#betwixt the sheets

[silverwanderingcrow]

Y'all go listen to these podcasts

Esgaype from reality - a chapter by chapter discussion podcast about the carry on series by two queer people

Betwixt the sheets: the history of sex scandel and society - a brilliant podcast that covers mostly British history like William Wallace's sex life but also more general topics like kink fashion and the history of sex toys

The gay pirate podcast - an episode by episode discussion podcast about our flag means death by two queer people

Feel free to reblog with other podcast recs!

[malapertmarquess]

I'm listening to a podcast episode about Eleanor of Aquitaine, who was married to a couple of kings and mother to more kings, and the podcast host just about slew me by saying:

"How many kings are in and out of this woman's vagina is quite impressive."

[phrackingineffable]

Now on to the episode where Xena sleeps with baby Karl Urban as Julius Caesar. Given everything I recently learned from the Betwixt The Sheets episode about Caesar’s sex life, I’m pretty sure them immediately jumping in to bed is the most historically accurate thing in this entire show.

[wandering-bard-from-the-id]

I love this podcast series. The host always has interesting guests and discussions.

This episode is about murder but it also discusses suicide and miscarriages, and is an excellent example of why religion and law should never be intertwined.

[circuitousways]

My first introduction to John Wilmot was The Libertine. I look forward to giving this a listen!

John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, was a wonderful poet and a very poor role model. He died of syphilis and alcohol at 33. His life was like a mad romance, and he wrote some astonishing poetry on the way. I loved being the guest reader, and reading some of Rochester's poems on this glorious Betwixt the Sheets podcast about his life and work. WARNING they are very rude.

Kate Lister and Rebecca Rideal do all the work. I get to be the guest reader.

[yorkshirekiwi]

I highly suggest everyone listens to this podcast 🙏🙏🙏🙏 While I'm aware 'and they were roommates' is a fun fanfic trope in WWI/II there are numerous exampls of life immitates art (or vice versa)

👀 we’re all thinking it right?

and they were roommates 😏

[bougiebutchbitch]

izzy's sexual preferences: what we know so far

repressed little queer cunt who's finally flourishing from his crusty, misanthropic shell

masochist who gets turned on by torture

really wanted Ed to become a dominant aggressive hypermasculine monster. For reasons. That were totally not kinky. Nope. (they were so kinky)

gets off on being choked/bossed about/fed his own fucking toes (he creamed at the first one, before that whole situation got so ugly and broken. You cannot convince me otherwise)

yearns to call someone 'daddy'

[endlessly-cursed]

Founder’s Era- Henriette of Wessex

"𝙋𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝙧𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣."

Name: Henriette of Wessex 

Nicknames: TBD 

Birthdate: 2nd of May, 966 AD

Zodiac Sign: Gemini 

Personality Type (MBTI): TBD 

Blood Status: Muggleborn 

Nationality: Anglo-Saxon (British) 

Physical Appearance

Hair: Golden blonde 

Eyes: Blue 

Height: 1.58m 

Weight: 62kg 

Body Type: Slim 

Skin Tone: Fair 

Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): None 

Background

Hometown

Henriette grew up in a small part of what would become an impressive manor of Winbourne, which was by then a small fort built during the times of Charlemagne, though she grew up as a lady-in-waiting to Emma of Normandy, Queen of England and wife of Aethelred the Unready and Cnut the Great. She grew up in the lap of luxury. 

Family

Mother: Dorothea of Bristol ‘the Belle’ 

A beautiful and traditional Anglo-Saxon woman, she was the daughter of warrior Aelfgifu of Kent and Aeldestan the Boneless, and after a relative peace, she was allowed to have a regular raising in the traditions of Anglo-Saxon England. She was beautiful, talented, smart and a young healthy woman. She was soon married to a wealthy landowner as well, and though she did her best to conceive a son, the only child that survived out of twelve pregnancies was Henriette. She gave her an over-the-top education, and when she knew it was time she married, she did so... with an incredible alliance with Denmark with the help of Queen Emma 

Father: Marcus the Spineless 

A savvy, power-hungry, smart and smart warrior, he was a loyal servant of Aethelred the Unready and was one of his closest advisors, for he had one of the best educations in England, which landed him a match with the beautiful Dorothea as a gift from the king. He proved to be also very cunning, for when Aethelred died and Edmund followed, he was one of the first lords to subdue to Cnut and was ready to serve him as loyally. Under his rule, he thrived and his connections helped him marry his only child to a man worthy of his name and glory, and would be behind his grandchildren’s great matches... 

