#and if it don’t apply let it fly

[violethyacinth]

Made the mistake of logging into twitter for two fucking minutes only to see a Palestinian child starved to death and an advertisement for ozempic immediately following the video of him being wrapped in a blanket.

[danykindaforgotaboutdre]

You ship Meljayvik because you're looking for a solution to a nonexistent love triangle. I ship Meljayvik because I'm a ho. We are not the same.

[vicontheinternet]

I feel this fandom is racist while some ppl have valid reasons to not like ginny most y’all’s racism is showing

[sev-on-kamino]

My siblings in the Force, the way some of y’all speak about Tem (a real human being) should land you on a watchlist. And I’m deadass.

Be unhinged af about all 250,000 clones and the million more on the way, but please for the love of all things round and vibranium, find an ounce of chill when talking about Tem.

He’s gorgeous and we swoon. But the way some of y’all get down on the dash 👀 He would get an RO against you, if he saw it.

[miscellaneousjay]

As a Black American woman, I believe Black Americans have the RIGHT to GATEKEEP our shit. Too many of y’all (not all, but enough non-Black people and/or non-Americans) love/want the culture and hate/don’t respect the people and you can’t have one without the other. Until y’all can respect the people, STAY AWAY FROM THE CULTURE!!!

In the spirit of Spooky Season, CULTURE IS NOT A COSTUME so APPRECIATE DON’T APPROPRIATE!

[bluestockingbaby]

via @anghraine

It's interesting (if often frustrating) to see the renewed Orc Discourse after the last few episodes of ROP. I've seen arguments that orcs have to be personifications of evil rather than people as such or else the ethics of our heroes' approach to them becomes much more fraught. Tolkien's work, as written, seems an odd choice to me for not wrangling with difficult questions, and of course, more diehard fans are going to immediately bring up Shagrat and Gorbag.

If you haven't read LOTR recently, Shagrat and Gorbag are two orcs who briefly have a conversation about how they're being screwed over by Sauron but have no other real options, about their opinions of mistakes that have been made, that they think Sauron himself has made one, but it's not safe to discuss because Sauron has spies in their own ranks. They reminisce about better times when they had more freedom and fantasize about a future when they can go elsewhere and set up a small-scale banditry operation rather than being involved in this huge-scale war. Eventually, however, they end up turning on each other.

Basically any time that someone brings up the "humanity" of this conversation, someone else will point out that they're still bad people. They're not at all guilty about what they're part of. They just resent the dangers to themselves, the pressure from above, failures of competence, the surveillance they're under, and their lack of realistic alternative options. The dream of another life mentioned in the conversation is still one of preying on innocent people, just on a much smaller and more immediate scale, etc.

I think this misses the reason it keeps getting brought up, though. The point is not that Shagrat and Gorbag are good people. The point is that they are people.

There's something very normal and recognizable about their resentment of their superiors, their fears of reprisal and betrayal that ultimately are realized, their dislike of this kind of industrial war machine that erases their individual work and contributions, the tinge of wistfulness in their hope of escape into a different kind of life. Their dialect is deliberately "common"—and there's a lot more to say about that and the fact that it's another commoner, Sam, who outwits them—but one of the main effects is to make them sound familiar and ordinary. And it's interesting that one of the points they specifically raise is that they're not going to get better treatment from "the good guys" so they can't defect, either.

This is self-interested, yes, but it's not the self-interest of some mystical being or spirit or whatnot, but of people.

Tolkien's later remarks tend to back this up. He said that female orcs do exist, but are rarely seen in the story because the characters only interact with the all-male warrior class of orcs. Whatever female orcs "do," it isn't going to war. Maybe they do a lot of the agricultural work that is apparently happening in distant parts of Mordor, maybe they are chiefly responsible for young orcs, maybe both and/or something else, we don't know. But we know they're out there and we know that they reproduce sexually and we know that they're not part of the orcish warrior class.

Regardless of all the problems with this, the idea that orcs have a gender-restricted warrior class at all and we're just not seeing any of their other classes because of where the story is set doesn't sound like automatons of evil. It sounds like an actual culture of people that we only see along the fringes.

And this whole matter of "but if they're people, we have to think about ethics, so they can't be people" is a weird circular argument that cannot account for what's in LOTR or for much of what Tolkien said afterwards. Yes, he struggled with The Problem of Orcs and how to reconcile it with his world building and his ethical system, but "maybe they're not people" is ultimately not a workable solution as far as LOTR goes and can't even account for much of the later evolution of his ideas, including explicit statements in his letters.

And in the end, the real response that comes to mind to that circular argument is "maybe you should think about ethics more."

[girliism]

Bc it’s not true😭

it is and that’s ok to admit now get out my inbox 🫶🏽

[thkmadame]

Having a preference for what’s attractive to you is your business, like enjoy but to make it a standard for beauty that you hold over everyone’s head is unrealistic and weird

[manmuncher777]

WHINY CHOSO WHINY CHOSO WHINY CHOSO

‘Please baby, I’ll be quick. They wont even notice we left.”

Choso’s lips brushed against the shell of your ear as his begging continued. Warm breath tinged with pitchy whines for only you to hear. His hands resting on your thigh under the blanket as you sat in your friends apartment, you had come over for a night of drinks and chat. But alcohol seemed to do one thing and one thing only to choso, make him increadibly horny. Absolutely insatiable. You were lucky it had gotten to the point where groups had broken off to have conversations, leaving you and choso sat on a couch.

So now you had your gorgeous boyfriend, flushing in the face and glossy eyes begging to whisk you away and fuck you. And you found it harder and harder to turn him down with each promise he made you.

“Please baby, I don’t even need to fuck you. Just wanna feel you so bad.” The grip on your thigh tightening with desperation. You did your best to stay nochelant, hand stroking the back of his neck, hoping that maybe it might act as some sort of soothing agent for him, but little did you know your touch was only making things worse for him. The way your perfume wafted to his nose with over stroked to his neck, the feeling of your nails as they ran over his skin, it had his spine tingling and his mind running with need.

“You know you want to…” his tattooed hand rising further and further up your leg, and you suddenly became grateful for the blanket concealing his actions

“Cho…” you tried to reason with him, but it was no use, his mind was set on you, and nothing was going to stop him.

“You know you want me to baby, I’ll let you use me in any way you want.” His eyes never leaving your face, trying to gauge if he was wearing down your resolve at all, pulling out his best tricks. “You can have my mouth if you want….” His hand diving underneath your skirt, trailing your inner thigh. “My fingers…” your mind whirring with thoughts, filthy thoughts about what would happen if you jjst gave in, if you just left. You could feel yourself flushing with his every move, getting more and more overwhelmed. His voice barely a whisper, only to be hear by you. His whiney tone gracing your ears with each word.

“My dick… anything you want baby, im all yours.`’

Well shit.

Looks like he’d won this battle, with his final sentence his fingers resting over your soaked panties - unmoving, only applying a cruel ammount of pressure. You couldn’t take much more of his teasing, it might seem like he was the only desperate one, but you had been trying so hard to keep your resolve and not just stay home with him the whole night. But that plan had gone out the window, and now you were dragging this huge man by the hand behind you as you gave a hurried goodbye to your friends.

