#PER USUAL

[cleo-fox]

Listen: as someone who experienced more than her fair share of work related stress this year, this fic is particularly meaningful/relevant to me. Why can’t cunnilingus from James Conrad be a new wellness initiative? (Disregarding the fact that he’s fictional. That is obviously a problem we’d need to solve).

Per usual, I love the balance of fluff and smut in this fic. Like here’s this lovely little paragraph:

James presses a final kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, so gentle and so chaste that your heart skips in your chest, and you’re once again left marvelling at the emotions that this man can awaken in you. In the space of five minutes he’s made you feel calm, desired, playful, and infatuated, and, not for the first time, you think about how stupidly lucky you are to call him yours

The thing I like about this passage is that it just sums up everything this fic is: playful, sexy, and fluffy. You also really nailed (pun intended) that element in this part:

“Beautiful, brilliant, and remarkably humble. Any wonder I adore you,” he teases back, and finally, finally, you feel his mouth on your cunt.

Like the banter??? The teasing??? Settle my affairs because I am deceased.

I also had to laugh a little at this part because this would basically be me in this scenario:

Even so, the urge to be a brat rises like a storm inside you because you know how much he enjoys the game, but another larger part of you is already folding like a house of cards.

😂😂😂 it’s like you’re in my head.

I am loving this James Conrad streak that you’re on and thoroughly enjoyed this addition to the literature and highly recommend it to anyone who is slightly too obsessed with this man and his ridiculous biceps.

𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐥��𝐱

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐝 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐.𝟔𝐤

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The vial slips from between your fingertips just as you’re about to finally seal the top. Almost in slow motion it falls to the workbench below, shattering with a mockingly musical smash and sending tiny shards of glass scattering in a million different directions. 

For a second, all you can do is stare silently at the pale blue liquid pooling on the surface, but a steady stream of curses is quickly unleashed as you move frantically to save the detailed notes spread out around you. You gather them to your chest like a mother would gather her children, and drop them on the bench behind with an irritated, angry groan. 

An entire days worth of work ruined because you couldn’t do something as simple as hold onto a vial. 

Some scientist you are. 

From the corner of your eye you see James raise his head. When you told him you’d be alone in the lab all day doing research for MONARCH he insisted on joining you, even in spite of your protestations that he’d be bored out of his skull watching you work. 

“It’s not exciting work,” you had told him with a smile. “It’s equations and formulas and mixing chemicals. You’d hate it.”

James had only given you that soft smile that he knew was your weakness. “I barely see you enough as it is, love. I won’t make a sound. Scouts honour.”

It’s impossible to deny him anything, especially when he looks at you like you hung the moon, and so he’s sat quietly at an empty bench reading a two week old newspaper while you work. 

His Scout’s honour lasted roughly thirty minutes. Naturally curious, he had followed you around the lab like a child all morning, asking detailed questions about every step of your process. But, if you’re being very honest, it’s been nice to have him there to alleviate some of the loneliness of your work. 

He’s been banished to the other side of the lab for the last half hour to allow you to concentrate, but you can feel him watching you as you begin to clear the mess from your workbench, and you can almost hear the wheels in his head turning as to whether he should approach or leave you be. 

Ultimately, it’s the former that wins. 

There’s a quiet rustle as he folds the newspaper up neatly and places it exactly where he found it. It attracts your gaze and you watch him unfold from the bench like an elegant housecat, hesitating for only half a second before he closes the short distance between you both in several large steps. 

James loops his arms easily around your waist and pulls you back against his chest. His closeness brings with it the clean scent of his soap and the subtle pine of his shaving cream - that alone is almost enough to ground you. “You’re tired, love,” he says softly. “And you’ve barely left this lab all week. You’re going to exhaust that brilliant mind unless you take a break.”

His lips then press firmly to your temple. It’s his favoured soothing gesture and it never fails, not even when the inside of your mind feels like a hamster on a wheel. Slowly, the rolling wave of rage swirling inside you begins to quiet until there’s nothing but the feel of James’ arms wrapped around your waist. 

