#I don't know why this feels like an insult but it's not. like it feels as if I'm being mean by saying this?

[shouyuus]

Hear me out on this🤚🏼 vi and reader arguing over something stupid and reader says something sideways that’s like Loki kinda freaky and vis like oh yeah mf and then boom freaky time but a bit of rough talk so vi can get reader to admit she’s right???

hahahahahahah /gunshots/ this grew legs and ran off on its own omfg; hope u enjoy!!! also credit where credit is due i immediately thought of this textpost when i saw this ask so. 18+, mdni dom/slightly mean!vi, college roommate!vi cinematic universe

"fuck you."

"no fuck you -- y'know what -- why don't you just edge me into next tuesday -- that'd be less painful --"

"i --" vi blinks, staring at you as you run your hands through your hair, still mumbling to yourself, apparently entirely unaware of the change your words have just wrought in her.

a spate of desire twists knife-sharp in her gut as vi imagines pressing you in half, a hand wrapped around your throat the other teasing between your legs, the way your hips might jump if she curled her fingers just so.

she wonders how quick she could get you begging; she wonders, a second later, how quick it'd get her on the edge when here she is, careening towards it at the mere thought of taking you apart.

"ugh -- whatever, i have to get back to my research paper -- i don't have time to --"

vi's arm shoots out and she's got her fingers wreathed around your wrist before she can stop herself. your alarmed look catches like a spark in the dry-grass tickle of her stomach and suddenly there's heat pluming up the back of her neck like smoke as she backs you into the apartment wall, licking her lips as she watches confusion and the hazy sheen of unmistakable want flicker to light behind your eyes.

"v-vi?"

she almost shivers. she thinks it's a testament to how well she's always treated you that you don't sound frightened -- only curious, and a little surprised.

"we're not done here, princess -- and i don't really think i like it when you try to walk away from me like that," she whispers, leaning in close enough to feel the way your breath stutters in your chest.

"vi -- i don't -- this isn't --"

but her questioning smirk as she pulls back silences the stumbling words on your lips as your cheeks go dark and your eyes cut away from hers.

"aww, c'mon princess --" and this time, she leans into the word like it might be an insult, doesn't miss the way your lashes flutter or the way your breathing's shallowed out to small little hitches, or the fact that you're stock still against the wall, even though her grip is light and there's nothing to stop you from pulling away.

"where's that fire from a second ago? weren't you just calling me a bad roommate for always forgetting to run the dishwasher before i leave?"

you swallow, the bob in your throat making her heart skitter up her ribcage like climbing up monkey bars.

"that... okay fine -- that was mean -- but it's not like i was lying about the --" your voice pitches as you look back up at her, and for a second, the hard light in your eyes catches again, only to sputter out as you meet her gaze for the second time, a guttering candle to a winter's breeze. vi bites back a grin. this is too easy.

"mm, but it still hurt my feelings, princess..." vi coos, leaning in to brush her lips by your cheek, reveling in the way you tremble beneath her, "and really, i don't think i'm that bad of a roommate, right? i take care of you, don't i?"

the moment her lips catch the lobe of your ear, you let out a soft whimper that makes vi's vision tilt sideways. and before she knows it, she's sucking a dark hickey into the skin of your neck and your fingers are fisting in her hair, making her groan.

she sinks her teeth into your skin, pulling back to pin you bodily to the wall, pressing a leg up between yours just to hear you keen.

"admit it -- don't i take good care of you?"

you whine through pursed lips, your eyes glazed out as you frown up at her, nodding faintly. she grins, feeling the heady, full-body rush of knowing she's got you right where she's been wanting you for weeks, for months.

"c'mon, say it --" she teases her free hand down the length of your body to flip up the hem of the large t-shirt you're wearing (it's one of hers; the thought catches her off-guard like punch to the side, the knowledge of it wringing through her with a bell-toll of desire) to skim along the hem of your cotton panties.

"y-you're -- you're not a bad roommate -- vi --" you twitch as she dips her fingers into the waistband of your panties and slicks a finger between your folds, hissing out at how wet you already are.

vi's grin is sour-candy-cyanide as she pulls back, her gaze half-lidded as she watches you chewing on your bottom lip.

"god, princess -- did that turn you on?" she asks, though both of you know the question is useless and purely rhetorical. she swallows down a thick moan as she inches a finger between your messy cunt lips to tease at your entrance. your answering huff only makes her chuckle, and this time, she does groan out when she finally eases her finger into you, feeling your hot, wet walls flutter around her, making her own cunt twinge with want.

"mm... i think i'd still like a formal apology -- tell you what," she says, putting on a false, considerate air even as she teases her finger in and out of you, nice and slow, almost thoughtlessly as she cocks her head, "admit that you were wrong and... we'll call it even, yeah?"

immediately, she sees you stiffen, feels you clench down around her as your eyes snap up. you've always hated admitting you were wrong, and even when you have apologized in the past, you've always danced around the words. and vi had thought it was just a cute little quirk of yours, chalked it up to your massive brain -- it must be so hard for someone so smart, so used to be in unequivocally correct all the time to admit, out loud, that they'd been mistaken.

a rush of heat crests into her chest at the thought, and she quirks her finger inside you to brush against the tender spot she knows will get your eyes rolling.

and it does, but not before you give your head a tiny, obdurate shake.

vi sighs, licking her lips as she brushes her thumb against your clit and watches, with a thrumming satisfaction, as your mouth falls open around a silent moan.

"just three little words, princess -- and then... i promise, i'll make you feel so good..." she croons the words into your ear, shudders at the thought of making you cum, of how good you'd look shaking over her fingers. "unless," she hums, "you really would like me to edge you into next tuesday, which --" she makes a noncommittal sound, "saturday afternoon and i've got early morning practice tomorrow, but i'm sure something can be arranged."

you let out another debauched moan as she bullies a second finger into your wet heat, still fucking them into you at that mind-bogglingly slow pace. you try to arch your hips, but her other hand slams you back against the wall.

she tuts, leaning back ever so slightly.

"uh-uh, i don't think so."

you scowl and try to shove at her shoulder, but there's no strength in the motion and the hand on your hip flashes up a second later to grab both your wrists, pinning them above your head in a single fluid move.

it happens so quickly you barely have time to gasp before she's leaning forward again, her words hot as she murmurs into your ear --

"go on, princess, try to fight back -- give me a reason to get rough with you."

at once, you still, but the you give both your wrists an experimental tug, only for vi to tighten her hold. you can't quite stop the moan that works its way out of your throat, nor can you control the way your pussy slickens impossibly around her fingers as she laughs, the sound caught somewhere between amused and mocking.

"gonna admit that you were wrong, princess?" she asks, crooking an eyebrow.

you press your lips and whine, looking away. her fingers pump a few more times inside you, her thumb finding your clit with truly disarming ease.

"vi -- f-fuck --!" you yelp as she flicks her thumb and your whole body jolts, electric tendrils of pleasure ricocheting through you, harsh as a loose bullet.

"there y'go... c'mon -- be a good girl and say it --" vi can't quite stop the way her voice frays around the edges as she leans in to ghost her lips over yours, her vision tunneling as she starts to fuck you with her fingers proper, working them into you in tandem with the rhythm of your hips, watching as you expression falls slack.

"mm -- nnngh -- please, vi -- i --"

"ah... that's pretty good but... still not an apology," she muses, slowing her pace again, dragging both her fingers along your inner walls, pressing them up, watching as your eyes squeeze shut, your entire body jerking as she massages your clit from both ends.

"i -- i'm s-sorry, 'm sorry, i -- i was wrong -- fuck -- oh -- shit, that feels -- v-vi --!"

"thereee you go... that wasn't so hard, was it?" vi soothes, picking up the pace, grinning as you keen, your knees nearly giving out, but she's got you held up by your wrists, her thigh still slotted between yours, her fingers plowing into you till you're almost writhing against her.

she lets out a long groan, low and thick, a panting gasp working out of her as she fucks you through your orgasm, watching with soft-eyed wonder as you whimper, your whole body twitching with the aftershocks.

"hey, hey, princess -- you still with me?" she asks, letting go of your wrists in favor of cupping your cheek, swiping a tender thumb along your skin. you lean into her touch, your head lolling ever so slightly as your lashes flutter and you fight to focus your eyes.

"y-yeah -- think so..."

vi laughs, slowly tugging her fingers from you, unable to keep a grin from twisting at the corner of her mouth as you shudder at the loss.

"jesus, princess..." she says, holding up her hand -- there's wetness slicking down the back of her hand all the way to her wrist. you blink at it for a second before a tiny, embarrassed scowl digs itself between your brows.

"i -- you --"

vi laughs, shaking out her hand and reaching for an errant napkin on the dining table to wipe down her fingers.

"no, no -- i'm not makin' fun -- it's actually kinda hot."

you purse your lips, cheeks stained damson as she watches you readjust your panties, tugging on the hem of her large t-shirt.

"still think i'm a bad roommate?" vi asks, biting back a smile, her heart caught somewhere in the back of her throat.

you look up, eyes bright, your head already shaking.

"no! i -- that was --" your head drops back down even as your shoulders shrug up, "i... i was just annoyed but i -- i didn't mean it --"

a beat, in which vi finishes cleaning off her hand and strides over to throw the wad of napkin in the trash.

