#Natural Reader

[not-mary-sue]

Why are assistive reader voices so damn shitty? And Kindle won't just let me use Natural Reader. I'm not stealing your books, asshole, I just want to read.

[techniktagebuch]

22. Januar 2024

grblpp grblpp grblpp: Hörbücher mit 730 Wörtern pro Minute

Kristin: Ich habe eine App, die heißt Bookshare, kennst du die?

Kathrin: Nein.

Kristin: Die hat sehr viele Bücher und ich kann mir die alle anhören, das ist sehr gut für mich. Ich hör mir die Bücher da an mit 730 Wörtern pro Minute. Aber es ist eine Roboterstimme, die die vorliest. Das ist gut, weil es sich dann nicht komisch anhört, wenn es so schnell ist. Also nicht komischer als es sich sowieso schon anhört.

Kristin öffnet die App und startet ein Buch. Ich höre nur "grblpp grblpp grblpp" und verstehe nicht ein einziges Wort. Vielleicht, sage ich mir, liegt es daran, dass es Englisch ist. Aber wahrscheinlicher ist es, dass ich auch auf Deutsch nichts verstehen würde. Meine Zuhörfähigkeiten sind auch in meiner Muttersprache und schon im normalen Tempo gering. Ich könnte mir zwar auch vorstellen, dass mir das Zuhören nur zu langsam geht, bin der Frage aber nie nachgegangen, weil ich eben einfach nicht gern zuhöre. Wenn es zu einem Podcast oder einem Video ein Transkript gibt, lese ich das Transkript, das geht noch schneller als das Anhören einer beschleunigten Aufnahme. Glaube ich jedenfalls.

Kristin: Ich mach das seit sechs Jahren so. Am Anfang hab ich die Bücher ungefähr im normalen Tempo gehört, 230 Wörter pro Minute oder so. Und dann immer ein bisschen schneller. Ich kann fast alle Bücher auf Englisch mit 730 Wörtern pro Minute hören.

Kathrin: Auch die, die du zum Spaß liest? Oder nur die für die Uni?

Kristin: Beides. Wenn du das so oft machst, hört es sich ganz normal an. Das ist mehr als doppelt so schnell wie die Lesegeschwindigkeit der meisten Leute.

Ich erzähle aus dem Gedächtnis das, was ich von Thomas Kapielski über seine Arbeit in der Filmbranche weiß. Ich kenne den Text nur von einer 25 Jahre zurückliegenden Lesung und er ist deshalb in meinem Gedächtnis an einigen Stellen verfälscht. Ich erzähle also: Videobänder mit Filmen drauf, zum Kaufen, als es so was noch gab. In Wirklichkeit, ich habe das für diesen Beitrag noch mal nachgelesen, hat Kapielski für Geld Filmrollen kontrolliert, keine Videobänder. Mitte der 1970er Jahre muss das ungefähr gewesen sein. Kapielski hat dabei die gleiche Erfahrung gemacht: Das Gehirn passt sich an die neue Geschwindigkeit an. Die ausführlichere Version der Geschichte kann man in der Open Library nachlesen (nach Anmeldung, S. 281–283), es lohnt sich, sie ist sehr lustig.

Kristin: Das Problem, seit ich angefangen habe, die Bücher schneller und schneller zu hören, sind meine Lehrer. Die sind SO langsam. Ich langweile mich jetzt, weil die Lehrer so laaaaangsam sind. Ich würde dann gern sagen: Ein bisschen schneller bitte!

Kathrin: Wie schnell ist dein YouTube eingestellt?

Kristin: Bei jedem Video anders, weil die Leute unterschiedlich schnell reden. Aber meistens: doppelte Geschwindigkeit. Es ärgert mich ein bisschen, dass es nicht noch schneller geht, weil manche Leute so langsam reden.

Kathrin: Ich habe so ein Firefox-Add-on für YouTube, mit dem geht das, glaube ich. (Stimmt: Das Add-on "Improve YouTube!" kann noch schnellere Abspielgeschwindigkeiten.) Ich lese lieber, weil ich das beim Videogucken nicht so leicht überspringen kann, wenn die Leute erst langwierig anfangen mit "Hallo, ich bin die Soundso und ich erzähle euch heute das und das ..."

Kristin: Ich überspring das alles. Ich habe dafür Tastaturshortcuts, da springe ich zehn Sekunden weiter und finde raus, ob sie da was Interessanteres sagen. Ich kann selber nicht so schnell sprechen, wie ich zuhören kann, aber wenn andere Leute sehr schnell sprechen, zum Beispiel weil sie nervös sind, dann kann ich alles immer noch sehr gut verstehen. Das geht auch mit PDFs für die Uni. Ich nehme Adobe Acrobat für die Texterkennung und dann habe ich eine App, "Natural Reader", damit kann ich mir PDFs und Websites vorlesen lassen. Das geht mit fünffacher Geschwindigkeit, aber das ist ist mir oft zu langsam, weil es das Fünffache von einer ziemlich langsamen Ausgangsgeschwindigkeit ist. Früher ging es bis zu drei Mal so schnell, dann gab es ein Update und jetzt sind es fünf Mal. So mach ich das mit allem, was ich für die Uni lesen muss, ich höre das dann beim Autofahren oder beim Abendessen. Das einzige Problem: Ich kann nichts überfliegen wie bei Lesetexten. Das geht nicht, aber wenn ich es dreimal so schnell hören kann, ist das auch nicht langsamer als Lesen mit Überfliegen. Ich habe damit angefangen, weil ich eine Lese-Rechtschreibschwäche habe. Ich finde Lesen und Schreiben auf Englisch sehr schwer und auf Deutsch noch schwerer, weil es meine zweite Sprache ist. Aber das mit den Hörbüchern geht sehr gut für mich.

(Kristin C., im Gespräch mit Kathrin Passig)

[the-tmnt-ficfinder]

May I ask which screenreader you use? Is it a mobile app? :3

Excellent question, Sleepwalkersqueen!

