#Cotton Jungle

[jazzandothersounds-blog]

Duke Ellington playing at the Integral Ball, 1957.

(English / Español / Italiano)

It was 24 May 1974 when night, the real night, descended with placid step onto the bedside of a man who had taught darkness how to dance. His name was Edward Kennedy Ellington, but to the world he was simply 'Duke', the Duke. Not by birth, but by investiture of fate.

In the perpetual twilight of a vanished era, the memory of the 'Duke', Duke Ellington, stands like a sonorous monument. Fifty-one years have passed since that sacred instant, when his spirit, filled with secrets and heavenly harmonies, left the earthly throb to soar into the firmament of jazz.

Where a double bass vibrates like a restrained beat, where a sax twists in a broken prayer, where a piano whispers stories that no one has the courage to tell, there he is. Sitting, impeccable, with that gentlemanly look that made even the shadows dance.

Thus, in this corner of the world, we celebrate the everlasting echo of the 'Duke', testimony to an art that, like memory itself, defies time and oblivion, and invites us to sail into the infinite sea of dreams!

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Era el 24 de mayo de 1974 cuando la noche, la verdadera noche, descendió con paso plácido sobre la cabecera de la cama de un hombre que había enseñado a bailar a la oscuridad. Se llamaba Edward Kennedy Ellington, pero para el mundo era simplemente "Duke", el Duque. No por nacimiento, sino por investidura del destino.

En el crepúsculo perpetuo de una época desaparecida, el recuerdo del "Duque", Duke Ellington, se yergue como un monumento sonoro. Han pasado cincuenta y un años desde aquel instante sagrado en que su espíritu, lleno de secretos y armonías celestiales, abandonó el latido terrenal para remontarse en el firmamento del jazz.

Donde un contrabajo vibra como un compás contenido, donde un saxo se retuerce en una plegaria rota, donde un piano susurra historias que nadie tiene el valor de contar, allí está él. Sentado, impecable, con esa mirada de caballero que hacía bailar hasta a las sombras.

Así, en este rincón del mundo, celebramos el eco imperecedero del "Duque", testimonio de un arte que, como la memoria misma, desafía al tiempo y al olvido, ¡y nos invita a navegar en el mar infinito de los sueños!

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Era il 24 maggio del 1974 quando la notte, quella vera, scese con passo felpato sul capezzale di un uomo che aveva insegnato all’oscurità come danzare. Si chiamava Edward Kennedy Ellington, ma per il mondo era semplicemente “Duke”, il Duca. Non per nascita, ma per investitura del destino.

Nel crepuscolo perpetuo di un’epoca ormai svanita, il ricordo del "Duca", Duke Ellington, si erge come un monumento sonoro. Cinquantuno anni sono trascorsi da quel sacro istante, quando il suo spirito, colmo di segreti e di armonie celestiali, ha abbandonato il palpito terreno per elevarsi nel firmamento del jazz.

Là dove un contrabbasso vibra come un battito trattenuto, dove un sax si torce in una preghiera spezzata, dove un pianoforte sussurra storie che nessuno ha il coraggio di raccontare, lì c’è lui. Seduto, impeccabile, con quello sguardo da gentiluomo che ha fatto ballare anche le ombre.

Così, in questo angolo di mondo, celebriamo l’intramontabile eco del "Duca", testimonianza di un’arte che, come la memoria stessa, sfida il tempo e l’oblio, e ci invita a navigare nell’infinito mare dei sogni!

Source: Emiliano D'Alessandro writer on Facebook

[melii0w0]

SWEET TOOTH: BUNNY’S ESCAPE VER is OUT NOW!!

Toxic Yuri fan? Yandere fan? THIS ALBUM IS FOR YOU!

[mudwerks]

(via Duke Ellington & His Cotton Club Orchestra - Jungle Nights In Harlem)

[wildstar25]

the real reason why G'raha and Y'shtola are walking around Tural so covered up is because they need to hide the multitude of bite marks from Arsay

[animals-nature-landspaces]

Tote-bag with Giraffe with Pink Glasses

https://www.zazzle.com/giraffe_with_pink_glasses_tote_bag-256597991378417611

[bevanne46]

Wild Menagerie Kid’s Quilt

This Quilt Features Bright Colored Laurel Burch Mythical Jungle Fabric with Coordinating Colored Fabric on a Bright Pink Anti-Pill Fleece Backing that wraps around to form the Edge Binding.