"i... i'm sorry," you say, your voice small.

vi looks up to find you watching her from beneath your lashes.

"'s okay, princess. apology accepted." she smiles, and this time there's no poison hidden in it's corners, only the steady sweetness you've come to know her for.

"i -- uhm --" you clear your throat, still worrying at the hem of the shirt. vi cocks her head.

"i can make it up to you... if you want --" you say, barely meeting her eyes.

vi pauses, her eyebrows kicking up. a second later, she's grinning again, rolling back her shoulders and leaning into one of her hips.

"yeah? and... how'dyou propose you do that?"

you bite down on your bottom lip and jerk your head towards the open door of your bedroom, even as vi's stomach gives an unruly lurch at the clear implication.

she fights to keep her expression flat as she looks you over.

"damn, princess -- you really weren't kidding about that tuesday-thing, huh?"

you crinkle your nose, sniffing slightly, even as vi brushes by you, breezing into your bedroom and plopping herself onto your bed with a satisfied sigh. you follow her in a moment later, climbing on after her and giving her shoulder a tiny shove so that she's backed up against the apartment wall and you've got room to straddle her lap.

"well... i have been thinking about it for... for a while," you admit, your voice soft as you thumb at the collar of her shirt.

vi groans, her palms settling around your waist, fingers digging into the plush of your ass.

"yeah? oh fuck -- ah --" she jerks as you trail your hands down her front, pausing to tease her nipples over the material of her shirt.

"mhm..."

"what else have you been imagining in that big, beautiful brain of yours, hm?" vi asks, breath hitching as you tug the shirt from her and lean down to ghost your mouth over her hardening nipples, tongue flickering out to tease at the cold metal piercings.

"lotsa stuff," you say, almost casual as you wiggle down to settle yourself comfortably between her legs, glancing up at her with what can only be called a chesire-grin --

"w-wanna tell me about it?" vi asks, reaching up a hand to run her fingers through your hair. you hum, laving a tongue against her nipple before sucking the entire thing into your mouth.

a groan punches out of her as she shudders, her head tipping back with a dull thunk against the apartment wall.

"i could... but it'd be so much faster if i just... showed you, no?"

[holdmytesseract]

One Night or Forever?

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When one thing leads to another, you and Daryl spend a passionate night together at the CDC. Unfortunately, neither of you is interpreting the signals right afterwards...

Warnings: 18+! MDNI! smut (not entirely graphic, but it's definitely there - like, you know exactly what's going on), uhhh sub and dom Daryl? unprotected rough-ish sex? Daryl gets a bj (yes, you read that right), he's a bit mean, too - but also a cutie patootie, uhh slight angst? bit of drama, alcohol - drunk-ish Daryl and tipsy reader, fluff, swear words, bickering

Set in Season 1!

Word Count: 4,5k

a/n: You want it, you got it, friends. I don't know what this is, though - or which demons possessed me as I wrote it. I really don't. I also don't know how I should feel about it. Embarrassed? Proud? Send help, lol.

Anyways, I hope you like this! Please go easy on me. Smut isn't really my forte...

EoH Masterlist °☆• LITRM Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Booyah!"

Daryl's toast had been the starting shot for an evening full of conversation, fun, laughter - and alcohol. Some would say reams of alcohol. Wine, booze, beer - you and the group stopped at nothing. That was probably the reason why everyone staggered somewhere on a scale between tipsy and shit faced drunk at the end of the evening.

You were currently on your way to your personal room - something you'd describe as a luxury. Sure, back at the quarry you had your own tent, but there was a huge difference between that and a whole goddamn room. With a own freaking shower! It was crazy. Who would've thought that something so plain and simple would become such a valued, precious thing? Most likely nobody, because it was something taken for granted.

Well... Not anymore. Not since the world went to shit.

After passing a very drunk Glenn on the way, you more or less stumbled into your room. Tipsy... You were definitely tipsy. Without a single care in the world, you started to shed your clothes the moment the door shut close behind you. All you wanted to do was sleep. You had too much alcohol coursing through your veins to search for something you could use as a pyjama. You hadn't a problem with sleeping naked. Not tonight.

Unfortunately had your plan a catch... One that you weren't aware of yet.

This wasn't your room.

You were just about to free your body of the last piece of fabric you were wearing - a pair of admittedly beautiful dark blue lace panties, when a sudden voice managed to almost send you into cardiac arrest.

"Wha' the fuck 'r ya doin' in my room?!"

You startled so bad, that you almost lost balance and fell flat on your ass. Your balance was a bit off-track anyways, due to the wine...

With wide eyes you turned around to face the intruder.

"Daryl?"

You blinked. "What are you doing here?" He scoffed; his cheeks puffed out and reddened. He had been drinking way more than you did, and it showed. The archer's hands were fumbling clumsily with the fly of his jeans. "Jus' been taken a damn piss, 'n 'm comin' back to find ya standin' in my room." You crossed your arms over your bare - an information which hadn't reached Daryl's brain yet - chest. "This is clearly my room, Dixon." He scoffed again. "'S not!" "Yes, it is!" "'S not!" The man took a few wobbly steps closer. "Go bullshit someone else, I-" He stopped abruptly in the middle of his sentence; eyes widening to the size of plates. Now the information had been received and processed.

"Yer almost naked," he stated; bluntly staring.

Oh, you suddenly realised and remembered as well. He was right.

In any other situation, you'd have frantically tried to cover yourself up and perhaps even threw an insult at the man standing across from you, but the alcohol lowered your boundary of shame and loosened you up; making you see things more relaxed.

You huffed out a breath. "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Daryl still blinked and tried very hard to not let his eyes drop, but that was an almost impossible task for the alcoholized man. "Why?" You shrugged your shoulders. "'Cause I wanted to go to sleep." The archer swallowed hard. "In my room? Naked? Ya lost yer damn mind, woman?" "It's my room," your tipsy self was still profoundly convinced, while you made your way over to the bed on slightly wobbly legs. Daryl just watched you; flabbergasted, speechless, shocked - and incredibly turned on. After all, he had a damn pretty woman in his room - no, bed. Half naked!

"You could join me, Dixon." He scoffed again and tried to walk in a straight line over to the armchair; accepting his fate. "In yer damn dreams. 'S ain't gonna help me - or my hard-on." You giggled at his words like a schoolgirl and rolled around in the sheets. "That the reason why you can't get that zipper up? You like me, Daryl? Like what you see?" You pestered him with questions; smirking, and watched his cheeks redden even more - if that was physically possible and your eyes didn't betray you. "Shuddup," Daryl just growled in response. You giggled again, before a long beat of silence passed between the both of you.

The alcohol didn't just lower your boundary of shame... It also caused you to become bolder. "I could help you with that, you know..." You tried to sound as flirty and seductive as possible and turned in the sheets once more, but now to face the man sitting across from the bed. You perched yourself onto your stomach and crossed your ankles in the air; swaying your legs.

Gods, you felt like a teenager again. Damn the alcohol and your crush on the archer. It was a dangerous combination, since you hadn't planned to actually act on said crush. Well, and here you were now in his - nu.uh, your - bed, almost naked and trying to seduce him.

Some might say this escalated quickly...

"Help me with wha'?" The archer finally responded after a long moment; dumbfounded. His usually very smart and witty brain slowed down by the alcohol. You thought for a hot minute that he had already fallen asleep on you. You rolled your eyes and groaned - acting like Daryl just said the stupidest thing in the world. "Your boner," you deadpanned - as if it was the most normal thing to say.

The archer swallowed hard; feeling his chest (and pants) tightening.

"Wha'?" He crooked out. The normally so talkative, glibly redneck seemingly rendered speechless by your boldness.

Once again, you rolled your eyes. "Do you reaaaaally want me to spell it out for you, D?" Daryl clearly needed a moment to recover, but once he did, he scoffed.

"Pf, yer bluffin'."

"I'm not."

"Yeah, ya 'r."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, ya 'r. Can tell. Yer way to innocent fer shit like tha', sunshine."

"Are you challenging me, Dixon?"

"Nah, jus' statin' facts."

Now you were the one who scoffed. He really asked for it, didn't he? You smirked and hid your face in the blanket beneath you. Oh, you were so going to prove him wrong.

You rolled your barely covered body around a third time, but this time to get up from the bed - which was a much more difficult task than expected, but you made it in the end - even though not gracefully and certainly not seductively. "Facts, huh?" You asked the crossbow-wielding archer then with a raised eyebrow and your hands on your hips. He crossed his arms over his plaid beige-brown shirt clad chest; bare forearms and biceps bulging with the movement. "Yes, facts." Although he stared into your eyes with his blue coloured irises, he still had a hard time for them to actually stay on your face.

"Well, you can go screw your opinions - or me. Your choice, pretty boy," you stated and shrugged your shoulders as you bridged the short distance between the bed and the armchair. Before the younger Dixon could even do as much as open his mouth for a snarky respond, you had dropped to your knees in front of him - between his manspread legs.

Daryl's eyes widened and his jaw slacked. "Wha' 'r ya doin'?!" He literally screeched and gripped the armrests of the armchair. "Proofing you wrong, pretty boy." You smiled up at him like a Cheshire cat; hands and fingers clumsily trying to open his jeans. "F-Fuckin' hell, wha'?! Yer insane, woman!" The archer cursed above you, but also didn't make any moves to stop you. So, you took that as a sign to continue. And continuing you did...