Hogwarts

House: Hufflepuff 

Mirror of Erised: Herself, married and making amends with Betwixt 

Amortentia (what she smells like): pine wood, perfume of the time, expensive soap, rosemary and lavender 

Amortentia (what she smells): TBD 

Career

8-18: Lady-in-waiting to Queen Emma of Normandy 

19-22: Ally and advisor to Helga Hufflepuff 

23-Death: Lady of Winbourne 

Personality & Attitude

Priorities: Her loved one’s safety, her position at court, being happy 

Strengths: Kind, smart, can be cunning, perspicacious and generous 

Weaknesses: Naive, hard on herself and always aims for perfection 

Stressed: During her pregnancies, when there’s conflict 

Calm/Comforted: In Freddie’s arms 

Favorites

Colors: Golden, purple, red, white and black 

Weather: Sunny, with a bit of breeze 

Hobbies: Sewing, dancing, reading, riding and singing 

Fashion: Henriette dresses to the late fashion, and dresses in rich silks of white, yellow and blue 

Relationships

Significant Other/Love Interest: Geirmund Eriksson, later known as Frederick of Kent ( @that-scouse-wizard​ ) 

Frederick was a Danish man, son of Vikings and a Viking himself, who also suffered losses on St. Brice’s Day, and grew up resentful of the king. When he was older, as an alliance proposed by King Cnut himself, he was offered for a wife the wealthy, beautiful and intelligent Henriette, who was the favourite at court of Queen Emma, whom he viewed better than her first husband. 

When he arrived in British soil, he was converted to Roman Catholicism by the Archbishop of Canterbury himself, and changed his name from Geirmund to the English-sounding (but with Danish roots) name Frederick, adopting as well his future wife’s land, Wessex. As commanded by the king of Denmark, whom he himself was a favourite of, he was to establish the alliance with several children. The dowry on Henriette’s one made him a wealthy man, which provided nearly a million shillings, rich English clothing, many animals such as cows, horses, sheep, among many others, 120 servants, jewels fit for a lord, weapons, as well as rare goods of the time. 

MORE TBD 

Friends: Monarch Betwixt ( @hphmmatthewluther​ ) 

Despite Betwixt being on Salazar’s side, they were thoroughly impressed by Henriette: not only she was a beauty, she was smart on her own right, perspicacious and the best of it: she didn’t aim for something greater. She genuinely wanted to do something good for the world, and her kidness and loving nature made him fall for her, though it was mostly one-sided on the romantic side. 

Betwixt became her shadow, something greater and bigger than a best friend, beyond the carnal desire of a lover and the romantic emotions of a husband, theirs was an incredible connection and could speak with one another better than anyone. 

But this friendship wasn’t approved by many, and their enemies spread rumours that they were indeed lovers and that they may even have had a secret child, though nothing is yet to be proven nowadays. Even after Henriette’s several pregnancies, in which contemporaries of the day agreed that they resembled Frederick greatly, many still hoped to find an explanation to such a complex relationship. 

After Henriette married Frederick, Betwixt left, dejected, to Spain, where he found love while Henriette plunged herself in a succession of constant motherhood and pregnancies. 

Rivals: None. Why would you want to antagonise this woman?! 

