#and then you can acknowledge where the hard stops are

[swightops]

"in every dimension, Mark Grayson falls for you, but not this one."

Shit, you think. Between all the blood and smoke, you weren't sure if colors could be vibrant anymore. No matter how many people you got to safety or buildings you stopped from falling, there was always more.

More screams, more buildings falling, more dead bodies, more chaos.

"You know, all this blood and fire makes you look so much more pretty," a voice teases. You turn, and for a split second, relief floods you before it quickly replaces itself with apprehension. Mark floats there, but he's different; he's not Mark. His hair is parted into a mohawk, and there's something else. This Mark's eyes are rabid, obsessed, and watching you like you're some type of prize.

You try not to show your apprehension, but it's hard when Mark looks at you like that—like the way he looks at Eve. "Confused, huh?" Mark teases, and he softly lands on the ground, only a couple of feet away from you. "From what I've heard, you and I aren't together in this universe. Lameass me is with Eve. So stupid," Mark says, rolling his eyes at the end. "Can't be too surprised though! This world's me is so lame and weak."

Mark goes on and on about how your world's Mark is a sniveling, weak piece of shit, but you stopped listening. You and Mark are together in a different world.

A gust of wind makes you whip around as another Mark appears before you. But like the one with a mohawk, this one isn't your world's Mark. His suit is different, a mesh of white and gray, and no mask to be found. But like the other Mark, he's staring at you like that.

"Ugh! Couldn't give us a moment alone, could you, asshole!" Mohawk Mark complains, his eyebrows furrowed, and lips pulled into a sneer. The other Mark, the one in white and gray, doesn't acknowledge the complaints and insults thrown his way. Instead, his eyes lock onto yours, and you freeze up as he steps closer to you.

"You don't look any different," is all he says before his fingers hover over your cheek. It's wrong, it's so wrong, the way your heart beats a little faster, how your cheeks flush, and how desperately you want to lean into his warmth. Mark, this Mark in front of you, has killed countless people and caused so much damage that the aftercount might be in the hundreds of thousands.

You don't get a second to react before there's another gust of wind, and yet another Mark stands there. His suit colors are now yellow and black instead of black and dark blue. His yellow cape flows behind him, and a twisted grin pulls at his face.

"y/nnnnnn," Mark calls for you, and you hate how it sounds so right, so good. Mohawk Mark and the one right next to you turn to the other one, and a split silence passes before you're dragged up into the air.

Instinctively, you push away before arms are holding yours behind your back. "Let go!" you yell, your arms straining against Mark's.

"No wayyyy, babe," the Mark with a yellow cape says, coming closer to you, his fingers twirling a curl of your hair.

"Can we just get this over with?" Mohawk Mark says, and your heart drops to your stomach as fast as it's beating.

"We're not going to hurt you," the Mark holding you says, his voice deep and his hold tightening.

"Could have fooled me," you finally say, and the two Marks in front of you laugh. The one twirling your hair stops before squishing your cheeks together and laughing again as you struggle to pull your face out of his hold.

"Still a little firecracker like I remember," he says, and you freeze. Were you with this Mark in his universe as well? And the one behind? Was the universe so cruel that you and Mark were together in every other universe except this one? The one where you chickened out of telling you how you felt, and now he was with Eve.

"Don't worry, pretty. This world's Mark is stupid enough to not make you his, but we aren't."

[artstennisracket]

Request: thinking really hard about coach!dilf!patrick and how he'd spank bratty!tennisplayer!reader with his racket whenever she mouths off (and then fuck her with the handle. obviously)

tennis coach!Patrick x fem!reader

cw: nsfw (18+), spanking, object insertion, d/s undertones

You’ve gone through 15 tennis coaches in the past 5 years because you were “uncoachable”. But your parents knew the real reason why, your attitude.

You would question, fight back, and argue about every single little thing anyone tried to teach you. It’s exhausting for them but also for you. You never thought any of those coaches were good enough. They were too nice or too soft or too inexperienced or just too wrong.

No one really meshed with you or your playing style. You had non negotiables. One of those things being your serve. It was unique. You would bend down at an almost uncomfortable angle, bounce the ball twice, before you shoot up tossing the ball the air and hitting it.

It was weird and you didn’t know why you did it that way but you did and it worked. But every coach you ever had wanted you to fix it. Except for Patrick.

He coached you sure but never once mentioned your serve. Maybe it’s because his serve was weird too.

Your parents were surprised you kept this coach for so long, but Patrick just treated you like a real player. The part that really surprised your parents was that you never argued with him or mouthed off.

He was also just really hot. He would come over 5 days a week to your family home, and you guys would practice at your home tennis court.

He was older than you, by almost 12 years. He started coaching you when you were 18 and now you’re 20. You tried to make your passes and did your occasional flirting. Wore extra short skirts and made sure to bend over slowly when you had to pick up a tennis ball.

You were nothing if not persistent so this practice was no different.

You pulled out all the stops. You wore a short white tennis skirt that stopped just below curve of your ass and a tight pink polo top with the top buttons unbuttoned. You didn’t wear a bra so the outside breeze made your nipples perk up under your shirt. And whether or not you were wearing panties was questionable.

Patrick never acknowledged what you were wearing. He just kept his sunglasses on and a neutral face when he said, “Ready to get to work?”

Practice went on as usual until you decided to be difficult on purpose. Patrick had you doing drills serving to hit certain cones spread out on the court. So you just kept missing on purpose.

“Are you good? Feeling okay?” He asks from where he’s stood on the other side of net.

Okay time to turn up the brattiness. You scoff putting your hand on your hip, “What? I can’t miss a couple shots?”

He raises his eyebrows clearly taken aback, “Who pissed in your cereal?”

“I just don’t understand why you keep asking me questions, you don’t get paid to question me you get paid to coach me.”

“Well I don’t like your fucking attitude right now so i’m not coaching shit.” He says dropping his racket into the bin that holds all the tennis balls. He starts to walk off the court, taking his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

Fuck. You need to get him to come back here and take out his anger on you, not cool off with a cigarette.

You yell in his direction, “Yeah? Well you’re so old you can’t even coach for shit anyway!”

He stops in his tracks. He puts his unlit cigarette back in the pack, putting the pack back in his pocket. He turns back in your direction and walks straight to you.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you into the sports shed where your family kept all their sports gear.

He stops dropping your wrist. He pushes his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head. He turns around to face you, standing so close to you, your noses are almost touching. He says just above a whisper, “You think you can fucking talk to me like that? What the fuck do you think this is?”

This is the closest, physically, you guys have ever been. So naturally, you’re a little nervous but happy that your plan is maybe working? You stutter, “I-I um I didn’t think anything.”

He does a once over, looking you up and down. Then he continues, “You think I don’t know what this is? Acting like a brat to get my attention? To get me to fuck you?”

Oh. He saw right through you and somehow that just adds to the butterflies in your stomach.

“That’s not— I never, I didn’t—“

He cuts you off, “Don’t lie to me.”

You shake your head continuing your lie, “no I never— I swear I didn’t—“

Before you can register what’s happening, he sits down in the bench and puts you over his lap. Oh.

He lifts up your skirt and curses under his breath. You weren’t wearing panties. You could feel the rush cool air against your now exposed skin. He rubs his hand over your ass for a second before he picks up a nearby racket.

“You expect me to believe you weren’t acting up to get my attention when your wearing the shortest skirt you own, no bra so everyone can see your hard nipples through your shirt, and your not even wearing panties?” He asks, slowly dragging the tennis racket over your ass.

You nod biting your lip.

Smack.

“Ah—“ You let out a half gasp half yelp when the first smack of the tennis racket lands on your ass.

“Well if you’re gonna keep behaving like a lying brat, then I’m going to have to punish you like one,” He says before landing another spank on your ass.

Smack.

You moan this time as the racket collides with your ass.

“Parading around the court like a desperate slut. surprised you didn’t just bend over for me right on the court. That’s what you really wanted right?”

Smack.

You nod your head letting out another moan.

Smack.

“I asked you a question that means your supposed to answer me.” He says sternly before raising the racket again.

Smack.

“Yes fuck, that’s what I wanted. Wanted you to fuck me on the court, please.”

You anticipate that another smack is going to land on your ass but instead you feel two fingers sliding up your folds and pressing into your entrance.

“Shit, Patrick,” You whine as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of your tight hole.

“You’re already so wet. you really are desperate for me, aren’t you? How long have you wanted me to fuck you?” He asks while he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing against the spongy area.

You groan. It feels really fucking good, it’s hard to focus, “Ah- two years, when you became my coach.”

Now Patrick groans. He adds one more finger inside you, alongside the two that were already in there. “Fuck. Dressing like a slut for two years trying to get me to fuck you. I fucking knew it. Jesus. Made me feel like such a creep watching you. Had to start wearing sunglasses to practice so you couldn’t tell I was staring at you.”

You smirk at that, you knew your plan had to have been working all these years. From your place laid across his lap, you can feel him start to grow hard.

“Well I’m still not gonna fuck you, brats don’t get rewarded.”

You whine at that, “That’s not fair you just said you wanted to fuck me so fuck me please, please just fuck me.”

He bites his lip before he gets an idea. He pulls his fingers out of your hole and you whine at the loss. He grabs the same racket from before.

“Wait what’re you doing—“

He uses one hand to spread your folds, exposing your hole, while using the other hand to line up the handle of the racket. He starts pushing in it slowly, watching closely how your hole grips around the racket.

He groans, “Fuck baby, taking it so well.” He pumps the racket slowly, pulling it so the handle is almost all the way out before pushing it back in as deep as it can go.