You hate how good he is at that. 

“This brilliant mind can’t take a break,” you reply tiredly, suddenly feeling all the exhaustion of the week settle over you. “I’ve got a deadline biting at my ass that can’t be pushed any further. There’s no time to switch off and have a pina colada.” 

James hums in your ear, immediately awakening a trail of goosebumps along your arms. “You did an excellent job at switching off last night.”

The tip of his nose nudges your jaw. It’s so simple, so small, but you curse the man to hell and back. 

Of course he’s going to bring up the night before when you had spent hours tangled beneath the sheets, bracketing his broad body between your shaking thighs while your name was a prayer on his lips. Of course he’s going to make you think of the way his lips had thoroughly worshipped every inch of your body, and how he’d had to cover your mouth to silence your cries lest you wake the entire building.  

Of course he’s going to make you think of the pleasure he’s capable of ripping from your body, because he knows you well enough to know that it’s a foolproof way to distract you.

You say nothing as he continues to trail lazy, haphazard kisses along the back of your neck and across your shoulder. The notes you saved only a few minutes earlier stare back at you from the workbench, and you know you should get back to the deadline at hand, but how can you be expected to focus when James is twisted around you like a viper?

And surely a few seconds of distraction isn’t going to cost you your career. 

“I should tell you to piss off and let me work,” you say, biting back a sigh when James bites gently at your earlobe, “but some stress relief would be really nice right now.”

James laughs in your ear, soft and low and genuinely amused, but his fingers are already dipping beneath the hem of your shirt to dance across your bare skin. “Is that all I am to you? Stress relief?”

You hope he knows he’s anything but. 

James Conrad is the very reason you’re standing in this lab because he believed in your abilities when you didn’t even believe in them yourself. He’s the person you want to share every miniscule detail of your life with no matter how ridiculous. He’s the first person you look for in a room, and his are the only lips you want to kiss at the end of the day. 

He’s the love of your life, and you pray that he never reduces himself to merely being the person who distracts you from the stress of your job. 

Even though he’s very, very good at it.              

His fingertips trace a familiar path along your abdomen, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as your entire body responds instantly to his touch. Those practiced fingers then slip easily inside your bra to twist your nipples, as though emphasising his displeasure, but it only pulls a satisfied smile across your face. 

“You’re the one who said I needed to take a break and then offered yourself up. What would you call it?” you tease him. 

There’s another twist of your nipples, enough to make you gasp, but the pads of his thumbs are quick to soothe. “I’d call you an impudent brat,” he replies, beginning to trail a lazy path of kisses along the column of your throat.           

You grin wider and tilt your head onto your shoulder, offering him as much of you as you can. “We established that a long time ago, Captain. You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“Brat,” he says again with a smile in his voice. “But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

James presses a final kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, so gentle and so chaste that your heart skips in your chest, and you’re once again left marvelling at the emotions that this man can awaken in you. In the space of five minutes he’s made you feel calm, desired, playful, and infatuated, and, not for the first time, you think about how stupidly lucky you are to call him yours. 

Your jungle man, as you’ve taken to calling him.

Much too soon he untangles his weight from around you, but you feel two firm hands come to rest on your hips. They give you a squeeze and, before you can complain at the sudden coldness his absence brings, James is quickly spinning you around to pin you back against the workbench. His grip tightens only a fraction, as though he’s labouring under some absurd belief that you might bolt, but then one hand rises from your hip to cup your cheek. His touch is so familiar to you that you can’t help but lean into it, even more so with the almost reverential way his thumb strokes your skin. 

“How many cups of coffee have you had today?” he asks, blue eyes boring into you. 

You hesitate for only a heartbeat. “Three,” you reply, but James is quick to cock an eyebrow. “Four.” 

He sighs softly and pulls you close enough to press a kiss to your forehead. “Oblivious girl,” he teases quietly. “I know how important this project is to you, and I know that it requires a great deal of your time and energy, but you have exhausted yourself, love.”

There’s a brief moment of nothing, then James is taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “This brilliant mind is done for today. Understand?”