I use NaturalReader, which is available on mobile, and on a computer, though I prefer to use the phone version for listening to fanfiction in audio book form. That way I can listen and do something with my hands.

NaturalReader is free to use, free to download. Though, you can pay for a subscription to have things such as higher quality AI voices, or the ability to download your chapters for offline listening on your NatrualReader.

Uploading fanfiction is quite simple as well. You can copy and paste chapters into NaturalReader, upload documents, upload photos with words, or copy and paste in websites for it to analyze. NaturalReader has been my personal favorite Audio Book reader app so far!

[meo-eiru]

Since my pc crashed and killed the Micah drawing I was working on please accept this humble actually fully colored Silas illustration

[sanjisblackasswife]

Gojo’s body irl:

argue with ur mammy about it.

[fruittt-punchhh]

(18+, toji smut ahead)

was thinking about sleepy! toji all night lowkeyyyyy

like when he gets home and he’s so tired he doesn’t even greet you, just grumbles and huffs like the old man he is??? kicks off his stupid boots and takes off his sweaty shirt as he draaaaags his feet to the couch??

sleepy! toji who needs comfort in a way only you can give. so tired he doesn’t tell you what to do and doesn’t ask either.

sleepy! toji who grabs your ankles, pulling your legs sideways on the couch before he finds place between them, stomach flat on the couch as he takes in your scent through the panties he bought you last week.

sleepy! toji who pulls your panties to the side just enough to get his tongue on you, diving nose first into your heat as he drinks straight from the source.

sleepy! toji who’s too tired to care what he looks like, all sweaty and mangled from work, his face buried in your cunt just how he pictured earlier in his shift - the pure filth that he was tainting the beautiful image of you, lost in pleasure with your soft skin all blushed and slick with sweat, just for him.

sleepy! toji who’s even too tired to care what he sounds like, moaning like the slut he is at heart as he enjoys his long-awaited meal.

sleepy! toji who gives you no time to recover after your orgasm, pushing your legs up by your face before he pulls his heavy cock through his zipper.

sleepy! toji who fucks you rough into the couch in missionary - not a usual contender on his list of favorite positions. his words are slurred, all drunk and dazed from his exhaustion - “let me see my pretty girl’s face, yeah?” he says after you cover your face in your arms, embarrassed at the display of intimacy that was usually absent.

sleepy! toji who still, at his most intimate, has you arching off the couch with each orgasm as you scream cries of his name, leaving you feeling so loved and simultaneously so fucked out of your mind.

sleepy! toji who’s noises are so much more present than usual, moans all drawn-out and loud as he loses himself in your sex. he begs you to cum again for him with a ‘please’, a word you haven’t heard from him in months.

sleepy! toji who’s fully gone now, panting out breathy praises as he watches you take all of him so well.

“so fuckin’ good, honey”

“take me - mmph, so well”

“this pretty.. fuckin’ cunt’s gonna.. make me cum,”

“jesus… christ, y/n”

sleepy! toji who pumps his load deep into your guts, still fucking you with lazy drags of his hips as he stares at you, lip bitten and eyes hooded before he pushes into you fully to give you a kiss goodnight.

(sleepy! toji who actually finds a towel for you first this time, stripping his remaining clothes with a ‘you comin’, baby?’ as he heads upstairs)

(sleepy! toji who is def the lil’ spoon tonight)

[semisolidmind]

I love how no matter what ,your reader always has her scary dog privilege no matter the fandom, the fact that this time is an actual dog though —

loyal to his savior. it's only fair that he return the favor.

(i can't help it dude, i have a type when it comes to relationships. i want the big scary one to protect the smaller not scary one. and it would only make sense that after everything he's been through, he'd use his regained strength to protect the peace he's found with the one who's saved him.)

[yuwuta]

satoru physically withers and crumbles every time you return his belongings. he doesn’t know how to tell you that he can only accidentally on purpose leave his glasses on your nightstand, or his jacket on your couch, or his shirt in your laundry so many times before he loses his mind. every time you don’t take he bait, he folds into himself and wonders why you don’t love him anymore and it costs him $22.50 to hear ieiri tell him to suck it up and use his words because he literally has to buy her company (and drinks).

but when you do take the bait, when you do wear his things, satoru thinks it’s all worth it. he can’t explain why it does what it does to him. it’s a sinister kind of possession he wants to have over you, knowing you’re your own person, free to do as you please, but also knowing you’re caged in him. it’s a lovesick kind of gooeyness that melts his heart seeing you fumble with the sleeves of a sweater that’s too long for you. it’s the vision of you seeing you drowning in him—in his clothes, in his things, in him, in him, in him. he’s selfish, he wants to consume you in as many ways as possible, wants you to drown in him, would die happily knowing you were one tenth as enraptured by him as he is with you. he doesn’t know how or why or when you gained so much power over him, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t want you to ever stop, so if he has to keep pretending to leave his clothes and bags and glasses around then so be it.

[pseudowho]

Operation: Babymaker-- Benchpress

When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready.

💜 💛 Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors

💜 💛 Part 3 LINK HERE: Ditch the Party...again

💜 💛 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams

💜 💛 Part 5 LINK HERE: Honeytrap/Maid Café

💜 💛 Part 6 LINK HERE: Grapple

Interrupt Kento's workout? Get ready to be manhandled 💛

Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink, fertility/infertility discussion, manhandling, full nelson 💛

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"How strong are you, Kento? Really?"

In just his checked pyjama trousers, Nanami Kento still cut an imposing figure. Even though his waist was thick with muscle (though not with heavily defined decorative abs-- just subtle planes under freckled skin), his chest and shoulders broadened out dramatically, his arms thick and veiny, his hands bold and angular.

Kento paused, his coffee halfway to his lips, holding his book open with one hand, before answering; "Strong enough, I should think. Why?"

Just modest, you thought. You looked him slowly up and down, your filthy imagination whirring. You smiled, tucking your legs up under you on the sofa, cupping your tea between two hands.

