#but it's definitely a core argument

[corbinite]

today is just not the day to be engaging with carnists. I keep making myself upset by looking at bullshit. People have already decided that we’re incapable of making arguments worth listening to, and have already decided that our perspectives belong in the trash, have already decided that any attempt to reach out to people is “forcing our beliefs onto them” and have already decided that that is fascism. It’s fucking exhausting.

Not to mention the fact that “trying to convince me to do something I don’t like is a slippery slope into fascism” is literally the *mainsteam* western perspective on what fascism is and is a huge part of why fascism has been successful in recent cuture wars, because no one sees the actual threat it poses and only can “identify” fascism by when they personally are being “forced to do something they don’t want to do”

there’s just nothing you can do to defend yourself against carnists a lot of the time. It’s fucking exhausting

[hugs-and-stabbies]

The self-awareness on this guy 😞 someone pls send him an "are you bi?" quiz STAT

[diino8081]

swap au or something

ekko -> viktor

viktor -> jinx

jinx -> ekko

i read this fic and got inspired. it doesn't follow the canon to it but it inspired me (do check it out though it's really cool)

if you got any au questions then throw em at me (i've only watched arcane once tho so i might not have answers)

(more in the tags)

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

It’s official? Your girlfriend is now your wife? CONGRATULATIONS!!! May you have many happy years together! (Also, if you ever find out how your awkward autistic ass managed that, please share with the class.)

:D Thank you. Although she has in fact been my wife for over twelve years now! The wedding we were at was her aunt's. If I ever figure it out I'll share the secret, but considering we've been dating since 2006 and I'm still going "???" about it...

[blue-hi]

i love being snarky in footnotes

[aparticularbandit]

If Mikan is Fluttershy (complete with Flutterbitch), then Junko is Pinkie Pie, complete with Pinkamina Diane Pie (the deflated version).

[hiroshotreplica]

the horrors are not being quiet

Seeing this after the deep cut divorce song dropped is hilarious

[meownotgood]

you know i feel so calm loving aki. i know that he won't do anything to upset me... he's just... so gentle kind and caring person. he's really the best. all i want to do is just love him and give him all my heart because i know he's gonna take good care of it.

I feel the same way... aki just means so much to me, I love him more than anything, he's such a sense of comfort and safety... he's so kind and I know he would treat you like you're precious, he'd be the gentlest thing you've ever known and the soft spot you've always needed. he'd show you love and help you to be the best version of yourself, a kinder person because of him... sigh...

[askshivanulegacy]

Yeah, seriously.

The thing that I've never understood is how no one on either side who talks about America seems capable of understanding what America IS.

The people who glorify it don't understand it. The people who whine and cry and hate on it don't understand it.

America is an idea. It's the idea of a place where you can live without persecution. It's the idea of America that we should be working toward. That's literally why we exist.

And like every other country ever on the planet, it has a bloody and violent past. And the past has great and inspiring stories on every side. And every figure on every side was a real human being with flaws and contradictions. They were good and they were bad, and they had complex reasons for doing things. History is all of it. History is fascinating. It's great stories! It's Remember the Alamo and all the great things the founding fathers did. And it's also that they fought for the wrong thing, and they owned slaves and never freed them.

You all love flawed characters and tragic stories and watching trainwrecks happen in your media. We all just watched terrible person, murderer, and war criminal Jinx in Arcane and people cheered for her. It was a great story! And also she was a selfish little bastard who murdered people for no reason and other characters rightfully wanted her dead. Well, that's what history is.

We all have the capacity to enjoy stories - and history as stories - and also to analyze the flaws and context and situations behind them. You can find the Alamo an inspiring moment in time because any life and death struggle can be. And you can also criticize it. Both can be true because people are capable of holding opposing concepts in their minds at the same time.

History isn't either/or, it's all of the above is true. And it's water under the bridge.

I think if more people understood that, they'd be able to celebrate historic moments without taking things personally when people decide they don't want to repeat that moment. And they'd also be able to recognize that you can't condemn for history either - it's over and now you take what you have and move it forward.

What I struggle with, as a public historian and a US American leftist, is how right wing US Americans can say they love history and call themselves “history buffs,” but get so righteously indignant when it is suggested that we can learn from history, and that it is normal and healthy to discuss the flaws and dark sides of various historical figures.

It’s like a wall which I, speaking as a public historian, wish I knew how to dismantle. Like when someone’s all REMEMBER THE ALAMO, I think the natural response is something along the lines of “certainly, but it’s important remember that one of the things the revolutionaries were fighting for was the freedom to continue their enslavement of other human beings.”