You were frustrated, fuck him for teasing you the whole night, getting you all worked up when you were trying so hard to have one night with friends that wasnt cut short by you two leaving to go fuck. But fo course his sexy fucking voice and gorgeous face just had to go and ruin that for you again. Dragging him into your appartment, brushing him with kisses as you let out all your frustrations on him. And he was more than happy to take it, swallowing each kiss with just as much passion. Falling onto the bed when your pushed him onto it, watching intently as you stripped yourself, climbing on top of his chisled body.

Second nature his hands went to fly to your hips, to grip the soft skin he loved so much. But he was stopped. Your hands holding his wrists and pinning them onto the bed. Confusion graced his features as he stared up at you.

“What was it you said baby? I could use you?” Your voice ringing sickly sweet, but choso could tell there was malice behind those eyes. He knew you were pissed at him, so he was just going to have to fuck that out of you.

At least thats what he was thinking, and while he was thinking that he failed to notice the handcuffs being placed around his wrists and the bed posts. snapping his head up to look at his restraints in frustration, tugging against the chain, hoping they would break. To no avail.

“What’s wrong Cho, this is what you were begging me for earlier?” Your voice ringing smirk, hands brushing up and down his body, avoiding the area where he needed you most, his shockingly hard cock standing tall, but you refusing to acknowledge its presence, instead running your nails along his skin, watching as red marks awake.

‘T-this isn’t quite what I had in mind- wanna be able to touch you.” That familiar whine once again leaving him, but you werent going to fall for it this time. Touch luck for him

“Well maybe you should’ve thought about that before you were a horny bastard all evening”

True, he did bring this on himself. But he couldn’t help it when you were sat there so close to him, smelling and looking so good.

But now he was sorely regretting his actions. Watching you helplessly as you finally start paying some attention to his leaking cock, wrapping your hard around his base as you leave little kisses on his pretty pink tip. His precum coating your lips with every kiss you left.

That gentle touch had him bucking his hips, straining to meet your lips. His hands tugging on his restraints, begging to be able to touch you, to run his hands through your hair as he guides your mouth onto his cock.

But you werent feeling that nice, shuffling up his body, straddling him. Your bare body illuminated by your bedside lamp as you rubbed your cunt over his length. Not ever letting in slip in. Just a simple rock of your hips. Coating him in your wetness. Pulling pathetic moans from him as you went. Your warm cunt brushing over his tip, allowing it to bump your clit every thrust. You truly were just using him in this moment. Goosebumps prickling over your skin as faint waves of pleasure started to flow through you. The slick sounds of your pussy audible as he slid through your folds.

“F-fuck~ baby im so sorry. Please” you had hardly even started and sweat was already starting to glisten on his perfect skin, tufts of dark hair clinging to his forehead as he strained. Not giving up on his attempt to touch you. To do anything. This wasn’t enough. He needed to feel you.

Choso was wrecked.

His wrists pulled against the cuffs, his arms flexing as he tried—really tried—not to lose his mind. But the way you were straddling him, bare, your warm, soaked cunt dragging over his cock in slow, torturous rolls of your hips? It was killing him.

“Please,” he rasped, his voice thick, wrecked with need. His fingers twitched uselessly against the restraints. “Please, baby, I—fuck, I need you.

You hummed, deliberately shifting your hips just enough to let the head of his cock catch against your entrance before lifting yourself off him again. “You need me?” you mused, tilting your head, pretending to think. “That’s funny. Because you were the one begging me all night, acting like you’d do anything just to get inside me.”

Choso groaned, his head pressing back into the pillows, his jaw clenched as he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “I would,” he swore, his eyes dark and pleading, half-lidded with frustration. “I will—just, please—fuck, just let me—”. It was almost laughable how desperate he was, how worked up he was getting. Part of you felt a little guilty as you watched his flushed face strain with ever movement you made. But he needed to know his place, and this was exactly where he belonged. Underneath you, pathetic. Eyes glossy and dark hair messy.

You rolled your hips again, letting his cock slide between your folds, slick and achingly close to where he wanted to be, where he needed to be. His whole body shuddered, his fingers curling into fists as he let out the most pitiful, desperate sound.

“Shit—” he gasped, his hips jerking up involuntarily, trying to chase the heat, trying to bury himself inside you—but the cuffs kept him in place, kept him helpless beneath you. “Baby, please—I can’t—fuck, I can’t—”

You leaned in, your lips grazing his ear as you whispered, sweet as sin, “You can’t what?”

Choso let out a broken noise, his breath stuttering. “I can’t—I need you. I can’t take it anymore,” he admitted, voice cracking, all pride lost to the unbearable need consuming him. “Please, baby—I’ll be good, I promise, just—fuck, just let me inside you.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, and the sheer desperation in his eyes sent a fresh wave of heat through your core.

“Well,” you mused, dragging your nails lightly down his chest, watching the way he shivered beneath you. “Since you asked so nicely…”

Then, finally—finally—you sank down onto him, inch by agonizing inch.

And the way Choso whined, his entire body trembling as he let out the most guttural, relieved, wrecked moan?

It was so worth making him wait

Choso was gone.

His wrists still pulled weakly against the cuffs, he couldn’t find it in himself to even thing about the red marks it was causing his skin to form, his body trembling beneath you, his face flushed and damp with sweat as he let out the most wrecked sounds—deep, needy, helpless.

“F-fuck—” he gasped, his voice cracking as you rode him mercilessly, taking what you wanted, using him like he was nothing more than a toy for your pleasure. His cock twitched inside you, overstimulated, aching, so close to falling apart, but he didn’t want it to end—he never wanted it to end.

“You’re taking it so well, baby,” you cooed, your nails dragging down his chest, leaving faint red trails in their wake. “Letting me use you like this—just lying there and taking it like a good boy.”

Choso whimpered, his arms flexing as he pulled against the cuffs again, pure instinct telling him to grab your waist, to pull you down, to beg you to keep going, never stop—

“Please,” he choked out, his voice strained, his hips jerking up in weak, desperate little thrusts. “Please, baby—I wanna come, please—” he didn’t care how he sounded, how desperate the begging was. He couldn’t hold back, not with the way your velvety walls were dragging over him. His bulbous tip presseing deep inside of you every time you lowered yourself, back arching at how deep he was, but you couldn’t let him see how good he was making you feel, as much as you wanted to collapse against him, you couldn’t.

You slowed, rolling your hips in deep, languid strokes, feeling the way he shuddered beneath you, his breath hitching, his thighs trembling. “Want me to let you come, baby?” you murmured, dragging your nails up his ribs, feeling the way his stomach tensed under your touch. Throbbing inside of you at your sensual words, his hips tying their best to meet your cruel bouncing.

“Yes—yes, please—” You leaned in, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “Then be a good boy and give it to me.”

That was it. Choso broke.