"No reason."

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You couldn't help yourself from watching.

"One."

A home gym was a blessing for Kento, who neither worked out for enjoyment nor vanity, but purely for the demands of his job.

"Two."

He was away from home enough. And people at the gym stared so much, that Kento's workouts used to feel cloying, claustrophobic, skin prickling with the eyes of thirsty or envious fellow gym-goers.

"Three."

As he pulled himself up again, feeling everything in his body clench with exertion, he did, however, feel one pair of eyes on him.

"Four...why are you hiding in the shadows, hmm?"

You jumped, biting your bottom lip between your teeth. Your mind had been spirited away by thoughts too obscene to say out loud. Thoughts of being restrained. Thoughts of being grappled into submission, pinned, gasping. Thoughts made so easy to have about the man who you knew would never hurt you.

Stepping out from behind the doorframe, your coy demeanour made Kento huff, a short puff of air from his nose, and you watched blatantly as he finished his set. In snug shorts set halfway up his thighs, and a loose drop-sleeved tank top, you reasoned you couldn't be expected to take your eyes off him either.

Kento continued, walking over to the narrow Benchpress bench, beginning to place weights on the bars, one, after another, after another and you felt yourself filled with wicked intent.

"You can't lift that," you scoffed. Kento's jaw clenched, a small smile gracing his lips, as he continued shifting plates. Your words rolled off him, water off a duck's back. The ungoadable man.

"If you think you're going to interrupt me," Kento toned, smooth and reasonable, "you're wrong. I always get my workout done in 45 minutes, and..." he crooked his wrist, checking the time, "...I won't be late for anything."

Kento laid himself back on the narrow seat, no bench left at all on either side of his hips, the wings of his shoulders gaping out over the bench's confines. As the soft fabric of his shorts stretched over his thick thighs, settling over the prominent bulge of his groin, you gulped. Your mouth watered. And as Kento began to lift, with short ragged grunts rumbling from his chest, it all became too much to resist.

Kento's eyes were fixed upwards, hyper focused, feeling the impossibly deep ache of lifting something just about too heavy for him to lift. He barely noticed the flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye-- you, languidly undressing down to your underwear, eyes fixed on Kento's thighs.

Kento jolted as he felt you settle, warm and blushing, straddling his spread thigh. He almost fumbled his lift, and coughed in alarm to see you sat, almost naked, pressing your core against his tensed muscles.

"Won't be late for anything? Even me? Even when I want your baby so badly, Kento," you purred, your hands coming up to remove your bra, dropping it onto Kento's twitching abs as your breasts slipped free. Kento felt a bead of sweat drop down his temple, and he growled at you in warning, frustrated to feel his composure wobble.

"Shit...you little-- got to keep to time--" Kento's arms shook as he completed the lift, resting the bar for a moment as he panted, and you rocked your hips against his thigh, pleasure immediately churning through you. Kento's jaw twitched, fists clenching and unclenching, determined to maintain his schedule, but feeling his body betray him, his cock twitching to life in his gym shorts.

Straight after, Kento reassured himself, fighting the urge to throw you over his shoulder, throw you onto the bed, and pound his cum into you until you begged for mercy, nearly done, keep to time, keep to time.

Kento's watch beeped, and he bolted to action, gripping the bar again, beginning another set of lifts-- anything to distract himself from you slipping your underwear to the side as you continued to rock your pussy, now wet and puffy, against his bare thigh. You sighed and keened, two hands planted for support on his hips, the palm of your hand brushing temptingly against his aching cock.

Kento groaned, unsure if it was from the painful stretch of the lift or from your desperate attention to his thigh, heat spreading across his shoulders and chest. His cock was throbbing now, uncomfortably tight in his shorts, pressed down at an awkward angle.

You watched Kento shift and twitch as you humped his thigh, and shivered with a sweet little moan as his muscles fluttered under your clit. Kento felt his throat go dry when your hands drifted lazily to pinch and roll your own nipples. He could feel you getting closer to orgasm, and it drove him mad that he wasn't filling your belly with his seed at the same time.

Leaning forwards, still panting, furiously rutting against Kento's thigh, drips of your arousal now running down the sides, you ghosted your hands over the outline of his cock. Kento gasped mid-lift, almost dropping the bar onto himself.

"Fuck--" he gasped, snapping your name. He hopped one hand centrally on the bars, and clapped his other hand over yours pressed to his erection, "--wait a few minutes or I swear, you're going to kill me--" Kento's words caught in his chest, his other hand darting up to stabilise the tilting bar, as you lowered his shorts, his cock springing free against his clenching abs.

With a lip-biting, devious smile, you waited until Kento had begun another lift, still stubbornly refusing to stop his workout, before grasping his cock, and laying a long, flat-tongued lick to the underside from ball to tip.

Kento cursed like a sailor, his elbows buckling, the bars lilting sideways with a metallic smash into the dock. Spitting curses at you, coming out of him in a series of growling chastisements, Kento coughed again, a spurt of pre-cum salting your tongue as you giggled around his needy cockhead.

Kento fumbled, lost in your wet little mouth sucking him in. He struggled to lift the bars again to place them in their dock, as your thighs cramped and trembled, approaching your orgasm.

His hands splayed above him like a surprised kitten, his chin to his chest as he stared down at you in fury and alarm, Kento groaned. His head snapped back to press to the bench, then back to his chest to watch your nose graze his honey-blonde hair again.

As he moved a hand down to tangle in your hair, colours popping in his eyes in ecstasy, you released his cock with a wet suck, mouth falling open as you came on his thigh. With one hand still gripping Kento by the cock, he bit into the back of his knuckles to stop himself from emptying into your hand.

Kento still glared at you in barely-restrained fury, for having nearly ended his life through means of a deadly benchpress, and opened his mouth to bark at you. His orgasm still threatened at the edge of a precipice.