It took you a hot minute to get your eye-hand coordination straight and overcome the obstacles which were his jeans and boxers, but once you did, there was no holding back. "Ya really gonna do th- F-Fuck..."

You did.

"Told you, Dixon," you stated with a mischievous glimmer in your eyes; hands firmly cupping him. Daryl answered nothing. The archer had a hard time to control his breathing and rapidly beating heart. He was still gripping the armrests like a vice - his knuckles already turning white. He really couldn't believe this was happening right now. Was he asleep and dreaming? Was he hallucinating? Did the wine manage to fog up his brain so much that his eyes were deceiving him? But when he felt your lips wrap around him, he instantly threw all those thoughts overboard again. This was real. It had to be real. After all, he was feeling it, right?

"F-Fuckin' hell," he cursed again; feeling waves of pleasure crash over him. One of his hands loosened its grip on the armrest and went in your hair instead - tying your loose hair into a makeshift ponytail. You were already too far gone to care; the taste of him addictive.

Working your magic, you tried to grant the man above you as much pleasure as possible - and it seemed to work. Within a few minutes, Daryl was a whimpering mess - a side you'd never thought you were ever going to see of him. Not in your wildest dreams.

"Ain't... Ain't g-gonna last," the archer panted breathlessly; the hand in your hair twitching. You didn't want him to. You wanted him to fall apart. A gentle squeeze of your hand was all it took. "Y-Y/N, damnit, 'm gon'- Gonna cu-" His sentence got interrupted by a low moan that paved its way to the forefront of his lips. The hand in your hair twitched again as he attempted to pull you off him. You didn't let him, though, and easily dodged his lousy attempt. Instead, you helped him ride the wave. His thighs twitched; muscles tensing as his high crashed into him. Daryl felt like he had been hit by an eighteen-wheeler - but in the best way possible. It had been so long...

The gentle grip he had of your hair slackened; hand falling limply to his side. You lifted your head to look at him to witness his blissed-out state. Daryl's eyes were closed, and his breathing laboured. You smiled; hands gently caressing his clothed thighs. "You believe me now, D?" He gave you a mere nod. Clearly he needed another few moments to get his head straight again. Your smile never ceased as you kept up your fingers movements. Your knees protested by now, but you didn't care.

Another few moments passed, before the archer peeled his eyes open again. Seeing you still on your knees for him managed to send another shockwave of arousal throughout his entire body.

Wide-blown eyes stared at you intensely; the gears turning in his fogged up head.

"T-Thanks, I guess," he whispered then. His voice was still hoarse. You smiled up at him. "You're welcome, pretty boy. Said I'm gonna help you." Daryl nodded almost shyly and clumsily stuffed himself back inside his boxers. You eyed him thoroughly and started to giggle. "Didn't think you'd loose it so fast. Wouldn't have pecked you to be a... premature guy." Not that it mattered to you, but you couldn't help yourself but to tease him a bit. It was meant to be a playful comment, but you seemed to hit a sore spot...

You could practically see how his eyes darkened, before he narrowed them. "Whatcha say, huh?" He asked in a gruff voice and stood up; towering over you. You blinked - were a bit taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanour. "I-I, uh... Said I didn't think you'd be one t-to, uh, come too early..." The archer growled under his breath. "Ya better watch yer mouth, sunshine," he said in a threatening tone and grabbed your arms to pull you up on your feet. Daryl quickly noticed, though, that his legs were even more wobbly now that they've already been before; forcing him to take cautious steps. "What are we doing, pretty boy? You gonna make me pay for saying that?" You gave another sassy remark; provoking him and tickling his nerve ends even further. A grunt passed his chapped lips as he dragged you with him. Once close to the bed, he wrapped his arms firmly around your bare midsection and literally threw you onto the bed - wobbly legs be damned. You giggled at his eagerness and slid upwards to rest your head on one of the pillows; giving the man a confident look. "C'mon then, pretty boy, show me what you got. I know you want to." He scoffed and crawled on the bed. "Pretty boy my ass." You just giggled again. You felt intoxicated by the wine you had consumed and definitely aroused - which got only worse when you felt calloused, deft hands gripping your delicate skin. Daryl parted your legs and settled on his knees between them. His eyes were directed on your face. He looked like a predator - ready to attack his prey. It was incredibly hot.

"'M gonna shut tha' sassy mouth 'a yers, just ya wait," he growled in a deep voice, and wrapped his arms and hands around your thighs like a snake - holding them firmly and simultaneously keeping you splayed open for him, before he literally yanked you down; bringing your hips closer to his.

Your breath hitched in your throat at his sudden movement and the upcoming anticipation.

His fingertips danced over the skin on your hips then - and suddenly got your dark blue lace panties ripped into shreds.

"Daryl!" You shrieked, then gasped. "Those were my favourites, I-" "'S jus' a damn piece 'a fabric. Dun be such a crybaby," he interrupted you; instantly putting you in your place. Your mouth clapped shut. This was yet another new side of him. Sure, you knew he was hotheaded, but he literally just went from kinda submissive to dominant within the blink of an eye. Was it the alcohol? Or truly his temper?

The clinking of his belt ripped you out of your thoughts. Some shuffling and the rustling of fabric was the only premonition you got, before you felt him against your hot and pulsating center. Your hips instantly bucked; trying to get closer.

More friction.

More pleasure.

More of Daryl.

The archer hovering above you scoffed. "Look how needy ya are. Dun even hafta prepare ya." You could see the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smirk. "Tis all jus' from gettin' me off, huh?" You nodded and bit your lip. Daryl on the contrary shook his head, "Yer tha' desperate? Pf... Pathetic." and lined himself up, before hitting home.

Stars exploded in front of your eyes as his hips met yours. The most sinful moan the archer had ever heard in his life slipped past your lips; only spurring him on more. He picked up a firm, steady pace - leaving you a mess beneath him barely within a few minutes. Just what you did to him.

Revenge was sweet, wasn't it?

His precise, powerful thrusts carried you from one high to the next - and Daryl enjoyed it. He loved to see you fall apart beneath him. And this time, he was the one lasting longer. "Who's commin' too soon now, huh? 'S not me, sunshine. Told ya I'd shut tha' sassy mouth 'a yers," he growled lowly; slowing his pace to just give you a few moments of recovery. You moaned at the sheer endless pleasure he granted you. Your hands gripped his thick arms like a vice after he had planted both palms firmly in the mattress beside your head to gain more leverage. "F-Fuck, Daryl," you whimpered; fingernails digging into his sweaty biceps. "I know. Jus' one more, 'kay? Can ya give me one more?" You nodded wordlessly. "Good girl," the archer praised and picked up his speed once again; pulling another sweet moan alongside some incoherent noises from you.

Your hands travelled. They left his arms to rest on his chest, where they fisted the fabric of his plaid shirt with the ripped off sleeves. The fabric held a darkened stain - a puddle of sweat formed on his chest.

Your hands continued to fist his shirt, as you pulled - an attempt to undo a few buttons. But once the archer noticed what your mission was, he stopped dead in his movements. "Nah, dun do tha'," he scolded you instantly and peeled your hands away from the fabric covering his upper body. "W-Why?" You asked breathlessly; not understanding his sudden mood shift. "'"Cause I told ya to!" He snapped.

Just in that moment, you realised that you must've hit another sore spot... But this time one that actually seemed to get to him. Not one that managed to turn him on.

"S-Sorry, D-Daryl, I-" You immediately apologised, but got interrupted once more. "Keep holdin' on ta my arms, if yer need sum'thin' to hold on to." His voice was gruff, but way more soft than a few moments ago. The archer redirected your hands and placed them once more around his sweaty biceps. Without another word, he continued where he left off, causing your grip to instantly tighten. "There ya go," he praised you again and readjusted your legs with his thighs. Just the slight change of angle was enough to send you a third time over the edge. This time, though, you dragged him right with you.

A broken sound - close to a cry, left the man's lips as he pulled out and coated the supple skin of your stomach with his release. A single droplet of sweat rolled down his neck as he threw his head back in ecstasy. It was a sight to behold. A sight you might never forget for the rest of your life - no matter how long your life was going to be.

A few moments later collapsed Daryl on the mattress beside you. He was clearly spent. Perhaps this had been something you both needed. Who knew?

"Imma take a shower," the archer announced after a while and left the bed - but not before gentleman-like wiping the mess he made on your stomach away with his hand. Without another word, he left, while you just laid there - still naked and staring at the ceiling; recalling in your mind what just happened. The sex managed to sober you up a bit. Did that really just happen? Had you been dreaming this?

You heard the water run, but not how Daryl returned to the room and settled down for the night in the armchair. You had ventured off to dreamland at some point.

To say the next morning was awkward was an absolute understatement. Awkward was not even remotely enough to describe the vibe between the both of you.

When you woke up again, the archer was nowhere to be seen. Now sober, you left the bed, picked up your clothes, noticed that you truly were - in fact in his room, and tiptoed butt naked down the hallway into your room. Luckily nobody had seen you. That would've been scandalous, right?

Your luck was also that everybody was quite hungover from last night. Some more, some less. Therefore noticed nobody the way you and Daryl acted around each other.

You could barely manage to look into his eyes.