You never felt this full before but every time he presses the racket in deep it feels so good. Eventually he starts pumping the racket a little faster. You start moaning uncontrollably, rocking your hips back against the racket.

“Your tight hole is so fucking greedy baby, jesus. Fucking yourself back on it like you can’t get enough.” He moves one hand to squeeze your chest, circling your nipple with his finger.

You can feel your orgasm creeping up on you. The volume of your moans increasing until you reach your release, “‘m gonna cum, oh fuck Patrick.”

He lets you ride out your orgasm before he pulls the wet racket handle out of you. It’s covered in your juices.

You think it’s all over until you hear him say, “Get on your knees.”

So you do. Still a little wobbly from laying down for so long but you get on your knees between his legs. You can see the tent in his shorts now. You’re hoping you’ll finally get to see his see his cock, feel the weight of it on your tongue. You just know it’s huge.

So you open your mouth, sticking our tongue to show that you’re ready to suck him off.

He smirks before he presses the tennis racket handle down your throat, “Good girls clean up their mess.”

You choke a little but try to relax your throat, sucking the handle to clean it off. Once he’s satisfied he pulls the racket out of your mouth, placing it beside him on the bench.

He stands up and you watch as he tucks his boner into the waistband of his shorts. He bends down to whisper into your ear, “Maybe next time if you’re a good girl for the whole week, then I’ll fuck you.”

He stands up heading to the exit the sports shed. He moves his sunglasses back down to rest on his nose bridge. Before he leaves he calls out, “See you tomorrow for 8am practice.”

[theycallme-ook]

(I've been going insane about JPV again for the past few hours. Followers excuse me)

A new kid moves into the house. He's here bc you're the only ones who can protect him (his dad was weird and wanted to make him an assassin or something?? So. Batman level stuff) you don't get along. Eventually you form some bond and feel some protectiveness over him bc man this kid's life sucked until now. Showing him how to have fun is kinda nice. But then things get complicated when this.. Suit. This *thing* shows up in his dreams. He pursues it bc he's desperate for answers about his father and why his life is the way it is. He's not really happy and you can see that, so you help him but instead of closure you get robbed of you new brother best friend

Now you're living with Jean Paul and this *thing*. This other thing that puts on the suit and replaces your friend. And you love JP but you *hate* Azrael. They're both the same and yet not. One is gentle, soft spoken and kind. With a love of learning and helping people. Who will patch you up after a rough night with soft hands and awkward jokes that you laugh at anyways to make him feel better. The other is cruel, harsh and holier than thou. Always ready with a fiery tongue and fireier sword for anything it deems a "sinner" even tho you know Jean Paul would act completely different to that same person. You can't reconcile the two, and neither can JP. You don't know where one ends and the other begins and neither does he. You want nothing more than for him to put away the suit and never think about it again. He says he wants that too but he can't ever seem to do it. You're both confused and frustrated teens by now who have been through this cycle already. Things deteriorate.

You're hurt that at the end of the day JP will always choose Azrael over you, and frustrated at yourself for being frustrated bc Bruce and JP and everything has confirmed that he's not fully in control. But still. It's the estrangement of it all. You had a brother you used to be close with. But every day the spectre of his father drove you further and further apart until you barely recognize him anymore. No one else understands you like he does but at the same time you're strangers. Dick never quite stops being that hurt kid who can't understand why his brother can't stop living in the shadow of his dead father. JP never quite being able to explain that his father is dead but his shadow very much is not. They love each other but can never see eye to eye again. They're both people who want to help (and they do!) but they can't help the person closest to them. There's def some sort of teenage screaming match had about *why can't you just put the suit away* bc Dick just wants his brother back so if AZ could just fuck off forever things could go back to the way they used to be. It would be perfect if only the haunting of his blood wasn't there. JP sees this as further condemnation tho bc deep down he knows there's no getting rid of the system and if Dick hates Azrael then he hates *him*. Dick tries to get him to come up with a new identity, tries inviting him to the Titans, but JPV knows it isn't the kindness Dick pretends it is and that will always be Dick's team and he already poisoned Dick's family

The way this complicates things w Mr Bruce "I can fix them" Wayne too.. B might be able to be more pragmatic about it any not hold onto the idea that they can get rid of Azrael, but he would fixate on the idea that he can change it. He acknowledges that the system has existed for centuries and probably still will exist for centuries more if the order has their way, but that's the thing. *He* has the order's darling weapon now, not them. And if he could just teach it that things aren't so black and white then maybe poor Jean Paul could have some peace again. He'll try so hard to save him and then blame himself when he can't help.

Ouaghh... Babs being close w JP since her Batgirl days.. she keeps an eye on him. they trade CS jokes. she offers him work at the belltower they know he won't take.

you're a street rat from Gotham. you move into *the* Bruce Wayne's house. you hear about dick grayson, the prodigal son,the golden one. but there's another one, one that is a cautionary tale in hushed words. a blond man shows up for thanksgiving and speaks softly but he always seems like he doesn't fully fit. he's nice. he talks to you about books you've never heard of. you wonder who he is.

You see Dick looking at him with this sad but longing look when the man is turned away. Bruce asks how grad school is going and he says it's going good. Dick tries to relate with his college experiences but something he says kills the conversation somehow. Things are clipped and stilted between them but they still share a desperate hug at the end of the night. They make half hearted promises to do better at staying in touch this year. They don't.

Later you're on a case with Nightwing and you run into some guy in red with a sword. He's just standing there but Nightwing gets *really* agitated upon seeing him. This guy, Azrael, seems very disinterested in Nightwing but they appear to know each other very well. Nightwing tells you to stay back. Azrael sounds exasperated when he reminds him he doesn't hurt kids. Nightwing snapped that that didn't stop him years ago. Azrael says that was different. They almost fight but then back off and focus on the case which is odd bc you were sure this was about to get ugly. This tense clearly-they-have-history-but-will-tolerate-each-other thing continues for the rest of the night until Azrael goes too hard on the criminal of the hour and Nightwing gets into a full blown brawl w him over it. You try to break them up bc honestly from what you've seen Azrael seems like a decent ally aside from a few flaws but Nightwing is absolutely *furious* about this in a way you've never seen him act before so you don't quite know how to approach this. It ends when Nightwing manages to rip off the guys weird knight mask to reveal... The nerdy blond dude from Thanksgiving. Jean Claude, was it? And they both instantly stop. Scuffed up and breathing hard but showing no signs of hostility, almost as if there was never a fight at all. The Az guy seems confused as to why he's there and what's happening. He knows Dick's ID (not too surprising with the familiar way to was talking to the others but still. It's weird since Jason barely knows anything about him) and they seem more friendly w each other all of a sudden but Jason doesn't know what.. happened. How did they go from trying to strangle each other to this?

"What's- oh. Dick?"

"Hey, Jean Paul."

"I did it again, huh?" Weak laughter. "Where are we now?"

"Miller harbor."

"Ah."

"..."

"..."

"Did I do that?"

"Nah, we were tracking some smugglers. One got a lucky hit and pushed me into some trash."

A lie. Jason had watched Azrael slam Nightwing's face into a wall himself. But he knew better than to speak up. Jean Paul clearly needed this little kindness.

"Ah... Okay..." He swayed sharply, none of the confidence and self assurance present in the posture of Azrael remained. He was just back to the regular, dopey guy Jason had met before now that the mask was lying flush on the dingy concrete. One that, judging by his face, looked like he might hurl soon.

"Do you want to come back with us?"

"No, no. I have a quiz in the morning. I have to be there for that."

"Ah. Right. Do you.. can I call you a cab?"

"No, it's fine."

Jason glanced between the two of them. This went unnoticed by his persons of interest. They were too busy avoiding looking at each other.

"I'll stop this," Jean Paul said, suddenly solemn.

"Yeah, okay," Dick replied, exhaustion ringing around the edges.

Had Jason missed something? Had they just had a whole conservation in the silence?

"Will you be at dinner on Saturday?" Dick continued, an energy suddenly injected about as naturally as a needle.

"Will you?"

(made in tandem w @msperfectsheep-posts )

sometimes JPV and Az make me so sad i have to send Bruce out to go get another ward

[joocomics]

1k followers celebration event — ⌞⌗ wayv drabble⌝

𓂃⠀𓈒 kun x fem!reader

genre: smut ( 18+ ) wc: 0.7

request: “if you want something, then you ask for it” + dry humping

contains: sub!reader, dry humping, dirty talk, pet names, breast play, nipple play, begging

[ event masterlist | wayv masterlist ]

Right now, you’re hyperaware of many things…

How hard Kun is beneath you.

How warm your palms are as you brace your hands against his chest.

How your pulse hammers every time his breath brushes against your face when you lean closer.

And how he’s not moving. Just… watching, and occasionally ghosting his fingers over your waist, lightly - just enough to send a pleasant thrill through your skin as if your whole body isn’t on fire already.

“You’re adorable when you’re frustrated,” he exhales a quiet chuckle, dragging his gaze up your frame.

You can see it in his dark eyes… he’s not going to make it easy for you.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks with low, teasing voice - aware of the answer, but it’s not the same if he doesn’t hear you say it out loud.

He wants you to be the one to cut the distance, to give in first. To beg for it.

“There’s only one thing on my mind right now,” you say almost in a whisper.

A soft whimper escapes you right after, mouth agape as you grind yourself against his bulge. The light friction of your clit grazing his crotch has now turned into a constant buzzing sensation that unables you to stop moving.

“If you want something,” Kun tilts his head slightly, admiring you with his gaze, “then you ask for it. You know how it works, sweetheart.”

A gentle, but still smug smile rests on his lips as he glances down at your lower half; at your pussy folds warming both of you through the layers of clothing. He’s wearing blue denim jeans and you - a pair of underwear that’s soaking up your arousal.