"Not only am I now late," he growled, "you almost killed me-- I don't know which one is worse, I--"

When you moved up his body, straddling his hips and rolling your slick heat along his cock, Kento gripped the bars above him again for sanity, spitting feathers at you again, infuriatingly flustered.

"Thought if you were that strong," you panted, cheeks flushed and euphoric, "you could do both at once." Kento huffed at you again like an angry bull and, as if to prove a point, rolled the bar in his palms, shifting his shoulders, brick-like and tense, ready to begin another lift.

For a second time, as Kento moved into another benchpress, you raised yourself above his weeping cock, and sunk down onto his length, your wet walls plump and stretchy and inviting him to bottom out in one slick movement.

Kento moaned, his hips lifting you clear of the bench for a second as he brought the bar down to his chest, twitching and heaving with exertion and twisted pleasure. You stayed flush, rocking backwards and forwards, revelling in the fullness of him inside you, not pulling him out of you for a second.

Kento thought he had died and seen heaven when, the moment he pushed upwards to lift the weights off his chest, you leaned forwards and whispered up to him; "Hey, Kento-- I'm ovulating."

Kento came with a hoarse, wounded cry, everything pushing out of his body at once as he completed the lift, and his cum spurted up into you with mind-blowing force. Groaning a series of short, agonised groans, his cock still jumping and gushing, he slopped the bar back into the dock. You continued to rock his seed into you, eyes closed and a satisfied little smile on your face. Kento saw red.

You felt yourself being instantly grappled. Kento lifted your thighs up towards you enough that he could spin to you face the other way, his cock still plugging his cum inside you. Lifting you against him, locking your arms behind your head and your knees beside them, Kento dropped you both to the gym mat, completely restraining you in a full-nelson.

You squeaked, trying to squirm. It was absolutely futile, and you felt Kento's hot breath in your ear.

"Not that strong, hmm?" He hummed, low and threatening, "Strong enough to open your pickle jars for years though, apparently." You started to laugh, and cut off abruptly as Kento squeezed you tighter, chuckling as you squeaked again. His chuckle stretched into a groan, low and lusty, at the feeling of your pussy throbbing around his length, which had barely softened, and was rapidly hardening again.

Grappling you with his back to the floor, Kento shunted his cock up into you, satisfied at you crying out and pressing back against him; "Not that strong?" Kento planted a harsh kiss to your temple, and bucked up into you again, satisfied to feel you melt, helpless in his hold. Kento felt a lick of pride run through him as he continued to hammer upwards into you, the air filled with the squelch of his cock in your cum-filled cunt.

"Punched men through concrete-- haaah, shit-- crushed Curses under brick walls," Kento listed, grunting and ruthless as he slammed into you now, feeling his tip bully into your cervix, "and look at you now-- more origami than woman-- and you will take every-- fucking-- bit-- of --it--" Kento snapped his hips back to punctuate each word, and you mewled pitifully at him, tears streaking into your hair.

Kento laughed, feeling himself peaking again, licking your tears away with mock-gentle shushes, captivated by the way your tits bounced every time he rutted up into you.

"So-ooo-- good-- Kentooo-ooo," you squeaked out around his thrusts, a thick hot pleasure roiling in your womb as you begged him, "h--harder--please." Kento snorted, his hands gripping your thighs harder, lifting you off him to slap you back down in time with him pressing up into you. You shuddered, marshmallow-soft, twitching in pleasure as your second orgasm washed through your belly, ready to gulp Kento into you.

Kento was awash with the closeness of you, the delicious hot wet suck of your walls around his cock, the thought of you round and full and growing, because of him. Keeping you restrained with one thick forearm holding your thighs and arms back, his other hand drifted to your belly, pressing lightly, feeling the jolt as his cock rammed against your cervix.

Feeling your pussy squeeze and flutter around him, Kento's grip never faltered as he gasped, husky and satisfied, feeling his cock spurt inside you again, rolling you from side to side as he thrust lazily up into you, careful to not allow any of his seed to slip free. He lay with you in his arms for a few moments hand massaging your belly, willing his cum to soak up inside you.

With one final slow groan, Kento pulled out of you, pressing your thighs together on exit, and releasing you from the trap of his arms. Though you had planned to fall asleep, there and then, on the gym mats, Kento had other ideas.

You felt yourself being scooped up, held upside down against Kento by the waist, and he walked you to his pull-up bar across the room. You were appalled to feel him drape your legs over it, and as he let go of you, you were forced to hang upside down by the backs of your knees, a child on the monkey-bars.

"Kento!" You squeaked, appalled, cupping your breasts in your hands as he dusted off his hands and moved to settle himself again for benchpressing, "You-- how dare you-- you can't just hang me up like wet laundry!"

Kento hummed smilingly to himself as he checked his watch, reaching up to grip the bars again;

"Well darling, I've got a workout to finish. And you've got a baby to make. Isn't that what all this nonsense was about?"

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Up next: Ditch the Party Part 2 and more surprises

[starrylevi]

Obsessed with the idea that people forget you have Captain Levi’s heart until they see him do little things for you. Like at breakfast, before his morning meeting with Erwin, he’ll pass by your table and casually hand you a loaded plate. “They didn’t have those croissants you usually like but I found those weird ass pastries you can’t stop talking about.” And then he’ll just walk away without saying anything else. Or like, while you’re all suiting up for a mission, he’ll randomly walk up to you and adjust the thigh straps of your odm gear to make sure they’re properly secured and you’re just like “!!!” inside. Or like for every group meeting he arrives early and saves you the seat next to him and when you arrive, he’ll pull out your chair, waiting till you sit so he can briefly place his hand on your thigh as a greeting 🥰🥰🥰🥰

[anintrovertedechoe]

just played through the mammon date card. what if i die.

in the date event it’s established that the two of you are already dating (or at least romantically involved) and,,,holy SHIT???

he becomes SO much less shy and bashful about things i asked him to make out out and this was his response:

like he’s so much more chill about flirty things and even reciprocates (“…just remember—you started this.” HELLO???) and the way he still hasn’t changed at all and is still your bestest friend in the entire world at the end of the day. im in love actually.

there’s a few other things too that made me giggle and kick my feet (lmk if you guys want screenshots or like a screen recording of the date or something) but overall it just made me realize like,,,that’s my boyfriend guys. my man forreal.

also his voice lines are SO soft??? he sounds,,,SO cute???

the cuddling voicelines???? the one where he tells you to “c’mere”?????

what if i die what if i die what if i die what if i-

going to kill myself right now so i can see him in the devildom holy SHIT.

mammon ilu. never change please.