His whole body tensed, his breath catching in his throat before he let out the neediest, most pathetic moan as he came, spilling inside you, his arms straining against the cuffs, his hips jerking helplessly. “F-fuck—fuck, baby—oh my god—”

You didn’t stop—not right away. You rode him through it, milking every last shudder, every last gasp, making him feel it, making him take it.

By the time you finally slowed, Choso was a mess—his chest heaving, his skin flushed, his lips parted as he blinked up at you in complete awe.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, dazed, his voice wrecked. His wrists flexed against the cuffs again, weakly this time, as if he desperately wanted to touch you but didn’t have the strength to ask. “I—I love you so much,” he slurred, breathless, still trying to catch up with reality. “Thank you.”

You laughed softly, trailing your fingers over his jaw before leaning in to kiss him, slow and deep, swallowing the little whimper he let out as you did.

“You’re so good for me, baby,” you murmured against his lips, reminding yourself to make more plans with friends soon, you quite enjoyed this outcome.

[stellawish]

flowers and fliers

summary: dad!gojo trying to cheer his baby genre: fluff🌷 dad!gojo x mom!reader p.s Haru is still a baby. i didn’t specify his age but he’s still wittle (not toddler yet)

“No, give it to me,” Satoru said as he tried to unclench his son’s tiny fist. Haru’s small white eyebrows furrowed while he sniffed angrily and shook his head in protest.

March 8th—International Women’s Day. Although this day isn’t widely celebrated in Japan, Satoru believed it was still special. He always loved showering you with gifts and attention, and now he had another reason.

Earlier, he announced to his students that the day was off and there would be no lessons or missions. He responded to their joyful reaction with mock sadness, telling them not to miss him too much. In return, he received nothing but rolled eyes and stony expressions.

Later, you had lunch at home, and he prepared your bath with soapy water and soothing lavender oil.

Meanwhile, a delivery man arrived with a huge bouquet of flowers.

The bouquet was stunning—colorful and huge. Your son certainly appreciated it. His doe blue eyes lit up at the sight of the massive arrangement and the explosion of colors. And his tiny hands quickly grabbed one of the buds and refused to let go.

Unfortunately, one flower at the very edge had arrived crumpled, for which the courier apologized profusely.

Satoru, distracted, put it aside, completely forgetting about his son’s tenacious grip and endless baby curiosity.

“ Haru, be a good boy and give this to dad,” Gojo said sternly. He was worried about the naked stem, which had a few very sharp-looking thorns, now clenched in his son’s little hand.

Haru sensed the shift in his father’s tone and stopped his mischief. He looked up with wide, blinking blue eyes. His pink lips trembled, and he clutched the now thoroughly crumpled flower closer to his chest. A second later, the first tear appeared.

“Oh no, no, no!” Satoru muttered nervously. His heart clenched, and his hands reached out to scoop up his son’s small body.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, kissing his son’s forehead and gently wiping away the tears from his flushed, chubby cheeks.

Haru always cried so softly and heartbreakingly that it nearly brought Satoru to tears every time.

“Your dad’s a fool, I’m sorry,” Satoru whispered affectionately, pressing his son’s face against his shoulder.

Still crying, Haru whimpered and clutched Satoru’s strong neck with his plump little arms, as if silently agreeing.

Suddenly, an idea sparked in Satoru’s mind.

Fresh from your shower and after applying body lotion, you heard your son’s bright giggle echoing through the house. Smiling and following the sound, you entered the living room—only for your heart to nearly stop at the sight before you.

Haru was flying. Flying!

“Satoru! What the hell?” you hissed angrily. “Put him down now!”

“Relax, sweets. Everything’s under control,” he replied confidently.

Still, he brought Haru closer, and you immediately snatched your son into your arms, feeling a brief moment of infinity before the comforting warmth of his little body settled against you.

Haru, unbothered, continued to giggle and babble happily.

“Happy Women’s Day!”

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against a firm chest.

Haru stretched out his unclenched fist, revealing the now hopelessly crumpled flower. His eyes sparkled mischievously, as if saying, This is for you mommy!

With the baby flying around the living room, you hadn’t even noticed the enormous bouquet of beautiful flowers. Your heart swelled with endless love for your boys.

“Oh, thank you, Haru,” you cooed, kissing your son’s nose and happily accepting his crumpled flower.

“And what about me? Hm?” Satoru whined, clearly unhappy about being left out.

You giggled, turning in his arms and pressing a kiss to his lips.

Satoru instantly smiled into the kiss, tightening his embrace around both of you and sighing contentedly.

hi everyone! Happy International Women’s Day! I know the history of this day and know that people in different parts of the world view it and spend this day differently. Where I come from, men often give flowers to women on this day. So, I decided to bring a similar scenario into my favorite Gojo family. k bye 😘

more dad!gojo HERE

taglist: @3lliesrifle @achbbys000 @happytreetale @mashtura @spicana @issamomma

cute flower dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics stars by @enchanthings-a

all rights reserved ©stellawish. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[salemlunaa]

☀︎ YOU’RE NOT BEING PRODUCTIVE, YOU’RE LAZY AND AFRAID ☀︎

And this will cost you a lot of time that could be spent with your desires…

You have all the information, why aren’t you applying. You tell me you have been in this community for 6 months, a year, 2 years+, but how many of those days you’ve spent in this community have you actually applied, how many of those nights did you actually apply and don’t just fall asleep after 5 seconds.

And i know why you’re lazy, it’s because you’re scared, you’re scared of inducing process, whether it be success or failure. You make yourself busy with scripts and subliminals, “i’ll script this really cool thing first”, “i’ll scroll a little on tumblr first” “lemme just look at the success story hashtag before i do it, it really motivates me” You try and distract your self, you delude yourself into thinking you’re being productive but really you don’t want to, if you wanted to you wouldn’t be here and I will ALWAYS stand by that. You put it off until the last minute and then when it “doesn’t work” you run back to tumblr acting like you actually did anything.

a really good analogy from @archsariel333 - “you buy the pens, the notebook, you plan for the book you’re going to write but, you never write it”

“let me just add this one thing to the plan”, “let me look at inspo for book covers and art styles for illustration”, “let me go to my book writers group on tumblr and see if they have anymore advice for me even tho i know how to write a fucking book”

I know it’s comforting and validating to be in the “waiting period”, the period of anticipation. You want to go shopping for a vacation, pack your suitcase, look at reviews on social media, plan the pics you’re going to take, but getting on the actual plane can be scary, you ask yourself “what if they deny my boarding pass”, “what if i fail to make it on time”, “what if im not eligible to fly for whatever reason”, you don’t want to leave your comforting circumstances and even the trip itself scares you just a little, so you cope by buying all the vacation outfits in the world, saving inspo pics into a pinterest board, looking at vlogs of other people going to that place. You can’t bring yourself to get on the fucking plane.

You need to apply, and properly, 2024 is almost over, the amount of weeks we have left isn’t even in the double digits anymore, I don’t want you to make it to the end of this DECADE still keeping the tumblr “foryou” page company, watching people coming and going feeling paralysed as people who came here later than you pass you by. I know the feeling sucks but whose fault is that?