Your fingers tighten around his shirt as you hesitate just for a second.

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur at once.

“Where?”

Suddenly, your head drops low, but Kun’s hand is quick to force your chin back up so you can lock eyes.

There’s a certain hunger inside his gaze, mirroring your own.

“Here.” Your hand slowly travels to your clit as you simultaneously quicken the pace. You can’t help it, you ache for him and every part of your being is controlled by your desires. “And fill me up… I want to be full of your cock.”

Kun hums softly, acknowledging your words.

He tugs at your top, letting your nipples poke out. Grabbing one of them with two fingers, he begins to tease you further, toying with you by pulling on the sensitive bud until it stiffens.

“You want me to play with you, hm?” He looks up at your face, painted with sheer desperation.

Nodding eagerly, you bite your bottom lip as he continues magnifying your pleasure. He lets go of your nipple only to spit on his fingers and circle around it before tugging it towards him some more.

“What did I teach you to say when you want something from me?”

“Please…”

“That’s right.” He leans in, parting lips while guiding them to your wet nipple. “Say it again. Full sentences.”

“Please, Kun.” Your voice elevates the second his mouth sucks on your boob, groaning at the nice, soft feeling of your flesh. “Please, can you fill me up, please?”

You bury fingers into his hair, tightening around few strands to emphasise your needs; at the same time, your hips turn more persistent, chasing that sweet rush that the friction against him gives you.

It feels so good, but it could never be enough; not when you know how he makes you feel when your bodies connect.

“Give it to me, please,” you plead, going out of breath. Your thighs begin to feel sore from the on-going motions.

Noticing that your movements have increased to almost an aggressive speed, Kun empties his mouth, gripping at your waist encouragingly.

“What a desperate, pretty girl,” he snickers at you; a hint of endearment can be heard in his laughter that’s mingling with your whimpers. “Go on, cum on me, baby,” he grunts against your heated neck, wrapping arms around your figure as you ride him, “cum on me and then you can have my cock for as long as you want.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[goldfades]

literally anything for melo 💔 please i’m starved

here's something just for you, queen!! 🤗🤗

The trip to the shelter wasn’t supposed to be anything serious.

It was just something to do on an off day, a casual, innocent little detour because you’d seen a TikTok about an adoption event, and, well—who doesn’t love looking at dogs?

That’s what you told Lamelo, anyway.

"We’re just looking," you’d said, fingers laced with his as you pulled him through the entrance, the scent of fresh kibble and clean floors filling the air.

Melo had squinted at you, already skeptical. "That’s what people say before they end up with a whole zoo in their house."

You rolled your eyes, swatting his arm. "Oh my God. Dramatic."

"Am I? ‘Cause I know how this goes. You gon’ see some tiny lil’ dog with big eyes and get all emotional, then—boom—we leaving with another pet."

You scoffed, refusing to dignify that with an answer.

Fast forward twenty minutes and you were sitting on the floor of one of the shelter’s play areas, cradling the tiniest, softest, sweetest elderly dog you’d ever seen in your life.

Lamelo stood over you, arms crossed, watching like he had already lost this battle.

You sat on the clean, tile floor of the shelter, cradling the frail, sleepy dog in your arms like it was the most precious thing in the world. Which, at this moment, it was.

She was tiny—probably no more than ten pounds, with wiry gray fur and cloudy brown eyes that made your heart ache. The shelter worker had told you she was somewhere around twelve years old, abandoned by her previous owners when she got “too old to take care of.” That alone had nearly sent you spiraling.

Lamelo stood a few feet away, hands on his hips, head tilted in that way he did when he was trying to figure out how to not get roped into something. His lips pressed together as he exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he looked between you and the dog like he was already doing the mental calculations of how this was about to go.

"…See," he started, voice slow, like he was trying to talk you down from something, "this is exactly what I was talkin’ about."

You didn’t even acknowledge him. Couldn’t. You were too busy brushing your fingers over the dog’s tiny head, watching the way she leaned into your touch, like she was grateful for even the smallest affection.

Oh, my God. I will die for you.

Melo sighed, rubbing his temples. "Baby."

You finally looked up at him, eyes wide, already pleading. "Melo."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "No."

Your jaw dropped. "You didn’t even let me say anything!"

"Didn’t have to," he muttered. "I see your face. You already tryna make this a thing."

Your grip on the tiny dog tightened instinctively. "She’s so small," you whispered, heart already aching. "And so old. And they said nobody’s even looked at her. Can you imagine? Just sitting here, waiting to be loved, and no one even—"

Lamelo held up a hand, like he was trying to physically stop your words from hitting him. "Don’t do that."

"Do what?"

"That thing you do. Where you start gettin’ all sad and sentimental so I feel bad and—" He gestured at the dog. "—end up with a whole new responsibility I wasn’t even thinking about when I woke up today."

Your mouth snapped shut, feigning offense. "I do not do that."

Melo stared at you.

Your expression didn’t waver.

He squinted.

You stared back, the picture of innocence, while gently petting the tiny dog’s head in slow, deliberate strokes.

He exhaled sharply, already frustrated. "Baby."

You blinked up at him. "Melo."

He pressed his lips together, like he was trying so hard not to break. "We just got that other dog settled."

You nodded. "I know."

"Like—just started getting some peace in the house."

You nodded again. "I know."

He inhaled deeply, like he was trying to find the strength to keep arguing, but you chose that exact moment to adjust the little dog in your arms, cradling her closer to your chest, your lips pressing against the top of her tiny head.

Lamelo groaned.

"Baby—"

"Look at her."

"I am looking."

"Look harder," you insisted, voice dripping with emotion. "Really look. She’s been through so much, Melo. She just needs someone to love her. Someone to take care of her in her last years. Someone to give her a—"

"—don’t say it."

You paused dramatically. Then, softer than before—"a forever home."

Melo let out the most exasperated groan, running a hand down his face like he was physically in pain.

"Why do you do this to me?"

"Because you love me," you said sweetly, tilting your head.

He sighed. "I do."

You beamed.

"But I also know you," he continued, giving you a look. "And you swear you gon’ be the one takin’ care of her, but let’s be real—who wakes up at 7 AM to walk our other dog when you ‘accidentally’ sleep in?"

You bit your lip. "…You."

"And who ends up takin’ them to the vet when you get all squeamish about shots?"

"…You."

"And who—"

"Okay, okay," you huffed, rolling your eyes. "I get it. You do a lot."

He lifted his brows, waiting.

You groaned. "Most of it."

"Exactly."

You sighed, looking down at the little dog still curled up against your chest. She was already dozing off, comfortable, warm, safe. And your heart clenched at the thought of putting her back in that kennel, of walking away and pretending like she wasn’t made to be yours.

You looked up at him again, giving him the look. The one that had never failed you before. The one he always pretended to be immune to, but never actually was.

Eyes wide. A little pout. Just the right amount of vulnerability.

Lamelo exhaled sharply.

"Don’t—"

"Please," you whispered, pushing your luck. "Please, Melo?"

His head dropped back, eyes squeezed shut, like he was physically fighting a battle within himself.

"Baby," he groaned.

You blinked up at him, hopeful.

He clenched his jaw.

You tilted your head.

"Man," he muttered, shaking his head as he rubbed his face.

You gasped, knowing he was about to break. "Melo—"

He pointed at you, already regretting every decision that led to this moment. "If we get her—*"

"WHEN we get her—"

"IF," he repeated, voice firm. "If we get her, you better not be switching up on responsibilities."

You nodded so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. "I won’t! I swear!"

"You say that every time."

"I mean it this time!"

He groaned again, rubbing his hands down his face before finally looking at you—then the tiny, sleeping dog in your arms. And that was it. That was all it took. Because Melo Ball was many things—but he was never about to say no to you when you looked at him like that.

He sighed. Then, with one final shake of his head—

"Alright, man. Go fill out the papers."

You squealed, practically launching yourself at him in excitement. "I love you so much!"

"I know," he muttered, wrapping an arm around you despite himself.

"You’re the best boyfriend in the world."

"I know," he repeated, shaking his head as you kissed his cheek excitedly.

You turned to the shelter worker, grinning. "Where do I sign?"

Melo exhaled, already coming to terms with the fact that his life was never going to be peaceful again.