[starmocha]

Push & Pull [Caleb/Reader ★ 1939 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] What a bore, he thought, no longer amused by tonight’s show. A/N: To be fair…this was started at the same time as Pillow Talk. idk what I’m defending myself from I’ve done worse alkaal;akla Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @rose-tinted-kalopsia @valkyyriia @natimiles @yourlocalcatscammer 【 request to be added 】

He was just a tease.

But you liked it.

You liked the way Caleb didn’t make the first move, the way he always seemed to smile knowingly, already aware of what was going through your mind. He would calmly observe you, a smirk here, a chuckle there, whenever it seemed you wanted to make him jealous.

Tonight was no different. You were feeling particularly bratty, wanting to provoke him a little for your own amusement. He didn’t say anything when you had left his side, already strutting your way through the crowd, capturing the intrigue of the wolves in this den, their eyes gleaming from the lascivious thoughts running rampantly in their minds as they traversed down your body.

In the crowded bar, Caleb sat in a corner booth, leg crossed over the other as he enjoyed his drink and the entertainment you provided. He chuckled, feeling a twinge of pride, knowing that everything of yours belonged to him.

Glass to his lips, he took a slow sip, darkened eyes watching your every move from across the room.

Such a pretty little thing, so strong and alluring, you were the object of many male gazes, a figment in all of their perverted fantasies, but, oh, what a shame that your own eyes were only on Caleb truly. He watched you entertained the flirtatious advances, smiling and giggling, dumbed down for their pathetic sake, their pride too fragile to truly experience the kind of woman you could be in the bedroom. None of these swine could match his caliber. At this point, it seemed more insulting to you than him.

What a bore, he thought, no longer amused by tonight’s show.

Caleb set his glass back down on the table and stood up, crossing the room in slow strides with his long legs. He always did know when you would try to make him jealous, and tonight was just one of those nights. However, it never worked—not even once—because you would always come back to him, just like how he would always find his way to you.

He exuded an aura of dominance, a silent command to yield to him. One cold stare had dispersed the crowd of boys around you, and soon, you felt that familiar presence lingering behind, him knelt down lower, his lips from your ear, a faint growl in his normally gentle voice with you:

“My room—now.”

In a dark hotel room overlooking Linkon, the floor-to-ceiling windows allowed the city lights to illuminate the space, enough so that after you had pushed him onto the bed, he lounged casually and watched as you stripped out of your little black dress for him.

You wondered if he was always this good at masking his expressions, because even with the minimal lights in the room, you couldn’t truly discern his look. You reached behind your back and unclipped your black lacy bra, letting it fall to reveal your breasts to him. He tilted his head a little, appearing more amused than aroused, almost as if he was simply studying you for a figure drawing class than appreciating you as a work of art crafted by God Himself.

You huffed a little in annoyance, still determined to get a rise out of him.

You climbed into bed with him, crawling closer until you were settled in between his legs, peering up at him with the same naughty smile you wore all night long. His hands instantly grabbed your face, his lips upon yours as he kissed with the intensity and intention of bruising you enough to leave his mark, a reminder that you were always his. It didn’t take much before he had you immediately flipped on your back, trapped beneath his heavy body, your legs already parting to allow him access.

He smirked. It was, after all, so sweet how you were always ready for him, always desiring him when you could have any man you wanted. You stared up into his familiar violet eyes, your chest heaving, breathing heavier as your body was trembling with anticipation. He knelt above you, his hand grabbing at his tie, loosening them as it was his turn to provide you a show.

With every article of clothing he took off, revealing more and more of him to you, you could feel a growing ache as you imagined those large hands grabbing at your buttocks, his toned chest pressed against your body, and his warm mouth taking your nipple to suckle and tease until they hardened, until he had you squirming underneath him, legs trembling, your cunt dripping obscenely for him.

“Caleb…”

“I know,” he murmured, as he tossed the last item of clothing on the hotel floor. He reached out and grabbed at the waistband of the panties you still wore. He hummed low, his arousal visible, once he took in the sight of the soaked panties. “Already this wet…fuck…”

His lips were on yours again, and you both fumbled in the dark, hands exploring one another, your moans and his heating up the room.

“You make such pretty sounds,” he murmured, “I want to hear more…”

You felt his calloused hand rubbed circles on your thigh, and then—

Smack!

A piercing slap resounded, the sting had you crying, squealing in surprise, but also aroused by his dominance. Caleb chuckled, seeing that delighted look in your eyes. He slapped you again, harder, the noises you were making a blend of pain and pleasure.

“Did you enjoy prancing yourself around those men tonight?” he asked calmly, his voice neutral, showing no sign of annoyance or anger. He seemed almost genuinely curious. He slapped harder, the sting lingering far longer than the previous instances. Almost immediately, he rubbed the same spot he had struck in soothing circles, and he murmured lazily, “Answer me.”

“…No,” you admitted, panting softly as you gazed up into his eyes. There were tears in the corner of your own eyes, a natural reaction to feeling the sharp pain.

“No?” he questioned, almost mockingly. He reached up and brushed those tears aside, his lips kissed your temple. “But it was your idea to act like a slut tonight.”

You whined at him, “Caleb…”

He immediately chuckled and apologized. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, “You don’t like being called a slut, do you?”