I want you to scrap the amount you’ve been here. Since you’re the operant power right? I don’t care how many weeks, months, years you’ve been here, scrap it, you’re going to start afresh and you’re going to actually apply, when you have the time, you’re not going to go back to your notes app, notion or pinterest to script some more, you’re going to apply.

A lot of you have the knowledge that majority of the world doesn’t and time on your hands, do you know how powerful and extremely fortunate you are, to have time AND knowledge? i don’t think alot of you understand how much of a privilege that is you are unstoppable yet you stop yourself out of fear that you will “fail” to tap into the void and let yourself down. You are so privileged to know what you know and to have the time to apply it, so do it, your not gonna scroll on tiktok for a few more minutes or shove a million subliminals down your throat to “prep yourself” you’re just going to take a breath and do it. Induce pure consciousness, and if you fall asleep scrap that assumption and do it again.

Look at your life right now, do you honestly like it, do you like envying others for having what you can have at the snap of your fingers. Do you like the life you are living?

I want you to tell yourself that you will not be the reason for your own demise. you will NOT be the reason that it’s 2026,27,28 and so on and you don’t have what you want.

please just go and apply, i don’t even know you guys and it hurts watching you kill time when you could’ve had everything a day ago, an hour ago heck even 5 minutes ago.

apply apply apply, don’t let this feeling be the reason you “fail” 💋🍑

[iamgonnagetyouback]

I NEED MY PAMPERING.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ●ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ M. RIDDLE

SUMMARY ৎ୭ mattheo is completely obsessed with you and your high-maintenance ways. he loves spoiling you, but the moment you stop pampering him, he turns into the neediest boyfriend alive. today, you're just trying to do your makeup, but mattheo has other plans—mainly, being the center of your attention

WARNINGS ಇ. excessive clinginess, fluff, and mattheo being the neediest boyfriend ever

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 564

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Mattheo Riddle is completely infatuated with you, his high-maintenance girlfriend who has him wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger. You live for pink, makeup, long nails, and every glamorous touch, and Mattheo? He adores it. The upkeep, the attention, the endless pampering—he loves treating you like the princess you are. He proudly carries your bags, ensures your makeup is perfectly stocked, and always knows exactly when it's time for a nail appointment.

But there's one rule. Mattheo's just as high maintenance in his own way, only in the form of your undivided attention and affection. The moment you stop pampering him—whether that’s running your fingers through his hair, spoiling him with sweet words, or letting him cling to you like a koala—he turns into the neediest boyfriend alive.

One morning, you’re sitting in front of your vanity, carefully applying lip gloss when Mattheo saunters in, his eyes immediately locking on you. His face falls slightly when you don’t greet him with your usual kiss.

“Why aren’t you paying attention to me?” he whines, crossing the room in two strides and resting his chin on your shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for my turn for ages.”

You laugh softly, twisting in your chair to face him. “Mattheo, I’m just doing my makeup. I’ll give you attention in a sec.”

But that doesn’t fly with him. Before you can finish, he’s scooping you up from the chair, plopping down on the bed with you tucked in his arms. He nuzzles his face into your neck, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. “I don’t care about your makeup. I care about you.”

You grin, brushing a hand through his messy curls. “You’re being dramatic. And you act like I don’t give you enough attention, Matt."

"Because you don’t," he pouted dramatically. "You can’t just look this good and not let me have you all to myself. It's unfair."

You giggled and kissed his cheek, leaving a faint pink lipstick stain. "I’m almost done. What, you miss me already?"

"I always miss you," he mumbled.

“I need my pampering too,” he murmurs, holding you tighter. “I can’t function without it.”

You know his antics, but it’s still the cutest thing in the world. You lean down and place a soft kiss on his cheek. “Poor baby, did I neglect you?”

He nods, lips pouting in full force. “So much. I don’t know how I’m even surviving.”

You giggle, but comply immediately, peppering kisses across his face until he’s smiling lazily. “Better?”

“Almost,” he mumbles, pulling you even closer. “Don’t leave me.”

"I’m just going to meet up with some friends, Matt," you giggled, running your nails lightly through his hair. "I won’t be gone long."

He lifted his head, giving you a pout that was far too cute for someone who looked as dangerous as he did. "I don’t care. I’m coming with you."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny how much you loved his clinginess. He always wanted to be near you, touching you, even when you were doing something as simple as getting ready. It was endearing, the way he never wanted to be without you.

"Fine," you said, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "But only if you promise to behave."

"No promises," he grinned, holding you tighter. "But you’re stuck with me, princess."

And honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[vicontheinternet]

I don’t like how this is being framed as “Jordan stealing the Romania’s medal” instead of the judges be incompetent and Americans being xenophobic towards Romania’s and not knowing how to lose while Romania’s not acknowledging that they have been racist towards Jordan

[zversed]

DOCTOR, DOCTOR!

content: zayne has some trouble establishing boundaries with his favorite patient.

includes: zayne x afab!reader (l&ds)

tags: swearing, unprotected sex, creampie, medical play, cunnilingus (f. receiving), fingering, titty sucking, overstimulation, squirting, table sex, almost getting caught(ish), pwp

word count: 3.7k

minors dni. this post contents 18+ content.

“this is the third time this month,” zayne mutters under his breath, his voice heavy with concern.

you sit on top of zayne’s desk in his private office, covered in abrasions and cuts. your clothes are torn and stained with patches of blood. the mission had been a disaster—the area was overrun by wanderers and your team was severely outnumbered. while attempting to aid one of your team members, a wanderer snuck up behind you and a blast had hit you with brutal force, sending you flying a couple hundred feet. after what felt like hours, backup finally arrived just in time to pull you out of the wreckage. battered and bruised, you found yourself stumbling into zayne’s office during hospital after-hours.

“turn this way,” zayne says, his voice low and surprisingly calm. his fingers gently wrap around your chin, his touch tender as he guides your head to the right. he carefully squeezes a small dollop of ointment onto a cotton swab. his fingers slightly graze against the cut on your face and you wince at the sudden sting. the tension in the air is thick as his hand lingers a moment longer than necessary. the cool ointment meets your burning skin and you inhale sharply, your gaze catching his.

you’ve known zayne for years. from his subtle shift in demeanor and the way his eyes flicker with something unspoken— you can tell he’s upset. though, zayne keeps his emotions buried beneath a facade of calm. as much as you hate to admit it, you sometimes wish he’d just tell you what’s on his mind.

“you know, i don’t mean to come to you covered in bruises every time,” you sigh. “then don’t,” he retorts.

his fingers find your chin again, guiding you to meet his gaze. your eyes lock with his, and his gaze falls to the small cut on your lower lip. his fingers graze the tender cut and you flinch, his eyes never leaving yours. he reaches for the ointment before gently applying a thin layer with a swab.

in the quiet space between you, something shifts and you become acutely aware of just how close the two of you are. his breath slightly fans against your cheek as he speaks. a rush of heat rises to your face and you gently pull away.