His voice is still velvet soft, but there’s no mistaking that this is a command he expects you to obey. Even so, the urge to be a brat rises like a storm inside you because you know how much he enjoys the game, but another larger part of you is already folding like a house of cards.

How can you not with the devastating promise that’s glittering in those blue eyes?

You nod quickly in response, eager to experience his unique form of stress relief. “Yes, Captain.”

James tilts his head to the side, fixing you with a gaze that’s full of fond exasperation. “Careful, my sweet girl, or you might bite off more than you can handle.” 

“Maybe tomorrow when you have more time to teach me a lesson,” you reply with a smirk. 

James laughs at your wit, smiling so wide that you can see the soft crinkles that form at the corners of his eyes. “Reckless. Utterly reckless,” he replies softly, and the next thing you know is his lips on yours. 

James kisses you slowly and so deeply that it takes your breath away. You melt into him easily, letting him coax your arms around his shoulders in time with a large hand pressing against the small of your back to clamp you against his chest. A moan flutters from your mouth to his as you grip him like a vice, digging your fingers greedily into the defined muscles of his back while he kisses you like you’re his only source of oxygen.

You feel dizzy, and it’s as good a distraction as any, but you realise it’s nothing more than a precursor when his lips eventually leave yours and he folds to his knees before you. 

Still drunk on the taste of his kiss, you can only watch as he makes himself comfortable on the unforgiving laboratory floor. He looks sinfully perfect kneeling in front of you, and when you see the raw desire that’s swirling in those pretty blue eyes, it almost has you fold. 

“If it’s stress relief you want, love,” James murmurs, sliding his hands underneath the hem of your skirt until it bunches at your hips, “then I’m only too happy to provide.” 

Cool air winds its way around your thighs, but James’ lips are quick to dispel the chill. He teases a slow path along your right thigh while his thumb traces nonsensical patterns on the other, and both combined raise a molten fire of arousal to life in the pit of your stomach. 

Each press of his warm lips to your flushed skin makes your cunt pulse with need, and it doesn’t take long before a desperate whimper floats from your lips. You feel James smirk then suck a particularly rough bruise into the top of your thigh. 

“Jesus Christ,” you moan shamelessly, letting an eager hand fall to twist into his hair.

You wait expectantly for him to climb higher, but, much to your irritation, he pulls back to lift his eyes to yours, though not before curling lazy fingers around the waistband of your underwear. 

“Well, don’t -,” you begin, only to be immediately silenced by James ripping away the flimsy material of your underwear. 

“Would you like to continue?” he asks, already placing two hands on your thighs to coax them apart.

You shake your head. “N-no. Not important.” 

“My good girl,” James praises you with another kiss to your lower stomach. “I expect my contributions to be noted in your final report,” he says with such an air of seriousness that you can’t help but laugh outright. 

“A footnote in my Nobel Prize acceptance speech is the best I can offer,” you reply. 

“Beautiful, brilliant, and remarkably humble. Any wonder I adore you,” he teases back, and finally, finally, you feel his mouth on your cunt. 

He feels better every single time, you can’t help but think. He’s a man who takes pleasure in giving, and nowhere does that shine through more than when he’s between your thighs. His tongue caresses your cunt like a long lost lover, ensuring that no part of you is left neglected. 

“James…fuck.” They’re the only words you’re capable of saying as he pays particular attention to your clit.

He groans low in his throat and the vibrations are enough to have you slamming your hand back on the bench behind to keep yourself steady. You chance a glance down at the devil between your legs, and your eyes immediately lock with his. You watch as he pleasures you, watch as he curls his hands around your hips to pull you closer to his mouth, then closes his eyes at the taste of you.

You know you aren’t going to last long. 

A storm of pleasure is quickly rising in your core, swirling faster and faster with each second James’ tongue remains buried in your cunt. Your hand curls like a vice in his hair to guide him and he obediently follows. Those strong hands squeeze your hips - a silent request - and you quickly flick your eyes back down to his. 