Trivia

Henriette can play the fiddle, the cithara and the flute 

She also knows Danish, especially after she marries Frederick 

She’s also an excellent dancer 

She has such a soothing voice, she often recites the Holy Bible for the queen 

She became aware of Betwixt’s departure the same day she learnt of her first pregnancy 

She never once admitted on having slept with Betwixt, and swore to the Archbishop before her wedding that she had always been a maid, and Betwixt had never touched her 

Her mother didn’t approve of Betwixt and tried to bribe them several times to leave her, which they declined 

She ended up having a loving relationship with Frederick, and soon sort of took Betwixt’s place, though their connection wasn’t as big, but he was certainly the love of her life 

Her descendants would found the House of Somerset in the 1300s 

She had more daughters than sons, and they all made auspicious matches, especially with the help of her father, wanting to ally himself with as many lords as he could 

[moonssnail]

The girls!!!! Their dynamic has me in shambles so I made a little doodle sheet thingy betwixt comms

[hier--soir]

take your medicine

pre-outbreak joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: *tv sales advert voice* so you've been finding it hard to reach orgasm? lucky for you, our best-selling item "hunky boyfriend joel" is on sale at half price. shipping is free, and he is very determined to help you achieve your goals! call the number on your screen to buy now! OR your medication makes it difficult to orgasm so joel (and your vibrator) help make it happen. warnings/tags: set in the early 2000s aka early thirties joel my lover boyyyy, boyfriend joel, depression [nothing dark or sad], anti-depressants, brief discussion of food/eating, cigarette smoking [f], soft!supportive!joel, mentions of masturbation [f], unprotected piv sex, use of a sex toy, ride 'em cowgirl (1939) dir. samuel diege, cream pie, dirty talk, joel talks you through it. word count: 2.9k masterlist a/n: so this one is.... self-indulgent. shout out to all my friends on anti-depressants that are strugglin' to reach orgasm. me too, pals, me too. and there will be no medication shaming on this account, no there will not! so happy sunday, i hope someone else out there enjoys this short little thing with me x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing

Medication is a journey, they say. Every day will be different.

Medication is not the end all be all, they say. We can always try different avenues.

Six months on, now.

Six months since Let’s try the Zoloft for a few months.

Six months since We can reassess in April.

It’s June and summer has settled over Austin with a hot wet vengeance. April came and went with a mutual agreement that you weren’t ready to be weaned off yet. A gentle hand on your forearm and a softly spoken Why don’t we check in again in July?

A low dose. A starter dose. A you shouldn’t experience too many side-effects dose.  

And she was right – for the most part. There were no headaches, no nausea, no dizzy spells, no changes in appetite. That shallow, low mood that’d been haunting you for months suddenly began to lift. Begrudging exercise in the afternoons, a three-meals-a-day regiment implemented by your boyfriend, and a happy little pill with every morning coffee.

But fuck – you can count the number of orgasms you’ve had since January on one hand.

Countless nights spent alone in your bed, tangled betwixt sweaty sheets, fingers and forearm cramping until you finally give up. Drink a cold glass of water, wet your face, and go to bed frustrated; a routine disappointment.

You’d gotten lucky a few times, of course. Vibrator on the highest setting possible, pussy all puffed up and numb from the rough speed. Frustrated tears in your eyes, lightheaded by the time you finally feel that sweet sweet relief coursing through your veins.

A few times with Joel, too, in those first few months. And ignorance was bliss—quite literally—until he caught onto what you’d been doing.

“What was different tonight?” he’d asked you on one of those nights, laid out beside each other in his bed. Chests heaving, satisfied smiles spread across your faces.

Your hand had paused against his head, fingers twisted up in his sweaty curls, and you hesitated. So quick, the briefest pause before trying to play it off, but he caught it. Always too perceptive, too watchful of an eye; especially since you’d been diagnosed.

“What’s wrong?” Joel frowned.

“I… didn’t… my…” you’d mumbled, face tucked against his pillow.

“Can’t hear you when you do that,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Baby?”

“I didn’t take my meds today,” you repeated, voice still low, still wary. But you could tell he heard you. Knew from the way his body stiffened beside you. From how when you looked over his smile had dropped, eyebrows pinching inward. 