“is that all?” you ask, deliberately avoiding his gaze.

“i still need to do a quick assessment to make sure everything is alright,” zayne says. you let out a soft sigh before gently nodding in defeat.

zayne’s arm extends behind you as he reaches for his stethoscope. for a brief moment, his forearm brushes slightly against yours sending a subtle jolt of awareness through you.

“take a few deep breaths,” zayne says, putting on his stethoscope. he places the diaphragm slightly below your collarbone and you inhale and exhale slowly. the cool air of zayne’s office fills your lungs—a sharp contrast to your flushed skin. “good, and again,” he says moving the stethoscope to the left side of your chest.

you catch a glimpse of zayne’s eyes—his gaze focused and steady as he listens. he shifts his stethoscope slightly lower, just above the curve of your breasts. the cool metal presses against your bare skin and you shiver. the thought of his hands hovering so close made the ache between your thighs much more apparent. as zayne continues to listen, you notice his gaze slowly start to drift downward, landing on the curve of your breasts. his eyes linger a moment longer than it should. his gaze, usually so professional, now tinged with a hint of desire.

“take another deep breath for me,” he whispers, voice wavering slightly.

suddenly self-conscious, you shift slightly in your seat. you curse yourself for not changing before coming to see him. you take another deep breath, your chest rising and falling slowly. as if suddenly coming out of a trance, zayne clears his throat. his eyes quickly shift up, avoiding your gaze. “your lungs sound clear,” he says, his voice a bit more distant than before.

“i need to listen to your heart to make sure it wasn’t affected as well,” he says matter-of-fact, yet there’s an edge of unease under his words.

as he shifts his stethoscope lower, the cool metal brushes slightly against your clothed nipple. your breath hitches at the sudden contact. “i’ll need to listen for a minute,” he says, unaffected by your proximity.

as zayne listens to your heart, a sudden warmth spreads across your cheeks as you try to distract yourself. his glasses sit on the bridge of his nose, eyes narrowed as he concentrates. his large white coat is draped over his shoulders and beneath it, a white long sleeve button up and black tie peaks at the collar.

unconsciously, your gaze continues to roam down his body. though mostly obscured by his white coat, it was obvious zayne was well-built. most of the fabric of his large coat had been filled out by his broad shoulders. out of all of his colleagues, his frame towered over most-if not all. oftentimes, you’d catch him in passing on his way to the gym near your house. he’s often drenched in sweat, beads glistening as they drip down his chest. that damned black tank top would cling to his frame, highlighting every ridge and curve on his body—his abs and biceps painfully apparent. after every run-in with him you find yourself in your bedroom at night, fingers working diligently as you coax yourself to an orgasm. most nights, you wish it was his fingers instead of your own bringing you to release.

your eyes flicks toward zayne’s hands as he works. his hands are large with fingers long and slender. zayne is a surgeon, it’s a given he’d be skillful will his hands and fingers. you wondered how it would feel to have his hands all over your body, touching and teasing you. how it would feel to have his fingers inside you, pumping and curling against your walls until he has you screaming his name. if he wanted to, you were sure he could easily bend you over his desk and fuck you to your hearts content. since he works long hours in the OR, you’re sure he has the stamina for it. considering his large frame, his cock would surely—

“your heart doesn’t sound affected either.” zayne says, snapping you back into reality. the words cut through your haze of thoughts and you mentally curse yourself. this is zayne, your childhood friend—now doctor. the shift in thoughts make your stomach tighten and you clear your throat, hoping he didn’t notice you checking him out. you didn’t even notice when he stopped listening.

“that’s great!” you say sheepishly, your gaze dropping, unable to make eye contact with him.

“though, your heart rate is a little fast,” he adds. zayne leans in slightly, “any ideas as to why?” the warmth of his breath grazes your skin and you shiver at the close proximity. you could practically feel the warmth radiating off of him.

“you’re the doctor, you tell me,” you tease, attempting nonchalance. zayne smirks, amused by your avoidance.

“well do you have any pain?” zayne questions. you lift your eyebrows, a mix of curiosity in your expression.

“pain can contribute to an increased heart rate,” he starts. “but so can many others things—stress, anxiety, sleep deprivation, arousal…” he trails off, a hint of desire flickers across his features as his words hang in the air. the silence hangs between you like a taut wire, ready to snap.

you cough at at his words and chuckle nervously. heat creeps up your neck and the room suddenly feels a lot hotter than when you first walked in. as you contemplate your excuse, your heart pounds violently against your chest. you glance at zayne, and his gaze drops slightly, lingering on your lips before falling to your breasts. his gaze darkens as it continues to roam your body, tracing every curve— a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. is there a chance he…?

with a sudden burst of confidence, you decide to test the waters between you two. you lean in slightly, your faces now a few inches apart. the warmth of your breaths mingle, and your eyes lock with his. “and if it’s the last option?” you whisper. zayne’s breath hitches in his throat and he swallows hard, attempting to regain his composure.

hesitantly, you reach out and trail your hand slowly down his chest, stopping just above the buckle of his belt. swiftly, he grabs ahold of your wrist, “we’re in my office,” he murmurs against your lips, unsure if he’s telling you or reminding himself to have some restraint. his calm facade falters as he fights the temptation to close the gap between you two.

“it’s late and it’s just us here,” you whisper, your lips brushing slightly against his. sensing his hesitance, you pull back slightly. zayne’s eyes flicker with uncertainty. the weight of professionalism weighs heavy on him—you’re not just his childhood friend, but his patient. surely the hippocratic oath doesn’t mean fucking his favorite patient in his private office. but god, he could feel his cock straining against his slacks, begging for some sort of release.

“we shouldn’t,” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper.

he pulls back, glancing at your face. your eyes are heavy with need, practically begging him to do something—anything. “zayne please,” you breathe, and the last thread of restraint zayne has snaps.

zayne’s hands are on you within seconds, gripping your waist possessively. his fingers press into your skin, anchoring you against him. the room fills with your soft sighs as his lips crash against yours, demanding and passionate. zayne kisses you roughly, the tension building between you two for the past years manifesting in the fervor of his kisses. as his kisses deepen, each one becomes more desperate and needy than the last. out of breath, you pull away slightly, your forehead resting against his as you struggle to catch your breath.

zayne’s hands tangle themselves in your hair. he pulls slightly, causing your head to fall back. you sigh in content as he places wet kisses along your jawline down to the base of your neck. “i shouldn’t be doing this,” he mumbles in between each kiss. his breath is hot against your skin as his hands continues to roam your body, squeezing at your ass and caressing your sides before making its way to your breasts.

his fingers work quickly to unbutton your blouse. in a gentle but firm motion, he slips off your bra, eyes darkened with need as he scans over your exposed skin. his calloused hands skillfully kneads the soft flesh, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. zayne quickly replaces his hands with his mouth, licking and sucking at your nipples. the room fills with your moans and sound of his mouth eagerly exploring your skin. as his tongue swirls around the hardened bud, your body arches in response to his touch. you tug roughly at his hair, urging him to continue. meanwhile, his other hand massages your other breast, fingers circling your nipple and giving it a slight pinch. you gasp at the sudden sensation, the wetness between your thighs pooling from his stimulation.