For me, that’s not a political statement. It’s a commitment to view historical events and figures for what they were in all their good and their bad and their complexity. But you say that to someone with right wing US American politics, and it’s like you spat on their mother and pooped on the flag.

I do make political posts here as an angry, frustrated progressive citizen of the USA who is also a historian. But right now, I’m posting as a historian, who happens to be a left wing US American. I don’t want to talk shit, I want to figure out how to fix it.

But then, knowing what I do of MAGA Americans, I don’t think there is a fixing it? Unambiguously valorizing the American past in order to maintain the illusion that this country was at some point Great is kind of their whole Thing.

Idk. Just some stray thoughts.

[theosbaby]

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ casually thinking about...

flashing mattheo during an argument

NSFW content ahead, +18

one second, he's shouting some unintelligible shit at you, and the next one, he's almost drooling at the sight of your pretty tits, naked just for him to see. he's falling silent in fucking milliseconds. but god, they're so bloody perfect... how could he not stare at them?

It's not fair, you know he loves them, and you use that knowledge against him. every. fucking. time.

he can't even remember what you were fighting about in the first place, not that he cares anymore, anyways. your full, round tits have him fucking mesmerised, the only thing in his mind at the moment being his feral need to bury his face in them and never come out again, not even for air.

"baby," he would growl, eyes not able to look away from your boobs.

you swear you can see a faint blush appear on his cheeks as you tell him, "i don't wanna fight anymore." you pout cutely at him while you're still tugging your top over your breasts, the piece of clothing it's so small that mattheo wonders how they were fitting inside it in the first place.

"me neither," he replies quietly, starting to walk towards you, not being able to stay away for a second more. "i'm sorry, a'ight?"

"it's okay... 'm sorry too," you also apologise, a little smile tugging at the corner of your plump lips as you watch him leaning forward to wrap his strong arms around you, lifting you up so your tits are right on his face.

and when he finally gets to bury his face in your glorious tits, he's not letting go. he's dragging you to his bed and dropping you in it without pulling an inch away. he lays on top of you, between your spread thighs, lips kissing your soft, pillowy flesh.

"fuck, i love these," he'd mumble against your chest, his hands squeezing your sides tightly. "so fucking perfect."

you chuckle softly at that, which makes your tits bounce slightly, and god, the sight makes him hard in seconds. he hums contently against the supple flesh of your boobs as he teasingly starts sucking and licking your tits everywhere but your nipples, alternating between the two as if he can't decide which one he wants to focus on.

his hands are roaming over your body, groping and caressing your curves as if he's re-learning them. he's squeezing your thighs, your ass, and occasionally, going up to your soft tummy, rough finger pads making goosebumps erupt in your skin.

you don't disturb him, letting him play with your boobs as he pleases while you run your slender fingers through his unruly curly hair. sometimes, you caress his face tenderly, watching with heavy lidded eyes while he worships your body. you find it cute, how much he loves your breasts. he's always wanting to touch them, lick them, kiss them... and it fucking turns you on so much, because you're so sensitive there.

you moan when finally settles on one nipple, sucking on it hard while his hand kneads the other breast. he'd push both boobs together, his mouth dropping the already hard peak he was sucking on to lick at the other. his hips are bucking against you the whole time, grinding his hard on against your drenched core.

he's definitely leaving marks, which you complain about, but he just looks up at you, pupils blown, and says, "they're mine, aren't they? i'll mark 'em if i want to."

after that, he slips his hand inside your shorts and panties, finding you completely soaked for him and that fact makes him groan as he returns to suck on your perky, reddened nipples. his fingers rub your swollen, little clit, making you whimper and squirm beneath him, but he uses his free hand to grab you and keep you still while he stuffs you full of his fingers, burying them knuckles deep. he's making you cum in minutes, orgasm so good that feels like fireworks exploding inside your tummy.

and then, once he's satisfied you, he rips both of your clothes off and makes you ride him. he'd be such a mess beneath you as he watches you jump on top of him, little whimpers escaping his lips against his will. the sight of your perfect tits bouncing right on his face while your tight little pussy squeezes his cock makes him cum so fucking fast that he's almost embarrassed... almost.

more.

[communistkenobi]

“transphobia hurts us all” is an analytical statement. It is making a claim about how a specific bigotry operates in the world, and its supposed analytical value is in revealing something about transphobia that appears on the surface to be counter-intuitive - “while you might think transphobia only hurts transgender people, that isn’t the case; it hurts cisgender people too.” The follow-up to this statement, sometimes implied and sometimes explicit, is a moral imperative - transphobia is a social ill that hurts us all, so we should seek to get rid of it.