For a moment he didn’t even say anything. He hardly breathed. And then—Darlin’, why would you do that?—so painfully soft, the faintest tinge of worry in that deep, rasping voice of his. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, and something hot began to burn behind your eyes. Wet, pinching shame. “Just… I woke up and I wanted you. And I wanted it to feel like it used to for us, and I can never… you know I can’t finish when I’m on them, and I hate feeling like I’m disappointing you—”

“Baby,” Joel shook his head, strong hand cupping your jaw. His forehead knocked against yours; a tender but firm kind of insistence. The type that says look me in the fucking eyes and listen up. “You’re not disappointin’ me.”

“Joel,” you sighed, face hot, foreheads tacky where they pressed together.

“No,” he grunted. “I fuckin’ mean it. This stuff takes time, okay? We’ll figure it out the way we always do. Just… don’t do that again. Please.”

“I won’t,” you murmured feebly, nose smushed against his.  

“Promise me,” Joel had urged you. “Promise me you’ll take your medicine.” 

“I promise, Joel.”

You kept strong on that promise. Didn’t get frustrated when he’d stay over more nights than usual, or drag you back to his place in the evenings – all just to watch you pop that little white pill in the mornings.  

It brought out something new in him, the day you’d showed him the prescription. Like some instinctual protectiveness was unlocked and he just kicked into hyperdrive.

Cutting work early to drive you to your doctor’s office, cooking up different meals every night for dinner.

Most days you wake up alone in his bed; wipe the sleep out of your eyes as you wander downstairs. Let him nudge you into a chair at the table, beside Sarah, so he can set identical bowls of cereal in front of the two of you—his girls. Hell, if you had a dollar for every time that man has said Breakfast is the most important meal of the day in the past six months, you’d have more money than you could spend.

Joel didn’t even get mad when you started smoking again in May.

Didn’t bat an eye when he found you at two in the morning, sat on the back porch in one of his sweatshirts with the smell of tobacco staining your fingers.

“Been a long time since I seen once of those in your mouth,” he’d smirked, settling onto the stoop beside you.

“I’m sorry,” you grimaced, remembering how proud he’d been when you quit. He rested his head against your shoulder, eyes watering with a yawn.

“S’late,” he grumbled sleepily. “N’you smell now.”

“I’m sorry,” you’d repeated, stamping the cigarette into the concrete. “Today was just… hard. Couldn’t sleep.”  

“S’okay,” Joel told you. “Just don’t like it when you sneak out on me, yeah? You know I ain’t judgin’ you.”

The only thing that frustrates Joel, is that he comes, and you don’t.

And it’s not a frustration with you. No, it’s a hot faced guilt that spreads through him every time you fuck. Evident in those frantic touches, desperate pleas of your name, of tell me what to do, tell me how to help, of fuck I’m sorry.

Because you still want him, despite it all. Still can’t help your wandering hands, your fingers that tease back his bed sheets and then his boxers and coax orgasm after orgasm out of him, night after night.

Tonight, you thought, would be no different.

Covers strewn across the end of your bed, pillows askew, you sit astride his lap.

It’s hot; the AC in your apartment has been broken all week, and your thighs are tacky with sweat where they press against his skin. Everything wet – sweat in your hair, slick between your thighs, the soft squelching sound that raises with every press of his cock inside of you.

“Fuck,” Joel pants, hands tight against your waist. “I can’t—goddammit, I’m not gonna last, baby.” 

“It’s okay,” you moan, eyelids heavy as you rock your hips over his.

It’s late, and you both have work early in the morning, but the burn is so good like this. The heavy weight of him reaching so far, pushing the limits of what your body can take. For years it’s been your favourite way to fuck him; poised above his body, admiring the way his stomach tightens and his eyes roll when you sink down on his cock.

“What can I do?” his voice is strained, the veins in his neck bulging as he holds his breath – anything to stave off the impending high.

You only whimper pathetically, grinding your hips into his. Can feel everything in your stomach knotting up into a white-hot ball.