“zayne pleaseee,” you moan, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. zayne’s breath comes in hot, uneven bursts as he pulls back slightly.

“you have no idea what you do to me, do you?” zayne groans, his arousal evident as he presses himself against your clothed cunt. eagerly, he instinctively grinds himself against you, the friction sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

zayne’s lips find yours once more as his hands work to unbutton your pants. in one swift motion, he pulls the fabric down so it pools at your ankles. he urges you to lay back, the contrast between the cool wooden office table and the warmth of your bare skin causing you to shiver. zayne stands between your legs and grips at your hips, pulling you toward him so your legs dangle off the edge of the table. as he kneels down, he positions his face just mere inches away from your clothed cunt.

with his intimate gaze suddenly on you, you blush. zayne keeps his eyes locked on you as he plants wet kisses along your inner thigh. he places an experimental kiss over your clothed cunt and a breathy moan escapes your lips. your hips lift slightly as zayne pulls off your panties, leaving your bare cunt exposed to him. his fingers gently toy with your clit, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. you let out a soft gasp of his name, head falling to the side when you catch a glimpse of his office door. your eyes widen in shock when you realize you forgot to lock it when you first stumbled in.

“zayne the door,” you breathe, shifting slightly in an attempt to push him off. though your half-hearted effort remains in vain as zayne begins to suck on your clit, his fingers gently teasing the entrance of your hole. if anyone had walked in right now, they would see you, flat on dr. zayne’s office table with his mouth and fingers deep in your pussy. your cunt clenches involuntarily at the thought of someone walking in and seeing you like this—horny and so desperate for dr. zayne’s cock.

your breath halts as you hear footsteps echo down the hallway. “zayne, the door is—”

“it’s bad manners to interrupt someone who’s eating,” he mumbles against your cunt. as his tongue flicks expertly against your clit, two of his fingers deftly pump in and out of your sopping walls. as he continues his assault, you flush at the sound of your cunt squelching around his fingers. zayne slightly curls his fingers up, your body twitching in pleasure as he brushes against your g-spot, the unlocked door soon forgetten.

“oh fuuck, zayne, yes,” you gasp, hips instinctively grinding against zayne’s face. he moans against your cunt, tongue dipping into your soddened hole as his fingers continue to curl against your g-spot. your thighs threaten to come together, and zayne, unamused, uses his spare hand to hold your thighs open. your breaths come in ragged gasps as zayne continues his ministrations.

each flick of zayne’s tongue sends waves of pleasure coursing through you as he navigates your most sensitive areas. his fingers move in tandem, your body responding eagerly to him. zayne’s eyes glint with a mix of hunger and admiration as he studies your reactions, reveling in the way your body reacts to him.

as you teeter on the brink of your orgasm, your body begins to tense. every flick of zayne’s tongue against your sensitive bud sends you spiraling closer to the edge. your moans progressively get louder as you slowly reach your peak, stomach coiling, and threatening to come undone. your hand finds its way to zayne’s hair, tugging him closer to your core. zayne’s tongue flicks harshly against your clit, pushing you over the edge. you cum with a guttural moan and your body trembles as zayne holds your legs open, slowly lapping up your juices.

“god, you taste good,” he groans, savoring your taste as he palms himself through his slacks. zayne places a light kiss against your cunt and your body tenses, sensitive from your recent orgasm.

breathless and hazy eyed, you sit up, grabbing ahold of zayne’s face before capturing his lips against yours. his lips are swollen and covered in your arousal. your hands move to unbutton his white coat and shirt, fingers working diligently to reveal more of his toned physique. the way zayne’s shirt falls open reveals his well-defined chest, and you take in the sight of him. “enjoying the view?” he mumbles, a small smile playing on his lips.

“maybe a little too much,” you breathe, fingers trailing down the outline of his toned abdomen. zayne groans against your lips and kisses you with urgency, the remnants of your arousal still on his tongue. breathless, he pulls away, eyes clouded by lust. his hands move to quickly unbuckle his belt, his arousal evident as you stare at the outline of his cock through his slacks. you lean back on the table as you watch zayne through half-lidded eyes. he pulls out his throbbing cock, the tip glistening with beads of pre-cum and you moan at the sight.

zayne, his breath heavy with anticipation, positions himself at your entrance. with tantalizing slow movements, he teasingly brushes the head of his cock against your pussy, coating the tip in your arousal. each slow glide against your sensitive folds causes you to moan. you instinctively buck your hips against him, attempting to get any sort of friction.

“so needy,” he teases, chuckling to himself quietly before slowly pushing the head of his cock past your entrance. you gasp softly at the stretch, brows furrowing when a sudden knock reverberates through the room, causing you and zayne to freeze.

“dr. zayne, are you still here?” dr. greyson calls out from the other side of the door. zayne stills, the head of his cock still stuffed between your folds. your heart quickens at the thrill of potentially being discovered. your eyes flick over to zayne, fully expecting him to pull out and get dressed quickly. yet, you glance at him, his eyes never once leaving yours.

“i’m with a patient,” zayne calmly responds, his gaze unwavering as he slowly pushes the rest of his cock into you. a wave of pleasure and pain washes over you. your breath comes out in short, uneven gasps you struggle to take him. you bite your lip, trying your best to stay quiet. in the corner of your eye, you see dr. greyson’s shadowed feet retreat from beneath the door. the sound of his footsteps fade into the distance.

“shit,” he groans, voice low as your warmth envelops him. he can feel every squeeze of your walls as he buries the rest of his cock in you completely. the slickness of your arousal has zayne utterly fucked out and pussy drunk. a slight tension courses through your body as you adjust to his length and it takes everything in zayne not to throw your legs over his shoulders and pound into you. once you’ve adjusted, zayne thrusts into you slowly, savoring the way your walls pulse and gush around him. he grips at your thighs as he maintains a steady rhythm, each of his thrusts sharp and deep.

the room fills with your moans and the sound of zayne’s skin against yours. the faint creaking of the wooden table beneath you threatens to expose you both. the soft gasps of his name falling from your lips urges him on. “you feel so good,” he mumbles against your lips, eyes threatening to close shut.

zayne glances down to where you’re both connected. he watches in awe as his cock disappears inbetween your folds. as he pulls out, he groans at the sight of his cock glistening in your slick. you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. one particular sharp thrust has you moaning zayne’s name loudly.

“you’re going to get us caught,” zayne whispers. yet, despite his warning, he doesn’t slow down. instead, he deepens his thrusts, angling his hips so they brush against your g-spot. the change in angle sends jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. the snap of zayne’s hips are urgent and deliberate, each one sending waves of ecstasy to your core. you throw your head back, and zayne takes the opportunity to trail soft kisses along your neck.

zayne’s thrusts become more insistent as he pounds into you harshly. he grips your waist tightly, anchoring you as he fucks into you with abandon. your fingers dig into his biceps as you hold onto him for support. the sound of your skin slapping against each other and the squelching of your pussy fills the room. zayne’s hands continue to roam your body before shifting his focus onto your clit. his fingers dance over the sensitive nub, every flick and stroke causing heat to pool deep within your core.