[tubbytarchia]

Haven't been able to stop entertaining the thought of competition being Joel's love language. Most people that he loves or has amazing chemistry with at least in recent times are ones he's in or had friendly rivalries with (Pearl, Bdubs, Jimmy, Lizzie; Etho can count too. Scott is a wildly different case) and it makes me ill all over again about smallidarity

Jimmy has never had much opportunity to even think of his own comfort aside from a very basic and childish idea of it, so their relationship is built upon Joel's. Joel likes to tease and bully and he likes when it's reciprocated, he likes when he's challenged to help initiate a back-and-forth and although he can get very competitive, it's ultimately friendly. He probably doesn't know how to act when he oversteps, especially in Jimmy's case because he likes Jimmy (and Jimmy likes him) so it's not like he's gonna leave him alone and the upset he causes inevitably repeats. It's not like Jimmy makes it very explicit when he's genuinely hurt (though not for lack of trying), and that's when he's not dismissing his feelings altogether to basically smile through it, so it must be fine (You could also spin it into Joel wanting to "toughen Jimmy up" but that would've probably been an unintentional excuse on his part at most to push down anything he doesn't want to think about regarding their relationship)

With that lens, Joel's gradual change in demenour becomes even more affectionate to me. Jimmy hasn't tended to gain the upper hand over Joel - hasn't been able to reciprocate - so Joel's started letting him. He doesn't bite back as hard or make as harsh of a quip, if anything at all. As much as he does still push Jimmy around, he's helped Jimmy become comfortable where they're on more or less equal footing (or at least getting there). I'd like to think of it as Joel learning to meet Jimmy at a middle ground that's tailored to both their comfort, where they may continue to tease and compete and be little shits, but Joel can also be gentle and encouraging (and learn that he also likes that kind of affection and also that he doesn't need to hate himself for it. I hope). It's not that Jimmy was ever necessarily incapable of keeping up with him, it's their environment that's pushed his own wants and needs down, but Joel could offer a (hopefully permanent) space different from that via his opposition to the norm and his protectiveness and belief in Jimmy

I think his need to mock and compete is something he can learn to put aside for the sake of someone he cares about that much, as much as it goes against his toxic masculinity complex and as much as he'd refuse to admit to or acknowledge it. His past bad treatment of Jimmy is still something he needs to grapple with but sigh. He's doing his best whilst battling his demons. Truly the poster child of "he bullies you because he likes you"

[kentosovertime]

𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖆 (n.) things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence

𝕤𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤… megumi hates seeing you with your boyfriend... 𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕠… 2.1k wc, explicit content and language, includes themes of manipulation, jealousy, angst, spiteful behavior, toxic friendships, cheating, fingering (receiving), degradation 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣… reblogs and likes are appreciated 💜

𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 | 𝕥𝕒𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 | 𝕒𝕤𝕜 𝕓𝕠𝕩

“My fucking god-” Megumi groans, his hips bucking off the bed. “Come on, baby. You can ride me faster than that.” 

His slap reverberates off of your ass as your skin ripples from the force of you bouncing on his cock. He watches, enraptured by your movement as you listen to his orders like an obedient slut, the muscles in your legs flexing as you drag his cock out and slam it needily back in. 

“You’re so pretty like this…” He moans, unable to keep his hands off of your hips any longer. His fingers dig into your flesh, helping you take him.

“Huh?” You question, scratching your nails into his chest as he grazes just the right spot, making him grin. 

“Stuffed full of me instead of-” He starts, bucking his hips into you with a particularly hard thrust but he’s cut off by your moans. 

“Y-Yuji-” You cry out and he halts in confusion before the dread settles over him. Why are you thinking of him right now?

“That’s not my-” You moan Yuji’s name again, lower this time as if he’s hearing it through water. He can't move his body, no matter how hard he tries and wills his mind to move, to punish you for the mistake. The image of you starts to fade, your face twisting with something other than the pleasure he’s giving you-

Then his alarm splits the air, bringing the dream to a halt but the sounds remain the same. The relentless slapping of skin on skin. The low moaning of Yuji’s name laced with the grogginess of how you’d woken up to the special treatment. 

Jesus fuck how are you two going at it again? He groans internally as he grits his teeth, the painful throbbing evident in his pants. He barely finishes coming into a pair of boxers before he notices the sounds stopped, followed by your footsteps padding down the hall to his door. 

“Get up, lazy!” You yawn loudly, pounding on his door as if you weren’t contributing to the pounding of the headboard on your shared wall. “You said we could go shopping today!” 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Hell is watching Yuji with you everyday while he suffers in silence. 

“Where's Yuji?” Megumi hums as you come back with a tray of food, a shared plate of lo mien noodles and orange chicken. Of which sharing was a tradition dating back to when you first started going to the mall as kids. 

“He got a call…” He frowns as you shrug and loudly slurp a noodle. “No clue who it was.”

Megumi didn’t particularly care who was on the phone, as long as it kept Yuji away for the foreseeable future. That way he could have this one tradition with you without interruption. 

“Where do you have to stop for shopping?” He grumbles as he steals the largest piece of chicken. At his question, he swears he detects the slightest blush on your cheekbones. What? Did you have to drag him back to the bookstore to buy even more of your porn books you think he doesn’t know about?

“Oh I just need to run to a store with Yuji--” You were blushing, trying to avoid any specifics to the question he was asking. 

And the blush only seemed to worsen as Yuji came back claiming an emergency came up and he needed to go. 

“Don’t let this ruin your time, babe.” He interprets the redness as you being upset. “Megumi will still hang out with you. Right, man?” Yuji only gets Megumi’s usual grunt of acknowledgement, the responses seeming more monosyllabic of late. 

“Really, babe.” You insist adamantly before Yuji argues that he needs to go and doesn’t have the time to drop you off. 

Megumi has to swallow the lump in his throat. You don’t even want to hang out with him. What even was he to you nowadays?

He watches your face drop as Yuji runs off, waving goodbye. And as he disappears, you can’t even meet his eyes, your pink cheeks draining of color. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

“This is what you were so stressed out about me seeing?” He teases you relentlessly. He doesn’t know if he’s more turned on or jealous that Yuji is going to get to see you in the lingerie this store has to offer.

Thanks to you, his morning dreams would likely be filled with you in thigh highs with little bows and crotchless underwear he could fuck you in- 

“Just… hang out over here while I grab a couple things.” The warmth from your hands seeps into his skin as you shove him into the sleepwear section of the store. “Stay.” 

He does as ordered… for approximately thirty seconds before he’s following you into the back where you’re quickly flipping through sets on the hangers, too preoccupied to be concerned with whether or not he followed you. He grimaces, seeing the white fabric that your fingers graze over. That wouldn’t be his first choice… not that you’re looking for him, he has to remind himself. 

It's when you disappear out back for a long while does he finally make his presence known by knocking on the only closed dressing room door. 

“Occupied.” You seem to timidly choke out, thinking he was another patron or worker. 

���Gremlin.” He affectionately calls you, announcing his presence as a long silence fills the air between the two of you and the door. 

“I thought I told you to stay.” You sigh dejectedly, currently frowning at your reflection in white, poking the bits that seem to hang out of the garments, mocking you. 

“I’m not a dog, ya know?” He chuckles as his hands itch to open the door. The silence stretches longer between you. 

Yuji was supposed to be here to be the mirror for you, telling you what looked good… what he liked. And he had left with absolutely no explanation. 

The door suddenly cracks open just enough for Megumi to see your eyes as you peek your head around the corner. 

“Can you… tell me if this looks ok-” You see something shift on his face, mistaking his look for teasing. “Stop judging me! See?! This is why I told you to stay put!” 

“You want me to look at you in this shit?” He asks slowly, not quite computing what you’re asking. But you nod your head, the blush from the food court back on full display. “You’re sure that’s ok? Yuji-” “I trust you.” You say softly, your voice not wavering a second as you naively think he wouldn’t try anything with you. Especially years after you decided to let go of your unrequited feelings for him. 

After a small nod from Megumi you open the curtain, looking at the floor in embarrassment as he takes in your body covered in white lace. It’s something Yuji would love. 

Megumi fucking hates it. 

“Hmmm.” He hums, trying not to seem unimpressed. You’re a vision. You always have been. “I think you should try some different options.” “O-oh?” You stammer, playing with the clips out your thigh high stockings. “He likes-”

“Or you could wear what looks good with your skin tone.” He interrupts you, not wanting to hear about Yuji right now. “Give me what size and get undressed. I’ll pick some out for you.” He’s so bossy, but it hits you low in the gut and you burn from shame, giving a meek nod as you hurriedly pull the curtain shut. What were you thinking bringing him in here? He should have sat and waited on the couches in the mall with all the other exiled husbands and boyfriends. 

He disappears from the waiting room, leaving you naked in the dressing room for a long while waiting for him to come back. When he appears, he calls to you, making your head poke out of the stall, your eyes going wide at the selection he came up in. 

Dark blue. His favorite color, you note. Complete with a balconette corset top, thigh highs, clips and… wait does he seriously want you to- 

“Are those crotchless?” You squeak in embarrassment, seeing him shift at the idea of you in panties that look like a little skirt. 

“It’s convenient-” He tries to reason with you as he ignores the tent attempting to form in his pants to make a fool out of himself in front of you. The fuel this was going to add to his fantasies would be unmatched. He shoves the clothing into your hands and pulls the curtain roughly shut in your face. 

When you reappear, suddenly yanking open the fabric that separates you, he has no words. No fantasy that he’s had could ever compare to what he was seeing. His eyes bouncing up and down, trying to commit it all to memory. How your breasts spill from the cups, how your hips flare out deliciously from your waist. He wants to lick every inch of you- 

This may have been a terrible idea. He panics internally as his hand twitches to graze your soft skin. 

“... Megumi?” You ask self-consciously, as Megumi doesn’t respond to his name for the fifth time. Did he hate it? “Earth to Megu- ah!” 

Suddenly he steps forward, making you rear back into the mirror in shock as he shuts the curtain behind you. There’s barely enough room for the two of you. Your breaths linger in each other's space as his come in ragged, barely controlled gasps of air. 

“Do you realize…” He pants, his hand coming up to grip your chin to hold your face in place. You’re unable to move between his grasp and the cold mirrored surface behind you. “... what the fuck you do to me, sweetheart? I think you get off on teasing me.”

“It’s not like t-that-” You try to protest, but his hand clamps around your mouth, shutting you up as his hand reaches down and roughly grips you through your underwear, his finger teasing your folds. 

“Fucking soaked? It’s like you want me to show you how you deserved to be fucked. Yuji certainly isn’t here to stop me-” He punctuates his statement by shoving three fingers deep inside you, honing in on just the right spot. “He even got you nice and ready for me this morning, didn’t he?”

Your eyes roll back and your body shutters as you clamp around him, the degradation doing more for you than the praise you normally get from Yuji. You whine underneath his hand loud enough for him to squeeze his hand harder.