You felt ashamed; thinking that you pushed him too far yesterday night. Thinking, that you were too bold and unable to control your damn feelings. Thinking that you pushed him away, instead of drawing him in. You anticipated that the archer must hate you now - and you couldn't even blame him...

Nevertheless seemed a conversation inevitable. You didn't want to destroy the friendship - if you could even call it that - the both of you had before last night.

It took you days to bite the bullet and ask him to talk, though. Sure, you had been on the road again since the CDC was a dead end, but that wasn't an excuse in your eyes.

"D-Daryl?" You approached him cautiously as you found him alone in the stables of the Greene farm; saddling a horse to go looking for Sophia. "Whatcha want?" He asked you and gave you a short look. You swallowed nervously. "Can we, uh, can we talk?" "'Bout wha'?" You watched him work for a moment, while your fingers fumbled with the hem of your t-shirt; trying to gather all the courage you could find. "That, uh, night at the CDC..." Your words came out as a whisper, but Daryl heard them nonetheless - and froze in all his tracks.

"Why'd ya wanna talk 'bout tha'?" He asked nonchalantly after a beat of silence and continued his work; had seemingly shaken off the small 'shock' quite quick. "I-I..." You started and sighed. "Things f-feel so weird between us since that n-night, and... I don't want that. I-I'm sorry for what I did. I'm s-sorry for making you sleep with me." Your eyes were stuck on him. You watched him and tried to gauge his reaction - afraid of what was going to happen.

"Yer sorry 'bout it?" Daryl asked then - almost in disbelief. Then he scoffed. "Do ya regret it?"

That was a question you didn't see coming. A question you haven't thought about yet. Did you regret it? Your memories took you back in time; letting you relive that night you shared with him. The answer was clear - as you quickly discovered.

"No, I don't, but... It was wrong. I shouldn't have-" "Wrong?" He interrupted you. His voice appalled. "Tha's what ya think 'bout this? 'Bout... us?" Daryl accused you with a grimace on his face. Was that... sadness you could detect in his blue orbs? Hurt?

You blinked; "U-Us?" were definitely confused by his words. "W-What do you mean 'us'?" "Ya know wha' I mean, Y/N." You shook your head. "No, Daryl. No, I don't. We've been practically ignoring each other since the CDC. We can't even talk properly! Neither of us can look into the other's eyes! Everything is just... weird, and you talk about an 'us'? No, I don't get it. Tell me. Explain it."

A frustrated huff left the archer's lips, before he started to gnaw at the pad of his thumb; averting your eyes. All of a sudden, the usually so confident redneck became all shy and insecure. "Dunno how," he started; merely shrugging his shoulders. "'S difficult, 'n I ain't good with words." "Try it, D," you encouraged him and gave him a soft smile. "Please. I want to make things right between us again." The archer nodded and took another moment - most likely to gather his thoughts. "'S tha' feeling, ya know? Can't pin it down. Always feelin' so strange whenever yer close to me."

Your heart skipped more than just one beat as his words urged to your ears. Could it be...? No...

"W-What do you feel? Can you... describe it?" Daryl lowered his gaze to the ground. The little stone laying beside his left foot suddenly became really interesting. "Jus' strange. Gets harder to breathe, 'n... My stomach's all messed up. Feels like an itch I can't scratch." You couldn't believe this was happening. Did that night cause Daryl to fall in love with you? "You're doing good, D. Keep going. What else?" You had to know.

He grunted; his foot playing with that little stone, before kicking it aimlessly over the concrete ground. "I... always go back to tha' night in my head. Can't forget it. Yer look. Yer touch. The way ya felt, I-" He stopped himself to take a deep breath. And you smiled. Perhaps having slept with him hadn't been a mistake. Perhaps you interpreted his behaviour wrong. Perhaps you just misread the signs...

"I jus' dunno how to act 'round ya. I dunno wha's happening to me. Tha's why I ain't talkin' to ya. Didn't mean to ignore ya..." Daryl apologised with his head still lowered.

You stepped closer to him and cautiously reached for his hand. He flinched, but didn't pull away. "Daryl, I... I think I know what happened to you," you whispered. "'N wha's tha'?" He asked; finally brave enough to lift his head to look into your eyes. You smiled and squeezed his hand. "I think you... are in love."

As quick as the man had lowered his guard, as quick was it up again.

He pulled his hand out of your grasp and scoffed, before he took a few steps back. "Pf. Love? Me? Tha's ridiculous, woman - 'n we both know it!" "Is it, yeah? You really think so?" "Yes!" He yelled, and wanted to rush past you - but you stopped him with your palm splayed on his chest. You didn't know if what your heart made you do was a wise decision, but it acted on its own will. Your head was powerless anyway.

Daryl's eyes travelled from yours to the hand on his chest and back. "Whatcha doin', woman?! Leave me the hell alo-" You had heard enough. You had held yourself back long enough. This was the only option you had left. It was do or die.

You cut the man off with standing on your tiptoes and connecting your lips to his. It was a chaste, gentle kiss - but nonetheless meaningful. It felt so right. So good. His lips so soft and warm - compared to his seemingly rough exterior. His blond-brown goatee tickled your skin in the best way possible.

Once more, Daryl froze to the ground; not moving a muscle.

When your lips left his again with a soft pop and you reopened your eyes, you could see how his eyelids fluttered slowly open as well. You could feel his heart galloping underneath your palm. "What do you feel now, Daryl?" You asked in a hushed tone. Your eyes never left his. The archer swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "I-I-I..." He stammered out; his cheeks heating up. "G-Good," he croaked out. "R-Real good." You smiled - happy that your heart had made the right decision. "Wanna do it again?" He blinked. The tips of his ears got red as well. "I-If yer willin' t-to k-kiss me again?" Your smile even widened, before you reached up to cup his beardy, red cheeks in your palms to pull him into another kiss. Daryl gasped against your lips; eyes falling shut and lips following your lead. It caused the kiss to get more intimate. More demanding. More passionate.

His hands acted on their own will, as they settled on your waist and pulled you closer. Your body crashed against his. You could tell that he hadn't kissed a lot in his life; his movements clumsy and messy - but perfectly Daryl. And you loved it. You didn't care how experienced or skilled he was. All you cared about was him - and all the love he deserved you wanted to give him.

He was far from perfect; had his flaws - but so were you.

"What do you say now about love, pretty boy?" You asked in a playful, yet loving manner; your hands crossed behind his neck. Daryl's hands gently squeezed your sides, "Shuddup." before he dipped his head to indulge you into yet another kiss.

Yeah... He was definitely whipped.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @dixonsdarkelf @huntedmusicgardenn @ffsjustletmesleep

[ritualcaster]

I know we're at totally different spots still but i read the article and it i think i've generally figured out what about me pissed you off so much.

Tone policing is a subsection of ad hominem. I'd like you too reread your posts to see if ur making that mistake too.

And yeah i mean it makes sense for the most part I was aligning with the "usually used by" section especially with how i was talking, and for the record i dont usually talk like that that, i just try to punctuate n stuff when it feels important to me i guess.

Im not trying to dismiss anything at all, I'm trying to help somewhere i felt like i could help. And idk why we aren't clicking rn but just read that sentence like 15 times.

Continuing

Yeah i said the equivalency was wrong right in those parantheses right there, yk what just stop looking at the red text in that image just pretend there is NO text there. I was using sex because i felt like you would get what i meant better, but it seems like it just sparked misunderstanding.

Continuing

Sorry for rexplaining all the stuff you already knew i just thought that that was what you were talking about me not getting. Like i just wanted to say it out loud so that its on record that i know too? Like that's something we are agreed upon.

Continuing

I'm not mad that you can't "transition into intersex" and honestly I highly regret using sex as an example like. At all. You guys are crazy. Sorry.

Honestly I have a pretty lax stance right now on people who would "want to be intersex" (so i can change it if need be) because even after research i just don't really have experience. As an intersex a mean. Like there are a seriously high amount of medical complications, theres all the oppression, all the forced "surgeries" that are an insult to surgery as a concept, nearly complete infertility, and plenty of general pain an unpleasent sensation. so this time I'm asking you a more personal question.

Do you feel like there is anything about being intersex that would make it prefferable to being perisex.

Any positives at all worth metioning? Or would it be better to have the term as something like being disabled. Do you feel like it's just something from birth that just inherrently sucks?

Continuing

I mean this so sincerely i'm honestly just not even sure how to word it, do you just want me to stop? Like replying? I can delete everything right now, or do you think I better serve as an example? If my stances seem to shift or contradict ir just completely change as we keep going back and forth, its because they are, and you changed them. I'm actually trying my damndest to listen and fix my shit man.

I thought you were here because you wanted to change my beliefs, but if you're just here out of anger i'd feel pretty bad.

on this subject, youre the one who knows everything. If youre here to tell me, ill listen, and if you aren't, then? Im not sure why youre still talking to me at all, and id like to hear about that too

I know that i shouldn't correct even tone on subject im unqualified for

I know that being intersex isn't something to be sought after, even for those who are non-bianary

I know that i am a hateful tar pit whos going to hell

And man thats just all the shit i learned in this convo alone so id say im learning plenty already

In case anyone needs a reminder…

Being transgender does not make you intersex.

Going through HRT does not make you intersex. Surgery cannot make you intersex.

Intersex people are born with atypical variations of physical, biological sex characteristics. That is what makes someone intersex.