“oh, zayne—fuck!” you squeal, your hands instinctively reaching out to grab him, still overstimulated from your earlier orgasm. zayne curses under his breath as your cunt squeezes him tightly. his gaze darkens as he takes in the sight of you, tears glistening in your eyes from a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation.

“fuuuck,” zayne groans. he throws your legs over his shoulders, placing you in a mean mating press as he continues working his fingers on your clit. you gasp, your body instinctively arching into him for more. at this point, you were sure the entire hospital could hear the two of you, but neither of you seemed to care. zayne’s eyes locked onto yours as he sensed your body teetering on the edge of your orgasm.

“i’m gonna cum,” you warn, and with one final thrust, your body trembles as your orgasm washes over you. a rush of warmth spills forth, fluid gushing out of your cunt as you scream zayne’s name. your body twitches against his as he fucks you through your orgasm, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers words of encouragement. following shortly after, you feel zayne’s breath quicken.

“shit, i’m cumming,” zayne moans, his thrusts growing more frantic. zayne shudders as he buries himself to the hilt in your cunt and with a deep primal groan, he empties himself inside of you. you feel his cock continue to throb against your walls, filling you with his seed. you moan at the warmth pooling between your thighs. involuntarily, your cunt clenches around him, milking every last drop. zayne’s thrusts slowly come to a halt. as he pulls out, the warmth of zayne’s release lingers, seed spilling out of your puffy folds.

zayne rests his forehead against yours, a soft smile gracing his lips. “god you’re amazing,” he murmurs, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. you giggle against his lips, “so when’s my next checkup, doctor?”

a/n: let’s have a round of applause for pussy eater zayne everyone! dr. zayne lives in my head rent free, it’s literally insane. also this took me way longer than i expected but whateverss.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Friendly neighborhood forensic pathologist Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls? (Dead on main, of course) +Part 2: Talon Dick

Don’t underestimate what a ghost will do for a higher education. You see, it's the custom of the Fenton family not to run away from things they are afraid of but to face their fear. So Danny Fenton, who has learned to fear scalpels, steel clamps and surgical retractors, decides to do something about it and to dedicate his life to giving souls of those who died a violent death the final rest and justice they deserve.

Well, it didn’t really come to him at once. It started out as a simple joke:

Danny didn’t think he could continue his education after school. Frankly, his grades suck. However, Tucker for fun applied for a scholarship for gifted villains from Gotham University on his behalf.

And hell, they are willing to pay money for his education. Pay in full! Living in Park Row is also incredibly cheap. And with his flying ability, he’ll also save on transportation.

Danny is not a villain. And he’s not planning on becoming one. But he couldn’t lose that chance.

Why do you deserve this scholarship? “My parents are renowned ecto scientists, and I’ve seen their dissection work at its best. Medical school is expensive, and this scholarship will help me accomplish my goal of becoming a forensic pathologist and helping maintain the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead…or use it for my own ends. Of course.”

Well, Mr Two-Face was fully confident that despite his grades in the subjects, Danny was fully committed to achieving high academic achievement. Finally, work experience of Dan came in handy somewhere.

There were only few things about the death that Danny didn’t find on his own or from his ghost friends, so he managed to graduate in record time. Young Fenton thought he was lucky enough to get a job near Crime Alley. It was odd that the job was available. Even a new specialist like him was allowed to work full-time. And the salary was very decent.

~~~~~~

Danny: Yes, Jazz, everything is just fine. I found a great job and I’m trying to relax and find a hobby, you know. Started feeding the local birds. Apparently they were abused, the poor things are so shy and aggressive.

The local birds:

~~~~~~

Let’s say that a returned Jason as undead cannot be killed for forever. The stab wounds heal quickly, the bullet holes sometimes itch unpleasantly for a few days, but in general his regeneration is at a level with some metahumans. This is convenient. But when Red Hood wakes up in the morgue after a particularly severe injury, he’s not happy. Sometimes even looking in the mirror at his dissection scar is difficult for him. And this situation is a fucking nightmare. Danny: Oh. Are you awake now? I’m sorry I didn’t have time to put you on the couch, I didn’t have clean sheets and my assistant would have killed me because of the new stains. Red Hood: What the hell? I’m sorry?! It’s fucked up! I’d love to see you wake up on the dissection table. Danny: Been there Done that. But hey, I didn’t put you there. You didn’t get here on my shift, give me a break.

Jason: …So, what's now? Danny: Well, I can offer you tea or coffee. Of course, only after I sew up the hole in your stomach and give you a change of clothes. Or I could go after the documents and pretend I didn’t notice one of my bodies got away. But then don’t dream about novocaine blockade. Pretty liver by the way, you don’t see that much in crime lords. Jason: Um, thank you? But you’re weird. Usually people are praised for the beauty of the face or eyes rather than… Danny: Wow, now I feel attacked.You wake up in your helmet. I can’t compliment what I can’t see. Jason: Gee, I’m surprised your colleague hasn’t taken it off yet. Danny: And lose important evidence? It is not customary for us to put curiosity above professionalism.

~~~~~

Jason learns quickly that although Batman is willing to go anywhere to track him, there are always exceptions to the rule. The morgue was one of them. Not surprisingly, the emotional constipation and uncomfortable theme of Jason’s death worked like a perfect bat repeller. Over time, Jason becomes really interested in a guy who genuinely laughs at his death jokes and listens to his problems at work without judgment. Danny is too cute and nice.

Danny*works*: No visitors allowed here.

Jason: Unless you are a zombie, right?

Danny:...Still not one of your hideouts. The book is where you left it, make some tea if you want it.

~~~~~

Jason, once again delivered without a sign of life to Danny after the fight, woke up during pupillary reflex test.

Jason: Oh, beauty, you are just dazzling today.

Danny: As I thought, your regeneration didn’t cure your concussion before your resurrection. I’ll give you referrals for all the tests and examinations. And we really should stop seeing each other like this. Please take care of yourself.

Jason: I don’t think you have the right to prescribe them to me. Danny: Technically I do not. But we live in Gotham. And for some time the hospital where I work at night is very sensitive to my requests.

Red Hood: And why? Danny: It’s hard to explain… Red Hood: Doctor Handsome, I’ve been through some shit, so try to surprise me. Danny: Okay, okay. Look, you are a crime lord for not too long, right? But criminals and cops are afraid of you and kids and your henchmen really likes you. Jason: ..So what? Danny: Can you please recommend how to maintain a reputation but so your people aren’t afraid of you? Jason: Why do you need this information? Your assistant finally realized you’re friends with walking corpses? Danny: It’s not about that! Although, like.. you aren’t wrong? It’s complicated. I may, well, accidentally, honestly, have seized power over a local secret aristocratic criminal society.

