his cock glide seamlessly through your slit, causing you to grind your hips backwards each time it catches your swollen clit.

His tongue lavishes the skin of your neck, distracting you from the pleasurable pain of the stretch as he comfortably slides in. You feel your muscles tighten around him, as your nails dig into his arm wrapped around your waist.

But Simon’s the one who seems most out of his element, for once.

“Jesus fucking Christ, love.” He breathes heavily to your shoulders. His voice doesn’t even sound like him.

The hand around your waist grabs a handful of your clothes, fabric bulging within the grooves of his fingers, while the one extended under your neck fists the pillow until his knuckles paint white.

“F-fuck—you’re burnin’ up.” He croaks, burying his face against the back of your head. “Bloody hell—fuckin’ melting me down ‘ere.”

He tries to move but his voice cracks in a moan before he stops completely. More muted curses leave him.

“Fuckin’ hell you feel good.” He pants, voice so breathy you can barely hear him, and you wonder if he’s talking to you at all. “S’ so fuckin’ hot.”

He stays stock still inside of you, hips flush to your ass. 

But you’re as cheeky as they come, and he should know that already.

Which is why you move, canting your hips until you can feel him slide out of you, and then back in.

“Fuck, no—sto—"

Simon grunts. Chokes on it. 

One flick of your ass has him unravel. He cums inside of you with a quick snap of his hips to meet yours, and the slap of flesh against flesh would be loud if it weren’t for how strong his groan is. 

For how much he’s filling you up, buried to the hilt until you swear you can almost feel him throbbing in your stomach.

Simon hides in the crook of your neck, holding on tight with a stiff arm curled around your belly. You can feel his heartbeat thunder against yours, as if merging together—erratic and unsteady.

It takes him a while to recover, to catch his breath. You coax him out of his bubble gently, threading your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp until you feel him deflate behind you with a sigh.

“Bit of a cunt move, that.” He mumbles, but there’s no bite in his voice.

You smile. Somehow the aches in your body soften up, and you feel like floating on a cloud.

“Well, I'd say you didn't mind much,” you say innocently.

He snorts.

A hand lands blindly on your face, and he gives it a good scramble until you’re chuckling in his palm. You easily recognize that as his way to sneakily check for your temperature, while masking it as a playful jab.

“Sorry,” you feel compelled to say, though your voice is muffled by his hand.

And then he nuzzles your shoulder, planting a fat kiss on your neck. 

“S’alrigh’,” he says softly. “Saved us from a third-degree burn, after all. Gotta thank you for tha'."

You burst into a laugh that he catches with his mouth—his fingers already curled around your jaw, turning your head his way before you can utter another word.

Your laughter seeps through your lips onto his, vibrating until his cheeks curl into a smile of his own.

Infectious, like your stupid flu.

Because the next morning, Simon wakes up with a terrible sore throat, though he doesn’t feel as annoyed as he thought he'd be.

In fact, he decides being sick can't be that bad, when you make it feel this good.

Even if now you're both cranky, feverish, and all.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

In front of the entire Justice League, Dan (who was in a 25 year old clone body) along with a de-aged/ghost aged Danny fall out of one of Clockwork's clock portals. They'd just gone through something extremely traumatizing, likely the deaths of their friends and family and the destruction of their entire dimension. So Clockwork, like the true neutral that he is, only saved Dan and Danny and threw them into an alternate universe for safekeeping. Upon seeing the Justice League, Dan bursts into tears because he's had a long day.

Also, Danny, therefore Dan, are either alternates or doppelgangers for Damian Wayne.

So Batman witnesses a man who looks like his teenage son step out of a time-themed portal holding a child that resembles him. This man then proceeded to look at him and burst into tears.

[saint-hymn]

mercy, mèrci

[lylahammar]

Banner illustration for NAAFA by Bats Langley

Hey everyone!! Did you know that this August is the third annual Fat Liberation Month? The month is organized by NAAFA (National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance), and it's something I didn't know about until I randomly wondered earlier this year if we have a month for our movement, and looked it up. I've never seen anyone talk about it, so I want to change that!!

Through the month of August, I'm going to be drawing lots of fat art, and I would encourage any artists who see this post to do the same. Draw body types you've never tried drawing before! Draw bodies that are bigger than society's "acceptable" level of fatness! Use references (fatphotoref, Morpho Fat and Skin Folds, my own Pinterest reference board)! Perhaps even draw yourself with complete honesty, without trimming out the parts of yourself that make you self conscious, to help better understand and accept your body!

If you participate in this event, please tag your fat art with #Fat Liberation Month, so that I can see and share your work. Have fun and help spread the visibility for this really cool and underrepresented event! 🎉✨

[boyfailurr]

‘we support all people with disabilities’ are you normal about people being disabled because of being fat

[satellites-halo]

Sick of posts that say stuff like "all mobility aid users should weaponize their mobility aids"

hey man, I can't do that! I need to bring my mobility aids into places that would deny me entrance for things like spikes and barbed wire! not every cripplepunk is a white skinny cane user, and having something deemed as a 'weapon' on some of us can be genuinely life threatening, even if it's a mobility aid! I don't want to have my rollator taken away from me and have to be searched bc I put some spikes on a seat cover or something!!! let cripplepunks express their punkness however is safe and comfortable for them, don't expect us all to be able to do the same things you can, because we all cant

[madicham]

Secret santa gift for @ocelly for the @secretsolenoid-revived ♡

[indigo-flowers09]

hey tumblr you like women right?

wanted to draw pretty women so i drew market

[purple-raspberries]

Perhaps you should come back later, neighbor. He seems busy.

[Tap image for better quality]

[wall-maria-around-ba-sing-se]

something about fan art of a supposedly poly ship where the two male characters are kissing/draped over one another/sitting in each others lap and the one female member of the trio is sitting politely off to the side doing a thumbs up really rubs me the wrong way like am I crazy or is this just a gay ship with a diversity hire

[see-arcane]

Trying to imagine Lucy’s situation right now.

Sleep means nightmares (if you’re alone).

Sleep means your blood is disappearing (if you’re alone).

Sleep means you’re doing worse than dying (if you’re alone).

And it’s all just Dracula playing with his food. The only thing keeping him from getting straight to the conclusion is his own restraint for the sadistic sport of it and practicing stealth in a land where he doesn’t yet rule the whole territory through fear.

But he could get away with it in one go. He could find half a dozen easy ways to pull it off before Van Helsing starts meddling in earnest.

…and that would end the game, wouldn’t it? No, no. Can’t have that. He wrung two whole months of fun out of Jonathan. Your turn now, Lucy.

[pikapitou]

buddie emergency blood transfusion in the field and the daniel and connor+kameron of it all. buck would be soooo relieved if his blood could flow right into eddies body. it would be like. completeness. making up for everything his body ever failed to do by using it to save eddie. and eddie would lie there the whole time gritting his teeth thinking things like "your body isn't just pieces to give away". when buck finally notices he's gonna be like "are you... MAD at me right now??? you'd do the same fucking thing for me!" and eddie delirious from blood loss still has it in him to spit, "I'd do it for you. you'd die for fucking anyone" and then he'd pass out so buck gets to sit there and think about that all alone.

[sometinybees]

Royal Royale sillies

ft mostly team purple