This analytical-moral chain of logic isn’t unique to this statement; a lot of analyses of the social world come from a broader desire to “figure out what to do.” When we investigate a social phenomenon to uncover its inner workings, and in this investigation we identify the scope and impact of the harm it causes, we are in a better place to understand how to reduce harm in the world. Of particular interest in this investigation of transphobia is highlighting its illegitimacy - if transphobia also harms cisgender people, this is evidence of its illegitimacy as a social force in the world. We have uncovered some fundamental contradiction in the workings of bigotry, and this contradiction provides a rational ground for us to oppose it. Of course transphobia is irrational and must be opposed; it harms other groups of people who are not transgender.

This is also why people object to this statement on analytic grounds - disagreeing with the argument that transphobia hurts everyone is a critique of analysis. Importantly, it is not a dismissal of empirical evidence; we can see many direct real-world examples of cisgender people being targeted for transphobic abuse, such as cis people being attacked in bathrooms for “looking transgender.” A critique of the claim that transphobia hurts us all is a methodological critique, it is a critique of analytical framing; we are operating from the same set of social facts, but reaching different conclusions. The reason for this is because we are using different investigative and theoretical tools in our analysis. And these differences are not trivial; how we define the social phenomena under investigation directly informs how we understand the facts in front of us.

So first, we must settle the problem of definitions - what is transphobia? Simply defining it as a hatred of transgender people is insufficient for all parties. If it does indeed also hurt cis people, then this definition doesn’t do us much analytical good. Where do we go from here? Perhaps a better place to start is to investigate its origins - what assumptions does transphobia operate from? Where do those assumptions come from? This is where we start getting somewhere. Transphobia draws its core assumptions from cissexualism - the belief that there are two mutually-exclusive and irreconcilable sexes, sexes which are immutable and biologically hard-wired, meaning that it is a difference in human beings that exists independent of the social worlds that human beings build. This idea is bound up in many forms of power, one of which being patriarchy; yes indeed there are two sexes, and one of them is better than the other. And because sex is hard-wired, then patriarchy is likewise a simple fact of nature. These assumptions are also bound up in reproduction; one sex impregnates (this is the powerful sex) and one sex gets impregnated (this is the weak sex). These ideas and assumptions structure much of our social world, being embedded in many social, political, and economic institutions, from family to labour to dating to census records to political office, and so on. 

Transphobia is thus an output of these logics - if sex is biological, and sex determines your place in society, then attempting to change your sex means you are thwarting the natural hierarchy of human beings. You are either trying to rise above your station, or abandoning your post. Either option is grounds for punishment. Why would you go against nature? How dare you?

So, transphobia is a bigotry that comes from cissexualism. We could investigate further where cissexualism comes from (and indeed those investigations are taking place), but for our purposes we now have a much more analytically rich definition. Transphobia is a social technology of discipline; it performs a regulatory function for the continuation of cissexualism, much the same way that misogyny is a regulatory apparatus of patriarchy, and homophobia is a regulatory apparatus of heterosexuality. These bigotries perform a very ��rational’ social function; they reproduce existing forms of power by policing their borders and brutalising anyone who does not behave in accordance with their logics.

We now return to the original question: does transphobia harm everyone? This question now feels methodologically inappropriate, because we are ignoring the role cissexualism plays in producing transphobia. This is as absurd as describing homophobia without mentioning heterosexuality. The question should instead be: does cissexualism harm everyone? The answer of course is yes - we can see how cissexualism produces the social conditions for people to assault someone in a public bathroom for “looking transgender,” for an adult to force a child to report what their genitals ‘really look like’ so they can continue playing soccer, and for a billionaire to spend the latter half of her life dumping money and resources into political legislation that makes it more difficult to, among other things, correct administrative mistakes on your birth certificate. 

But because we are now talking about cissexualism, it is much easier for us to see how its violence is differentially applied across groups. Cisgender people can point to their cisgenderism as grounds for being exempt from transphobia - “don’t target me, I haven’t done anything wrong! I’m following the rules!” Their societal position as cisgender allows them to argue that they are illegitimate targets, that they are being unfairly treated. This animated much of the surrounding discourse around Imane Khelif - I can’t believe JKR is targeting a real woman! Can’t you tell she’s biologically female? Here’s her birth certificate to prove it, and anyway, don’t you know it’s illegal to be transgender where she lives? 