Perisex trans people (especially on Reddit) have been recently insisting that just being transgender makes you intersex, and therefore able to speak over intersex people on issues that specifically affect us, especially when it comes to dangerous and offensive terminology. This is not true.

Also the idea that you can somehow “make yourself intersex” is untrue. You can make your body more androgynous through things like hormone treatment and surgery, but that does not make you intersex.

Falsely claiming intersex identity based on these things isn’t *always* malicious (though it is often done to speak over us) but it is always harmful.

[midnightsmusings]

Hard to get rid of Ghost x Soap who's into his LT's girl in every universe anybody?

Simon who didn't think much when you broke up with him, just sighed because it was right as he got sent on a mission.

Simon who told you he had to go but that he'd be back to "straighten you out" after a messy kiss was pressed to your lips. He knew you were just throwing a little tantrum, pouting about Johnny.

Simon who also knew you'd be just as in love once he brought the man around.

Simon who's been bringing up his teammate around you more and more, carefully cataloguing your reactions and crafting a plan.

Simon who showed up a month after you broke up with him, acting like the separation didn't even happen and tugging a man behind him, introducing Johnny to "their" girl.

(Brain rot about it below)

-CW: Ghostsoap x AFAB reader, freak Ghost, Soap who's just as bad but more subtle about it, Hints at Ghost watching reader through cameras

"What kinda grub ya want?" The gruff voice came through the phone. It's been a month but you'd recognize the gravelly Manchester accent anywhere. It was Simon.

"Don't want anything from you" you retorted, not even coiling away from the demanding tone that rang through the speaker. You never would have answered if you knew, but you were too distracted with laundry to look at the caller ID before answering.

"Besides, maybe I moved huh? How are you going to drop off food if you don't know where I am?" You tried. It was a lame attempt, you knew it, but you also didn't know what to think of a month old ex wanting to bring you food.

Especially an ex like Simon.

A low, knowing chuckle came through the phone that had your face paling and thighs clenching simultaneously.

"No baby, you didn't move" he said, smug and sure. You wanted to ask how he knew that, but deep down you didn't really want to know the answer.

The sounds of shuffling came through the speaker before his voice rang out again, more demanding than the first time. "Now stop bein' a brat, you want takeout?"

You huffed, glaring down at the phone even if he couldn't see. It made you feel a little better and reminded you to ignore the heat building in your gut that his voice always caused.

"No" you said flatly with a frown. God did you want takeout now that he mentioned it. Your stomach growled, you got so lost in chores today you forgot to eat.

"Yeah ya do" he rumbled amused. He had this strange affinity for being unaffected by anything, voice self assured and calm under the softly mocking tone.

"Get the number 4 Johnny" his voice said, distantly as if he pulled away from the phone.

You frowned, running a hand over your head irritated and confused as you opened your mouth to question him. Really? He was calling you while he was with the man that caused your breakup?

"We'll be there soon dove" he said before you could gather your scattered thoughts. His voice louder now that he was close to the speaker again.

You swallowed thickly, not quite sure what to do, to think. Again, before you could even form a responce, maybe even a crafty insult, he hung up. The silence rang out loud, and your mind panics before settling on one thing.

We?

As soon as you opened the door you forgot why you broke up with him.

Simon's large frame stood, leaning against the doorframe. A bag of your favorite takeout was hanging from his gloved hand.

As usual, he was dressed in all black. His hood was up and he was wearing that skeleton face mask you'd got him as a joke. It was one you'd surprised him with after you saw the skull mask he wore around base.

Your heart clenched.

"Lookin' good Darlin'" Simon grunted eyes sweeping over you before another face popped out around his shoulder, his smile warm and disarming. "Evenin hen" the man greeted brightly.

So this was Johnny. God you wanted to hate the man, but he looked so sweet and inviting. His soft aura balanced out Simon's deadpanned gaze.

You were at a loss for words, helpless to stop as they shoved their way in. Simon's mask was set on the small table by the door and Johnny's boots were kicked off carelessly in the hall.

They started casually unpacking all the food on your kitchen counter, Simon guiding Johnny on where everything in your kitchen was.

"Simon what the f-" you started once your brain finally caught up and you shut your door, walking over to them. Only to be cut off by him again.

"Woulda been here earlier but got stuck on a bloody mission" he grunts pressing a kiss to the side of your head as he shoves a plate piled with food into your hands.

"Aye shite one too, took a month but we got 'em eh LT?" Johnny mumbled around a mouthful of egg roll.

A month?

Simon just grunted, broad hand squeezing the back of Johnny's neck. Your eyes tracked the movement, the way the shorter man leaned into the touch with a smile. Your heart clenched painfully again.

"Classified Johnny" Simon responded bluntly sliding his hand off his neck and loading up his own plate.

"Ah cmon Ghost let the lassie hear aboot how cool I am" Johnny grumbled with a pout, only perking up when Simon said nothing to dissuade him.

Johnny immediately walked over to you, hands waving as he rambled. You'd never met him in person before, only heard his name countless times. So many times actually that you started to worry. Eventually you called off your relationship because of your boyfriend's clear affection for someone else.

At least you thought you did.

You briefly considered the merits of trying to force them out. There was no way you could physically do it but you did always keep a bat by your door...

Simon looked up, smirk growing slowly as if he could read your thoughts. Johnny's voice next to you faded to the background as Simon walked closer.

"Let 'er eat before ya talk her ear off" the man huffed, pushing Johnny towards the living room before focusing down at you.

"Shoulda' let me teach you to fight dove..woulda been able to get us out of here hm?" He rumbled lowly, that damned smirk now stretching his scarred lips wide.

He patted your ass with a broad hand before motioning his head to where Johnny was sitting on your couch, adjusting the pillows next to him for you. "He's been excited to meet ya, I told him all about his girl. Now go on 'n eat lovie"

[starsturni]

later*- chris

analysis: when your nerdy tutor chris tries to help you study for your upcoming history exam, you have different ideas.

song: whatever song you like!

wc: 1.7k!

warnings: smut, riding, oral (m receiving), cursing, praise kink, sub!chris, dom!reader, over stimulation, edging, unprotected p in v (wrap it UP!!), and reader is bratty.

i let out an annoyed groan, throwing my head back in frustration at the tough problem. my hands shoot up to cover my face, brushing back the loose strands left behind from my messy bun. "chris, this is way too hard. did we ever even learn this shit?" by now, chris and i have been studying for hours on end and have made zero progress. "c'mon y/n. i know you can get this. we learned it last year in mrs. watt's class."

i shoot him a sidelong glance. "and you believe anyone paid attention? her voice was so annoying." he shakes his head. "i liked her." i smirk softly, seeing the perfect opportunity to tease chris. "if you like her so much why don't you marry her." he rolls his eyes at my corny insult, a small pout appearing on his lips. "she was sweet. plus, she taught some awesome stuff. like, i learned that the shortest war recorded in history was 38 minutes! like, how in the hell did it last so shortly?"

i remove my hands from my face, dropping them onto my thighs that were covered by my white pajama pants. i look at chris as he speaks, not really listening to what he's rambling about, just observing his looks. i always thought chris was cute.

no matter how nerdy he was, or those stupid clear glasses he wore that never stayed up fully on his face, he was always attractive. his features were just perfect, they seemed to just draw me into his world of clumsy and dorky behavior.

his sharp jawline, his long fingers, the way his tone always changed whenever he talked about something he enjoyed. it made me feel all tingly. i feel a heat start to grow between my legs, it slowly starting to ache.

i subtly shift, becoming more restless by every second. "hello? y/n, did you hear even a word of what i said?" he says, a frown creasing his face, an expression of concern taking over. i nod, slowly taking my bottom lip in between my teeth, gently gnawing. "yeah, i'm fine..hey chris, how about you go over problem 'a' again? i wanna make sure i really get down the material."

he nods, letting out a soft sigh, tilting his head downwards. as he looks down at my notebook, he lifts up two fingers, gently pushing up his glasses as he searches for the problem again, flipping through the pages and scanning them thoroughly.

i can't help but look at the fingers, the two so long and slim. as he searches through the pages to find the equation, i reach out, placing the palm of my hand on his inner thigh. his head whips towards me, his eyes widened with shock. "y-y/n, what are you doing?"

i smile softly at his naive worry. "shh, chris it's fine. aren't you tired of studying? we've been at it since like-" i let out a soft scoff of amusement. "what, 4 pm?" he looks at the desk, too nervous to share our gaze. "well, yeah, b-but-"

my lips smash onto his, cutting off his nervous rebut. the kiss is what you'd expect from a single, lonely and horny teenager; our teeth mashing against each other, his hands anxiously gripping and fidgeting the plastic of the spinning chair he was sitting in.

as we pull away from the kiss for a breath, he tries to say his reasoning. "i-i got hired to help by your parents y/n, you have to pass this quiz!" he whisper shouts. i roll my eyes, continuing the kiss. i slip my tongue into his mouth, in reaction to that he lets out a surprised gasp against my lips.

my left hand trails up chris's chest, gently feeling chris's body through the thin layer of his button up. he mumbles against my lips, not wanting to pull away. "w-wait, y/n." i hum softly against his soft pink lips. "y/n." he gently pulls away, leaving only a small amount of space between him and i.