Jason: Baby, please tell me everything. I have a restaurant as a front for a business nearby. It’s a date. Let's go. Danny: Let me finish a few stitches first, Jay.

~~~~~

Red Hood and Red Robin fight near Batman: Hood: Replacement was on patrol without permission! Red Robin: And Jason is dating the new owner of Court of Owls! Batman:.. he's doing WHAT? Jason, how could you take such a risk? it is completely unprofessional and Red Hood: At least he loves me for what’s inside me! Red Robin: Yeah, like a beautiful liver. It’s a great relationship base. Red Hood: I’m talking about my feelings and interests. Dumb lil stalker with a big mouth! I’ll teach you not to bother my boyfriend.

~~~~~

Henchman: Boss. We shouldn’t go into that area, the rumors are that there are Talons here. Red Hood: All under control, they won’t touch us. Henchman: How can you be sure? The poem says 'Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow..' Red Hood: Yeah yeah "speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head". I’m sleeping with their boss, of course I’m sure. Henchman: Boss, don’t kid like that. Red Hood: I don’t pay you for gossip. Let's go.

Dick, to whom the memories began to return, haunts Jason because he did not cut for Lil Wing apple slices like he likes for lunch: Talon came to finish the job. Henchmen: scream

~~~~~

Jason *shows Danny 'Red Flags' on youtube*: Hey, baby, want to be a little shit on our date? I know where Brucie Wayne’s having dinner tonight, so you can meet the family.

[the-most-humble-blog]

Taint Misbehavin’: The Gender-Neutral Tragedy of the Human Gooch

Also known as: “Yes, Women Have Taints Too, Karen”

Let’s not dance around it.

Let’s not whisper like this is health class with a priest in the back row.

Let’s walk straight into the fleshy Bermuda Triangle and ask:

“Is the word ‘taint’ gender-specific?”

And by the end of this hellride, you’ll be spiritually aligned, anatomically educated, and emotionally compromised.

☠️ What Even Is a Taint?

Let’s get it out of the way:

Medical term: perineum

Street name: taint

Alias: gooch, grundle, the devil’s slip-n-slide, sin canal, the no-fly zone, the forbidden footpath

It’s the stretch of skin between your hoo-ha and your oh-no.

Between the exit wound and the splash zone.

Between your business and your past due notices.

In medical terms:

“The perineum is the area between the anus and the genitals.” In real terms: “The taint taint your genitals, and it taint your butthole.” Hence: taint.

It’s an anatomical gray area. A biological liminal space. A no-man’s-land paved in skin, sweat, and shame.

🧠 The Real Question:

“Do women have one?”

Yes.

Yes, they do.

Unequivocally. Universally. Unapologetically.

That smooth criminal between the peach and the portal?

That’s a taint.

Whether you’re packing meat or melons,

bulge or buffet,

beef curtain or bologna pony —

you got a taint.

🧬 But Isn’t “Taint” a Guy Thing?

Let’s be fair.

The term taint got famous via male-coded locker room vernacular.

It traveled in sweaty gym bags next to Axe body spray and bad decisions.

It’s been used in:

Xbox Live lobbies

Middle school roast battles

Joe Rogan monologues

Divorce court

Why?

Because it’s hilarious.

Say it out loud:

TAINT.

It hits like a cartoon punch.

It sounds dirty, but vague.

You can say it on TV but not in church.

But just because the culture gave the word to men…

Doesn’t mean the anatomy is exclusive.

🚺 Let’s Talk Female Taint

You know what else taint the butthole or the vag?

That smooth little fleshy runway between the two.

That’s right.

That’s the taint.

Scientifically? Still called the perineum.

But culturally?

We never branded it.

Never gave it a nickname.

Never gave it the comedic reverence it deserves.

So what happened?

Society failed the female taint.

📉 Cultural Bias: We Named Everything BUT the Taint

Let’s review:

Boobs: check

Butt: covered

Clit: overanalyzed

Labia: poetic if you're a feminist or an art student

Taint: absolute radio silence

It’s the only part of the female anatomy that hasn’t been objectified, hypersexualized, or used in a Billie Eilish metaphor.

And that’s the tragedy.

We gave the taint to men and let women walk around with an unclaimed flesh strip of mystery.

Not anymore.

💀 Taint Equality = True Equality

The taint is the only body part that:

Isn’t gendered

Isn’t politicized (yet)

Isn’t Instagrammable

Isn’t sacred

Isn’t slutty

Isn’t shamed

Isn’t holy

It’s just… there.

Raw. Unfiltered. Indifferent.

And that’s why it’s beautiful.

It taint one thing. It taint another.

It’s both. It’s neither. It’s us.

📚 Linguistic Warfare: Other Terms for the Taint (Unisex Edition)

Gooch

Grundle

Fleshbridge

Forbidden Fajita

The No-No Tundra

The UnderCooch

Devil’s Hallway

Sin Sled

Emotionless Alley

The Oathbreaker’s Strip

Let’s take back the language. Let’s name the female undercarriage.

Let’s democratize the grundle.

🧼 Taint Maintenance: Because Gender Don’t Matter When You Sweat

Male or female — taint funk is real.

That’s where:

Gym shorts go to die

Sweat turns into regret

Body wash loses its nerve

You don’t need a gender-specific care routine.

You need a loofah, some humility, and the knowledge that if your taint smells like old garlic knots, you’re the problem.

🥇 The Taint Test (For Equality Warriors)

Ask any feminist, activist, or gender studies professor:

❓ “Do women have a taint?” ❓ “Can we say gooch in a female context?” ❓ “If ‘taint’ only applies to men, are we guilty of linguistic patriarchy?” ❓ “Can you reclaim your power if you haven’t acknowledged the zone between zones?”

Watch the hesitation.

Because when it comes to taint talk, everyone’s a coward.

Not you.

You’re still reading.

You’re brave.

You believe in gooch equity.

🤯 TL;DR

“Taint” = slang for perineum, the strip of skin between genitals and butthole.

Scientifically accurate for both men and women.

Culturally, it’s been branded as male — but that’s a lie.

The female taint is real. Untouched. Sacred. Neglected. Powerful.

It’s time to stop acting like the perineum is a gendered mystery.

It taint male. It taint female. It’s humanity’s final frontier.

💣 CALL TO ACTION (You Know What Time It Is)

🔁 Reblog this before someone says “cisnormative taint privilege” unironically

🍑 Share if your gooch deserves more respect than your last situationship

🧽 Screenshot and send to someone who definitely forgot to wash theirs today

🫧 Repost this if you believe in full-body equality — from nipples to Netherrealm

⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER (BECAUSE TUMBLR SOFTIES LOVE TO SNIFF DRAMA):

This post is satire, commentary, anatomy education, performance art, literary disobedience, and a goddamn act of bravery.

It is protected under U.S. law, natural law, and the sacred covenant of locker room humor.

If this offends you, congrats — your gooch is probably neglected.

This post does not discriminate. It exfoliates.

Take a seat. Open a book. Scrub your taint.

We out here equalizing the perineum discourse with no apologies.