This is a defence that transgender people cannot mount for ourselves - we are by definition fraudsters in the cissexual regime of gender, we are abandoning our stations, we are perverting nature. And in this difference we come to see that it is not transphobia that harms us all, but cissexualism; we are all subject to scrutiny under cissexual surveillance, but cis people can generally pass the test. Transgender people cannot. 

This distinction also has implications for the second sequence in this investigative chain: what do we do about transphobia? Again we see that this call to action is methodologically inappropriate - you cannot “deal with” transphobia in society while leaving the cissexualist structure that produces it intact, in the same way that getting rid of misogyny without first getting rid of patriarchy is impossible. You cannot get rid of an output without destroying the machine that produces those outputs. This is also where many cis people, even those who count themselves as trans allies, become uncomfortable; abandoning the idea of a metaphysical property of being, hard-encoded into their DNA, means abandoning a whole host of other ideas about identity, about social organisation, about institutional operations. Even minor reformist calls by transgender people, such as removing sex markers on birth certificates (which determine your ability to access all kinds of administrative and civil services), is met with intense hostility by cissexuals - how will we run our hospitals, how will we raise our children, how will we track population data, how will we do anything without sex markers? You people are insane! Look how you deny reality! What is wrong with you freaks? Why can’t you just be happy with the way you were born? And on and on, ironically refusing to concede the fact that states, hospitals, child care, and census data are not natural facts of the world and can be changed. Because if those things can be changed, perhaps sex is not this monumental biological destiny after all!

“Transphobia hurts us all��� is an analytical statement that advances a set of cissexual assumptions about the world, and as a consequence, it is severely limited in its value for advancing a moral imperative about how to resolve the problem of transphobia. It is not a neutral statement, nor is one that is helplessly subservient to “the hard facts.” We know those facts - describing them is the role of the social scientist. Whether you are in a laboratory or on the street, you are doing social science by analysing social phenomena. And when you say transphobia hurts everyone, you are doing a poor job of it

[normal-thoughts-official]

[ID: Tweet by @\jewdas that says, "There's a actual existing Zionism which practices apartheid and denial of human rights. But there's another Zionism inside my head which is all rainbows and kosher marshmallows, so who can say which is the real Zionism?" End ID]

Do you know what Zionism is?

I'm not sure why you're sending me this. Is it meant to be a gotcha? Of course, I know what Zionism is. I see its real life manifestation every day. It does not matter what Zionism actually means definition wise, that's just semantics and I know what this ask is trying to do lmfao

[cazshmere]

Some of my favorite synastry aspects and house overlays that I’ve experienced <3

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!! 🎀✨

🎀 mercury trine mercury synastry - OMG mercury synastry is SO SO important when it comes to both friendships and relationships. I have a sag mercury and whenever I talk to other fire sign mercury’s, I feel SO heard and seen fr😭, they genuinely match my freak (mentally). Not a single dull moment with these people 🤣🫶🏻

🎀 mars in the 1st house synastry (esp when I’m the house person) - okay now HEAR ME OUT😭🙏, yes the mars person can be super ANNOYING but for some reason I enjoyed them annoying me 💀💀💀 does that make sense? It was them irritating me and me pretending to be annoyed but secretly turning away and smiling/blushing cause I lowkey enjoyed it😭👀. Playful bullying core fr

🎀 sun opposite sun synastry - okay this is not everyone’s cup of tea cause it probably depends on the sign but as a sag sun I LOVE gemini sun’s (mostly the women, the men are uh…💀) anyway my best friends are all gemini’s and I absolutely love and adore them🫶🏻🫶🏻😌

🎀 mercury in the 1st house synastry - okay this synastry felt so awkward and comfortable at the same time😭😭. It took ages for me to talk to this person but when we did speak it was sooooooo easy. Also somehow we always accidentally bump into each other or touch each other 💀

🎀 mercury in the 6th house synastry - there’s something very comforting in knowing that this person will be consistent in your life. Talking to them daily will definitely become a habit and they’re literally a part of your routine and you can feel like your day isn’t complete without talking to them😭🩵

🎀 mercury in the 8th house synastry - oh my this synastry was really really good, the house person understood me inside and out and that was scary and comforting at the same time. I had this with my ex and he knew me a bit TOO well which got concerning honestly 💀💀. But either way I could happily express my point of view and never feel stupid or dumb to share stuff with him and he always understood and reciprocated my energy.