You remained silent, eyes darting to the side in avoidance. His hand grasped your chin, making you keep your sight on him. He continued in that same soft and even tone, “Or rather, you only like being my slut?”

You inhaled sharply, and Caleb laughed, your quick natural response answering his question more honestly than words ever could. He kissed you again, settling more comfortable in between your legs. You gasped when you felt his hard, thick cock pressing against your slick entrance. You trembled, breathing shuddering as he eased himself in, his low groans answering your own cries.

Caleb panted softly, smiling, and spoken almost matter-of-factly, “You’ll always be my slut.”

He started shallowly thrusting in and out, feeling your walls stretching to accommodate him. He continued in that same easy tone, “You can take as many cocks from as many men, but you’ll always want me instead.”

“Ca-Caleb…!”

You were whining, gasping and moaning, your body responding to the pleasure of feeling him penetrating you again and again in this same, leisure rhythm as he took his time, relishing in the lewd expressions you wore only for him.

“How many men has this pussy taken?” he asked, his lips on yours once more, swallowing those heavenly moans.

“I guess I really don’t fucking care,” he admitted, “Because you will always be mine. Isn’t that right, pipsqueak?”

You were trembling, tears in your eyes, too overstimulated by him and his words to truly grasp what he was saying.

“Answer me,” he demanded, thrusting in harder, your arms now wrapped around his neck. His own arms wrapped around you, lifting you from the bed as your legs locked around his waist. His pace grew more brutal, no longer slow and leisurely. He panted heavily, his voice lower than before, as he demanded again, “Answer me. You will always be mine, right?”

You whimpered into his shoulder, crying and agreeing without thinking, “Yes! I’m yours, Caleb! Always yours!”

One hand rested on the back of your head, pressing you closer to his shoulder. He smiled faintly. “Good girl,” he whispered, “My good girl. My pretty little slut. All mine.”

You squealed as wordlessly, Caleb took you harder, fucking you so intensely, you could feel your climax fast approaching with every deep, hard thrust. You panted, sharp nails digging into his back, his immediate groans had you clenching around him, squeezing him until you both were crashing, falling deeper and deeper into this state of euphoria together.

Your back hit the mattress again, and Caleb’s body collapsed on yours, his weight keeping you trapped underneath. You reached forward, your hand brushing against his damped bangs that clung to his forehead. He looked down at you, curious, almost as if he was waiting for your next move. You smiled and leaned up, kissing him where you had just touched.

He smiled back, his expression warmer than before, feeling very familiar, a memory of a time so far in the past now. You sometimes wished you could see this same smile again more often, and perhaps, maybe over time, you both could return to that period of innocence. It didn’t seem like an impossible dream, you thought, your fingers still lightly stroking his temple.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Caleb murmured, breaking you out of your trance. He grabbed at your restless hand, little kisses pressed against your fingers as he peered up again into your eyes, as if he was waiting still, silently calculating.

You wondered what he was thinking, what was hidden behind those eyes for so long. You remembered when they shined like brilliant amethyst, but now it seemed a dark cloud had overcast.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered, kissing your cheek before he had gotten up.

You lazed in bed, tired but immensely satisfied, still feeling the lingering warmth of his body heat against yours. You struggled to keep your eyes open, feeling a heavy exhaustion wracking your entire body.

It wouldn’t hurt to nod off for just a few seconds, you thought.

Perhaps you might have rested for far too longer, because now, you suddenly found yourself feeling weightless. Once you had opened your eyes, you realized the reason for the change. Cradled in Caleb’s arms, he carried you to the bathroom.

“Can you walk?” he asked, peering down after he had noticed you stirring.

You immediately shook your head, the faint gleam of mischievousness twinkled in your eye.

“Still a brat?” he asked, and you pouted, just a bit upset that he had caught on so quickly to your treachery. He sighed in mock-exasperation. “Alright, alright.”

The warm bath he had drawn felt heavenly on tired muscles. Completely spent and satisfied, Caleb kept you cradled in between his long legs as you both relaxed in the water, because this was how it always was. He would always take care of you. It was just in his nature, a natural instinct he could never ignore.

The water rippled when he moved, his head bent to kiss along the nape of your neck. His murmur was so soft and warm, a contrast to his earlier cold teasing. Your guard lowered, you relaxed against him, his arm wrapping around your waist as he gazed down at you, a satisfied smile graced his lips.

My pipsqueak. Mine.

[pinkasimov]

Natural Reader

Dans l’article précédent, je proposait de transcrire vos fichiers audios en texte, cette fois on prends un texte et on l’écoute ! Natural Reader est une solution de synthèse vocale qui est disponible en ligne, sous forme de logiciel (Apple ou Windows) ou d’extension de navigateur (Google Chrome only). Cette plateforme dispose d’une interface simple et facile d’accès, qui vous permet de saisir…

[generalsdiary]

another note on Sunday

big sweet tooth (specifically for pudding tarts)

very observant, quite the people pleaser (on the express; shy, withdrawn, and careful about his actions)

seems to feel the safest communicating with the TB (tho their dynamic is yapper & brainrot they're adorable)

Halovians' halos flicker when they use telepathy or are emotionally disturbed

[messenger-of-babel]

If I Could Turn Back Time

Summary: Dick wishes he could turn back time, anything to win you back. (Dick Grayson x fem!reader)

Word Count: 2.5K

Notes: I'm baaacck~! I'm gonna filter out some posts for y'all in between work and prepping for a Christmas countdown. I hope that y'all in the northern hemisphere are enjoying the winter months, and that the heat is manageable for the rest of us in the southern. Hope I didn't make anyone wait too long, and thank you for being patient!

~RiRi <33

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Dick Grayson swore that he wasn't as big of a romantic as people made him out to be. After your breakup he had returned to the manor, unwilling to commit to the long drive back to Bludhaven. He milled around the kitchen, face sullen, telling a concerned Alfred he was just too tired to make the trip and didn't want to drive in the dark. He didn't tell him that he was worried that the image of you crying at the kitchen sink would distract him so badly that he'd either crash or turn back to see you.