“Hey,” Joel urges, hand landing in a soft slap against your outer thigh. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know,” you cry out, shaking your head. “It’s right there, but I…”

“But what?” he murmurs, hips snapping up again.

“I don’t think I can,” you finally admit, eyebrows drawn tight in frustration. Your lower lip is bitten raw at this point, incessantly gnawed at by your own teeth. His grip tightens on your hips and he drags you upward until his length slips out, falling against his stomach with a wet smack.

“C’mon, tell me what you need,” he says quickly, and you’re sure that the desperation you see in his eyes is mirrored in your own. Pupils blown round and fat, endless black—pleading.

You stare down at him for a moment. Watch the way his chest heaves with harsh, stilted breathes. How little dots of sweat have gathered at the hollow of his throat. And fuck, you want it so bad.

“Top drawer,” you exhale roughly, pointing to the side table.

Joel doesn’t question the order. Doesn’t say a word as he spreads a long arm across the bed, yanking the drawer open and shoving his hand inside. You watch him rifle around for a moment, pulse increasing as you wait for him to find what you want. What you need. And you can tell when he does; his shoulders stiffen and he lets out a choked sort of sound, pulling out the black wand and shoving it into your hand.

“Show me,” he says, eyes wild.

Your finger drops down against the button, turning your hand to show him which one to press.

“There’s four settings,” you murmur, slipping it back into his palm.

“Does this normally help?” he asks, grunting softly as you grip his cock, notching the tip back at your entrance.

“Sometimes,” you sigh, sinking down, sucking in the heavy weight of him. “Can still take a—a little while.”

He presses the button tentatively, watching as the rounded head of the wand starts to vibrate. Spread open around him, he can see your swollen little clit so easily, and he lowers the wand to press against it. Your body jolts forward, mouth splitting open with a groan as heat flares through you. Your hips stutter against him instinctively, chasing that intense feeling, and he looses a gravelly moan at the feeling of your wasted cunt squeezing around him.

“Look at that,” Joel grunts, dark eyes trained on your face. That wicked pink tongue slips out to wet his lips and he nods in encouragement. “I know, baby, I know it’s a lot, you feel good?” 

“Yes,” you gasp, jaw going slack as you settle into the feeling. “Fuck, yes, it’s good, it’s good.”

It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before; nothing your past boyfriends had ever been comfortable enough to try. It has the muscles in your thighs tensing up already; the thick press of his cock paired with that unrelenting, almost overbearing, vibration.

“Can feel it,” he hisses out, head tilting back into the mattress.

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he nods, expression grim. The muscle in his jaw twitches. “So fuckin’ tight like this. All wound up, y’need it so bad, I know.”

You moan, eyelids fluttering as he presses the button again, notching it to a higher speed. You lift up slowly and then press back down over him, and the two of you groan in unison. His free hand falls against the curve of your ass and he squeezes, encouraging you to rock against him, starting up a steady pace.

One of your hands settles on your chest, fingers twisting and pulling at your nipples. You need more, always more, something, anything.

“Look so fuckin’ good like this,” Joel mutters, and you can tell how fucked out he is already as he watches you. Dark eyes glazing over, mouth hanging open deliriously. “My pretty girl, so damn good for me.”  

Your heart stumbles in your chest and you whimper, appreciation for him flooding your senses. He’s been so close for so long tonight already, teetering precariously on that edge but holding off for you. Fucking you into the mattress before pulling out and tucking his face between your thighs, doing his damnedest to get you to that same place. Urging you to get on top, to take what you needed, to use him to get yourself off.  

“I love you,” you mumble breathlessly, eyes pinching closed as something sharp starts to tingle at the bottom of your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck,” Joel snarls, hips snapping upward.  

“What ar—” your words cut off with choked moan as he clicks the button again, and then again, taking it to the highest speed. Your shoulders shake and you tilt forward a little, hand gripping his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Joel,” you cry out, chest heaving and stomach tightening.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist, searching for something to ground yourself against. That firm press against your clit doesn’t falter for a second, and you let out a rough moan.  