🎀 mars opposite moon synastry - goddamn😭 this synastry is spicy for sure🥵👀. Lot of banter and arguments for “fun” (I blame my aries moon for enjoying this synastry lol). I had this with one of my classmates and he would try to tease and annoy me for no reason, we always butted heads💀. Also there’s a lot of jealousy involved in this synastry but hey it was exciting so🤭😋

🎀 venus trine mars synastry - come on everyone knows how attractive this synastry is! trines are obviously not as intense but the attraction is OBVIOUS, you can’t NOT notice each other! Lots of eye contact too😋. They might not be your usual type but you still find them attractive nonetheless 🤭👀

should I post my least favourite synastry aspects and overlays next?😋 lmk

pic and banner credits : @/heavenurl

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

[johnbrand]

Little Brother

With @next-pharaoh

“Eh, dirty Arab,” Markus muttered to himself, squeezing into the aisle seat next to the younger brown man beside him. He could only hope his suit would not get filthy while next to the fellow. Markus was on his way to a meeting across the country, hoping to be promoted to an associate at his law practice.

“I’m sorry, what did you say, zalameh?” Markus’s new acquaintance asked innocently. Markus grimaced at the hair that seemingly covered every exposed part of the young man’s body, and the musk that naturally wafted off of it.

“Nothing, nevermind.” Markus did not want to get into an argument. He was not worried about the other passenger’s size–Markus's hobby of weightlifting would definitely make it an even match–but he was on a plane. They were going to sit together for at least three hours.

“Picking a fight with me is rather bold,” the man beside him warned. “Just because we are in public does not mean your big brother Khalil won’t put you into place. I’ve had no problem doing that in the mosque, remember?.”

The second half of the comment caught Markus off guard. “I’m sorry…what?”

“Do not play dumb, zalameh,” Khalil smirked. “Although I guess skipping that post-secondary education may have slowed you down.”

“N-no, I’m smart…and I’m not Muslim.” Markus struggled to regain his footing, which was surprising for the lawyer of almost ten years. But then, something else began to alarm him. “Wait, what’s happening to my suit?!”

Right before the pair’s eyes, Markus’s suit had begun to dwindle away, pulling back towards his core. The jacket disappeared completely, while the starched button-up softened into a basic graphic tee. Markus’s pleading eyes searched for help but no one seemed to notice his pant legs curling up, becoming sweat shorts that reached halfway across the thigh. Finally, as his premium loafers morphed into beaten sneakers, Markus switched to the offensive.

“You’re doing this aren’t you, you camel-”

“Shh, brother,” Khalil placed a brown finger to Markus’s lips, shushing him. “You don’t want to make a scene, do you?”

Recovering fast, Markus ripped Khalil’s hand away, but then he noticed a new problem. “My-my arms! Why are they…”

“They’ve always been brown,” Khalil stated as they both followed the wave of melanin that flushed over Markus’s arms. “They’re as hairy as mine, but if you joined me in the gym more often than they’d be as buff and strong as mine too.”

Markus’s arms shrunk under Khalil’s comments, now more toned than muscular. “Wha-” 

“And that runner’s build too,” Khalil commented. “Sure you have abs and that thick treasure trail, but it makes you more boyish than man.”

“No, stop it!” Markus exclaimed. And yet no attention was given to him from the other passengers as his frame thinned out into a figure appropriate for a runner.

“At least you have that fat, bushy, Arab cock our family name takes pride in!” Khalil suddenly grabbed Markus’s crotch, both of them noticing the heftier weight. Markus did not understand how, but he could feel his white sperm rapidly evaporating within Khalil's grip.

“B-but I’m not Arab…and I’m a lawyer…and I’m-”

“You're my little brother,” Khalil finished, grabbing Markus’s face. “Praise Allah I have patience for your misunderstandings.”

Markus was going to comment, but instead was distracted by a foreign feeling on his chin, “Since when do I have a goatee…?”

“Since you could grow one, zalameh. You’ve wanted to be like me ever since you were little.”

Markus groaned. “I don’t...ow, my head...”

“By Allah you practically are like me at this point,” Khalil chuckled. “One could even confuse us for twins.”

“No…that can’t be…true.” Struggling, Markus got up. To his surprise, Khalil did not stop him–nor did anyone else for that matter–as he stumbled towards the bathroom. He had to see if it was true. Markus had to know if…

“Subhanallah!”

With the mirror in front of him, Markus was able to witness what Khalil had meant. Reflected back was a young Arab man, no older than 25. Attractive in a boyish way, but still held that Arab hair and funk that many brown men were proud of. Markus’s eyes began to water, but before he could cry his phone received a notification.

“Marwan, what’s taking you so long! We are about to take off!!"