“I know…I know. Just keep going…please, James,” you plead. You’re climbing higher up the ascent and ready to topple, so it’s only too easy to grant him his one request. 

Let him watch you fall. 

His blue eyes are boring into you, not willing to risk even a second of you falling apart, and when you catch a glance of your own arousal coating his upper lip, you know you’re gone. 

Your orgasm rips through you so violently that you lose the ability to breathe, to form thoughts, to do anything but keep your eyes on James. But when you finally do find your voice, James’ name is imprinted into the very foundations of the laboratory. He fucks you through it all, until you’re a quivering, boneless wreck above him shaking through the aftershocks. 

You’re still panting when he finally pulls back, unable to do anything but watch mutely as he pulls your skirt back into place and gets to his feet. Instantly, he’s gathering you in his arms and holding you against his chest, letting one hand run slowly along the length of your back. 

“Better?” he asks, pulling away just enough to catch your chin between his fingers. 

You nod slowly. “Uh huh, but I can’t remember why I needed to feel better.”

James laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead. “My poor girl. Why don’t I take you home so you can lie down?” 

You let him loop an arm around your waist and pull you against his side. “I feel like there might be a double meaning to that.” 

“There is,” James replies, not missing a beat. 

“Then take me home, Captain.”

[andminnequin]

PRIDE MONTH’S ALMOST OVER AND I JUST REMEMBERED I HAD TO DO THIS

SPEEDRUNS IT

[little-deth]

I have 0 input, here are some photos of me being vain

[pretty-little-kitty]

not much work getting done at work today 🥴

[snekky-arts]

when i say i threw out three schedules to draw this-

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Star Wars: The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x fReader

Fic Rating: E (explicit)

Chapter Rating: Mature

AO3

ONE

Everyday—

Everyday is the same. Morning’s light shines, spackled and fractured through the tattered, burlap curtain. You raise your arm to shield your face. You cringe. You groan. You sit up. There’s a satisfying crackle when you roll your head from one shoulder to the other. Convinced that you should go to work, you stretch, then drag yourself out of bed (if you can consider a blanket on the floor and a rolled up shirt for a pillow as a bed). Still it’s better than waking up, face first in dirt. You’ve been there before and you’d rather not be there again.

Work is work. Food is food. Drink is drink. Evening is evening, but with that you can at least drown the dull life you live in copious amounts of liquor. Numb reality away and drift—drift in an imagined haze of a life where you’re free from this drudgery. And that’s exactly what you do today. Drink. Drink. Drink until you nearly disintegrate. Same as every other.

But this day is not like every other. You stumble out of the local bar and wander by the apothecary’s humble shop. There’s an agitating jingle that wraps itself around your head that’s just begun to throb as a breeze blows through, rustling the makeshift set of chimes near the smeared window. Grasping the corner of the building, fist closing as you wrap an arm around your waist, you steady yourself. A deep inhale and exhale and your stomach gurgles, lurches, threatening your evening and maybe even tomorrow morning too. Doubling over, you swallow, and gulp, and will the contents bubbling in the back of your throat downward. Downward into the pit of your stomach where it belongs.

“Not looking so good.” There’s a tsk. “I can help with that.”

You glance up to see an unfamiliar face that’s half smiling at you, eyes mostly hidden in the shadow of the hood of his cloak. That’s not the apothecary you know. It doesn’t matter, not when your insides want to be your outsides. You try to shove back some of the hair sticking to your temples and suck in fresh air. Even though it’s evening, the air is stale, and ripe with wet blanketed heat. It only makes matters worse.

“Please, I’ll take anything you’ve got,” you manage to croak.

The apothecary shuffles away and reappears after what feels like an eternity, a small vile in hand. He pops the cork and offers the vial. “It’s bitter,” he warns.

Throwing your head back, you dump the burning liquid down your throat and bitter is an understatement. Still, its effects are immediate. You straighten out, palm still pressed to the side of the building.

“Better?” He asks.

You give a nod. “How much?” There’s hope it won’t be your life’s savings but it would have been worth it. Any cost would be worth it to be able to crawl home and not spend the night hunched over a toilet and waking up to the incessant throb of a hangover.