“Shhhh.. None of that. We wouldn’t want someone to hear you being a cheating slut.” A shit eating grin graces his face as you quickly cum around his digits. “Now keep that pretty mouth shut unless you're saying my name for me.” 

“Megumi please-” You whimper softly and he simply manhandles your body, spinning you and shoving your cheek into the mirror by your hair as he unbuttons his pants and pulls his cock from the confines. 

“I’ve been…” He shoves into you in one thrust, groaning at how your ass ripples from the movement. “... right here the entire time. You’ve always been mine.” 

You feel his anger, his jealousy with every pounding thrust into your wet heat, the squelching telling him how much you’re enjoying the treatment. He knows for a fact Yuji never gives it to you this rough. You were perfectly built to take it like this. 

“Admit it.” He rasps, his movements and tone getting desperate to know he’s not alone in how he feels. “Tell me you love me as much as this pussy does.” 

Your eyes screw shut, knowing what has been the truth for years. You feel it bubble to the surface, reminding you of what you’ve gone to lengths to forget. 

“I d-do.” You gasp out at tension snapping in your stomach, only staying upright due to his harsh grasp. You plead to him deliriously, fogging the mirror with your breath. “F-finish in me, please-”

“Fuck, baby-” He moves into you sloppily, strangled by your clenching cunt. His low moan hits you hard as his warmth fills you suddenly, dripping obscenely down your thigh at the amount he forces into you. 

“Get the white set.” He hums, his eyes dark with the reminder of what you’ve done to your boyfriend as he smacks your ass and pulls his cock from you. You know this secret won’t stay that way long. “Yuji will love it.”

tag list: @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @roughwithfluff @severelytalentless @silversslut @dreamyyholland @wobblewobble822 @rafzaha @chososhoney @littlemochi @bebechinas99 @saoney @pelicanpizza @damncakie @katgalle @honeyyjems @tsukikoxo @kibananya @reine-son @wallflower010 @tobaccosunbxrst @whereismysane @maskedpacific [[[ if your blog name is crossed out i couldn't tag you]]

[fairyminnie444]

How to manifest health problems away that have caused a lot of trauma?

I really want to manifest health problems away that cause me pain literally 24/7. I really feel so trapped and stuck. I don't know how to manifest this away because I feel like I cannot be upset and react to it if I want to manifest it away, but what ends up happening is I try so hard to not acknowledge it really mentally for a while and then I just mentally break down crying because I feel so overwhelmed. I also have a ton of trauma surrounding it. I feel so trapped and don't know how to not identify with something that I feel ALL DAY LONG and deeply upsets me. It also upsets me that a lot of LOA people say that you shouldn't even want 3d results, but like of course I want 3d results when that would mean I'm no longer in pain. I cannot let go of that, I have tried so hard but there is always a part of me "waiting" for results even though I can acknowledge I have it in the 4d/imagination. I also get BAD anxiety everytime I think of what I'm manifesting because even if I understand that I really do have it, I get so many thoughts of "well when will it happen" and "do I even fully feel this is the truth." I also don't even know if I believe I can manifest something so big because I'm so desperate for what I'm manifesting. I'm so unhappy. I just feel so stuck. I'm sorry, I'm not trying to complain. I don't even know if you can help me or not, but I would really appreciate some advice if you have some.

Acknowledge Your Feelings: It’s okay to feel upset, anxious, or frustrated. Ignoring your feelings doesn’t make them go away. Instead, allow yourself to experience these emotions without attaching them to your identity. You’re not your pain or the trauma. You are a person going through a challenging time, but that doesn’t define who you are.

Focus on Healing as an Identity: Instead of pushing away the pain, focus on who you are as someone who is healing. Imagine and embody your healed self. See yourself in perfect health, feeling free from the pain. In this state, you are no longer “waiting” for healing; you are simply living in the truth that it has already happened in another reality.

Assume the Healing Is Done: Trust in the power of assumption. You don’t need to figure out how it’s going to happen. Just assume that you are already healed, and live as though it’s true. Your body will follow the mind. When you shift your focus to your healed self, you stop identifying with the pain.

Shift Focus from Anxiety to Gratitude: When anxiety and fear of the pain returning arise, redirect your thoughts to gratitude for the healing you’ve already manifested. Trust the process, and recognize that your body is always in the process of aligning with the healed version of you.

Let Go of Time: Manifestation works outside of time. Try not to focus on the “when” or “how,” as that can cause more anxiety. Your body is receiving the healing, even if it hasn’t fully appeared in the 3D yet. Trust that the shift is happening, even if it’s not immediately visible.

Use Affirmations(if you want to and feel comfortable): Remind yourself daily that you are healthy, whole, and pain-free. Say it out loud, write it down, or visualize it. Consistency in this will help your subconscious mind accept this new belief.

Also remember, your feelings are valid, and healing is not about ignoring or suppressing your pain but transforming your relationship with it. You’re not alone in this, and with persistence, you can align with the reality where you are free from this pain.

[avelera]

Ugh, sorry, one last political point because it’s the day for it and this is bugging me.

Democrats and people on the left in the US have got to knock it off with this whole, “All Trump voters are obviously stupid” thing.

I’m sure it’s satisfying to believe, but it is simply not true, and making assumptions about your opponents that aren’t true is how you lose elections.

Half of the voting population of this country is not stupid and it is ludicrous to insist on believing that. Trump voters include doctors, lawyers, business owners, people with PhDs and graduate degrees, and people who attend college courses for fun. They are, unfortunately for many of us including yours truly, our parents and relatives and I at least know for a fact in those cases that they are well educated, well traveled people.

Assuming these people are just stupid and uninformed is, in fact, stupid. It a simplistic view of the world that is going to make your platforms lose if you embrace it and refuse to look deeper.

In practice, people engage in politics because they want the greatest happiness and prosperity for the largest number of people that they care about.

Everything after that is just haggling over price.

For example, the Left/Democrats might believe that the great amount of happiness and prosperity is brought to the largest number of people they care about when an advanced degree is available to everyone without leaving them in crippling debt, when people can age with social services that allow them dignity, when billionaires and companies cannot exploit their workers, and when peace and just causes are allowed to flourish around the world, including the education and enfranchisement of women, and the long term health of our planet. I personally believe that brings long term prosperity to us all.

Left and Right wing voters right now both probably agree that everyone is happier and more prosperous if they can afford a house and have a job that covers their needs and then some. How to get to that is the sticking point that they disagree on.

Right wing voters also want prosperity for themselves and those they care for and what they disagree on with the Left is how to achieve that. I’m not going to go into their platforms here because the whole point of this post is not assuming things about your opponents.

Now in order to persuade people to hold more Left leaning views, you need to make the case for why what you care about is a thing that they should care about and, more importantly, how it enhances the happiness and prosperity of them and those they care about.

Otherwise, you are asking them to vote against their own interests, which no one engages in politics to do, at least not on purpose (even if it is the ultimate outcome in many cases).

If you don’t care about making this argument to opposite side, then fine, you’ve already lost and you deserve to keep losing elections.

You deserve to lose because you’re not making a case for why anyone should support your causes in order to gain happiness and prosperity for themselves and those they care about, including expanding the field of people they care about, and it is ludicrous to expect people to do that without being persuaded either intellectually or emotionally.

This is what finding common ground and building coalitions is about, even if you don’t agree on every point. And if you self isolate and stick to your purity, you deserve to lose because politics is about how we govern large groups of people towards a common goal that, ultimately, is best simplified as the goal of their greatest happiness and prosperity.

Good faith politics is negotiating over what that means. Because resources are finite we can’t all get everything we want all at once. And not everyone agrees on everything so you need to prioritize the best possible allotment of happiness and prosperity for the short and long term, and that’s when we get into the nitty gritty of all the horse trading that happens in politics etc etc.

And you get into things like billionaires having outsized ability to enact their own happiness and prosperity but here’s the thing, many people especially on the right go along with those views because they believe (rightfully or not) that those goals will increase their own happiness and prosperity as well and if you don’t agree you’ve got to explain to them intellectually or emotionally why that is and provide and alternate platform or path for them to gain it that is more effective by at least some measure of that value.

Anyway, at the risk of this becoming a political science thesis from someone who isn’t a political scientist, just an amateur academic, tl;dr please knock it off with assuming everyone who disagrees with you is stupid, it is a losing proposition and it doesn’t get us anywhere near the goals we want to achieve politically, ie, the greatest happiness and long term prosperity of the people we care about.

[brainrotzora]

these things are always happening to the ones i like :////////

anyways the lighting in this dungeon is so nice

didn't get any good pics bc i was too busy dungeoning but so pretty...best dungeon music so far goes to snowcloak though btw

[camellia-thea]

initially this post had some commentary about interests right now. and then it turned into a ramble about personal healing in the tags. so the interest post is going separately.

[urfavoritemistake]

hey reddit is it normal to get an anxiety attack whenever your roommate exists in the same space as you

[nezuscribe]

gojo never imagined an arrange marriage with you, but now you’re all he can think about.

he thinks about you when he’s training, when he’s seated at his round table, when he’s in his bed, everywhere, every time, you’re all he can think about.

and you’re oblivious to it.

you heard the gossip everywhere you walked, about the girl gojo was pleading with his family to marry. how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, how much more elegant she was compared to you. you knew you were never his first choice, not even his fifth, but it hurt even more when everybody acknowledged it.

you stopped wearing your wedding ring, started acting like you were just another person there. luckily gojo didn’t seem to be in any hurry about making heirs, so pretending like you two were working things out didn’t even matter anymore.

you find yourself alone most of the time. your maids were kind and patient, but they had so many things to do throughout the day that you felt awful pestering them to walk around the estate with you.

eating dinners with gojo became normal, but most of your other meals were in silence, always feeling like a speck of dust in the large dining hall.

one day when you’re walking around aimlessly you stumble across the training grounds, the open space below you filled with men swinging wooden swords back and forth at each other.

it wasn’t difficult to find your husband, his white hair hard to miss in a crowd of others. he didn’t notice you watching from above, and so you stayed hidden, not knowing if the men were picky with who watched them.

he was swift and agile. everything he did was precise and with meaning. no wonder he was named the best warrior of the north.

you found this to be more entertaining than walking around the gardens for the tenth time or watching the cooks assemble the next meal, so you didn’t even notice how gojo looked up to see you, somehow slipping away without you knowing.

you were in a state of watching but not really thinking, almost jumping out of your skin when you heard his voice behind you.