Quilt Measures Approx. 34”W x 42"L

Purchase this quilt here: https://www.tedooo.com/product/66457d308705814b7f2080d1

[terminator-product-art]

[bunnis-monsters]

The Naga Experiment

Male!Naga x Fem!Reader

WC: 2k+

warnings: double peen, double penetration, breeding, experimentation on reader’s body

A/N: Patreon and Kofi supporters got to see this first! If you want access early and exclusive content, become a member of one ^^

Your body was sore, bruises littering your skin from every needle that had pierced it. What fluids had been injected into you? They didn’t ever say what was going into your blood system, only cooing and shushing you when you struggled.

It had been so long since you had seen the sun, sometimes you wondered if it was something you made up long ago.

Most of your life was spent in an underground facility. When you were a child, it was discovered that your body was nearly compatible with naga DNA, meaning all they needed to do was change your DNA just enough to keep the Naga from becoming extinct.

“Don’t cry, it’s almost over… you’re nearly complete.”

Tears ran down your cheeks as one of the scientists examined your body, turning your hips and pressing down against your belly. “You’ll be the perfect mate for our current specimen. He’ll be so happy to have a new playmate…”

You were too tired to question anything, you couldn’t even comprehend what they were saying due to the intense pain you were in.

It had been a few weeks since you last spoke. What was the point? They never never even listened to what you had to say. There was no reason to try…

After being lifted up into the arms of one of the scientists, you were taken into the bathroom to be properly cleaned. Your skin was scrubbed, bandages applied to any open wounds and your bruises covered with soothing creams.

Why were they being gentle all of a sudden? You didn’t understand…

You were dressed in some cotton clothing, something you could easily move in. Were they going to force you into more physical tests? Running was difficult with your exhausted body, you weren’t looking forward to this at all…

Soft sunlight filtered through the doorway of the next room, and you watched in awe as the scientists backed away from you.

“Subject 213, you may now leave this facility. Your new home is outdoors.”

You walked on trembling legs, your heart racing with both hope and anticipation. Was this real? Were the scientists truly going to let you leave?

The air was thick and humid, nothing like the cold and sterile environment you had gotten used to over the years.

It seemed you were in some sort of jungle. The earth under your feet was damp, and the trees were tall with long green leaves. The sound of frogs croaking and something scurrying through the canopy had you a bit nervous, but you were determined to get as far away from that building as possible.

With nothing but the clothes on your back, you began your trek through the thick brush. It had been so long since you felt the earth under your feet, you never wanted to even think about the cold tiles of that research facility again.

You found yourself sprinting, giggles escaping your lips as you twirled and jumped, your heart soaring. There were so many things you wanted to do now that you had escaped. The first thing on the list was having a good meal.

Everything you ate was flavorless, you could almost taste some savory meat or some sweet pastries on your tongue!

Before you could think any further, the sound of snapping twigs and something slithering about made you stop.

You tried to catch your breath as you turned in a full circle, your eyes searching through the thick brush. For a moment you thought you had just hallucinated the sound, but only moments later you heard another one from your left.

There was no guarantee whatever was watching you could understand what you were going to say, but you spoke up regardless.

A shiver went down your spine as you faced the bush. “W-who are you?”

The sound stopped, and for one blissful moment you assumed whatever had been making that noise had been scared off by your voice.

Unfortunately, you were wrong.

The limbs of the bush bent and snapped to make way for the creature hiding behind it. Your eyes widened as it made its way towards you.

Its upper half was that of a human male, its lean muscular frame seeming normal… until you looked down.

The lower half was that of a snake, with dark colored scales that shimmered in the sunlight. The creature slithered forward eagerly, blinking a few times.

“You… smell good.”

He grinned, his fangs poking out as he drew closer. His eyes sparkled as he leaned down, taking in your scent with a flick of his tongue.

You were too scared to move, your heart hammering against your chest as it let out an excited purr. Within seconds you found yourself trapped within its lower body, your face pressed against its torso.

“A mate? Have they finally brought me a mate?”

He rubbed his head against you, continuing those strange noises. “So small, but you smell just like a female of my species…”

“M-mate… huh?”

You thought back about your experiences there, the endurance tests, injections, and every single hardship you went through. Was that all just to make you a suitable mate for this… thing!?

“And you can breathe this air! You’re not even burning alive!”

“W… what are you talking about? Why would I not be able to-“

He tilted his head, his forked tongue flicking across your cheek. “This climate… the earthlings cannot withstand it. Our planet-“

Your head was already reeling. “I… am I not on earth?”

The creature laughed, beginning to slither with you in his grasp. “No, you’re not. That doesn’t matter though, you’re all mine now!”

Everything seemed hopeless. Not only were you being taken away to be the mate of some unknown creature, you weren’t even on earth to begin with. Was escape even possible when you didn’t know what planet you were on?

You decided it was probably best to go along with things, just like you would in the science lab.

He placed you down in a small den. It was warm and comfortable, with a bed of furs for you to lay on. “My little mate, you’ve come just in time you know? It’s breeding season, and there are barely any females left.”

The snake half of his body curled around you, squeezing gently before he pulled you close. “We are nagas, mate. I’ll teach you more once we’re a mated pair.”

“Mated pair?”

His fangs brushed against your neck as he continued to speak. “Yes, a mated pair. You’re at your most fertile right now, so we have to get you bred quickly…”

He undressed you slowly, tossing aside your shirt. The naga had never seen such large breasts before, and your nipples intrigued him.

“You’re plump and warm, that’s perfect. Our species adore things that are soft and give off heat.”

He pinched the perky buds, jolting forward with excitement when you let out a whimper. “Are these sensitive? How about if I do this?”

With a soft squeeze, he groped your breasts, giving your nipples lots of attention. The naga let out a coo when you squirmed against him, your panties growing wet.

You had been an experiment at that lab since you were a child, meaning you never got to experience sexual pleasure outside of the occasional stimuli from an examination.

This was all completely new to you, every touch and sensation had your body flushing with heat!

“That’s it, you’re such a sweet little mate. You’re going to carry my little ones well…”

His body pressed against yours, and he tilted her chin up so he could really look at your face. You weren’t sure why, but you felt drawn to him, as if your body was meant to be touched and played with by him.

That scent of his was driving you crazy. It wafted through the air, almost like a drug that made you desperate to be bred as soon as possible.

The scientists had made sure your body responded to him in this way to help the mating process.

When you leaned forward and pressed your lips against him, the naga found himself getting hard. He wasn’t expecting you to respond to his ministrations so eagerly, but he could tell you were aroused by the way your heart raced and your eyelids drooped.

“Mate… you want this, don’t you?”

His finger swirled around your pretty clit, flicking it softly before moving downwards towards your dripping hole. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you it.”

Your eyes widened when something slimy slipped between your thighs. The slit in his tail opened up, two fat, pink cocks slipping through. Both were twitching, precum already dripping from their large tips.

Pulling your thighs apart to get a better look, the naga smiled when he noticed your pussy had been modified to take both of his cocks at once. He pumped his fingers in and out for a moment, cooing as you moaned and bucked your hips into his hand.

“It seems you’re ready for me, mate.”

Everything felt so strange. His pheromones, his musk felt like they were making your brain feel fuzzy. You felt like a bitch in heat, your clit twitching at the sight of both of his cocks approaching your needy cunt.

You buried your neck into his neck, inhaling his scent as he nudged you with both of his members. His hands gripped your hips and squeezed, his tail still wrapped around you.

Without further warning, you felt the combined girth of his fat cocks stretching your poor cunt out to its limit. If you were a normal human virgin, you would have easily torn.

Luckily for you, this was exactly what the scientists had modified your body for. Despite being a bit uncomfortable with the stretch, you were still able to accommodate his large girth. Even as he bottomed out inside of you, your belly stretched and bulged, keeping you relatively content.

“Beautiful…” he murmured. One of his hands moved over your bulging belly, feeling his cock twitch under the skin and fat. “You’re taking me so well, I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

He moved slowly at first, his slitted pupils dilating. “So good… g-gods…”

The slight twitching of his cocks had you whimpering and shifting your hips towards him, you were already about to cum and he had just started.

Cum oozed from your pussy, only making it easier for him to fuck in and out of you. Your first ever orgasm felt like heaven, and it made your body melt into his like you wanted to become one with him.

He sped up now, your cum acting as lube. Each thrust made your pretty tits bounce in rhythm, and he could help but take one of your nipples into his mouth.

“F-faster!” you babbled out, pleasured tears falling down your cheeks. “Please, fuck… I need you!”

That’s all the naga needed to fear. His mate was begging for him, and it was enough to stir his primal instincts to breed you.

The naga pushed you against the wall, pounding into your cunt while you whimpered and cried. One of his cocks dragged against your walls, stretching you out, while the other hit your g-spot with each thrust.

He came inside of you, filling you to the brim with his seed. It made him beyond happy to see your fucked out face and hazy eyes, all happy and satisfied with your mate’s cum stuffed into your pussy.

“That’s it…” he cooed, kissing your cheeks as the two of you stayed locked together. “That’s my girl, just rest now.”

He laid down, his cock nestled comfortably inside of you as you began to drift off. Weirdly enough, you felt more safe with this inhuman creature than you ever had before, and got the best sleep of your life.

The naga stroked your cheek, watching over his precious little mate while you slept peacefully. Maybe a life with him would be better than you thought.

—————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[sakshikaribykriti]

Inspired by plant lovers, our Emerald green twin quilt is hand block printed with love and care. Channeling the Urban Jungle that we live in, this gorgeous boho throw blanket is a must have to bring some extra greenery. 

[jazzandothersounds-blog]

Edward Kennedy «Duke» Ellington

(English / Español / Italiano)

New York, 4 December 1927.

The night pulses to the rhythm of the city that never sleeps, but at the Cotton Club in Harlem the air is different, vibrant, as if something extraordinary is about to happen. It is the debut of a new orchestra, and everyone is talking about this young conductor: Duke Ellington, a pianist from Washington who is said to have taken jazz music to a level no one had ever dared imagine.

The Cotton Club is no ordinary club. It is the temple of entertainment of the time, an exclusive place frequented by the city's rich whites, where the greatest African-American artists perform. It is the place where segregation is momentarily put aside, at least for those who can afford it. On stage, elegance meets rebellion, talent defies prejudice.

As the lights dim and the audience gathers in silence, Duke takes the stage with his orchestra. The ambience is imbued with feverish anticipation. The musicians take their positions, their instruments shine in the spotlight, and the silence is shattered by a sound that no one will ever forget: a hypnotic, nuanced melody that seems to capture the very soul of Harlem.

The piece is 'Creole Love Call' (listen here), a masterpiece that mixes traditional jazz with blues influences and a sound that Ellington calls 'jungle style'. It is an explosion of innovation. The woodwinds shout and whisper, the piano creates soft waves, while Adelaide Hall's voice rises in a wordless chant, like a primordial call. The audience is enraptured, mesmerised, unable to look away.

That night, Duke Ellington not only debuted at the Cotton Club; that night, a legend was born. His music broke barriers, defined an era and became the sound of a changing America. His name begins to circulate everywhere, and soon it is not only Harlem that knows him, but the whole world.

Today, 97 years later, we can only imagine the energy and magic of that evening. But one thing is certain: jazz changed forever that night, when Duke Ellington and his orchestra turned on the lights of the future on the Cotton Club stage!

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Nueva York, 4 de diciembre de 1927.

La noche late al ritmo de la ciudad que nunca duerme, pero en el Cotton Club de Harlem el aire es diferente, vibrante, como si algo extraordinario estuviera a punto de suceder. Es el debut de una nueva orquesta, y todo el mundo habla de este joven director: Duke Ellington, un pianista de Washington del que se dice que ha llevado la música jazz a un nivel que nadie se había atrevido a imaginar.

El Cotton Club no es un club cualquiera. Es el templo del entretenimiento de la época, un lugar exclusivo frecuentado por los blancos ricos de la ciudad, donde actúan los más grandes artistas afroamericanos. Es el lugar donde la segregación se deja momentáneamente de lado, al menos para quienes pueden permitírselo. En el escenario, la elegancia se une a la rebeldía, el talento desafía los prejuicios.

Cuando las luces se atenúan y el público se reúne en silencio, Duke sube al escenario con su orquesta. El ambiente está impregnado de una febril expectación. Los músicos toman posiciones, sus instrumentos brillan bajo los focos y el silencio se rompe con un sonido que nadie olvidará jamás: una melodía hipnótica y llena de matices que parece capturar el alma misma de Harlem.

Se trata de "Creole Love Call" (escucha aquí), una obra maestra que mezcla el jazz tradicional con influencias del blues y un sonido que Ellington denomina "jungle style". Es una explosión de innovación. Las maderas gritan y susurran, el piano crea suaves ondas, mientras la voz de Adelaide Hall se eleva en un canto sin palabras, como una llamada primordial. El público está embelesado, hipnotizado, incapaz de apartar la mirada.

Aquella noche, Duke Ellington no sólo debutó en el Cotton Club; aquella noche nació una leyenda. Su música rompió barreras, definió una época y se convirtió en el sonido de una América cambiante. Su nombre empieza a circular por todas partes, y pronto no es sólo Harlem quien le conoce, sino el mundo entero.

Hoy, 97 años después, sólo podemos imaginar la energía y la magia de aquella noche. Pero una cosa es cierta: el jazz cambió para siempre aquella noche, cuando Duke Ellington y su orquesta encendieron las luces del futuro en el escenario del Cotton Club.

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New York, 4 dicembre 1927.

La notte pulsa al ritmo della città che non dorme mai, ma al Cotton Club di Harlem l’aria è diversa, vibrante, come se qualcosa di straordinario stesse per accadere. È il debutto di una nuova orchestra, e tutti parlano di questo giovane direttore: Duke Ellington, un pianista di Washington che, si dice, abbia portato la musica jazz a un livello che nessuno aveva mai osato immaginare.

Il Cotton Club non è un locale qualunque. È il tempio del divertimento dell’epoca, un luogo esclusivo, frequentato dai ricchi bianchi della città, dove si esibiscono i più grandi artisti afroamericani. È il luogo dove la segregazione viene momentaneamente messa da parte, almeno per chi può permetterselo. Sul palco, l’eleganza incontra la ribellione, il talento sfida i pregiudizi.

Quando le luci si abbassano e il pubblico si raccoglie nel silenzio, Duke sale sul palco con la sua orchestra. L’ambiente è intriso di un’attesa febbrile. I musicisti prendono posizione, i loro strumenti brillano sotto i riflettori, e il silenzio viene infranto da un suono che nessuno dimenticherà mai: una melodia ipnotica, ricca di sfumature, che sembra catturare l’anima stessa di Harlem.

Il pezzo è “Creole Love Call” (ascolta quì), un capolavoro che mescola la tradizione jazz alle influenze blues e al sound che Ellington chiama “jungle style”. È un’esplosione di innovazione. I fiati urlano e sussurrano, il pianoforte crea onde morbide, mentre la voce di Adelaide Hall si alza in un canto senza parole, come un richiamo primordiale. Il pubblico è rapito, ipnotizzato, incapace di distogliere lo sguardo.

Quella notte, Duke Ellington non solo debutta al Cotton Club; quella notte, nasce una leggenda. La sua musica rompe le barriere, definisce un’epoca e si impone come il suono di un’America in trasformazione. Il suo nome inizia a circolare ovunque, e presto non sarà solo Harlem a conoscerlo, ma il mondo intero.

Oggi, a 97 anni di distanza, possiamo solo immaginare l’energia e la magia di quella serata. Ma una cosa è certa: il jazz cambiò per sempre quella notte, quando Duke Ellington e la sua orchestra accesero le luci del futuro sul palco del Cotton Club!

Source: Emiliano D'Alessandro on Facebook

[realcube]

Could you do a Saiki x touch-starved reader

(Also I love your writes!❤️)

SAIKI K x touch-starved! reader hcs

☆ saiki is very apprehensive to touch you

☆ mostly because he's not naturally very physically affectionate

☆ and also because if he gets too flustered he might accidentally level a whole country , ya never know

☆ but if he can read your thoughts so when he finds out that you're eager for hugs and cuddles n all that sweet stuff

☆ he learns to deal with it

☆ and finds ways to touch you that work for both of you

☆ he likes to sit next to you , shoulder to shoulder, just on the couch while y'all are watching something or on the floor while playing video games

☆ it sounds awkward and that's because it kinda is but he considers it to be peak intimacy

☆ and massages !!

☆ he doesn't mind giving / receiving massages at all , especially from you , in fact he really enjoys it

☆ that is the most at peace you will ever see him

☆ though iirc it's canon that trying to rub his back feels like chipping away at stone, but you make it work somehow.. perhaps a chisel ??

☆ he also pats your head, another thing that you might find awkward but comes naturally to him in terms of affection

☆ he's very hesitant to cuddle because he's afraid his super strength might activate and he might crush you

☆ if you're tried and you ask him to carry you to your bed , assuming he'd pick you up bridal style and you'd have a cute moment

☆ you couldn't be more wrong because he'll pick you up with one hand carry you to your bed like a platter of shrimp

☆ he is even very nervous about holding hands because again, super strength

☆ and it makes him feel the tiniest bit bad because like.. he is depriving you of normal boyfriend/couple experiences bc he's a psychic

☆ bc if he was just a normal boy, he'd find a way to overcome his adversity to touch and physical affection for you because he knows you like it and it's the least he can do

☆ but it's obviously a bit harder when you're a psychic

☆ sometimes he practises by hugging pillows but that usually just results in torn pillowcases and feathers/cotton like.. everywhere

☆ and plus the stakes are a lot higher when it comes to you so he's more likely to get anxious and mess something up

☆ but he makes up for it by being sweet in ways you might not expect

☆ like he tends to feed you desserts a lot, and he doesn't even realise how intimate it can be, he just thinks of it as normal to want to share some of his favourite food with a person he loves

☆ and if you get a bit of icing on your lips, he'll wipe it with a napkin for you

☆ he also doesn't mind it when you touch him

☆ since less can go wrong that way

☆ like you could legitimately start using him and human jungle gym and he couldn't care less

☆ in fact, he secretly enjoys it

☆ sometimes you think you can catch him out and surprise him with a hug attack but of course that hardly ever works because... he's psychic

☆ so you'll just pounce on him and instead of falling over like most ppl would, he stays upright and you are left hugging and clinging onto him like he's a tree

☆ also he'll never admit it but he loves lil kiss on the cheek !!

☆ makes him feel very much loved and afterwards and so enamoured and he thinks he does a good job at hiding it but you can always tell bc his expression goes from 😐 to 🙂

☆ a very subtle difference but you as his s/o notice it immediately

[bevanne46]

Laurel Burch Bright Felines Fabric Placemats

The Front Features Bright Felines with Wings on a Black Background with Matching Fabrics of Yellow, Blue & Rainbow The Back Features Bright Jungle Lions on a Black Background. 4 (Four) Total Placemats in the Set (1 Set Available)

[redhoodieone]

The Batfamily & Y/N at Disneyland

*Alfred gets scared on the Jungle Cruise because he believed he really was in the jungle.*

Alfred: My word! Master Bruce, where are we?

Bruce: *sighs* We’re on a ride, Alfred.

*In Star Wars Land, Dick and Jason put on a theatrical performance of fighting with light sabers, and they even jump and flip over tables and buildings. Cast Members dressed up as Star Wars characters are stunned. The Cast Members dressed as Darth Vader and Kylo Ren actually approach the brothers and shake hands with them. Bruce gets pissed off at Dick and Jason when he finds out about their performance and has to pay Disneyland workers to not say anything to the press.*

*Y/N and Jason make out the entire time on the Haunted Mansion ride. Dick sat next to Damian, and he tried covering Damian’s eyes as much as he could so he wouldn’t be scared. Tim actually fell asleep on the ride.*

*When the Batboys and Y/N get Bruce to indulge with junk food, Bruce ends up eating like fifteen churros and pukes on Hyperspace Mountain. Luckily, the cleaning crew didn’t mind cleaning up after him and they even get a picture with him afterwards.*

*Damian insists he didn’t want a souvenir, and he “pretended to be annoyed” when Bruce bought him a Mickey Mouse plush doll, but he threatened Dick, Jason, and Tim to not touch it or even look at it.*

*Jason being the sweetest boyfriend ever and wearing matching Mickey Mouse ears with Y/N, and he didn’t even mind taking a hundred selfies throughout the day.*

*The Batboys fight over the front seats on the Incredicoaster. Bruce said Y/N wins and gets to sit up front, and chooses Jason to sit beside her. Dick and Tim sit behind them, and Bruce (no longer feeling sick) rides with Damian. All of them smile for the picture, and Alfred insists on buying it.*

*Dick whines and complains that the line to ride Peter Pan is too long.*

*Damian makes everyone ride the carousel three times, until Bruce bribes him with cotton candy and ice cream to let the others choose rides.*

*During the fireworks, Alfred rests with the bags of souvenirs while Damian sits on Bruce’s shoulders to see the fireworks better. Dick and Tim sit next to each other on the curb and watch the fireworks in amazement. Jason and Y/N ride more rides while most of the public is watching the fireworks show.*

[tacobacoyeet]

oh, pudge! | patrick zweig x reader

a/n: this is for my lovers

warnings: SMUT 18+, cursing, not proofread, dad bod patrick!!

The smell of fresh coffee hit you before you opened your eyes. It wasn’t the fancy kind, not one of those expensive pods or pour-over situations—just the old drip machine Patrick insisted on keeping because, quote, “It makes it taste like real mornings.”

You smiled into the pillow as you heard the familiar clink of mugs and a muttered curse when he probably burned his hand again, refusing to make two trips. Like clockwork.

A minute later, the mattress dipped.

"You’re still in bed?" he asked, smug and scratchy-voiced. You cracked one eye open to see your husband—shirtless, sweatpants riding dangerously low, chest hair fully on display—balancing two mugs and grinning like he’d just won something.

"You retired, not me," you mumbled, taking your cup and scooting back so he could slide in beside you.

"Exactly," he said, stretching out with a groan and resting his coffee on the nightstand. "Which means I’ve got time to spend with my wife."

His hand landed on your hip. Warm. Familiar. He rubbed little circles into the thin cotton of your sleep shirt and leaned in to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Jesus, you’re hairy,” you muttered affectionately, brushing your hand across his stomach where a soft trail led down into those pants.

"Takes effort to maintain this much man," he deadpanned, nuzzling your neck. "You married a jungle."

"I married a man who used to shave for interviews."

"And now I don’t shave shit," he said proudly, grinding his belly against your back with zero shame. "Dad bod. Full glory. Premium husband content."

You giggled, trying to escape his tickling scruff, but he just pulled you tighter.

"Tell me you don’t love it," he murmured.

You sighed. "I really, really love it."

A pause passed between you. Cozy. Unhurried.

"Kids are at Art and Tashi’s till dinner," he said casually, fingers slipping beneath your waistband like it was nothing. "So I’m thinking…"

And just like that, his hand slid lower.

You made a soft, surprised noise in the back of your throat. Patrick smiled against your cheek like he’d planned it all morning.

“I swear,” you muttered, “you’re always horny when they’re out of the house.”

“Course I am,” he said, dragging his hand slowly between your thighs. "It’s quiet. You're warm. And I’ve got this perfect, lazy morning view of my wife in bed."

You rolled over to face him, tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants. Your fingers lingered on the soft swell of his stomach, brushing through the hair that trailed down like an arrow. You weren’t subtle about it—your eyes roamed everywhere. Chest. Arms. Thighs.

“You gonna keep staring, or…?”

“Let me look,” you said, voice hushed but greedy. “You don’t know what this does to me.”

Patrick’s eyes darkened with something playful. “You’re obsessed.”

“I am.”

“You like the belly?”

You nodded. "I love the belly. And the hair. And the way you look at me like you’re about to ruin my whole day."

His laugh was low and satisfied. “Guess I better live up to the reputation.”

He kissed you then. Slow. Open-mouthed. Lazy, but firm. Like he had all the time in the world. His hands were everywhere—palming your ass, squeezing your hip, sliding up your shirt to cup your breast. It wasn’t rushed. It was reverent.

He pulled back just enough to look down at you, hair falling into his face, breath warm.

“C'mere,” he said, voice soft but full of intent. “Wanna take my time with you today.”

And you did—because when Patrick got like this? There was nothing else you’d rather do.

He coaxed your legs apart slowly, reverently, his hands gliding down your thighs like he was touching something sacred. His palms were rough, wide, fingers spreading you open like he was unwrapping a gift.

You felt his breath before his mouth—hot, focused, deliberate. He settled on his stomach between your legs, his thick torso pressing into the mattress, belly brushing your calves, thighs warm and solid beneath him.

When he kissed the inside of your thigh, his beard dragged across your skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You shivered.

Then he licked a slow stripe up your center.

You gasped, hand flying to his hair, already trembling from the warmth of his mouth and the way his scruff scraped and burned deliciously against your skin. Your thighs tried to close around his head—he held them apart easily, big hands gripping the softness of your hips.

“Missed this,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “The way you taste. The way you fall apart for me.”

He didn’t stop. His tongue was unhurried, practiced. He lapped at you slowly, dragging his tongue through your folds, flicking it just right over your clit, then dipping lower again. He sucked and licked and pressed exactly where you needed him, every now and then pausing just to hear the sound you’d make when he started again.

Your back arched. Breasts peaked, nipples pointed with desire. One hand in his hair, the other grasping at your own thigh just to anchor yourself. You were soaked, hips rocking in shallow, needy movements.

His beard rubbed raw at your inner thighs, a perfect contrast to the warmth of his mouth. You’d be marked up. He'd be enamored by the sight.

And when he slid a thick finger inside you, curling just right, you shattered—loud and shaking, legs clamping around his shoulders as your whole body went tight.

He kept going until you were whining, legs twitching, hips jerking from oversensitivity. Even then, he kissed your thigh softly, dragged his stubbled cheek along your skin with a smile you could feel more than see.

“Still with me?” he rasped, kissing his way up your body.

You nodded, dazed. Your chest was rising fast, nipples still peaked from the air and leftover shockwaves. Your thighs were sticky with his spit and your slick, and you felt the unmistakable press of his soft belly as he crawled over you.

“More than.”

You lay there panting, limbs boneless, still trembling in the aftermath. Patrick hovered beside you, his arm heavy and warm where it draped across your waist, his nose nudging gently into your shoulder as you both caught your breath.

Your body buzzed, too sensitive for more, not quite ready—but you needed to do something. Needed to give something back. You shifted, turning toward him, and traced a slow path through the hair on his chest with your fingers.

He watched you without speaking, eyes dark, mouth slightly parted.

You kissed him first on the shoulder. Then the soft swell of his pec. Then the edge of his stomach, where the hair thickened. Your lips lingered there, trailing downward, your hands moving reverently over the warm curve of his belly, the softness that felt like home.

He let out a shaky exhale when you mouthed along the underside of it, nose pressed into him like you couldn’t get close enough. His thighs shifted beside you, thick and steady, just slightly tense beneath your hand.

You took your time. Tasting. Breathing him in. Letting your fingertips glide down to the crease where belly met hip, where his sweatpants had once rested.

His head tipped back. His hand found your hair—not to guide, just to hold. You felt him hardening again, slow and inevitable, pressed against your cheek.

When you finally looked up, his face was flushed, lashes low, brows drawn tight in quiet awe.

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to. He kissed you instead—slow and heavy, tongue tasting your lips, your jaw, your cheek. Then he pulled back just enough to look at you, thumb stroking over the corner of your mouth.

He leaned back against the headboard, legs parted, cock flushed and thick against the curve of his belly. His hands rested on your thighs as you moved to straddle him, slow and deliberate, knees bracketing his hips.

You sank down onto him inch by inch, his cock stretching you open again—your body still sensitive, still pulsing from just a few moments ago. He groaned beneath you, head tipping back, fingers tightening on your thighs.

“Shit,” he muttered, eyes fluttering. “Look at you.”

You rocked your hips slowly, bracing your hands on his chest, the soft hair there damp with sweat. Patrick kept one hand on your hip and let the other drift up to your breast, cupping it, thumbing lazily over your nipple. You gasped at the contact, too much and just right all at once.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasped. “Always so good for me.”

You moved faster, chasing friction, chasing the fullness of him, the way he filled you like he was built for it. The way his thighs flexed beneath you, his hands gripping tighter, his stomach shifting under your palms as you rode him harder.

Patrick’s mouth parted, his head tipping forward now to watch where your bodies met. He looked wrecked. In awe. Worshipful.

When you leaned in to kiss him, your lips caught on his—slick, needy, breathless—and he groaned into your mouth.

“Come for me,” he said, voice wrecked. “Want to feel you fall apart.”

You did. You couldn’t stop it—your body clenched around him, stars behind your eyes as you cried out, clinging to his shoulders, collapsing against his chest.

Patrick followed with a moan that broke in the middle, hands clutching you to him as he spilled inside, thick and warm and full.

You stayed there, trembling, still joined, his arms wrapped around your back and his breath slowing against your neck.

Neither of you said anything for a long time.

Then he whispered, “Waffles later. Nap first. I’m too old for this kind of cardio.”

You huffed a laugh into his skin. “You say that like you didn’t just go two rounds like a college kid.”

“Yeah, and now my knees hurt and I might not get up until dinner,” he groaned, dramatically flopping backward and dragging you with him.

You curled into his side, cheek on his chest, belly soft beneath your palm.

“We should probably shower,” you murmured.

“We should probably get the sheets in the wash before the kids come home and ask why the whole room smells like sex,” he added dryly.

You snorted. “They wouldn’t even notice.”

“Still. Let’s pretend we’re responsible adults.”

You smiled. “Just five more minutes.”

Patrick sighed dramatically, pulling the blanket up over both of you. “Ten. I’m old. I need recovery time.”

-----

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