"what?" i answer, looking in between his eyes. he clears his throat, glancing behind me to my door which was cracked open. "uhm, we-we should close the door." he mumbles, standing up and speedwalking to the door. he shuts the door, but not without locking it.

click.

he comes back over to my desk, to which i stand, trailing my left hand up from his collarbone to the back of neck, pulling him in for another kiss. as my lips land on his, this time around the kiss is much gentler and more passionate. his hands shakily rest on my waist, his thumbs rubbing sub conscious circles and shapes on my stomach.

i lead us to my bed, parting our lips to gently push him down to sit on the bed. i drop down to my knees, my hands reaching up for his belt when he stops me once again. "i've never done anything like this before.." i smile softly and his innocence. "so i'm your first?" he nods shyly, a light coat of blush shooting through his cheeks.

i slip the belt out from the loops of his jeans, him unbuttoning them and lifting his hips to take them off. once off, i can see his eager erection through his grey boxers.

holy shit.

my eyes widen at the sight, not expecting such a shy kid like chris to be packing such a length. chris swallows hard, on edge from my reaction. "is-is that bad?.." i look up at chris, shaking my head. "no, not at all. i'm just really surprised." he nods, a sense of pride inflating his chest.

i smile at the sight of his leaking tip as i tug down his boxers. he whimpers softly as the cold air from the fan hits his shaft. i gently wrap my hand around him, holding up his girthy length.

he whines softly, his head thrown back against the sheets, eyes shut with anticipation. i gently press soft kisses amongst the prominent veins running along his shaft. he lets out a soft moan, twitching in excitement from any sort of touch. "f-fuck, please don't tease me, wan' it so bad." he rambles.

i can't help but want to grin at how pathetic it is, how he's begging. i wrap my lips around his red needy tip, dipping my tongue out to swirl around his head. he moans out before clamping a hand over his mouth, trying to hold back noises as his hips try to thrust up into my mouth, desperate.

"o-oh, shit." he mutters. he tilts head forward and off of the bed, wanting to get a better look at the sinful scene. his hands gently tangle up into my hair, to which i remove almost immediately, pinning his wrists to his sides.

i lower my head, taking in as much as i can, feeling tears prickle down the corners of my eyes as his tip hits the back of my throat. he lets out small whimpers, his hands fighting the urge to thread throughout my hair. i pull off, his head whipping up at the loss of contact, a moan of neediness eliciting from him.

"wha-why'd you stop?" he says, a small pout covers his wettened lips. i smile condescendingly, standing up and slipping off my sweatpants, watching the way his eyes follow the whole time as the clothing falls down my thighs and to my ankles. "cause i don't want you to cum that quickly baby."

he swallows hard, looking back up at me, finally meeting my gaze. "i-i wan' see you.." i hum softly, teasingly slipping off my panties at a slow pace. "be patient baby, know you can.." he whimpers at my sweet manipulative tone.

god he's so pitiful.

i straddle him, his hands gravitate up to my waist. i quickly take off the sweater that i stole from chris' closet at one of our earlier study sessions. his hands immediately fly to my covered breasts, groping the light-colored fabric of my bra, his mouth open and eyes wide.

i reach down, positioning chris to line up with my dripping cunt. i slowly sink down, a stifled moan barely escaping my lips as the slight burning sensation fills my insides. chris' eyes slam shut, moaning soft pretty moans that is like music to my ears.

i continue sinking down, finally bottoming out. i take a minute, trying to adjust to chris' lengthy shaft.

i gently rock against him, rolling my hips. he grunts, his thumbs drawing sub conscious circles onto the skin of my hips. i begin to bounce, letting out soft whimpers.

he almost immediately moans out, his eyes tight with pleasure. "fuuuck, y/n, shit that feels so good." i let out soft moans, observing the way his facial expressions contort in pleasure with every bounce.

"oh chris, you fucking like that right?" he nods, his eyes rolled back in pleasure as he desperately grips the bed sheets. i lean forward, planting my hands onto chris' chest for balance as i bounce vigorously, the sinful noises of our bodies connecting against each other repeatedly filling the room could make me cry out in pleasure.

"s-so fucking, ugh tight." he whines. i lean forward, kissing chris hungrily. my hand trails up to his jaw, caressing the stubble littered on his face. "so wet, oh fuck, it feels too good y/n, oh my god," he whimpers softly, "i-i'm close."

i nod, whining softly. "oh yeah? fuck baby, cum. let go f'me, cmon i know you can." he groans loudly, his hands move to my ass, gripping me tightly. "g-god, cumming!" i feel his dick twitch inside me as his impending release washes over in a bliss. he moans as his thick white spurts of cum coat my insides, the warm feeling of fullness pushing me over the edge, releasing on his dick. he helps me ride out my waves of pleasure as we catch our breath, my head tucked into his neck as i pant heavily.

after minutes of laying still, i gently lift my head. i see the thin layer of sweat that coats his forehead, his brown strands of hair sticking to his face, his expression tired.

i smile softly, holding back a giggle. "..are you ready to go over the material now?"

sorry if the ending is rushed, i didn’t know how to end it!

-love, starsturni 😌

currently tagging:

@stir-knee-o-low @arotzsturns @suyqa @aria3sposts @user101624 @craftycrafter26 @oakley298 @secretbowty @gwennybenny @drlsmiths @strnxzara2 @lillianlovesmatt @sofsturnz689 @wonyyoung @magicalfloweranchor @kyliebabe @avamerrill @h3arts4harry @songstonone @st7n1olo @ivysturnss @literallyjustrue @kitty-kats-54 @hannahsturns @slytherin-princess-x @emosexyvirgin @leeeeree @christmastreecake @graciebrams @aokay1 @pookiewookie0513 @nateismybf @goingtojohnkramershouseee @stvrnmc @chrissturniolodailysluts @gn-4315 @strangelysamantha @sweetrunawaycreation @etherealval @chris-slut @ariiijestertheklown @mattsturnioloarchive @stvrnzwrld @courta13 @sophand4n4 @chrissweetheart @g3r4rdsw4ywh0re @oldermenwh0re @wh0remikasas

[yourpurpleguitarist]

May I have egg 1 please? (And thank you for turning on anon asks :>)

Of course you can!! Thank you for the ask! I think you got a fun one!!

Caregiver! Sonic x Little! Shadow.

[For pretty much every Sonic Media in general, minus the movies. I don't ship them in the movie AU.]

Shadow is not proud of his regression at all. The only person he's ever confided in about it before Sonic was Rouge. One time, he regressed, and was frustrated with his situation. He asked her what it was, and when she told him? He never brought it up again... that is, until an annoying blue blur saw him regressed one day.

Shadow never had a childhood. He was created to be indestructible, and powerful. Regressing goes against the very nature of why he existed in the first place, so it's no wonder to Sonic that he doesn't like it.

Sonic is very good with Shadow when regressed. He makes sure that he has everything that he needs to be comfortable and happy. Sonic gets him a wide range of little gear to start out with, because he doesn't know how old Shadow regresses to, and he doesn't want to assume. I imagine the first thing Shadow would gravitate towards would be a pacifier... he'd feel so soothed by it. Probably within the first five minutes of having one, Shadow relaxes so much, he conks out for a nap.

In addition. Shadow doesn't know pacifiers are commonly a 'baby' item, and that would just make him feel more ashamed of his regression. So NOBODY brings it up around him.

Most of Shadow's regression is spent coping through the grief he holds with Maria, not feeling very good about the actions of almost destroying the world... he finally has a space where he doesn't feel too ashamed to let his feelings out. Especially if it's just him and Sonic. The only other person he'd ever cry in front of is Rouge.

Shadow's favorite toys ever would be cars. He LOVES them so much, and sits on the floor for hours playing with his hot wheels tracks. He loves the bigger tracks, but doesn't like the ones where the gimmick of it is for the car to get eaten by a dinosaur or something. It makes him sad to think about something hurting his cars...

Shadow doesn't really have a set regression age. He doesn't understand the concept of a childhood before this, so it's hard to pinpoint. Sonic never tries to label it either, thinking that might make him uncomfortable.

Shadow has a mixed opinion on the 'babied' part of agere. He dislikes it because he's not used to it, and it makes him feel a bit less than, at times. His regression is always involuntary, and he can't help it, so babying when he doesn't like it can add insult to injury. Then again, he does like it for a few reasons. Feeling younger can finally convince him to get his big feelings out. The ultimate lifeform shouldn't have any feelings, he thinks... but of course a little baby hedgehog should.

Shadow does throw tantrums, but not very often. Sonic in a weird way is proud of him when he does? Because he's finally feeling safe enough to let his feelings out... and Shadow never does anything destructive during his tantrums. Just mainly yells 'no!' and kicks his feet against the floor. Sonic is proud he's letting his feelings out.

Shadow likes to bite! He has lots of chewy stim toys.

[sophieinwonderland]

r/systemscringe is Hulking out over my Avengers post!

Does everyone know that?

What comics or movies was this addressed in?

Why does the hatesub act like this word was just made up? Sanism has been a thing since the 60s!

I know it's hard for you all, but please at least TRY to educate yourselves before making fools of yourselves in the future!

This subreddit just cannot stop itself from hurling ableist insults.

Oh, for the love of the triple goddesses!

What is it with certain groups reacting to NEUTRAL descriptors by claiming they're slurs?

This is the ridiculous bad faith "cis is a slur" argument all over again.