Marwan shook his head, what was he just thinking about? It probably did not matter anyway. Luckily his older brother Khalil was looking out for him once again. Admiring his own brown, masculine beauty and quickly thanking Allah for it, Marwan left the bathroom to return to his brother. Khalil was beaming from ahead, eagerly awaiting him.

[hsunrry]

argument // one shot

drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: activities after argument.

|| masterlist ||

words: ~1,6k

tropes: relationship (slight dom!drew)

warnings: smut18+, oral (f and m receiving), spanking, choking, cum play, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, dirty talk (degradation, praise), edging (slight), hair pulling, slight size kink

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“i’m sorry baby.” he placed his hands on your waist, standing behind you. his chin rested on the top of your head.

“mhm.” you nodded, not really interested after argument. his hands started going up and down your waist.

“i love you.” he said, knowing exactly what he have to do so you can forgive him. he grabbed your hair with one hand, exposing your neck. he leaned down and his lips started pressing small kisses on your neck. your head tilted to the side to give him space. he smiled into the skin on your neck and his kisses changed from small and sweet to needy and open-mouthed.

“Drew.”

“y/n.” he mumbled against your skin, making you shiver. you hated and loved at the same time, how he knew what to do every time when you were pissed. your breath went heavier when he started sucking and nibbling on sensitive flesh. he turned you around so you were facing him. he tilted your chin up to look you deep into your eyes. “i said i love you, sweetheart.” you only bite inside of your cheek. his other hand gripped your waist tighter. “come on, don’t be mad, pretty please.”

“this is the last time you’re talking to me like that, understood?” you said, looking into his eyes. he smiled and nodded, leaning down to peck your lips few times.

“i’ll make it up to you now.” he muttered against your lips before grabbing your thighs and lifting you up. your legs wrapped instinctively around his hips. your hands went to cup his cheeks and you kissed him. he kissed you back immediately, going with you into the direction of your shared bedroom. your back hit the door when he closed it behind you and your kiss started to get more heated. he slid his tongue between your lips, swirling it around yours slowly. your hand went immediately on the back of his head, making him groan into your lips. he slowly made his way to the bed, placing you on it gently. he quickly took off your dress, leaving you only in black laced lingerie. his eyes were dark with lust. “god, look at you. so beautiful and only mine.” he traced your curves with his large hands. his fingers teasing slightly your nipples through lace.

“fuck.” you gasped quietly, observing his every movement. he hovered over you on the bed and his lips started kissing your neck. your head immediately tilted back and when he bite your neck, definitely leaving a mark with his teeth, you moaned loudly.

“such a beautiful noises you make, you’re my good girl, baby.” he gasped into your neck, going with his kisses down your chest. he quickly took off your bra. his lips wrapped around your nipple, biting it gently. you arched your chest towards him, moaning softly. he was going down with his kisses, reaching the hem of your panties. he slowly slid it down your legs, kissing your inner thighs after that. he chuckled softly. “my favorite meal just in front of me, how lovely.” after this words his tongue licked you from your entrance to your clit. you arched your back and moaned. “stay still baby.” he mumbled into your core and his hands gripped your hips to keep you steady. his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on it. your breath became heavy.

“jesus, Drew.” you gasped. his one hand stayed on your hip and other one went under his chin, teasing your entrance with two fingers. “please.” you whined. he moaned into your pussy and his fingers slid inside you, making you moan even louder. his tongue flicked over your clit and his fingers started pumping in and out in that perfect curve. he kept up the slow pace for a moment and then he started moving it faster and faster with each second. you were squirming and moaning on the bed from pleasure. “god, baby, yes, just like that, fuck!” you gasped. your hands gripping sheets tightly. he was moving his fingers so fast and you were already so close. “i’m gonna come.” you panted. after his few movements you started clenching around his fingers with loud moan, but he didn’t stopped his pace. you were trembling from overwhelming feeling. “Drew what are you-“ he finally slowed down and he pulled out his face and fingers from your core. his chin was glistening from your juices. he licked his fingers clean and smiled slyly.

“nothing babe, my mom taught me to always finish my meal. so respectfully, but i love seeing you trembling like that.” he kissed place just above your pussy with wide grin. your legs were still shaking slightly but you managed to sit on the edge of the bed. you looked up at him and you started unbuckling his belt.

“fuck my mouth.” after you unbuckled it your fingers found button of his jeans. his eyes darkened, looking down at you.