“didn’t know i had an audience,”

you yelp, flinching as you look behind you to see your husband all sweaty, panting slightly as he moves his hair away from his face. you eye the stairs that led him up here, wondering how you could’ve missed that.

you laugh sheepishly, giving him an apologetic smile as you pick are your nails.

“i’m sorry,” you scratch behind your ears, feeling heat rise to your cheeks under his intense gaze. it’s unfair how pretty somebody can look, especially after training for an hour straight, “i was just walking around and i saw this.”

he waved it off, shaking his head as he leaned his sword on the wall.

“not a problem,” his eyes shine, “i just would’ve tried harder if i knew my wife was watching.”

my wife.

the words fall so smoothly from his lips you wonder how many times he’s said it before. with malice, hatred, necessity?

you smile a little bit, eyes crinkling around the edges as you look away briefly, not noticing the way gojo chased after your cheerful face.

“how’d you get up here? where are your ladies?” he asks suddenly, looking around at the fact that it was just you up here.

“my what?” you say, looking up at him through furrowed brows.

“you know,” he waves his arm around as if that would help, “you’re ladies in waiting,”

you scrunch up your nose a little bit, something he noticed you did when you were confused.

“oh, well, my maids are working right now,” you tell him, noting that he still didn’t look any less confused.

“no, not your maids, your ladies,” he tilts his head to the side, “the girls your family sent them up to help you around.”

you stare at him, unblinking.

“the girls that are your friends, the ones that help accustom you…” gojo trials off when he realizes he’s not getting anywhere with you.

you feel even more embarrassed than when he caught you watching him, hating the way you were clueless at yet another thing in this life that no one explained to you.

“the girls you hang around with?” he finally lands on, hoping this jogs your memory.

you shake your head, eyes wide as you fidget with the fabric of your dress. his eyes fall onto your finger, lingering on the fact that you’re not wearing your ring.

“who do you spend your time with throughout the day?” gojo seems even more lost than you. he’s seen you with…? well surely that one time…?

“by,” you swallow, embarrassed, “by myself. i walk around a lot.” you admit sheepishly.

“your family didn’t send…?” he answers his own question with his silence.

this entire time you’ve been alone?

he opens his mouth to speak but somebody beats him to it.

“satoru! get down here! we’re still not done!” his friends shouts from below, and you look over your shoulder to see all the men staring at the two of you.

gojo stares at you, unblinking.

“i,” he swallows but can’t find any words.

you can’t either.

he leaves you there, running down those stairs as he shouts at the other guys to resume what they were doing. that entire day he was off his balance because he kept looking up to see you there, but you weren’t.

maybe you were just walking around, like you said.

[beeseverywhen]

Not in the US so can't speak for what's happening there, but I've def noticed here that healthcare workers are struggling with dealing with sicker patients than they felt they were getting before covid and lots of them are mentioning a lack of immunity thanks to lockdowns. every time I hear it I can't help but think that the increasing desperation thanks to years of underfunding that's really beginning to have an impact since covid (because the pandemic served as the last straw on the camels back there AND because it showed our government that they could neglect the vulnerable to the degree that they were dying by the thousands and still nobody bothered to blame them.) Is a contributing factor in this and I don't understand why nobody is mentioning it???

We're getting sick because we've spent decades being bled dry and now we're hungry, stressed and being worked to the bone. Meanwhile we aren't getting any kind of return on the money we're pumping in to the healthcare system and our governments aren't doing shit to address health inequalities or any of the factors contributing to everyone's poor health.

If you look at covid death statistics, if you look at which countries are currently suffering from supply problems; a job market bursting with unfilled vacancies, civil unrest and protests, strained healthcare systems, and all the rest; the countries at the top are those that have allowed capitalism to call the shots for the past century, more than the rest. That is why the UK and America have been so badly impacted. Its no accident that we are paying so heavily, this system started with us. We forced it on the rest of the world and now, we're the first to pay the price. There is a direct correlation between the impact being felt post covid and a countries wealth divide and I'm tired of everyone ignoring that.

I look around me and People are going hungry, the food they can afford to buy is lacking in basic nutrients, of course people are sicker! Even if you can afford them, the shops keep running out of vegetables! Our health system was already breaking and then, we were hit by a pandemic it was completely unprepared for (tho it should have been) and now, people are getting way more ill than they need to before they finally reach hospital. When they get there, the hospitals are understaffed (thanks to years of underfunded budgets and the extreme stress so many health care workers were put under), we keep having drug shortages because our country keep straight up refusing to pay how much things cost, and what they are willing to pay, goes to pay about ten profiteering middle men at each stage of the supply chain.

People are massively stressed thanks to the cumulative weight of a completely broken capitalist system and those in charge are more worried about lining their pockets for as long as they can until the whole thing collapses, rather than actually trying to address any problems. Stress IS something that's known to weaken immune systems so why are we blaming something that MAY affect them??? Extreme rises in energy costs have meant everyone's spent a winter without adequate heating (even those that can afford it are revolting at the increase and so are trying to cut costs by using less energy.) Again, insufficiently heated homes are also known to affect immunity. And that's just the people who still have safe homes! Masses of people have been made homeless recently thanks to rising rents and mortgages which were already unaffordable, our housing stock is largely dangerous, with homes falling in to disrepair because landlords are barely regulated and when they do break laws they go unprotected.

Is anyone surprised that so many people are getting so ill and not getting better? Cause I'm not.

It's startlingly obvious when you start looking at the health divide between those who have spent 40 years subject to the whims of poorly restricted capitalism and those able to opt out. Medical technology is improving, but healthy life expectancy is now dropping year on year, because there are more people living here without the capital to turn away from jobs that will break them, than there are those whose inherited wealth opens doors away from employers that'll ask you to pay the price of bodily health, so they might strengthen profit margins. Its just basic averages. 1% of our citizens are standing on the backs of 99% of us and wondering why more and more of that 99% are getting sicker and sicker. The labour market for working class people has been allowed to drain its workers dry for years now. The progress made in the early to mid 20th century has slowly been worn away at, with the labour laws we fought for, only being accessible for an ever decreasing number of people. The laws are still in place but no low wage employer bothers to follow them any more than they have to. Do you know how many people I know who've been working without breaks, going unpaid for extra hours, been forced to follow unsafe working practices that they know are illegal and then being forced to lie to protect the employer that put them in that position? The people being broken by companies raking in billions, as they flaunt labour laws, don't have any means to access justice! If you complain, you lose your job. If you take them to court that costs money and that company is willing to drag out proceedings for years till you run out of the money needed to keep things going.

When i look at how much money is being wasted in government budgets, while the people responsible for making that money, see little return; I can't help but think of various theories for why certain societies in history have collapsed. (If you want to be really worried about the state of things, read the Wikipedia page on societal collapse. Spoiler: most of the potential causes of societal collapse have already begun in America and the UK. That guy who wrote that article saying America was already past the point of collapse might have been right.) One theory behind the bronze age collapse is just that... societies became too complex. A society where the 1% are given too much power over the 99% becomes one great big pyramid scheme. Unnecessary burecracy at every level (designed to squeeze as much wealth possible for the person overseeing that level) results in those at the bottom, working themselves to death and still going hungry. The theory goes that there comes a point, in societies like that, where the workers look at how they are living and just...walk away. They decide that the security once offered by that society isn't worth what it's costing them and fuck off to become farmers, preferring a life of hard work and little security, to what they had been living. Without the workers, the system breaks down. The only people getting fed are the ones growing the food. All this stupid stratification. Allowing every supply chain, business and institution to become unnecessarily complex just so on each level the people in charge can let their mates get a foot in on the profits. All these middlemen. Business consultants. Supply chains allow for a product to be sent back and forth from country to country just so more people get a cut. Its no different to any other pyramid scheme so why the hell are we allowing it.

We need to start telling our politicians to show some goddamn accountability for this shit. Stop accepting them skirting responsibility for being at best: Inept and at worst deliberately negligent. We all need to stop supporting a system that's hurting us all. In the hope that we might be one of the lucky ones. That's not the reality of things. We'll only get out of this hole we've inadvertently dug ourselves in to, if we stop fighting each other and work together to demand change.

You know how sometimes you catch someone in a lie, and so they tell an even bigger lie to try and cover up the first lie they told?

Well, that’s happening right now.

Last winter, a handful of celebrity doctors went on mainstream news networks to assure us that Omicron was “mild.” They carpet-bombed us with articles and tweets, doing their best to brainwash everyone.

They were wrong.

In the end, real science junked that idea. An article in the Journal of the American Medical Association showed that Omicron killed more people than previous variants, even when adjusting for other factors. Another study by doctors at Massachusetts General and Harvard Medical found that Omicron was just as deadly. In fact, “the risks of hospitalization and mortality were nearly identical.” As it turns out, the entire idea of “mild” Omicron was based on an old, flawed idea known as the law of declining virulence, developed by a doctor who was studying tick-borne disease in cows. It was debunked decades ago.