“Good,” he grunts. “Good girl, give it to me.”

The muscle in his bicep spasms and strains beneath the skin, everything pulled taut as he keeps the wand pressed firmly against you. And it’s almost painful, the way you can feel your high coiling inside you, burning, but never quite reaching fever pitch the way you need it to. 

A symphony that builds and billows and writhes within you. Sloping swells of violins and cellos and trumpets. Up, up, up to that shattering crescendo you just can’t seem to reach.

“Joel,” you mewl, and there’s tears in your eyes, on your cheeks. Hot, fat tears that stain your face now, dripping from your chin to splatter against his chest.

“C’mon now,” he grunts, hips shifting up off the bed, meeting you thrust for thrust. The stretch of his cock is so wide, so deep, and every shift of his body punches the air from your lungs.

“I don’t know if I can,” you shake your head, stomach on fire. The vibrations are so intense, the speed so fast, you can feel your clit going numb beneath it. But Joel doesn’t pull away, doesn’t stop the fast pace of his hips. The muscles in his abdomen twitch under you, tan skin glistening with sweat.

“You’re so close,” he goads, jaw tight. “Don’t fight it, baby.”

“Stop moving,” you beg then, your voice a high keen. Joel stills instantly, wary eyes darting across your face. He doesn’t pull the vibrator away though. Not yet.

“Fuck,” you cry out, hand firm against his stomach. “Just let me-just—”

Knees on fire against the bed, you grind your hips down into his. Gasp as his cock presses hot and heavy against something deep inside of you that sets your entire body shaking, vibrating against him; buzzing at the same high-speed rhythm as the wand between your legs. You rut against him again and again and then something pulls tight and hot at the base of your spine.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, eyes widening. “Oh god, Joel, I think—”

“Shh, I know, I know,” he moans. A bead of sweat rolls from his hairline to his chin. “You’re okay, let it happen.”

“Touch me,” you say, breathless and needy and so so desperate. “Fuck, please.”

Joel groans – a deep, guttural thing. A sound that comes from somewhere in the base of his stomach. It rattles your bones and has your fingernails digging into his stomach, and then his hand is on your chest. Rough fingers squeezing and stroking and pinching and you’re gasping, keening his name as he whispers frenzied words of encouragement and it’s building it’s building it’s building and and and—

Everything goes silent when you come. It’s all blurred vision and deafened ears; an intense ache in your jaw from the way your mouth hangs open. You can feel a vein in your neck, raging beneath the skin; a staccato rushing sound that echoes inside your head.

And you think you can hear Joel’s voice, somewhere beyond it all; Fuck, there it is, good girl, good fuckin’ girl.

When your eyes flutter open, you can only see Joel’s face swimming in your vision. His eyes rolling back, lips parted as he snarls your name.

“Fuck,” he spits. “—yeah, that’s it, there we fuckin’ go.”

You feel his cock kick inside of you; fast jerking spasms and then a warm rush as he starts to come. Your hand wraps around his, pushing the wand to the side of the bed, but he doesn’t fucking stop. He grips your waist and fucks up into you, spitting curses and warbled slurs of your name as he pumps you full of his hot spend.

It’s obscene – a mix of your come and his, squeezing out around his girth and smearing against the inside of your thighs. It pools around the base of his cock and you whimper at the sight, swollen cunt still tightening around him. Only when you start to sag down against his chest does he rest, his thighs twitching and tensing with the aftershocks of his high.  

Joel raises a hand, calloused thumb brushing the tears from your cheeks. Then, carefully, he grips the back of your neck, guiding you down to rest against his chest.

Your shoulders slump and you press a lazy kiss against the jut of his collarbone. And for a moment there’s just this. No sounds but that of heavy breaths and a soft buzzing, forgotten somewhere in the sheets. The swipe of his fingertips down your spine, your lips against his salty skin. A gentle tap against your waist and he’s slipping out of you with a sigh, but not letting you pull away, not letting you move from where you’ve collapsed directly on top of him.