“you don’t have to tell me twice.” he muttered, quickly taking his jeans off along with his boxers, freeing his huge cock. he was already painfully hard. his shirt went down on the floor with the rest of the clothes as well. he stepped closer to you, looking down at you. his hand went on your chin, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb. “open wide you fucking slut.” and you opened, just like he told you to. “good girl.” he praised, lining yourself with your opened mouth. his hands grabbed both sides of your head, sliding his cock into your mouth. he started slowly, but not for long. “taking me whole like a whore, not even gagging when i’m fucking your throat so deep.” he panted, going faster. you could feel his tip hitting back of your throat, curving down sometimes. you were breathing through your nose, looking up at him this whole time. “my fucking god, y/n. so good for me, you have no idea how good you look when i’m fucking your mouth like that.” he gasped, moving his hips even faster. “gonna come baby.” he looked down into your eyes, moaning. after his few thrusts you could feel your mouth filling with his cum. he stopped, his dick twitching inside your mouth. “now spit it on my cock and lick it clean you fucking cunt.” you started covering his length with his sperm from your mouth and when you were done, you started licking it clean, swallowing this time. “you’re such a good girl, looking so pretty like that.”

“thanks babe.” you smiled after you sucked him clean. he leaned down to peck your lips few times. his hand went to stroke himself.

“now on your hands and knees, bet you’re fucking dripping again from sucking me like that.” he muttered. you went just like he asked, on the edge of the bed. he stood behind you, lining himself with your entrance. his tip pressing against your slit. “so fucking wet.” he gasped, sliding his dick inside you. “you’re so tight, wrapping around me perfectly.” he went fully, groaning.

“fucking god, you feel so good.” you moaned, gripping sheets. he placed his hands on your hips and he started moving in and out fast.

“fucking slut, swallowing my whole dick with your pussy.” he panted, slapping your ass hardly, causing your loud moan. he was moving so fast and so deep that it felt like you could feel it in your stomach. his hand went to grab your hair, pulling it hardly. his other hand giving you another slap. “just like that, you have to tell me when you’ll be about to come, understood?” he asked, thrusting faster and rougher.

“yes.” you managed to gasp breathlessly. your moans were filling the room along with sounds of slapping flesh.

“that’s what i like to hear.” he gasped, pulling your hair harder. his other hand went to your hip to grab it tightly.

“fuck, i’m gonna come Drew.” you moaned and he immediately pulled out his dick, letting go of your hair as well. “what the fuck are you doing?”

“wanna see your pretty face when you come, turn on your back baby.” he said. you turned around and he went on top of you, sliding back into your core. you moaned when he started moving fast again. his one hand on your hip and the other went around your neck, pressing your pulse points. your eyes rolled back from pleasure. “say you love it when i’m choking you.”

“i love when you’re choking me.” you gasped, clenching at his cock already.

“fuck, i need you to come y/n.” he panted, applying more pressure. you nodded breathlessly.

“jesus fucking christ!” you moaned and your whole body arched as you finished. your walls clenching around him tightly. he moaned loudly and you could feel him painting your inside walls with hot sprouts.

“fuck, babe!” he panted, slowing down his movements. his dick twitching inside you, emptying himself completely. he pulled out, looking down at your pussy. when his cum started dripping outside he pushed his finger inside you, causing it staying inside. he leaned down to your lips, placing soft kiss. “i love you so much baby.”

“i love you too.”

[p0orbaby]

Hang Me Up To Dry

summary: you hate leah, until you don’t

warnings: SMUT 18+, public sex, enemies to lovers

a/n: your request served hot and fresh

word count: 1.1k

-

You don’t even know how you got here. By “here,” you mean pressed up against a sticky wall in a toilet cubicle that smells like bleach and broken dreams, with Leah Williamson of all people practically plastered against you. You’d laugh at the absurdity of it all if you weren’t too busy trying not to melt into a puddle right here on the grimy floor. God knows what’s touched these tiles. Not that Leah seems to care, but Leah’s the type to forget that people exist below her eye level, anyway.

And to think, just an hour ago, you were arguing over some nonsense at the bar. Something about who was better at football—an argument so ridiculous it could’ve only been fueled by pints and pettiness. Leah, who practically floats above mere mortals in every sense of the word, was mocking you, a smirk playing at her lips. You’d retorted with something biting, you’re sure of it, but the details are blurry around the edges. There were probably middle fingers involved. Both of you are professionals at this—trading insults like it’s a sport, one you’ve both been playing for years.