Most epidemiologists know that viruses don’t magically evolve to become milder. Virus evolution is random and chaotic.

In some cases, viruses evolve to become more deadly.

A handful of actual scientists tried to explain all this last winter, including disease experts at Johns Hopkins. A handful of other established experts spoke out against this myth. As a microbiologist at Penn State told Politifact, “You can’t just say it’s going to become nicer.” They were largely ignored, because everyone already sort of believed the misinformation. If they knew it was based on a study about cows, they probably would’ve thought twice.

This year, the makers of “it’s mild” are back.

They’re selling “immunity debt.”

We should be skeptical.

Schools and daycares are sending letters home to parents talking about this “immunity debt.” They’re saying that healthy children are getting sicker, even dying, because they weren’t exposed to enough germs over the last two years. Newspapers and TV stations across the country are running with it, proposing it as a “possible reason” for this year’s explosion in pediatric hospitalizations. Meanwhile, major medical organizations have sent a letter to President Biden urging him to declare an emergency over an “alarming surge of pediatric hospitalizations” due to a range of respiratory viruses, including Covid.

A lot of people are drinking the “immunity debt” kool-aid.

After all, Americans have believed for generations that getting sick is “good for you.” We think our immune system behaves like a muscle. We worry that if we’re not giving it a workout, we’ll get weak.

It’s a myth, just like the law of declining virulence.

Here’s why.

[joelsgoldrush]

“give me all of that ultraviolence” | 2k

logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: You give Logan head for the first time.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ implied age gap. dirty talk. kind of inexperienced reader. oral sex (m receiving). face fucking. dom!logan. a tiny bit of degradation. he guides you through the whole experience (shocking!!! i know)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HI PALS!!! yes i'm alive and kicking. yes university is killing me. so recently i’ve been OBSESSED with this man and i needed to write something for him. english is not my first language and i may have made some mistakes (if you encounter any you can tell me, i won't mind it). comments/likes/reblogs would be highly appreciated. i've got sooooo many ideas to write and i'm finally getting my hands on them. i missed you all so fucking much. hope you enjoy this!!!

It’s common knowledge that all humans have needs. Try as you may, there’s a primitive side that you can’t spare yourself from. You, as everybody else, have urges.

“Logan,” you basically mewl his name, five letters that roll off your tongue with little effort. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge you, his kisses growing harsher on the delicate skin of your neck. Threading your fingers through his hair, you decide to try again, speaking a bit louder this time. “Logan, please.”

“What is it, honey?” he says, bitten lips still pressed to your pulse point. As you remain silent, he looks up at you, those big, brown eyes that you love so dearly almost completely dark now. “Do you want to call it a day?”

His question catches you off-guard. You cup his face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, suddenly afraid that he might pull away from you. “No! Not at all. That’s- that’s not what I want at all, actually.”

“What do you want, then? You can tell me,” he kisses you on the lips, softly at first. What starts as nothing more than a sweet kiss turns into a needier one, his hard on poking you through your shorts. “Come on. Tell me, baby. What does my sweet girl want?”

“I want to suck you off, Logan,” you whisper as you latch your mouth onto his, and you can feel how he visibly tenses beneath you. His breath hitches in his throat when you grind your hips. “I really need it.”

From the very beginning of your relationship, you had made things crystal clear: you didn’t have much experience on this territory. For a man his age, he was totally understanding. He knew you had your own times, that for him to take you to bed would take longer. Truth be told, Logan was willing to go to the ends of the world for you. There was no use in forcing anything.

At present, the bulge amid his legs becomes even more noticeable as you get off his lap, playing with his belt. “Can I?” you ask him, amazed at how straightforward you’re being.

Logan stares at you, so far panting, lust glowing in his eyes. “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters as he helps you undress him. His worn out jeans end up pooling around his ankles, and you locate yourself in between his legs. 

You’re on your knees, hands folded in front of you. Suddenly, it hits you, the shame of it all. How badly you want him, how desperate you are to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue. How many nights you’ve dreamt of this moment, unable to stop that unbearable need of touching yourself every time you thought about pleasuring him.

That’s what you truly want. For him to use you.

“What’s wrong, princess? We’ve talked about this a lot of times. You know what to do,” you can’t help but stare at his crotch as you listen to him, and then he raises your chin with his finger, your lips parting unconsciously. You blink slowly at him, eyelashes fluttering together. At last, he seems to understand what you’re trying to tell him, and he raises his eyebrows, that cocky grin of his taking place where it belongs. “You want me to guide you, don’t you? Want me to tell you what to do? Know you like it when I go a bit off the rails.”

You moan at his words, squeezing your eyes shut and nuzzling your cheek up against his palm. Slick gathers in your panties as you push your thighs together. “Please. Tell me what to do.”

“Take it out,” he instructs you, and you do as you’re told. Grabbing him by the base, you pull his cock out of his briefs. He twitches in your hand, and he’s so, so incredibly big. 

You stroke him once, testing the feeling. This you know how to do. You’ve given him hand jobs millions of times, although this one feels particularly different from the others.

He takes hold of your fist, applying a bit of pressure. “I’m sorry, baby. I think you got it all wrong. I’m the one who makes the calls here, okay?” he grunts, his brows knitted, and you only nod, salivating at the sight of his cock already leaking precum at the tip. Logan licks his lips, curling his hand around yours. “You do as I say. Now, stroke me. Nice. And. Slow,” he punctuates each of his words by moving both your hand and his in unison around his length. “That’s it, darling. You just need someone to boss you around from time to time, ain’t I right?”

One thing to know about Logan: he’s so full of himself on a daily basis, but he just gets worse in bed.

“My mouth,” you hover your lips over the head of his cock, all shiny and soft. He has let you go, both of his arms now flexed behind his head, as if he were appreciating how pathetic you must look on your knees, begging for him to allow you to taste him. “Let me.”

“Not yet,” his hips follow your tormenting pace, seeking the warmth that your skin radiates. He grits his teeth, biting his lower lip. You’ve no idea how a man so strong can become putty in your hands like this. “Greedy girl. I’m beginning to think you’ve set me up. Only a slut would get so worked up about having a cock in her mouth. What happened to my innocent girl? Gone with the wind, huh?”

“Please, Lo. I need it so bad,” you are whining, peppering his thighs with kisses. You inhale his musky scent, getting dizzy. “Give it to me. I’ll be good.”

Out of nowhere, Logan grabs a handful of your hair, forcing you to arch your back. He scrutinizes your face, studying your blissed out demeanor. “I don’t doubt that. I’m sure you’ll be good. Otherwise, we’ll keep on trying. We have all night, and you have a good memory, just need to put it to use,” as he taps your lower lip with his tip, you catch him smirking. He repeats that same motion until he has you shivering from the excitement of being stuffed. ”Show me how much you need it. Go easy on it at first, okay? Don’t want you choking beforehand.”

You’re more than happy to comply.

Your tongue darts out to lick at his head, enveloping it between your lips. The salty taste of his precum invades your tastebuds, and you moan as you trace the veins of his cock with the pad of your thumb. “Tastes so good, Lo,” your voice sounds distant, almost unrecognizable to your own ears.

“I know, bub. Such a nice fucking mouth, can’t believe you’ve never done this before. I guess you’re a natural,” shaky fingers place a strand of hair behind your ears, patting your head as if you were a dog in heat. “Do you feel like bobbing your head a little?” he asks you, and you prepare yourself, attaching your mouth to his head once again. “Good. That’s good.”

With that being said, Logan fists your hair once again and shoves your face down, his hard cock tickling your throat. Your whines and his rapid breaths are the only sounds to be heard in your bedroom. He grins as he takes in the sight of you. “Oh, sweetheart. You look so beautiful with your mouth stretched around me,” his index finger taps your cheek and he feels the outline of his own cock. “You know I can smell you, right? You’re fucking soaked, baby. Think you’ll leave a stain on the carpet? You’d clean it off with your tongue, wouldn’t you?”

You have no idea how he’s coming up with these things, but you’re far from annoyed. In fact, you’ve never been this wet. Your underwear must be ruined at this point, and you wish Logan would tell you to touch yourself.

After some minutes of bobbing your head up and down, he pulls you off his cock and you breathe through your mouth for the first time in a while. As you gasp for air, Logan kisses you, tasting himself. He massages the back of your neck, his cock throbbing between the two of you. “You tired?”

Your glossy eyes widen. Shaking your head, you go for his balls this time, sucking one of them while toying with the other. Logan buries his hands in your hair for what must be the hundredth time in the night, unable to stop himself. “F-fuck, that’s it. A pretty girl like you just gets what she needs,” he praises you, and you return to his length, taking as many inches as you can without hurting yourself. Tears shimmer in your eyes, yet you can’t bring yourself to care about that detail. You’re far too focused on Logan’s grunts and growls. “Keep that up and I’ll come. You heard me? You’re gonna make me fucking come, bub.”

His words ignite a fire inside you. You use your hands, your mouth, everything that you have to pleasure him. He’s getting closer and closer, thighs shaking when you pay special attention to his tip. Logan responds to each of your movements, and as you feel every coherent thought fly out the window, you try to take him all the way down your throat, breathing through your nose and swallowing around him. He cants his hips up, brutally fucking your mouth. Like a dog without a leash, Logan seems to get lost in the warmth that envelopes his cock, chasing his own release. “You’re such a good girl. My good girl. Nobody will fuck this mouth ever again. I’ll ruin you for any pathetic guy that tries to get in your pants. You’re fucking mine, darling. Oh, f-fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck-”

You’re met with his happy trail once he spills his hot load inside your mouth. He keeps you trapped there, his cock twitching and spamming through the aftershocks of his orgasm. You don’t think twice and swallow what he’s giving you. Some of his cum slips from your lips, falling directly onto the carpet. Even Logan seems surprised when he doesn’t stop coming.