“Missed that,” you slur sleepily, fighting to keep your eyes open.

“Me too,” he mumbles. “Did so good. Made me proud.”

“S’that right?” you smile against his skin.

“S’right, baby.”

You hum, dragging your head up to press a kiss against his mouth. Both of you so exhausted that it’s just a brief, lazy swipe of your lips, but it’s enough. It’s thank you.

“Shower?” he suggests softly, smiling up at you.  

“Or… cigarette?” you respond, eyebrows raised, teasing.  

“Watch it,” he smarts, laying a quick smack against your ass before nudging you off of him. He stands and holds out a hand to help you off the bed, tutting underneath his breath. “Although I guess you’ve earned it.”

a/n: in hindsight, idk why the fuck i wrote that it took them six months to try this but what can you do lmao.

thank you for reading! x

[byeaf]

Fucking through the ages

review your favorite podcast and make it sound as shitty as possible

[dnvrsmedia]

Touch Me, Feel Me

Sevika x Reader (afab) smut

Kinktober

an: uh hi! it’s been a real long time & i come back bearing very filthy smut as promised HAHA

warnings: breeding kink 🤓

Ragged breaths escape your plush lips, dry from exhaustion. Eyes tilted up and back, unable to keep focus as the brute above you thrusts her hips in an ungodly manner.

Being the mechanic that you were, tinkering with hex tech was a pastime you enjoyed frequently. Knowing that Sevika’s birthday was coming up motivated you to finish something you had been working on for a long time. You were able to make technology to allow someone to regain feeling in a prosthetic. This idea came to you during one of the many nights you laid on Sevika’s chest. Soft strokes of her arm lightly scratching your back in comfort.

“I miss the way you feel on my arm.” Sevika kept her gaze on the ceiling.

Thoughts flurrying in her brain. Her strong jaw clenched in an act to make her exclude any emotion that may slip. You on the other hand, stunned. Sevika refuses to talk about her lost arm. The adjustment that was made post explosion left your relationship chipped, but not broken. From then on, you worked diligently to give your lover a new meaning.

You didn’t necessarily think your new technology would lead to Sevika attaching the device to her thick and lengthy silicon cock. Although, Sevika being Sevika, it truly didn’t surprise you.

“F-fuck! Vika, oh my-“ Your moans of deep pleasure increase by tenfold, the buff woman above you pistons her hips deeply into your core.

Her flesh hand snaking its way across your budding clit, rubbing furious circles into damnation. Drool dripping hotly onto the sheets from your gaped mouth as your center leaks from your pleasure. Slick coating the thick member while leaking down Sevika’s thick mountainous thighs. Her essence mixing with yours as her cunt weeps at the sensations of your warmth encompassing her member.

“That’s fucking it, baby. You like how this dick feels, huh? How full i’m- oh fuck- how full i’m making you?” The most powerful woman of Zaun grunts in your ear as her hips never farther.

Babbling is all you are left with as the piece works your walls. Stretching and massaging the spot that makes your toes curl. Sevika can feel the clenching of your muscles around her and moans a moan you’ve never thought could manifest from betwixt her lips. Your eyes full of adoration of how good she is feeling. You turn your gaze to watch as Sevika’s muscles contract in every movement made. Her abs on full display as her body contorts. Her nipples fully erect on her chest make you dizzy. It’s not very often that Sevika allows you to touch her breasts, but when she does it always makes her shiver. With no rational thoughts flowing through your brain, you unconsciously lift your hand up to her chest, catching a hold of her swelled bud, and pinch.

A roar from the bellows of her being errupts from the brute above. Like a light switch was flipped, Sevika shifts her body to contain your hands above your head in restraint.

“Who fucking told you it was okay yo do that? What a fucking whore you are. You say you made this for my arm but deep down we both know you wanted this.” Sevikas impossible pace picks up faster than you thought was possible.