And now, well, now she’s using that very same mouth—sharp and smirking and smug—to press messy kisses down your neck while her hands roam up under your shirt. You wish you could say it’s the booze that got you into this mess, but if you’re honest, it’s probably more the fact that underneath all that mutual disdain, you’ve both been wanting this for a long time. You’d just never admit it in the cold light of day. So it’s taken a bit of sambuca-induced recklessness for the truth to rear its horny head.

Her lips find the spot just below your ear, and you gasp because you’re pretty sure this is supposed to be about one-upping each other, not about how good it feels when she bites down, teeth sinking into sensitive flesh. Not about how her knee slips between your thighs like it belongs there.

“Still think you’re better than me?” she mutters against your skin, breath hot and ticklish. There’s that competitive streak—some things never change, even when she’s got you pressed against a toilet in some bar that’s about three years overdue for a health inspection.

“Better at what?” you manage to say, though it comes out more like a breathless gasp. Because, seriously, what are you even talking about anymore? Football? Insults? Definitely not bar toilets, because Leah’s winning that one by a landslide right now.

She laughs, and it vibrates through you, straight down to the point where her thigh is pressed against your core. “Everything”

You roll your eyes, or you would if they weren’t already half-lidded with a combination of alcohol and arousal. “Keep telling yourself that”

Her hands are everywhere at once—tugging at the hem of your top, sliding over your hips, slipping under the waistband of your jeans. And despite the location, the situation, the everything, you can’t bring yourself to care. In fact, you’re pretty sure if Leah doesn’t do something soon, you might actually lose what’s left of your mind. But you’re not about to tell her that.

No, you’ve still got some semblance of dignity left. You’re hanging on to it with both hands, gripping it as tightly as you’re now gripping Leah’s shoulders when she slides her hand between your legs and presses down just right. The sound you make is somewhere between a groan and a curse, and Leah smirks against your neck.

“Tell me I’m better,” she whispers, fingers moving in a way that makes it very difficult to form coherent thoughts, let alone words.

You bite back the noise threatening to escape and manage a weak, “Not a chance”

“Stubborn,” she mutters, and then her hand is in your underwear, and that’s it—game over. She’s got you, and you both know it. Her fingers slide over slick skin, teasing, testing, and you almost want to strangle her for how slow she’s going. Almost. But then she presses down, circles just right, and your head falls back against the wall with a thud.

Leah laughs again, low and almost affectionate, like she’s won some sort of game that only she was playing. “Thought so”

“Shut up,” you manage to gasp out, and it’s the last coherent thing you say because Leah’s fingers find a rhythm that has you forgetting how to speak altogether. She’s still smirking against your neck, probably thinking about how she’s got you right where she wants you, how she’s the one in control.

And sure, you’ll let her think that. For now. Because when she slides two fingers inside you, curling them just so, and you feel the heat coiling tight in your belly, you’re pretty sure she deserves to feel like she’s on top. Quite literally, as it turns out.

The orgasm builds slow, too slow, and Leah’s dragging it out on purpose. You know she is. She’s enjoying this way too much, the way you’re practically writhing against her, the way your breath is coming in short, desperate gasps. She’s got that competitive streak a mile wide, and this is just another game to her.

But when she finally, finally gives you what you need—when her fingers speed up, when her thumb presses right, there, and when she bites down on your neck again—that’s when you break. That’s when you shatter, clinging to her like she’s the only thing keeping you upright in this filthy, disgusting toilet.

It’s a long moment before you can breathe again, and even longer before you can speak. Leah’s still pressed against you, fingers still inside you, and she’s got that look on her face—smug, self-satisfied, like she’s just won the World Cup.

You manage to open your mouth, though your voice is rough and shaky. “Still a shit footballer,” you say, because you’re nothing if not consistent.

She laughs, a real one this time, not the sharp, biting one she usually throws your way. “Better than you, though”

You don’t bother arguing. Not because she’s right, but because you’re too busy trying to remember how to stand on your own two feet. Also because you’re half-sure if you say anything else, she’ll just drag you back into that cycle of insults and arousal, and you’re not sure you can survive another round.

So you settle for a weak, “Shut up,” and Leah grins like she’s just won the lottery.

“Let’s get out of here,” she says, pulling her hand out of your jeans and wiping it on the back of your shirt like the classy lady she is. “Before the smell of this place kills what’s left of my brain cells”

You snort, pushing her away as you straighten your clothes. “Too late for that”

But you follow her out of the cubicle anyway, because despite everything—despite the insults, the competition, the utter ridiculousness of the situation—you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, there’s something to this whole enemies-to-lovers cliché. Or at the very least, enemies-to-shagging-in-gross-bathrooms.