He defended himself when Jason came by to drop something off for Bruce and catching the eldest in a state of disarray and blatant bedhead, shambling around in the living room. The younger man rolled his eyes and scoffed, striding past him.

"She break up with you?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"I broke up with her." He said softly. "But I'm fine." he waved off, taking another sip of his coffee.

"You're an idiot." Jason sighed, kissing his teeth and shaking his head as he strode past in heavy footfalls.

He swore that he was able to move on. That it had been for your best interest. It had only been fourteen days, six hours and twenty-three minutes since he'd driven away. Now he was banging his head against the steering wheel, stuck in the late afternoon traffic between Bludhaven and Gotham. He had the persistent itch under his skin to pull out the suit, weave his way through traffic on his bike just so he could get back to you faster. But he knew that was an abuse of his identity, and could raise some pretty heavy eyebrows from Bruce and even Clark if they found out he took the suit just for a house call.

So, he sat there, stewing in his own thoughts. The late sunset flickered off the water and into the interior of his car. His bangs fluttered with a heavy exhale; hands sweaty as they tapped a mindless rhythm on the wheel. He wished he had a clock that wasn't just the digital numbers of the car display. A clock where he could turn back time.

He'd turn it back to your first date, where you both spent hours wandering the park in Gotham. You had dressed up nicely for a picnic, and it was like you had just walked out of the greenery. The only thought that Dick had while watching you that afternoon was how stunning you looked, so natural in the park with a beaming smile. He had seen Poison Ivy in all of her glory, and her deep connection with the green. If he didn't know better, he would have thought you were born of nature the same way, the way you seemed so in tune with the scenery.

You had surprised him by adjusting your clothes with a cheeky grin and racing hand and hand with him through the park, weaving in and out of the trees with a beaming smile. He had to catch his breath from the way you stole it from under him, taking him to what you had dubbed your 'favourite tree'.

"Why is this one your favourite?" he had asked, hands on his hips and eyebrows quirked. You cast him a glance over your shoulder, looking at him like it should be obvious. Fingers deftly pried your feet from your shoes and you tossed them aside, walking in front of him. "Because it's the best for climbing, of course." you chided, like he was silly for even asking. Swiftly, you proceeded to hoist your way into the low hanging branches, graceful as you traced a path you clearly knew. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander, heart warming oddly. As if he was no longer in control, he reached down to undo his own shoes, hands running along the rough bark before pulling himself up after you.

Being a vigilante and circus performer, the movements themselves were easy enough, but despite all of his training he didn't even move with a fraction of your ease. When he caught up you were already nestled in a nook, leaning against a thick branch. You looked at him, late sunset beginning to flicker across the angle of your face. The golden light made your eyes glow, and you wore a soft, lazy smile, like a cat lounging on a bough. "Made it, I see." you hummed playfully, and he huffed.

"Was I not supposed to?" he quipped back, pulling himself up so he could sit next to you. You just shake your head, eyes closing with a gentle smile. "Not 'not supposed to', you've just been the first to follow. Normally my dates either just wait at the bottom or leave. No one really tries to come up, and the ones that do usually struggle to make it this far."

Dick shrugged, heart fluttering as he pushes his hair back with a hand. "Well, I'm used to this kind of the thing."

You give him a sceptical glance and he laughs. "The circus." He explains.

You grin. "Explains the runaway vibe."

"Hey!" he protests, hand to his heart. "I was raised there, thank you very much."

He spent so long up there he didn't realise you had been talking at the top of the tree for hours until the sunset began to filter into dusk, lost in the view of Gotham city park and its skyline.

Well, you might have been. He was too busy watching the way your mouth moved when you spoke or what actions your hands made when you spoke.

The second place that he would turn back time is the day he left you.

He'd take back every emotional scar he lashed you with, every word that cut into the soft flesh of your heart. He'd go back in an instant to pick up the pieces of you that he shattered, stop them from falling into the sink alongside your tears. He wouldn't have left the moment that your broken voice had asked him to leave, to give you space. He'd trade anything to have you in his arms again, to shush you and mumble his apologies into your hair.

The same apologies he was rehearsing to himself as he inched forward in the traffic for two painstaking hours. He practiced the cadence of his sentences by tapping them into his leg as he jogged up the stairs to your apartment. He steeled himself for a slap, a hiss, a scathing remark that would likely greet him when, no, if, you opened the door to him. He'd bear anything you threw at him, as long as he didn't have to see you cry. When you didn't respond to his knuckles rapping against the door, he sucked his teeth. Maybe you were out? Maybe you were ignoring him? He wouldn't blame you if you did.

Frustrated, he kicked the door frame, head thudding onto the door. He didn't know how to keep a relationship alive, if he was being perfectly honest. He had been enamoured with Kory, but the flame they had fizzled out. He and Babs had ended as natural as you could manage between coworkers. Yet, both of them had both ended the same way deep down. The anger that he failed to let go of deep inside that came out when he truly let himself be vulnerable. The little boy in his heart with his little fists clenched so tightly onto that ball of rage. The anger and hurt of losing his parents. It was a ball that Bruce and Alfred had managed to lessen, managed to pry those young fingers off little by little and helping him to redirect it, but it was never fully gone.

All it took was one relationship argument that carried on for a little too long or burned a little too hot, and that little ball moved into his throat. The fear would shake in his hands again, that there was always the possibility that he'd lose them too. Dick Grayson wouldn't really call himself a romantic. He was just someone who always fell in love, who made the person he was with always fall into him without a safety net.

Then, he'd push them off that tightrope, and he'd flee.

Irritated with himself he practiced breathing techniques to calm himself, unclenching his fists and unhunching his shoulders from his ears. He wanted to fix this. For you. For him. For that little boy holding onto that little ball of hurt. He waited another fifteen minutes before he jogged back to his car. He worried his lip in between his teeth as he cruised around, leg bouncing as he visited your favourite spots. You weren't at work, and you weren't visiting the library either. Your favourite bar wasn't open yet, and your favourite cafe had already closed for the day.

He felt stupid. He felt guilty. Stupid for leaving, and guilty for chasing you so pitifully. His behaviour was getting borderline obsessive, but he couldn't help himself. He felt like he was going to go insane if he didn't get the chance to even talk to you again. With an angry sigh he threw the car into park, breaking loudly. He slammed the car door a little harder than he would have liked.

Gotham City Park.

A part of him hoped that you weren't here, honestly. It was dark, and everyone knew Gotham was worse after hours. You were alone, presumably unarmed, and a complete fool if you were. His feet traced the path that he knew so well, but it felt weird without having your weight looped around his arm. Hands shoved deep into pockets he fiddled with the lining, chewing his cheek till he got to your tree.

The massive boughs stretched before him, blocking most of the city light. However, he knew that as soon as he got up there, he'd be able to see almost everything. With a pained exhale Dick ran his fingers over the smooth bark before reaching up for the nearest branch and hoisting himself up. Even if you weren't here, he needed somewhere to gather his thoughts. Somewhere to figure out how to fix his fuck up.

He navigated clumsily upwards, the dark making it hard to see. He hadn't realised how naturally his body followed yours when you climbed up, now getting lost by himself. Branches smacked him in the face as he ascended, dense foliage hiding his next foothold from him. Eventually his head poked through the entrance, and he took a deep lungful of crisp air, eyes closing.

"You looked like an idiot climbing around in circles down there, you know."

His eyes fly open, heart catching as he sees you. You're still in your work uniform, knees to your chest. Your eyes are dull despite the starlight. Dick revered your eyes, telling you many times that you could make even a stone glimmer if you gave it a fraction of your light. Now they were like a dying bulb, burnt out and dim.

"Hey," he said softly, as if you'd disappear if he raised his voice any louder. "I was looking for you."

"Well, you found me." You say, shifting your eyes from him to the city. "What do you want?"

His throat closed up, burning. He could feel that bright little ball being shoved into his throat, and he had to grimace to push it back down.

He needed to do this.

"I'm here to apologise." he said quietly, pulling himself up and sitting a respectable distance from you. His fingers suddenly became interesting as he toyed with them, picking at the skin. "I don't expect you to take me back or anything, but I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry." he chokes out, looking up at you. "I was- I was scared. I was scared someone was going to take you away from me, that it wasn't worth it. But I was wrong. I'm sorry-" he swallowed harshly as your eyes met his, and the softening at the corners of yours made him want to fold. "I'm sorry for everything I said, for everything I did. You didn’t deserve that; you deserve something better."

"Dick-"

he held up his hand. "You deserve the world, sweetheart." he said, choked at the softness and pain in his own voice. "If I was Superman, I would fly to your window every morning and take you into the clouds just so you could experience what it's like for a heart to fly, like you make mine do. I'd go across the ends of the earth to find the sun after the sunset just to realise it can't be brighter than the smile that you give me in the morning. So, I came to tell you that I made a mistake." he says, quiet and unable to hold your gaze any longer. "I made the biggest mistake of my life. I want another chance." he takes a deep breath, nose burning as he tried to hold back his tears. "And if you don't want me back, I want you to know you deserve all that. Even if it's not me, never settle for anyone that will give you less than that." His voice cracked as he finished, and he swallowed.

He needed to leave. He had done his piece.

The shame swirled in his veins like a cloud and hurrying him to find his way down. His senses were dulled like he was struck with a concussion, thoughts echoing like they were in a tunnel. It was only when he felt the soft skin of your palm on his that his head snapped up. The moment his face was tilted up the light was blocked, and his face was warm.

It took him a good second to recognise the familiar feeling.

You were kissing him.

With a relieved sigh he let out a sigh straight from his chest, chasing after your touch desperately. He thought he may have been in a dream, but when he reached up to cradle your face with a palm, he knew that it wasn't true.

"You idiot." you breathe out, eyes fluttering as you part from the kiss. "You grade A, boy wonder, spandex clad idiot." your rest your forehead against his. "Tell me next time." your murmur, hand coming down to grip his and place it on your chest. “You’re not alone anymore, you know?"

A faint flicker of a smile danced its way across his lips, and his shoulders shook lightly as he laughed at himself. He leant up and brushed his lips against yours once more and finally, that little ball of rage fell through the fingers of that hurt young boy.

[kalims]

⊹ㅤattractive things they do | savanaclaw

parts. heartslabyul, savanaclaw, octavinelle, scarabia, pomefiore, ignihyde, diasomnia

characters. leona, ruggie, jack

note. this is actually a hallucination, if I posted twice in a week, consecutively. this isn't true

assertive to an extent (which is a lot in his case.) leona has a knack for pulling you over by your arm, a case is when some fearless students decides it was a good time to insult you right in his face and he raises a brow, then pulls you behind him? just quietly stares down the person cause he's not gonna exert more effort than that unless they got some sort of nerve of steel. he tends to take charge, a bad habit you suppose. what he wants is what he gets apparently.

if you catch his eye he always grins at you. maybe a smile would've been endearing but it's ruggie, his trademark grin is practically the smile of someone like him. across the cafeteria when you're on your way to a table? you see ruggie and he waves at you with a little imp of a grin. just peacefully passing by the hallway on your way to your class? oh. there he is, getting chased by people again. he just passes by and even spades you another grin, multitude of yells following behind him. 'meet me later' is shouted by him after.

jack hugs like a bear. he looks like he gives the warmest hugs, the one where you'll just be engulfed in his ginormous flesh of his arms and turn into putty. if you ever catch yourself in one, well. you'll be wishing you had a fluffy bed and a pair of equally fluffy pillows alongside in it. it's easy to fluster him whether you like it or not by bounding up to the guy, raising his arms to go around your body and melt. cause he will notice and forget he can't control the emotions of his tail.