At this point, silent screams are leaving your body as it is being found impossible to make noise. Your eyes fully roll to the back of your head in pleasure, unable to look at your lover above you. Your bilss taken away from you as her flesh hand removes itself from your clit with a firm ‘smack!’ a whine released itself from your throat as a plea.

“Watch yourself, baby.” Sevika halts all movement making you whimper and rustle in your restraint.

“Please.” You whimper softly, feeling too lightheaded to do more than that.

“What was that?” Sevika teased, slowly teasing herself back onto you, watching you fall apart.

“Vika, please! I need you!” You whine loudly, thrashing harshly in her hold. You can tell that she thrived off teasing you as her chin rose in pride and her smirk grew.

And in an instant, she’s back to fucking you open.

Sevika pushes to your climax with fast, sloppy thrusts . You can tell she is close by the guttural grunts and increased filthy words.

“Come on baby let me feel you cum on my cock. This pussy fucking loves taking me. Fucking take it!” And with that, you’re climaxing. Stars erupt behind your eyes as bliss comes running to you at full force.

“Gonna fuckin’ cum, gonna full you so good, baby! This pussy so fucking good.” Sevika is not too far behind you as she’s collapsing above you.

Moments pass before you feel your lover slip out of you with a wince. You giggle at her, she forgot to turn off the device allowing her to feel you. An annoyed pout adorns her face before she playfully smacks your thigh.

“Happy Birthday, Vika.” You kiss her lips slowly and passionately, showing your appreciation.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

slightly different from the book rec asks but you mentioned Jamie loftus so… any non-fiction podcast recs?

wow the great news is that I am pretty much constantly listening to a nonfiction podcast of one kind or another so this is huge for me. here are some of my faves!

Betwixt the Sheets: The History of Sex, Scandal, and Society - joined by a rotating cast of guest experts, sex historian Kate Lister goes on a romp through history to learn all about the sexual norms and revolutions of yesteryear.

Black People Love Paramore - in episodes that follow the formate of "Black People Love X," host Sequoia Holmes interviews her guests about their passions for pop cultural niches where Black people are often underrepresented, overlooked, or excluded altogether. heavy focus on music, as the title suggests, but topics also include Tony Hawk, pet ownership, and a memorable episode about being a slut featuring Ify Nwadiwe.

Maintenance Phase - truly like the #1 pod I get hype for when new episodes go up. hosted by fat activist Aubrey Gordon and methodology queen Michael Hobbes, focused on investigating and debunking various health and wellness fads as well as fatphobic misconceptions.

Oh No, Ross and Carrie - ONRAC just ended after thirteen and a half years of investigating all kinds of claims about wellness, spirituality, and the paranormal, ranging from self-proclaimed faith healers to exorcists to alien sightings to pet psychics to the creationist Ark-themed theme park in Kentucky. they have a HUGE backlog, great for browsing.

The Sporkful - a short and sweet podcast hosted by pasta enthusiast Dan Pashman, with each episode focusing on a different question, trend, or event from the world of food. despite being a pretty lighthearted show Pashman is admirably unafraid to tackle the less savory side of food culture; I first became aware of the podcast when he scored a searing interview with Sohla El-Wahlly after the revelation of massive workplace discrimination at YouTube's former darling, BA Test Kitchen.

The Stacks - the only book podcast I can currently tolerate. host Traci Thomas chats with authors about their new fiction and nonfiction releases and hosts a monthly book club. very chill listening, but dangerous for your to-read list.

There Are No Girls on the Internet - host Bridget Todd dives deep into tech trends, online outrages, and misinformation moments across the web. for my money, TANGOTI's coverage of the fatalities at Travis Scott's 2021 Astroworld event and the ensuing satanic panic conspiracy theories were some of the absolute best reporting around the event. currently on hiatus, so you have plenty of time to raid the archives!

Vibe Check - poet Saeed Jones and journalists Zach Stafford and Sam Sanders discuss pop culture and politics, answer listener requests for advice, and generally queen out together. you want nuance? the girlies have Nuance. genuinely one of the warmest and kindest podcasts in my rotation.