He helps you stand up after a moment, kissing you as soon as he gets the chance. He licks into your mouth, squeezing the flesh of your hips. Logan lifts his eyebrows, relishing how cock-drunk you must look. “I think you nearly killed me. And that’s a lot to say coming from someone who cannot fucking die.”

You plaster a smile on your face, hugging his wide frame. “So, was I okay?”

His jaw goes slack, and he lowers his head to capture your lips in another kiss. “You were fantastic. I could easily get hard again just from thinking about it,” his fingers trace the buttons of your shirt, tugging at the fabric of it. “What if you let me focus on yourself for a while? You’ve already done enough, baby. Let me take care of you,” he rubs his hands on your thighs, reaching for your drenched panties. “Perhaps we could try something else today. That pussy’s begging to be fucked.” 

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Sweet

Sevika x Female Reader

Soft, emotional sex with Sevikidiki where you end up sobbing ‘cause she’s too sweet.

Cw: Sex: fingering, strap on, praise. Soft dom Sevika. Sub Reader.

MEN DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!!!

Proofread || Note: It was so fun writing this, I hope you enjoy :) Also, please ignore any spelling/grammar mistakes, i tried my hardest to keep them out!

Her flesh arm wrapped around your waist and you found yourself pinned against her chest. Her lips latched onto hers as she kissed you with an abundance of care and love. Never was there a moment of roughness, of the slightest bit of pain; being a grip or a pull.

Sevika’s hand slithered down to your shorts, entering from your front and pressing against your clit. She slowly moved, causing your breath to heavy and your heart to spike.

Your bedroom was prepared for a movie night, a night where you and your girlfriend could just cuddle. But, things seemed to escalate. There was a change of plans.

The warm light from your lamp illuminated the room, and your freshly lit candles now made the situation much more romantic. The room smelled heavenly, and so did Sevika’s kissing. She was gentle with how much pressure she applied, not wanting to get too intense. You didn’t mind her softness, matter of fact you actually wanted more of it. She’d taken off her prosthetic in order to cuddle with you better. In order to keep away any sharp metals from you. That was the kind of woman she was; only with you, however.

Her middle teased your entrance, finertip going in before slipping right now. She was testing the waters, seeing if you she’d need lube or not— she didn’t. Tongue slipping out of your mouth, lips unattaching, Sevika pulled back with a heavy breath, her eyes opening and she met yours.

“Can I?” Her voice quieter, slightly shaky. “Yeah, I want you to.” And with your approval, she let her finger, carefully, move in. “Y’want me to add another? You don’t have to.” Her grey eyes watching as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. “Uh-huh, go ahead.” You, barely able to hold yourself together, nodded. A hand on her cheek with the other on the side of her neck, you hold back a whimper as she added another. It didn’t hurt, no, but it definitely took you a few seconds to get used to. Considering Sevika’s fingers were quite large. “Does it hurt? Tell me to stop if y’need me to, alright?” Her dark lips pressing a kiss on your forehead, letting you know you could say no whenever you wanted to.

She slowly picked up her pace, from slow curls to harder ones, the tips of her fingers found her target and she hit it. You clung to her as she did so, moaning into her shoulder all the while having her kiss your neck. “Is this good, baby?” Her low voice vibrating through you. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s.. good.” Awsome was what you wanted to say. It felt awsome.

Her warm breath brushed against your heated skin, causing you to feel hot. Burning hot. The fast beating of your heart and the heavy breaths you were taking only added to the fire; your body was sweating. And the thought of Seika being in you had your mind giddy, had it working extra hard to make you feel good. And you did. Even in the process of making you cum you felt a sort of high you’d only experience with your girlfriend.

“God, you’re so beautiful like this,” she’d whisper with a suck at your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys. “Don’t stop.. Sev.. that’s so.. fucking good— don’t stop, please!” You’d ramble on, jaw dropping at the familiar pooling in your core. “Y’think I would? I’m offended, love.” Her lips hidden and curled into a smile, she was proud of herself.

Your walls squished against her middle and ring, responding to the experienced curling she was doing inside of you. Your girlfriend even commented; “Feeling good? You’re all tight.” And, yes, it made your face feel hot. How could it not? Her smugness added to the sensation she was, lovingly, providing. It was the way she acknowledged how you reacted that made you whine, made you embarrassed. It even made you further more attracted to her.

“My pretty girl’s so close, I can feel it.” Smothering your neck with hickeys and kisses; only so you’d have a constant reminder of her. “Mm-hm, I am.” Your breathless words causing your woman to fasten her pace. “I can’t.. please! god it’s so good..”

Your hands clenched onto her shoulders as you, yourself, clung onto her. A cry of pleasure escaped your lips and your hips slightly shuddered against her as she helped you ride out your orgasm. Sevika even pulled back to see your face, watch as you came all over her fingers, it was a sight she never truly got used to. It was addictive being able to make her girl so happy.

“Perfect. You were perfect.” Slipping out of you and pulling you close with her wrists; her hand avoiding any contact. “How’d that feel, pretty thing?” Lips pecking yours before she gave you a chance to talk. “Like you said, it was perfect.”

A low humm of acknowledgment came from your girlfriend and she nuzzled into you, forehead resting against your shoulder. “It’s only ten. Can I get the strap?” Know this stuff knocks you out in a few.” She was reffering to the fact that she, herself, could have you asleep faster than any melatonin could. “Sure, but only one round.” You were already exhausted from a little fingering, you doubted you could get through Sevika’s pounding.

At your approval, she quickly grabbed, and slid on, the strap. Clicking the belt in place before plopping down next to you. “What position, ma’am?” Tone all teasing as she had a hand on your arm. “Mm.. I dunno? From the front? That’s the easiest?” She nodded in agreement. “You don’t mind if I have on my mech, do ya?” “Nope.”

From the front was what you got.

Ankles on her shoulders, arms overhead, and your body ready, your girlfriend pressed the tip of her strap to your entrance. Her mech and flesh holding onto your thighs as she slowly, and oh so carefully, pushed inside. Sevika’s strap was thick and long, easily larger than her two fingers— and it took you a while to get used to. “Deep breaths, babe.” Flesh hand pressing down on your lower abdomen, it was her way of making you feel more.

“Trying.” Was your breathless response, head tilted to the side to see the bulge in your skin. Sevika only smiled down at the sight, soaking in the way her strap looked with you wrapped around it. “Convinced every inch of you is beautiful.” The woman leaned forward, holding onto your ankles and slowly beginning to thrust. Your body, as usual, recoiled, and your hands clenched onto the the pillow beneath your clouded head.

Your eyes rolled back as Sevika’s hips rolled deep into you, hitting her target all the while rubbing against your tight walls. She could feel the pressure, the repeated squishing everytime she entered, even the way she had to push hard into you. You were wet, soaked, and it made the job easier. Louder, too. The quiet yet noticeable squelching noises from you filled the room, thanks to your girlfriend.

Not even a few minutes in and you were feeling your stomach pool again. The same heat that would make you feel good formed and you found yourself utterly taken away by the sensation jolting throughout your body. Every part of you enjoyed it.

“Close already?” The woman grunted, wrapping your legs around her hips and deciding to pull you against her chest. “I can’t..” you managed to say, barely able to keep yourself composed. “Sev, I.. fuck— it’s too much,” “need me to stop?” She knew you’d say no, she’d never heard the word leave your mouth. “Don’t.. please, I’m close.”

And she didn’t. Sevika never slowed her pace. Her only goal, at the moment, was to make you cum, all the while feeling loved. She showed so by peppering your forehead with kisses, intertwining her fingers with yours, holding your hands above your head, and whispering soft words in your ear. “You’re doing great, love,” she’d say as she pressed a kiss on the shell of your ear. “Gonna cum for me, hm? Go ahead, baby.” All the while pounding into you. “My girl sounds so pretty, don’t you?” As she lets you burry your face into her shoulder and whimper, moan, as much as you wanted to.

Even though your girlfriend was thrusting hard, she wasn’t being rough. She knew how you needed it, how much you could handle. She’d never push your limits, if that had even crossed her mind. “Vika,” your voice shaky as you sniffle against her skin. Her warmth mixing into yours, her grunts sending a light shiver through you, and her breath tickling your neck. “Is something wrong?” Her pace slowing as she wiped at your wet cheek. “No, don’t stop.. please.” Heart racing in your chest as you said those words. You’d repeated them a thousand times; but they really were true.

“Baby, I’m not.” Sevika, though worried, fastened her pace again and leaned on her arms to get a better look at you. Brows furrowed, eyes lidded and wet, lips parted, with your face heated. As cute as you looked, she had to ask the question. “What’s wrong?” Grey eyes staring deeply into yours. “Later.. I’ll tell.. you later.”

There was nothing wrong, just the fact that you were overwhelmed with the amount of care and love she put in every thrust, every touch. It was adorable and just so sweet that it had you sobbing.

Your orgasm was just as good as the last and, afterwards, Sevika slipped off her strap and decided to cuddle you. “Too much?” She asked, voice quiet and soft, “No, I never said that.” Your face showing your embarrassment. “Then, what? Did I hurt you?” your girlfriend had her prosthetic off again, so her flesh hand did most of the touching. “No, you’re just really nice. That’s all.”

“Nice? I’m really nice?” She repeated, “what does that mean?”

“It means I love you.”

“Oh? That’s.. new.” Her brows raised in surprise. “I love you, too. Even though you cry over stupid things.”

“Those were happy tears—“ “Yeah, alright. You had me worried about happy tears.”