He waves a hand at you. “Consider this one on the house.”

Eyeing him suspiciously, you give the empty vial back. “Nothing’s free.”

He folds his arms across his chest. “This is. You’re special.”

“I am not special,” you say.

Nobody’s special.

He throws you a curious smile, a chunk of his dark hair swooping down over his cheek. He leans in a little closer to you. “I think you are.”

He bites down on his bottom lip. Whether it’s to hold back more of what he wants to say or some kind of flirt, you’re too far gone to sort it out or really care.

“And I know you’re wrong,” you reply. “But thanks for the assist anyway.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replies.

With a shake of your head, you shove off the wall, leaving him behind as you continue your trek back to your hovel of a home and pass out.

[iodotsys]

i have my first gallery exhibit today

[43on14n]

Yall r getting FED.

I dont ship it but 😋

[this-acuteneurosis]

Anger

There's a plan. It's imperfect, but it's the best they've got.

Now they just have to hope no one ruins it for them.

[chronicsyd]

alrighty, few thoughts on the sneak peek "Enemy of my Enemy" (also if you're someone who's already watched the leaks don't comment, you'll be blocked. Thank you.)

people were speculating that this was Silco wrapped up in a bow, but I'm positive that it's just Fishbones. you can kinda tell by the overall shape of it, the tail by Jinx's right arm has points on the top and bottom, and the head is by Jinx's left and is larger. So she's probably just trying to hide the thing that she just bombed the council with. Also Silco's a pretty tall individual so unless she has him bent in half or something there's no way she's carrying him. (I also put a screenshot from ep 9 just to compare the two)

Jinx's makeup is still streaked on her face so this is implying that this is happening pretty quickly after she fires Fishbones. but what's Interesting is that Smeech (i believe that's his name) says "They want you alive" but i don't think it has to do with Caitlyn and the Enforcers Yet, but it actually has to do with Jayce and wanting Silco to hand over Jinx from back in ep 9, and news of that made its way to the Undercity. and they're reaction to Jinx saying "when i killed him" makes me believe that they didn't even know that Silco had passed yet. So them ambushing Jinx to me means they were looking to get back at Silco and they knew Jinx was a weak point for him.

On the other hand, i was right about this scene not happening during Caitlyn and Vi's fight vs Jinx in the temple (okay, we still don't have complete confirmation that Caitlyn's there the two stills that i mentioned in other posts just connects those dots for me). Initially i thought that the fog/smog/whatever wasn't quite dark enough to match, and it appears i was correct in that assumption.

But it appears as though Jinx and Sevika are going to have a "Enemy of my Enemy is my friend" sorta relationship in S2. despite the two's animosity towards each other, the two were still loyal to Silco.

But that does leave me with one thought... this scene from the teaser:

I do not believe that this is happening immediately after this clip; for a couple of reasons. One when Sevika shoots the hat, Jinx looks just about as surprised as everyone else in the scene; like she wasn't expecting Sevika to be there at all, she was by herself up until then. The person next to Jinx seems to be a kid and the other crime lords aren't there anymore. Also if you slow it down and rewatch it, Jinx has her handgun back on her hip. and Jinx has built Sevika's uhhh "piranha arm" and they're probably just having her test it out or something and Smeech is working with them at that point.

So yea just me on my nonsense just yapping as usual. But that's all for now until more Legitimate stuff comes from the Arcane team. bye!

[evecallum]

Sol Regem being the size of a literal dog relative to Aaravos is wild

[bankaizen]

aizen yapping on his throne

[kairithemang0]

Thinking about Curt holding Owen's body after he shoots him

I'm not one to bring up Harry Potter often but all I picture is that scene where Snape finds Lily dead and sobs his fucking eyes out

Give me this shit but they're on a staircase and there's blood falling from Owen's head

[xdreamie]

woke up feeling insane about him

[meiloorunsmoothie]

i am thinking about them

[andy-clutterbuck]

Bts of TWD 5x10