"Singlet" is a neutral term for a non-system. It's not a slur. It's not an insult.

You just have a massive raging victim complex.

And I promise you, the fact that you don't have DID is not the reason everyone thinks you're a piece of shit.

They've typically fought Mutants when those Mutants were doing something that could be dangerous to the world. Not just attacking them because they're mutants.

Mutants have even served on several Avengers rosters. And The Avengers have teamed up with mutants far more than they've come to blows with them.

Yes, Steve and Tony have generally stood aside while mutant discrimination was happening. That's an unfortunate side effect of separate groups of writers running different comics. Besides that, Captain America showing up to save the X-Men from their enemies in their stories would be pretty unsatisfying.

But even if Steve is just someone who hasn't done enough for mutants, he's still generally supportive of mutants.

Hulk wasn't abused in the MCU as far as has been revealed. Nor is his plurality considered DID.

This may be confusing it with the Ang Lee movie that did address the abuse.

MCU Hulk, so far as we know, is an endogenic systems made by trying to recreate the super soldier serum in an experiment gone wrong.

"He doesn't live in Marc's head. He just invades it"

Right... That's a Gateway System. A headmate from the outside entering the mind.

And the gods do seem, at least, somewhat "attached" to their avatars. It seems like they can communicate only with their avatars and prospective avatars. How this works isn't perfectly clear. But it at least doesn't seem as if he can just freely roam Earth and appear to different people whenever he wants while bonded to someone. I admit this may be disproven in the future.

Still, my assumption is that he can appear to Layla because he wasn't currently bonded to Marc. Once he's bonded to Marc again, he can't communicate with Layla anymore.

This did come to mind. But being pro-endo isn't just about believing endogenic systems exist. Even if we consider the Winter Soldier an endogenic system... which feels wrong on multiple level... he's a brainwashed tool to them.

They don't even consider him a real person. Just an asset to use.

Given their association with Nazism, I wouldn't expect them to see other systems any better.

Your so-called "defense" is reliant on having no idea what you're talking about, and regularly accusing DIS systems of faking for things that are basic parts of the disorder.

One of the first things you'll see on my page is a debunking of just a small fraction of the lies r/systemscringe has spread about DID in the name of "defending" it.

But we are not talking about DID here. We're talking about plurality. About the experience of being multiple in one body. And this is something that has been well-recorded by actual psychiatrists.

The entry on DID in the World Health Organization's ICD-11 states that you can have multiple "distinct personality states" without a disorder.

In Transgender Mental Health, a book published by The American Psychiatric Association, it was specifically acknowledged that you can be plural without trauma or a disorder.

If I wanted, I could go on and on and on, listing paper after paper affirming the existence of non-disordered and endogenic plurality.

But what's the point?

The thing I've learned from sysmeds is that they are chronically incapable of accepting any information that proves them wrong.

And this is the ultimate reason that the Avengers could never be anti-endo. And even most Avengers villains couldn't. Being presented with all of these expert opinions and still doubling down, when you can't even name a single doctor who claims all plurality comes from trauma, requires a certain level of willful ignorance that fictional characters like these are rarely written with.

None of the Avengers would ever be a sysmed.

Because being a sysmed requires you to lack curiosity. It requires you to lack critical thinking. It requires you to be someone who will go along with the crowd and be sucked in by groupthink. To NEVER question the narrative that you're given.

And this type of person... doesn't make for a good protagonist.

In the end, you're pretty clearly not The Avengers. You're just ignorant bigots who hide your bigotry under the guise of helping people. But that is just a front. Inside, you're looking for people to blame for your own suffering, and so you've picked a marginalized community you think you can get away with attacking because it's more socially acceptable. And you will refuse to accept facts that prove you wrong because accepting those facts would mean you're the bad guy.

No, you're definitely nothing like Avengers. But maybe Purifiers?

[meear]

umineko fans are the original "if you don't like it you just didn't understand it" people. I genuinely cannot think of anyone more annoying and obnoxious, except SNK fans, except not even them, because in Umineko's case that behavior is enabled by the author himself. It's crazy how a story that spent hundreds of hours discussing the value in several coexisting interpetations will have both characters and fans turning around and tell you that actually you're completely wrong for thinking a certain way

The crazy part is they don't even realise how their smug attitude about being part of R07's very special club of people who "have love" and the superior way they act about holding the true answer are EXACTLY the Erika traits they criticise in readers who don't think like them. "He spells it out but you still cannot see it? Lol" "are there still people who can't accept the literal canon answer? lmfao" "you know you're exactly the goats r07 wrote about right?" (Because r07 is a god who cannot possibly be contradicted, this is supposed to be the worst insult somehow) (these fans cannot seem to decide who the goats are an analogy for, considering they'll scramble to say they only represent the story's witch hunters as a criticism of true crime fans when you call out r07's arrogance, yet they'll smugly tell you you're just a goat when you question the story itself. Thank you, it's nice to know that Ryukishi wrote about me, but that doesn't answer the fucking question, Brian)

It's incredibly ironic. How did a story like Umineko create and encourage so many people to sanctify one "official answer" and taking any other attempt as an insult?? Like is anyone feeling how ryu07 completely fucked up at what he was trying to do?

"So I won't open the catbox and reveal what actually happened on the island." oh, that's cool, I actually really like that! I agree that ultimately the true events of that day are a pretty trivial part of the story, and it's way more interesting not to know - "anyway it's Rudolf and Kyrie and it happened exactly like so and so, and Shkanontrice did this and that".

... Okay, well I really wish that had remained a mystery forever, since the point was that any truth would've been anticlimatic, and the choice to reveal that genuinely kills a lot of what made Umineko's appeal to me, but I guess we can still have fun with EP1-4 and try several alternative theories for the sequence of events- "here's the manga explaining everything in detail and if you didn't get it have you tried maybe having some more love? It would be sooo clear if you had love lmfao. you literally cannot comprehend my work unless you have"

... I really wish that guy would stop making assumptions about the inner mind of complete strangers who read his work, but I do enjoy getting to choose an ending! it really fits in with Umineko's theme of choosing the truth for yourself and making your own path that you can be happy with, as long as you keep thinking- "the Magic ending is meant to be the true end btw. if you prefer the other one you pretty much have no heart lol, it's obviously framed like a bad ending and there's only one acceptable choice and one way ange can find happiness"

... man, I'm so bored. Why write a game like that and then make it so that some choices are better than others instead of letting people think for themselves? Why would you force an interpretation on people/Ange when I've been led to believe that the narrative was against that sort of things? You want to highlight the value in your vision of "magic", fine, but why am I the heartless bitch for disliking that perspective and even trying to see things differently?

Why would you write a whole game around the really fun concept of several tales happening at the same time and the existence of endless truths inside the same catbox only to open the catbox and tell me "NO, you need to think a certain way, and if you don't like my answer FUCK YOU"

I understand that maybe he just had a specific answer in mind but I'm sorry the way he write the ending simply does not match the vision he seemed to have in the earlier chapters.

I genuinely respect Umineko as a work, I think it's one of the most ambitious stories I've seen and there is some amazing writing in there, but if Ryukishi wanted to allow for people to keep thinking and discussing what it means, he has failed miserably and I'm not talking about confession of the golden witch, I'm talking about the way he and his minions have shut down any possible discussion under the guise of "you just don't get it" (rephrased to "you don't have love" to make it sound more enlightened) and it's soured my enjoyment of something that should've been an amazing story. What is even left to discuss here when everyone has pretty much already made up their mind?

[magpiemirroring]

Glad to have finally run across this criticism.

Here's a meatier version of that quote: "You’ve always wanted to cure what you thought were weaknesses. Your leg. Your disease. But you were never broken, Viktor. There is beauty in imperfections."

I would love to know what the writing room reasoning behind this was, because it's such a swing and miss.

I feel like maybe the writers had two ideas they wanted to get across and combined them in a really clumsy way:

Jayce acknowledging how Viktor's struggles gave him some bad ideas about his self-worth in general and that played a part in the choices he made. (And perhaps how Jayce's own choices fed into that.)

People are imperfect in a lot of ways, but a lot of beauty comes out of those imperfections and so turning people into one weird hive mind made of "perfect" forms is getting rid a lot of good things.

I wish the pacing of the show and this scene had been different. Because I do think we needed a scene where Jayce says something that reaches out and acknowledges the very imperfect and real human feelings that led Viktor down this path to begin with.

Viktor's a mess with some real self-worth issues and I think in terms of character arcs and motivations, this scene really did need for Jayce to touch on Victor's own imperfect humanity. But rather than lines that read as "your terminal condition is beautiful, why are you trying to fix it?" we needed more of a "I never thought less of you for being sick/disabled. I admired your skills! I was too distracted by my own ambitions to understand what you were going through. I'm done with that now. I'm here. Let's fix this. Together." sort of beat.

Which. I will agree with OP is difficult to write in-character for Jayce to say quickly, while thinking on his feet as it were. He is not really a people skills person. But it has to be his words that stop Viktor. Not just because the show literally says so, lmao, but because even without all the weird arcane stuff, their arcs are bound together and more than anything, Viktor needs a friend to reach past everything he's done and what he's become and See Him and love him for who he is with all his flaws (not in a shippy way. like. not against rolling with ship feels here lmao but it needs to resonate even for folks that aren't looking at the scene thru shipping goggles in order for it to really land.)

But ultimately, yeah, this scene was sloppy in a way that was rather insulting to real world folks with debilitating chronic conditions or terminal illnesses. I can turn this scene around and around in my head and try to work out intent, or headcanon a Watsonian reason for why it works for the characters, but at the end of the day, what was written was not well written and I think folks are justified in being angry about it. I am, in a weird way, excited to find that other people are angry about it! It's not just me!

Heck, while I wanted to discuss it in a larger content, the "you were never broken" line annoys me all by itself. (this is a bit of a long aside! you may skip it if you like.) I don't have any major physical issues at this time but I had had some mental health issues, including a major case of autistic burnout that has left me feeling a bit broken. And it's not been helpful to me to be told that I'm not broken. It is a rare person who gets through life without being physically or mentally broken at some point. It happens to some people more easily and some people heal better than others. It is what it is. People generally mean well when they say "you're not broken." Sometimes they mean that you're still you. They view things that are broken as no longer having value but they still value you, so you must not be broken. But sometimes they just say that because it is easier to say that than to sit with the rough edges and they want to ignore your hurt because it's inconvenient to them to acknowledge what has changed. Some folks break and will always have visible mends. And some folks can't be mended or find mending is out of reach. Being broken means having to be careful of yourself and the choices you make and with the people that insist that you aren't broken it's always a gamble of how much they are willing to tolerate being careful of all your rough edges and delicate parts that need special handling, whether you're mending or not. So, for me, "you're not broken" feels like people are trying to ignore a crucial part of my experience and life. (This is just my take. If you are disabled or ill and don't finding embracing the idea of being broken to be a framework that works for you, that's fine! Also, to be clear, I do not view autism itself as something that makes me broken, but it does cause me to be prone to some breakage without accommodations.)

I am about to be critical of Arcane because this one bugs me.

The "you were never broken" speech is a fucking stupid thing to say to someone who was terminally ill.

Viktor seeing himself and other disabled people as broken is a problem and Salo's "who else could mend such a broken creature" as a reason for worshipping Viktor and Viktor's easy acceptance of that is creepy.

Still a fucking stupid thing to say.

Jayce saying it is fine, Jayce says many fucking stupid things.

The narrative frames it as helpful, important, and true, which is less fine.

DESPITE framing it this way it doesn't seem to help, which is not a problem, because it SHOULDN'T help but is weird.

Viktor doesn't even seem to be listening.

Did it need to be there at all? Could it just have been cut?

[fernsnailz]

sorry these kinds of comments have been really pissing me off recently lol

[maerhiya]

in regards to the constant dismissal of his aroace identity, i hate it when alastor 'fans' say and use the excuse: "he's fictional, he won't get offended."

like, you're right, but it can and will offend us.

when you see yourself being represented on screen, of course you'd feel enthusiastic about it — representation allows individuals to see themselves reflected in the media they consume, validating their identities and experiences. but when so many people take that representation and decide to disregard and discard it, it is so fucking frustrating. we finally have another character to be part of the tiny amount of representation we have, but then people don't even care about how much it means to us? like yeah, alastor won't get offended because he's not real, but it frustrates and annoys us. do you realize that it's also technically invalidating the aroace community? that you're invalidating our feelings? imagine feeling like you're finally being seen because your orientation is finally being represented in media, and people just decide to blatantly ignore, discard, and invalidate it.

media has such a powerful influence on real life, representation being a prevalent factor of it. there are numerous posts that dictate how people went to watch a movie/show or read a book just because a character depicts their identity in it — obviously, being represented is an incredibly uplifting and validating experience.

which is why seeing an aroace character in a popular show is so meaningful to us because we live in a world where romance and sex are literally everywhere and prioritized above all else. (and it's pretty obvious that alastor's on the repulsed end of the spectrum, but even if he wasn't, at least make an effort to acknowledge his sexuality instead of continuing to portray him as allo; aroace folks can be in relationships but it's not going to be the same thing with allos' experiences.)

any and every representation matters, but why does that seem to stop at people under the aroace spectrum? like y'all can't even let us appreciate the scraps of representation we have. we barely have any, so are we really that dramatic for being upset at how people easily disregard and dismiss our identities that are being depicted on screen just like that? is it truly wrong of us to want to defend and maintain the little representation we have?

[ingravinoveritas]

This weekend, I went to a pop culture/comic convention in my area to see a few friends, and had an interesting experience. When I was first walking from the parking lot to the convention hotel, a man I'd never met or spoken to before came up to me just before I got to the doors. I was initially wary, as I've encountered more than a few creepy/pervy men at this convention in the past. But what he said to me, very politely, was: "Excuse me. Are you one of the movie stars?"

I can't emphasize enough how much this came out of nowhere. I also don't know what gave him the idea that I was a movie star, maybe other than what I was wearing (a purple sequined dress, a silver cross necklace, and blue/white/red slingback peep toe heels). But the question pleasantly took me aback, and after I said that I wasn't one, he added, "You're dressed so nice. You look beautiful." Which also was unexpected, and after I thanked him for his very kind words, he wished me a good night as I continued on in to the hotel.

My point in mentioning this is that there tends to be a very specific idea of what/who a "movie star" is or looks like, and not in a thousand years would I categorize myself in that way. But I think maybe looks/external beauty are only one part of it, and the rest is confidence--surety of self, and how you move through the world. I have more confidence now than I have had any previous point in my life. I know who I am, and I think I'm finally understanding how that affects people's perception of me.

So yes, that was just an interesting little moment and probably one of the highlights of the weekend. (The other was running into a David cosplayer who had on David's purple-green fuzzy sweater and purple Doc Martens (see below), a kilt for a character in Sandman, and a face tattoo and snakey eyes for Crowley--three cosplays in one!) Good Omens really is everywhere...

[ohfckitsdeadpool]

Wade watched as Logan stabbed the heart/dick-shaped pancake violently and shoved the entire thing into his mouth. Part of him felt insulted by just how angry the action seemed, but the feeling quickly vanished. Instead, he felt anger. And not like the anger he felt in the Honda Odyssey after Logan screamed the truth at him; this wasn't the violent kind of anger. This was the kind of anger where he just felt...sad. "If you have nothing to keep going for, then why did you break down a door just to help me save the only people that matter to me? What makes you think that in that short amount of time we spent in the void, you listening to me blabber on and on about things in my world...that you don't matter to me?" Wade's voice was small, broken, hurt. Because Logan was one of the most important people to him, and the man just walked away like what had happened was nothing. "Peanut, I've got a Justin Bieber look-alike who thinks she's the toughest shit imaginable, but her name? Longest name in existence. Negasonic Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...shit I got it wrong!" Wade slapped his hands on the table in frustration. "Negasonic Teenage Warhead. That little twerp thinks she's cooler than everyone, better than everyone but she's got a soft side for me, I just know it. Shatterstar? He's an alien from Mojoworld and he thinks he's better than everyone at everything! That guy's a riot at parties! But absolute shit at jumping out of planes. Don't even get me started on Colossus. That guy's a piece of work!" Wade chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

It was a slow night at Sister Margaret's. Wade thought he would have had a job land on his lap by now, but there was nothing. He sighed, taking a sip of is vodka cran, his lips upturning in a grimace before he threw his mask back down over his face. Even his drink made him feel miserable. Wade wasn't even paying attention to the new face at the bar; someone he should have recognized. Instead, he turned to the reader, a scowl plastered over his mask-covered mouth. "You know, reader. It's nights like these where I wish a wife would hire a guy like me to murder her good-for-nothing, two-timing, backstabbing lying cheating husband, even if I only got paid fifty dollars to do it! I am worth more than that. I mean, have you seen these buns? Steve Rogers may have America's ass, but I sure as hell have Canada's ass. And fifty bucks ain't going to pay to keep Canada's ass looking as perky as it does. But at this point, I will do anything to get the sad little fly in my wallet some blowjob money." Wade babbled to seemingly no one in particular before turning back to his drink. He quickly pushed his mask up to take a drink, just as Weasel called out his name. "Wade! You're with the new guy. Ride-along! Make sure shit goes smoothly." Wade's attention turned to the guy sitting a few seats off to his right, and his eyes lit up. "Hooooly shit, it's the ol' man, himself! Logan! You're in the merc biz, now? What? Charles isn't paying you enough? Please tell me he wasn't giving you minimum wage..." Wade frowned sarcastically. @ohfckitsdeadpool

Logan let out a soft grumble at the sound of Wade’s voice, but he didn’t know how to feel about it since he was shit faced. He turned his head, his face rested on the bar as he looks over at Wade who was sitting a few seats down from him. He blinked a few times before pulling his head up, looking like a new born who just learned to sit up.

“mmh..mm— the what—?” *His face scrunched slightly in confusion, his drunk mind not wrapping around what Wade said. Instead he put his face back down into the bar, not wanting to think about it anymore since his head was pounding, probably from drinking so much but it wasn’t like he was gonna stop.*

@ohfckitsdeadpool

//I am SO sorry I didn’t see this ask!

[bisupergirl]

i miss kara...................

[nostalgia-tblr]

must admit i find it a bit odd that "we" don't comment on fic as the result of anxiety of some sort or from simply not knowing what to say, yet "they" don't comment on fic because they just mindlessly consume content due to capitalism and social media 🤔

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently