#but hits more when given context

[fox-guardian]

what is your opinion on people censoring jimmy’s name? i don’t like it personally because it erases blame. in real life the main goal is for people to know the names of r@pists so they can be aware and the victims always want people to know who hurt them so someone can take the blame for actions. i feel that when people censor jimmy’s name, it erases any blame for his actions. “i hate japist so much for what he did to anya!” okay but what’s his name? who hurt anya? who is to blame for his actions? by censoring his name, it takes the blame off of jimmy.

I get that perspective, but idk if it erases blame in this context? We all know who it's supposed to refer to (especially since all the nicknames start with j, so you can't confuse it with another character). It hits different for a Character in a Story like this vs an actual person who Could do harm to real people. I think that's a fair enough take to have tho, I can see why that'd bother you.

Regardless, that's not to say I don't Also find it a little annoying for my own reasons. Especially when people do it in serious conversations or pick especially tasteless names to call him. Like using a play on actual predators names. Who Have hurt real people. Like it's such a funny joke.

My biggest beef with it is that it often feels. Performative? I guess? Like "HEY LOOK HOW MUCH I HATE JIMMY I won't even say his NAME" yknow? It Feels sometimes like some (not all) people who do this don't want to engage with him as a character, which is not good because we Should be engaging with him. Talking about him and what he did, how it's not dissimilar to things in real life. The greatest horror of mouthwashing is that Jimmys do exist and if we refuse to look at even a fictional version of that type of guy, it'll be easier to miss it when people like him do harm irl.

Again, I don't think everyone who does the nicknames/censoring thing are like this or whatever, but sometimes it does just. Rub me the wrong way. Gets old.

[aliusfrater]

related to my lrb but i said it like three posts ago. people on here looove to treat spn gifset excerpts as inherently severed from its context. the conversation i just rbed literally includes dean relating this couple's dynamic to his and sam's... but the gifset excerpt doesn't include dean's line about it and so half of the notes somehow made it about dstiel (and extended it to samleen of course)

[nilesmoon]

this shot of sawashiro is simply breathtaking to me!!!

like. seeing him crash and burn after hearing that his son has never trusted him, realizing that the chance he took by sending a tip geomijul didn't pay off, that the "miracle" he asked for is too late (just like he is). It truly is something to watch!!

to me, this really is the scene to show how incredibly miserable this asshole is and the cherry on top is how the way he sits is the exact same pose the corpse next to him has got.

[gabriestat]

with the way sam and ruby have their sex scene in EP 09 and then dean and anna have theirs in EP 10 it is sickening anna and ruby did not fuck nasty in EP 11

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

'moogle, how do you write your first drafts?' i write them on evil mode: every current prose draft in the same document at once

[vampire-fanboy]

theres two sides to me one where im so sad we didnt get branch as the one who got captured and had to be saved in the third, then theres another part of me thats happy he wasnt the one who got captured JNJGNDSJ

i feel it would've been so much more emotional if branch got captured? but at the same time idk how they couldve done it/made it work with how the current movie goes along w other stuff

idk theres a lot to it but im so YAAAY and NOOO that he isnt the one who got captured n it stayed a concept jNJGDJFS

[paragonrobits]

some important calvin and hobbes facts in case you haven't read the original comic strip in a long time or only absorbed stuff on it from memes and out of context bits on here:

Calvin's last name has never been given, and neither has any of his parent's names. This was actually why his uncle Max only showed up for a brief storyline; the creator of the comic, Bill Watterson, ultimately felt that while it was fine to have him as someone for his parents to talk to, it felt far too awkward to never have Max refer to them by name and he never made a return appearance.

The general tone of the comic is fairly light-hearted, with a big emphasis on goofy slapstick comedy contrasted by clever wordplay and often surprising adult-centered jokes that'll hit you like a slap. A big part of the comedy is, as Watterson put it (paraphrased) "It's really funny to me when people express deeply stupid ideas with really fancy terminology." One notable example you might have seen is that one bit where Calvin asks his mom for money to buy a Satan-worshiping rock album and his mom replies that there's nothing genuine about them and they're just putting on the attitude for shock value, and comisserates with Calvin as he deplores that mainstream nihilism can't be trusted. He concludes that childhood is disillusioning.

There is a LOT of criticism of the extreme materialism and selfish mentality of the late 80s, when the comic was initially written. This may go a long way to explain how its aged so well; much of what it criticizes resonates well with people today.

Bill Watterson views comic strips a legitimate form of artwork, and repeatedly fought to have more space to draw more beautiful and artistic backgrounds, which was a very hard fight and unpopular even with other comic strip artists. He eventually did win some compromises and a lot of Calvin And Hobbes' artwork shows it, with the use of space to indicate time as well as a sharp contrast between the often plain environments of mundane life contrasted by the wildly beautiful imagery of Calvin's imagination (which often sports realistic depictions in an art shift of sorts).

Hobbes is explicitly not an imaginary friend, by word of Watterson himself. We don't know WHAT he is exactly, and Hobbes is apparently unaware of the strange nature of his reality; people look at him and only see an ordinary stuffed tiger plushie, but he has a tangible effect on the world that would be physically impossible for Calvin to do on his own. He's apparently been around for a while, and was apparently around when Calvin was a young baby.

On that note; Hobbes has implicitly killed (notably treated as both a gag and also with the vibe of 'he's a tiger, duh') and while he doesn't do it again on-screen, he doesn't have any moral issues about it. Calvin claims that he's never had trouble bringing Hobbes to school because the last time he did, Hobbes killed and ate a bully named Tommy Chestnut and simply comments that it was gross and he needed a bath. Calvin's tried to repeat this again, but Hobbes was grossed out at the thought having to eat a kid raw and not being allowed to use an oven first, or complaining that children are too fattening.

Hobbes became gradually less human-like in body language and more like an actual cat in both body language and behavior; this was due to Watterson drawing more inspiration from his cat, who also inspired a lot of Hobbes' running gags, such as pouncing on Calvin when he got home. Several years into the syndication of the strip, Watterson's cat passed away, and he did a tribute to her with a comic strip of the two of them agreeing to try to dream together so they can keep playing when they have to sleep; Watterson's commentary (if I recall right), remarks on his cat: "We can see each other again in dreams."

[indefiniteavatar]

So basically, in a case about him shoving money at someone so they shut up about him. . .he can’t shut the fuck up himself. I would say something clever and funny here, except the sad part is that this is just so normal in current politics that it’s just. . .not hilariously absurd behavior anymore? Not to say that it’s not absurd - it is beyond such, but it is just. . . predictable, I suppose.

I guess this is how I feel about politics lately? Either I get mad at everything or I try to laugh at everything and normally that works because politicians usually aren’t so tragically stupid so very often, but now I just kinda have to chuckle at the particularly eyeroll worthy things like this, and try to ignore everything else or my brain will explode.

[wibben]

Photogenic

----------------------------------------------------------

Nanami does not like his picture taken.

It’s a shame, really, because he’s painfully and effortlessly photogenic. Even the begrudging shots – the ones taken mid-grimace or right as that frown of his settles in – turn out looking unfairly good.

You’d seen it firsthand. There was that one birthday dinner at Shoko’s, where she’d caught him mid-toast, glass raised and mouth sloping into a small, tolerant smile as she snapped a quick shot of the table. The photo looked like something out of a magazine ad, his cheeks warmed from the sake, his eyes a little brighter. But when she’d tried to show him, he shook his head with an unimpressed grunt.

Or the time Gojo had insisted on a group photo after a team mission. Gojo teased Kento into standing there, arms crossed and brow knitted in simmering annoyance, looking thoroughly put out. But somehow, he just looked like he was on the cover of GQ: chin tilted just right, sleeves rolled up perfectly, even his hair slightly tousled from the fight before. You might’ve whimpered a little when Kento insisted it be deleted (and maybe almost sobbed again with joy when Gojo refused).

No matter the context, Kento managed to look remarkable. And yet, he loathed each and every photo ever taken of him.

You couldn’t quite place where this aversion came from. Maybe a bad childhood haircut immortalized in an old family album, or one too many “just one more!”s from well-meaning friends. Either way, you’d mostly given up trying to capture him on camera. He existed as some sort of cryptid, like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster: either you knew him in person, or he didn’t exist at all. But that hadn’t stopped Yuji – occasional agent of chaos – from sneaking in a few shots here and there. And that’s where your favorite picture of him came from.

You remember the day it was taken vividly. 

You’d insisted on a celebratory lunch for Yuji – a reward for a particularly tough job handled with flying colors (or, in short, because he’d actually listened to Kento’s instructions). Yuji joked his way through most of the meal, poking fun at everything from Kento’s meticulous folding of his napkin to his tactical approach to his plate, eating in the order of salad, then sides, then his main course. 

It had been right after you’d done… well, you couldn’t remember exactly what, as unremarkable as it was. Maybe a bad impression of Gojo, maybe a terrible joke. But whatever it was, Kento broke, his shoulders dropping as he graced the table with a genuine, unrestrained laugh that only you seemed capable of pulling out of him. Yuji had been quick to draw, snapping the photo before either of you noticed. 

Later, Yuji sent it to you with a sly grin. “Mrs. Nanami’s gotta have the good stuff,” he’d whispered, nudging you as he tilted his phone towards you. 

You stared, speechless, your heart doing a little stammering skip. There it was – Kento, your Kento, laughing, his shoulders relaxed, the faint lines by his eyes softened by that rare brightness in his gaze as he looked at you. You couldn’t help it; you’d immediately favorited it the moment it hit your inbox, tucked it into a private album, and maybe, possibly, looked at it embarrassingly often.

A few weeks later, though not remotely forgotten to you, it remained blissfully unknown to him.

One evening as you flipped through your camera roll, Kento leaned over the back of the couch, his arm bracing himself as he studied the photos of the fancy dinner the two of you had recently gone to. You’d taken more than one, trying to capture every detail of the delicate plating at his insistence so he could try and recreate it at home.

“Do you have a close-up of that risotto?” he asked, leaning in closer, his arm casually wound around the front of your chest and his breath drifting soft feathers across your cheek. “I want to see how they plated it.”

You nodded with an affirmative hum, flipping back a few photos – only to scroll back just a bit too far and that picture fills your screen, in all of it’s HD, no-longer-secret glory.

Your heart tripped as Kento’s gaze landed on it. You felt the warmth of his presence beside you grow a bit more rigid as he examined the photo, brows raising ever so slightly.

“...That isn’t dinner,” he remarked, clearing his throat beside your ear.

“Oh! That’s, um, just a… candid,” you stumbled, trying desperately for nonchalance. “Yuji took it, and it’s a really nice picture and I don’t have many, so I just…” your efforts to play it cool are skillfully undone by the plucking of your nerves… self-imposed, of course, because Kento remains quiet.

But he was still looking at it, brows drawing together as he studied it with a rare, quiet intensity.

“You favorited it,” he murmured, eyes flicking back to you.

His voice was low, gentle, but you stewed with nervousness all the same. “Well, I mean – look at you!” you laughed, feeling shy under his gaze, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t have. “The only pictures I have of you smiling are from our wedding! Let me have this–”

Kento plucked the phone from your hands and you screeched, immediately trying to claw it back. “Wait, don’t delete it!” you laughed, a cauldron of nerves and panic bubbling in your chest as he holds it just out of reach of your swiping hands, his mouth curving in that calm way it always does. You’re sure he’s about to grumble about “nonsense” or “unnecessary photos” or “living in the moment.”

But he didn’t delete it. Instead, he adjusted his glasses and held your phone closer to his face, gazing down at the screen with a gentleness that stopped your protests cold. You caught the flicker of something tender in his eyes as he studied the photo – lingering on you, the way you lean toward him, how happy you look together.

He was silent for a moment, the slightest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Then, almost shyly, “Could you… send it to me?”

You felt your eyebrows lift to be lost in your hairline, staring at him as if he’d just asked for the moon. “You… you want me to send it?”

He nodded. “Yes. I think I’d like to keep it.”

Your heart did a little stutter, a flash of warmth rushing to your face as you quickly sent him the photo. You didn’t think your grin could get any wider – but it did as you watched him save it, his expression somewhere between fond and exasperated, like he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten here, holding on to a picture of himself simply because it had been yours.

The next morning, with toothbrush in hand and foam dripping down your chin, you checked your phone and blinked, frozen in the middle of a brushstroke. That picture – that picture – was staring back at you as his profile picture, right there on the one or two social media accounts he’d reluctantly made but never actually used. You barely resisted the urge to squeal.

And then, later that day, it happened again: catching the briefest flash of his phone screen across the kitchen table, you saw the photo on his lock screen too. He looked up, catching your wide-eyed staring with a soft smile, one that was just for you, and undeniably better than any picture could ever be.

[celuere]

a little bit scandalous.

pairing: dom!arlecchino x fem!reader

context: you just want your husband to pay attention to you.

cw: mild exhibitionism, carriage sex, dick sucking, riding, arle‘s fat fucking dick, unprotected sex, pet names, slight degradation, a bit homophobia at the beginning, arle playing poker makes me feel things, i also love giving side characters stupid names

word count: 3.7k

art credits: drunken my boss

you needed to stop agreeing to accompanying her on such lavish events. 

the orchestra feels dull.

the food is medium at best. too extraordinary for your taste.

„no, my husband is not the „man“ of the house, neither is she wearing the „pants“ in our marriage. (you are)“, and the conversations fucking sucked.

you had no idea how you ended up in this… circle of married housewives where the only conversation topics seem to revolve around cooking, men and how you could ever be married to a woman.

said woman was seated just a few meters ahead at a table with other businesspeople alike, playing a round of poker and by the looks of it, she was winning as always. you noticed the lack of amusements in the faces of her conversation partners, they were doing more than just passing around cards and chips.

and you were stuck with-

„she dresses so masculine… are you sure you‘re not looking for a man if you’re married to… her?“

god‘s above.

„pretty sure i‘d know if my taste happened to be as awful as yours. are you sure you‘re not looking for a divorce if your husband cheats on you minimum once a week?“, you rolled your eyes at the gasp running through the small crowd of women at the table. 

„if you‘ll excuse me now, i‘ll be heading back to my woman.“, without responding any further to the shocked faces surrounding you, you shoved yourself back from the table and got up on your feet.

arlecchino overheard the clacking of your heels against the polished marble floor over the orchestra and the chatter surrounding her. this deal was running smoother than she‘d originally thought it would.

it was only when a pair of delicate hands placed themselves on her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze, that she noticed your presence. the soft scent of your perfume told her it wasn‘t necessary to turn around. 

she felt your hot breath hit her ear next.

„ma cherie… i would like for us to leave…“, you ignored the annoyed looks the sudden display of affection towards your spouse earned you. 

arlecchino did not bother to face you as the nail of her thumb scratched over the ace card of the royal flush she was currently holding.

„my love, i fear you‘ll have to wait until i wrapped this deal up… or you take the carriage back home without me… either way i can‘t leave yet…“, putting her poker hand down, a few groans ran through the table at her… third victory in a row. two servants moved around the table as they gathered up the scattered cards and chips.

her lack of attention to you and the almost indifferent tone she handled you with only added to your frustration.

you only bothered attending because she invited you and now she can’t even leave with you?

but given the audience you decided against a sharp remark, merely stepping back from her, „fine then. i‘ll go get the carriage ready then. ladies, gentlemen…“, you nodded at the table as you bid your farewell and left for the exit without another word. your husband didn‘t miss the sharp tone you sprinkled over your words, she suppressed the urge to rub the bridge of her nose as she waved a fatui agent over.

„make sure she gets home safely. i don’t care if she wants an escort or not. i want my wife home safe and sound.“, crimson eyes fixed on the broad shouldered man following you outside before she turned her attention back to the deal at hand.

she didn’t spare the servant a glance who handed out the chips to each participant, „my apologies for the interruption. we were just talking about the shares of your project, right madame cornhead?“, said woman only nodded as she took a sip of her third wineglass of the evening.

„well, in order to keep us hooked into the deal i‘d say a good 30% of those shares will be flowing right into your support for the fatui. quality has to be rewarded, does it not?“

a few approving nods and hums rumbled through the table. wow, no bitching around for once? that‘s a new one. she could totally get used to this.

„let‘s make it 40%, how about that? as a little… thank you for your cooperation with us.“

„that is-“

„i‘m sorry to interrupt you once again…“, slender hands ran down her chest from behind as she felt your cleavage hit her neck, „i can‘t just leave without bidding my husband a proper goodbye…“, pressing a gentle kiss behind her ear, arlecchino barely oversaw whatever you kept in your right hand, „don‘t stay out for too long, you know i don‘t like sleeping alone…“

as much as she hated being interrupted during negotiations, she‘d never turn you away. a black hand came up to cup your cheek as she presses a kiss to the other one, „i‘ll make sure of it, my love.“ 

but then her breath hitched at the sudden pressure applied to her crotch before you stepped back. the smirk tugging on your painted lips almost straight from the abyss itself and the knave knew something was off.

eyes darting back down to her crotch- her heart almost set out a beat at the surprise resting between her thighs. blood rushing straight to her dick.

red.

lacy.

oh, you were done. 

it was your red lacy slip that you just laid down in her lap in broad daylight.

with a wet stain.

she snatched up the fabric with an almost inhuman speed, praying to whatever deity sitting above the skies that nobody got wind of the fact that the knave‘s wife was walking around with nothing underneath her dress.

you were as quickly gone as you came.

leaving her with not only just your underwear but a fucking painful ache between her legs as well. and then the wheels in arlecchino’s head started to turn.

should she stay professional and ignore your obvious intentions, wrap up this meeting and then come home to pay you back tenfold?

or should she follow her di- i mean heart and leave with you?

her answer is obvious.

„…ladies. gentlemen. i fear i have to depart sooner than expected.“, in one single motion she stood up from the table, her sharp heels clicking against the floor when a servant helped her with putting her coat on.

„but about the-“

„i‘ll schedule a separate meeting to further discuss our plans with your organization. i will take care of the costs for transportations. have a nice evening.“, and with that the knave departed as she followed your footsteps outside.

you just sat yourself down onto the satin bank of your carriage. the servants already lit up the candles inside prior to your departure so it was fairly cozy compared to the snowy weather drowning the area in a soft cape of white, allowing you to shed out of your fur coat when the doors were opened. slowly. her white hair came first into view before you crossed eyes with a pair of crimson x‘s.

you paid her little attention as she sat down opposite of you, „changed your mind, hm?“, your hand fidgeted a little pocket mirror out along with a light pink lipstick.

when you were fixed on touching up your lips, the carriage started to get moving, for a while arlecchino stayed silent. watching you. observing you. from time to time her gaze would wander outside the windows, appreciating the beautiful scenery before it found your face once again.

she was planning something.

the thought of you being bare underneath that dress of yours sending sparks of desire down her spine. you knew exactly what you were doing. and she wasn‘t having it. she didn‘t mind you mingling with her concentration while doing tedious tasks such as paperwork, reviewing mission reports, etc., but messing with her like this in public when she‘s got important stuff on her hands… maybe she spoiled you a bit too much lately.

„come here.“, with a pat on her lap she signaled you exactly where she wanted you.

„can‘t you see i‘m busy-“

„i said come here.“

something dropped in your stomach. or pussy. you couldn‘t tell.

she didn‘t wait until you sat down, straight up grabbing you by your wrist and pulling you onto her lap. gasping slightly as you felt the tent in her pants pressing right against your uncovered folds. truth be told, the way she was staring holes into you earlier caused you to grow wet at the bare thought of what would be awaiting you at home. but you did not expect her to take action now.

„b-but the coachman outside-“

„you placed your slip into my lap at a table with at least 20 other business partners, but the coachman is suddenly too much?“, you could feel her hands running up your thighs, pushing the fabric up along the way to reveal the bloody stockings you choose to wear tonight. her nails tracing the lacy hem that ended a bit above your knees, sending goosebumps over your boiling skin.

„th-that was something different..“, you couldn‘t help but fixate on those black fingers pulling and playing with the fabric. they didn‘t dare wander any further up. as if she was restraining herself.

„right, because almost humiliating both you and me is much worse. don‘t you ever think before acting? i thought you were such a smart girl, and yet you almost jeopardized a whole deal. and for what?“, strong hands now gripping onto your thighs to push you down on her aching bulge with sharp nails, digging into your soft flesh, „answer.“

the sudden course of action caused you to slightly moan, placing one hand on her shoulder as the raw look edged into her face turned you on way more than it should.

„i-i don‘t know- the lack of a-attention got o-on my nerves…“, a dark red spread across your cheeks at your confession. you did not expect her to come home with you, let alone end up on her lap like this.

she almost scoffed at your reasoning. wasn‘t she showering you in attention enough already?

dresses, accessories, flowers, vacations. anything you wanted, she got you in the blink of an eye. and she never expected anything back. why should she? you‘re her wife. her most prized possession. the cure to her oh so cursed existence. never in her life would she ever think about getting something back from you. that‘s just what she‘s used to, what she wants. to give and not receive anything in return.

and yet…

„get on your knees.“, strong hands shoving you off of her lap.

„what-“

„don‘t make me repeat myself. if you can act like a slut in public, i‘ll treat you like one in private.“

you were kneeling before her in no time. eyes on the same height as her crotch now as you watched her hands unbuckle her belt. not daring to look up at her as you prayed that she couldn‘t hear your heart threatening to beat right out of your chest.

you were nervous. for the first time in ages you were nervous about what‘s going to happen next to you and it was exciting you to the point you had to press your thighs together to momentarily stop the painful ache between them.

watching her slightly lift her hips up to pull her pants below her dick, your mouth was almost watering at the sight of her dripping with precum. the black arrow running along her lighter shaft already glistening in the candlelight.

„do you require an invitation?“, her sharp tone cut through the tense air like butter and shot right down into your core, „it‘s not going to suck itself.“

„no… n-no no, i don‘t need one…“, allowing yourself one last intake of air before you slowly bent over, placing both hands on her spreaded thighs and started by licking her from her base up to her tip.

she tasted a bit sweet today, a strong contradiction to the cold stare she eyed you down with her chin resting on her hand.

she used her other hand to put a few lost hair strands back behind your ear and then grabbed a good handful of them.

„open up.“, nudging your head against her as a clear command. you shakily exhaled and licked over your lips a last time before you wrapped them around her tip. and you were pushed down until your nose hit her hairy base almost immediately. eyes threatening to tear up at the sudden invasion of your throat as you tried to not gag on her while she kept you pressed down. not moving. just burying her cock inside your mouth.

„breathe through your nose. we have done this plenty of times before. come on.“, her nails gently scratched over your scalp in order to soothe you- and it worked.

„there, there… good girl…“, and she started to move your head. slowly at first. observing you for any signs of being overwhelmed but you took her so well. those pretty pink lips were such a cute contrast to her blackened skin. arlecchino had to bite down on her tongue in order to keep any sounds from leaving her lips as she dragged you on and off her cock. shaft already drenched with your saliva, soft gags and sloppy wet sounds filling the small carriage.

„do you have any idea how pathetic you look with my dick in your mouth?“, a rhetorical question. you did look pathetic.

but lord, you took her so well, even tho you gagged softly anytime her tip hit the back of your throat, your nails digging into her thighs as you let her fuck your mouth however she pleased unti you felt the sticky fluid spreading over your tongue. otherwise she didn‘t let you know how she just climaxed. she masked her face too well for that.

despite the taste, the texture always made it difficult for you to swallow but you knew refusal would not sit well with her so you let her push you off of her to swallow correctly.

„mhm… get that all down. i don‘t want to see even the slightest remains.“, she watched the thick string connecting your plump lips to her tip snap as you were busy with getting everything down. the feeling of her cum running down your throat sent a shiver running down your spine but you managed and opened your mouth for her to look. even stuck out your tongue.

your husband leaned a bit down to you to properly inspect your mouth, but she seemed pleased with the result.

„good job… now get back up here.“

you got back up on aching legs, trembling slightly as you wanted to sit down on her lap again, „n-not done- ah-“, you yelped at the end suddenly snaking underneath your dress before her fingers glided over your slickness. my fucking god you were beyond soaked to your inner thighs, it was almost humiliating.

„just how i thought. my wife gets off on me using her like my own personal sextoy. who would have thought.“, that same hand now grabbed onto your ass to pull you down on her with the tip now pressing directly against your dipping hole.

„come on, sit down.“

„c-completely…?“

„am i implying anything else?“, just as you were about to answer, the carriage seemed to hit a pothole on the street, accidentally causing the first two inches to slip inside at impact and for you to hold onto her shoulders for dear life.

she never had to hold back a chuckle so bad.

„a-ah- that was… u-unfair-!“

„ah, yes… having to sit on your husband‘s dick is truly the worst fate that could have ever hit you.“, you shot her a glare and she rolled her eyes as you proceeded to fully take her in, it was getting seemingly harder with each cm that passed past your g-spot and you were already panting over her by the time you fully sat down. her tip nestled against cervix and the harsh movements of your coach was doing little to help you adjust.

„the ride isn‘t going to take forever. i‘d suggest you start moving, my dearest.“, oh she wasn‘t planning on moving even the slightest bit. you‘d have to do the job yourself.

„you want me to… do it myself…?“, in slight disbelief you watched your husband open a bottle of champagne one-handed before filling herself up a glass of the alcoholic beverage.

„shall i write it out for you on a formal invitation?“

now that‘s a new one. you weren‘t used to… putting effort in when you were on the receiving end. but you wouldn’t let that stop you.

„oh…? not even complaining?“, she raised an eyebrow at you as you started to move her hips over her, trying to find a somewhat enjoyable rhythm for you. merely shaking your head while you whimpered at the unpleasant feeling inside you. this was harder than you thought, the pace was too slow for your liking and it was nearly impossible to hit any good spots like this.

„a-arle… c-could you please help…“, hands moving over into her neck as you almost whined. 

„help?“, she sighed as she took the first sip of her champagne, humming slightly at the taste as she merely placed a hand on your hip, „not even thirty seconds have passed and you‘re already whining? you learn by doing, so no. i will lend a hand when i’m seeing fit for it but all i see right now is a spoiled princess who is too used to her husband pampering her. move.“

her harsh answer almost forced tears into your eyes. not because it hurt, but because she was kind of right. you weren‘t used to her denying you. ever. and that frustrated you more than it should, even embarrassed you.

„th-that‘s not fair…“, you tried out a more rocking motion now, which at least felt slightly better.

„i am being very fair right now. i could also end things right here and send you straight to bed once we get home, with no one to take care of your needs. but i‘m not doing that now, am i?“, her fingers on your hips tapped against your skin in all almost mocking manner as she brought the glass to her lips once again.

you stayed silent. why does she always have to be right after all? she luckily didn‘t comment on your lack of words and just proceeded to watch you with an almost bored look on her face.

„you need to bounce.“

„wh-what…-“, you groaned, thighs already working against you.

„you need to bounce on my dick, love. what are you expecting from these… motions? a tickle? lift up your hips and then let yourself back down. come on, try it and then i may consider helping you.“

that sounded… exhausting, but you had like- no other choice, so you obliged. lifting yourself a bit up before almost dropping straight back down and… it felt good. very fucking good. so good that you immediately repeated yourself. and again. and again. each time only forcing your moans to grow louder, leaning your head into her neck and wrapping your arms around her instead as the desperation started to get the better of you. you needed that orgasm just as much as oxygen if not even more. even the thought about coachman outside possibly hearing your sounds of pleasure did only add to the knot building up in your stomach. but it wasn‘t enough. something was still missing.

„peru- p-peruere please-“, you breathed against her skin. a whimper slipping out with your words. you completely overheard her own heavy breathing and how she quite literally had to restrain herself in order to not fuck you dumb and stupid before you even got home. 

„please what…? be more specific. use your words, my love…“, she gently patted your back, kissing your cheek as she only slightly started moving her hips against yours.

„p-please fuck me- ‘m sorry f-for earlier- j-just plea-“, a moan ripped through the air as she thrusted her hips up into you, immediately hitting your weak spot, just like you needed it. nails dug and pulled at the expensive fabric of her suit. the straps of your dress hung loose around your arms, as she fucked you within an inch of your life. dragging her cock in and out of your soaking cunt and you could faintly hear her groaning against your clenching pussy before the knot in your abdomen finally loosened up and you creamed nicely around her dick for all you were worth. you couldn‘t help but feel your thighs starting to shake from the impact and as if that wasn‘t enough already, you felt her load paint your insides next.

no words were uttered. just your joined heavy breathing was to be heard in the small space. the windows fogged up, making it impossible to see what could be going on outside.

she kept you pressed down on her when you wanted to get off, nuzzling a bit deeper into the crook of your neck.

„s'il te plaît reste comme ça encore un peu, ma fleur…“

„please stay a little longer like this, my flower…“

you sunk back down against her chest, resting your head on her shoulder as something akin to comfort washed over you.

the both of you stayed silent for a good few minutes, just enjoying and bathing in each other’s presence

„what did you do with my panties…?“

you could hear her hand starting to fidget something out of her pocket.

„safekeeping them of course.“, she pressed a gentle kiss to your check as she placed your panties next to you.

maybe you will keep accompanying her on more events.

[judyvan]

7 Days - Chris Sturniolo Fanfic ("No Hands" Extension)

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Summary: Over the next 7 days, Chris made sure to use his reward whenever he got the chance. After winning the bet, his hands had seemed to gravitate towards your body. He would caress, kiss, and hold you more than normal, if that were even possible. In the 7 days that he could do whatever he wanted, you felt nothing shy of love, lust, and exhilaration. You were considering making the deal a permanent thing.

Warnings: MDNI/ smut/ chrisxfem!reader/ bf!chris/ sexually suggestive content/ touchy!chris x needy!reader/ slightly obsessive! chris/ fingering/ use of "you"/ PDA/ couldn't tell ya how many words

A/N: This is an extension of my fanfic "No Hands." To understand the context of this fic, check this one out. This has a lot of words, because there are 7 days' worth of blurbs in this fic, given the title. I am still new to writing, so bear with me. Interactions are appreciated! Pls don't steal my shit. Thx! 💋

Shoutout to @twirler2009 for this super sexy suggestion.

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Day 1

Nick, Matt, and Chris had left the house to film a video. Their parents would be coming to visit from Boston the next day. You decide to get a head start on cleaning while no one else was in the house. You do the dishes, wipe off all the surfaces, sweep and mop the floors, and do some laundry. The scent of cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, and a freshly lit candle fill the air. The boys arrive back home and take in the look of the house.

"It looks great in here!" Nick says in awe.

"Wow. Thank you for cleaning. Normally I have to do all the work," Matt says, shooting you a smile.

"Oh, shut up, Matt," Nick and Chris say in unison.

Chris immediately approaches you. He takes you into his arms, lifts you up, and spins you around. Once your feet hit the floor, his hands meet your face, and his lips find yours. He kisses you long and deep, sliding his tongue into your mouth. Chris normally touches you in front of his brothers, but he's never kissed you around them like this. It’s clear he’s going to make the most out of this deal.

"Umm. HELLO, Chris! Me and Matt are still standing here," Nick says waving his hands, trying to capture Chris' attention. Matt looks down at his feet. The two of them don't know how to react to seeing Chris swap spit with you.

Despite Nick's attempt to stop your kiss, Chris doesn't move away from you until he wants to. He prolongs the kiss for a few more moments.

"Thank you so much for cleaning. You didn't have to do that," he says, placing a final peck to your lips.

"We get it Chris! You and your girlfriend kiss. Now can we please stop before I actually throw up. Thanks!" Nick says covering his eyes and walking out of the room.

You, Chris, and Matt giggle as Matt follows Nick out of the room.

"I'm going to go take a shower, then we can watch a movie or something," Chris says leaning in to kiss you again.

"Oh yeah? Just like how we watched a movie yesterday, right?" you say, flicking up an eyebrow and kissing him back. Just remembering his mouth touching you where his hands couldn’t, causes your skin to break out in goosebumps.

"I mean, I'm down for that too," Chris says, winking at you.

He picks you up and you wrap your legs around his torso as he carries you to his bedroom. Chris sits you down gently on his bed. After grabbing some clothes, your boyfriend approaches you. His eyes scan your face. When his gaze lands on your lips, his tongue skims across his own. He just couldn’t get enough. The two of you are never going to be able to get anything done with this constant need for physical contact. He tilts his face towards yours, missing the warmth of your lips and the sweet flavor that accompanies them. You avoid his lips and softly peck the tip of his nose.

"Go take a shower, Chris," you say.

Chris grabs your chin and pulls you towards his face.

"Only after you kiss me," he says, pressing his lips into yours tenderly.

You practically melt into Chris as he draws out the kiss. Every movement that his mouth makes is very thought out, wanting to savor your taste and touch while he leaves you to take a shower.

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Day 2

While Matt and Nick go to the airport to pick up their parents, Jimmy and Mary Lou, you and Chris go to the store to pick up some materials before they close. Mary Lou had sent you a grocery list because she planned on using a family recipe to make dinner the next day.

While walking throughout the aisles at the store, Chris insisted that the both of you push the cart together. Your hands wrapped around the bar of the cart, and Chris' rested on top of yours. Chris stayed behind you, sandwiching you in between the cart and himself. He pressed his body against yours as the two of you searched for the items on the list. Chris lifted one of his hands and moved all of your hair to one side. He put his hand back in its place and began to kiss your neck.

“Chris,” you gasp. “We are in public.”

Chris’ lips move to your ear as he tightens his grip on your hands.

“I won fair and square. Remember?” he whispers. You can tell he has a grin on his face by the tone in his voice. His lips then reconnect with your neck, biting down and sucking gently.

Eventually, Chris moves your hair again and switches sides. Your mouth had fallen open, your heart was pounding, your mind was fuzzy, and your knees were weak. You grip onto the cart tighter, needing stability. The feeling of him devouring your skin made you stop in your track's multiple times. Chris kept pushing forward, forcing you to continue walking. Now that you’re unable to think clearly, Chris has to guide the cart down the correct aisles. He only glances up with his eyes to navigate, his mouth never leaving you. By the time you reach the register, your neck is flushed all over and Chris' lips are swollen.

“Did you guys find everything alright?” the cashier asks as Chris throws the items onto the conveyor belt.

“Yes, we did,” Chris says, slowly looking at you with a smug look on his face. The sight of you all hot and bothered along with the markings on your neck suddenly remind him of something.

“Oh, wait! Do you guys sell condoms?”

You shoot Chris a look, silently telling him to shut his mouth.

“What?” he says, confused by the look on your face. “We used the last one last night…I know you remember,” he smiles at you cockily, clearly proud of his performance after he got out of the shower.

You shove your elbow into his ribs.

“Chris!?”

“Umm… yeah. There should be some like 4 rows to your left,” the cashier replies, his eyes looking between you and your boyfriend.

“Okay. You stay here and I’ll go grab those,” Chris says, placing a kiss on your forehead and shooting finger guns at you before running off.

“I’m sorry about him,” you say to the cashier as he scans your items.

“Don’t worry about it. What’re you guys making?” he replies, changing the conversation topic.

“Lasagna.”

“Is it date night?”

“No, his parents are coming in town. His mom is going to cook a family recipe tomorrow night.”

“Ahh. I gotcha,” the cashier says as he scans the last few items.

You see Chris returning with a bottle of Pepsi and two packs of condoms in his hands. He places the items on the conveyor belt.

“Hey. Thanks man,” Chris says shooting the cashier a smile.

“No problem.”

Chris turns his attention towards you, his expression full of enthusiasm, as he points to the second box of condoms.

“Look what I found! I literally thought flavored condoms were like a figment of my imagination but turns out they’re very much real. We have to try them. Do a little taste test. You know?”

There is simply no other way for you to react to Chris’ excitement than to palm your face and slowly shake your head. The cashier lets out a chuckle as he puts the last few things in a bag. Chris pays the cashier while you load the bags in the cart.

“You guys have a great night,” the cashier says with a smile on his face.

“Oh trust me, we will,” Chris says smirking at him as he places you in between himself and the cart once again.

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Day 3

The smell of lasagna and garlic bread makes your mouth water as Mary Lou finishes cooking. Everyone floods into the kitchen and a line is formed. The food is set up buffet style. Whenever you and Chris get to the front of the line, he fixes your plate of food first and then makes his own once you’re satisfied. The two of you then walk to the dining room to join everyone else. Chris sits both of your plates down on the table. He then pulls his own chair out and immediately sits down. You look at him and furrow your brow. Chris always pulls your chair out for you, and you start to wonder why he didn’t this time. As soon as you begin to reach for the top of your chair, you feel Chris’ arm sneak around your thigh.

“What’re you doing?” he questions, staring up at you with “innocent” eyes.

You look up confused and everyone else seems to do the same. Chris then stretches his legs out.

“I want you to sit with me.”

“Chris there’s a seat right be-fucking-side you,” Nick says clearly confused.

“That seat’s taken,” Chris says nodding his head towards the completely empty chair. “This one isn’t.”

Chris nods his head downward and opens his legs even wider, dusting off his thighs. He moves his arm to your waist and gently pulls you onto his lap. He then picks up his fork and starts to eat nonchalantly. Everyone else has halted, all looking around slightly puzzled.

“Chris, why don’t you just let her sit in her own chair?” Jimmy asks, genuinely wanting to know the reasoning.

“Because she insists on going to her own house tomorrow so me, Matt, and Nick can spend some time with you guys one on one.”

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” Mary Lou says, smiling at you.

“I really appreciate it, but I think we can go a day without seeing each other,” you laugh gesturing at Chris with your eyes.

“How much do you want to bet it won’t even last an entire day?” Matt asks giggling.

Chris rubs small circles over your thigh with his thumb while everyone gambles. The stakes get higher and higher. Everyone looks to you, waiting to hear your response.

“I would love to bet all the money that I have; but I’m not very good at winning bets,” you say, shifting in Chris' lap and giving him a smirk. There's a stiffness that begins to form underneath of you. A soft peck is placed on your shoulder as Chris begins to gently squeeze your inner thigh, desperately trying to control himself.

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Day 4

The next morning, Chris wants to stay in bed a little longer than normal, not wanting you to go back to your house. He holds you close hoping to keep you that way forever. As you say your goodbyes to everyone, Chris is right on your heels. While talking to Jimmy, Chris slides in between the two of you, hugging you tightly. You have to look over his shoulder to continue the conversation, as if nothing happened. After a few minutes, he releases his tight grip and lazily slumps his body against yours. You finish your conversation with Jimmy and begin to step towards Nick and Matt. Chris interlocks his fingers with yours, holding your hand as you walk a singular foot. He sits on the arm of the couch and pulls your body against his while you talk. Finally, you chat with Mary Lou. As your conversation continues, Chris hugs you from behind and places gentle kisses to the top of your head.

"Okay, Chris. I get that your upset, but can you please release her from your grasp for 3 fucking seconds?" Nick asks.

"Oh, Nick be nice. I think it's sweet," Mary Lou states, showing Chris a small smile.

"Mom, you may think it's cute now, but you don't realize that this is an every single day occurance," Matt chimes in, backing Nick up.

Chris walks you to the door after you say a final goodbye to everyone. He wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your neck. He gently grabs your chin and places a longing kiss to your lips.

"I love you," he somehow manages to mutter.

"I'll see you, tomorrow. I love you," you say before walking out of the door. Despite your words, you knew that your night would end with you asleep in Chris' bed.

You sat at your house for hours, bored out of your mind. There was no Chris to keep you entertained. You could detect the feeling of your skin being left untouched. His text messages could only do so much.

You willingly take an Uber to Chris' house, not wanting him to see your car there, hoping to prank him. You sit on the edge of his bed, waiting for him to arrive. Eventually, the front door creaks open and Chris calls your name. The sound of 3 pairs of footsteps head towards your direction and you can hear Chris, Nick, and Matt talking.

"Chris she isn't here," Matt says.

"Yes, she is."

"Chris you are fucking insane," Nick replies.

Suddenly the door busts open and the three men enter the room. Matt and Nick's eyes grow wide when they see you.

"I knew it," Chris says, a huge grin taking over his face. "Get your ass over here."

You slowly start to walk towards Chris. He speeds up the process by grabbing your arm and yanking you towards him. His hands slide under your pajama shorts and squeeze your ass roughly as he hungrily kisses your lips. He seems like he's been starved for attention.

"That is disgusting. Let's get the fuck out of here," Nick says pushing Matt out of the room before stepping out himself, slamming the door behind him.

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Day 5

You feel something brush across your collarbone. Then something touches your jaw. Now your cheek. There's pressure on your lips.

You flick your eyes open and see Chris on top of you, peppering you with kisses to wake you up.

"Goodmorning," he says continuing to kiss your body. "Nick and Matt left so we get to spend the morning together."

"Okay," you say, smiling up at Chris.

You softly kiss his lips before he turns over. He pulls you on top of him and you nuzzle up to him quickly.

His hand gently massages your head, and your hand runs up and down his abs.

His hand draws patterns on your back while you twirl his hair around your finger.

Your thumb grazes across his stubble while his fingers slide back and forth in the waistband of your shorts.

The two of you stay in bed for hours, soaking in the presence of each other as you touch one another in any way that you can.

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Day 6

Chris asks if Nick and Matt will have a game night with you two. After lots and lots of convincing, they finally agreed. Chris had his heart set on Twister, for whatever reason. Matt chooses to hold the spinner for the first round while you, Chris, and Nick play.

“Alright guys, left foot on blue,” Matt says.

The game doesn’t go smoothly for very long. After just a few more directions, you, Chris, and Nick are all intertwined with each other.

“Right hand green.”

As you reach for the green dot, you slip, pulling Chris down with you.

“Nick wins,” Matt says laughing at the flailing limbs on the ground.

“Yes! Give me that fucking spinner,” Nick replies, snatching it out of Matt’s grasp.

You, Chris, and Matt prepare to take your turn.

“Right foot red,” Nick says, starting the three of you off.

After a few more rotations, Matt falls on his elbow, leaving just you and Chris. He gives you a competitive sneer.

“Left hand yellow.”

You are now on all fours with you head under Chris’ torso. He is straddling your body with both of his hands on the left side of your hip.

“Right hand red.”

You move your hand and your back arches as you stretch to reach the circle. Your head is now directly between Chris' kneecaps. As Chris moves his hand, his face is placed right at the top of your arch, staring directly at your ass.

“Hey, maybe we should try this position tonight,” Chris jokes.

Matt’s eyes go wide and Nick screams.

“WHATTTTT?! Christopher you are fucking sick. I am not playing this game with you anymore. You need help and now SO DO I,” Nick says, dropping the spinner. Matt starts to make his way out of the room and Nick follows right behind him.

Chris hits the floor as he begins to laugh, rolling onto his back.

“I win,” you say, straddling him before leaning down to meet his lips.

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Day 7

You and Chris had planned to meet your friends at the movies. You were really liking how touchy Chris was being, given his reward. It is for sure that you didn't want him to stop anytime soon, even though this would mark 7 days of you losing the bet. To ensure that Chris would be extra touchy, you decide to wear a more revealing outfit; a low hanging top with the tiniest jean skirt that you own. You meet Chris in the living room. When you enter the room, you find him sitting on the couch, his phone in his hand. The sound of your heeled shoes grabs his attention but doesn't hold it for long. You give him a spin and his jaw hits the ground.

"I am so glad I won this bet. There is no way I would've survived if you decided to dress like that and wouldn't let me touch you."

You can practically see the drool coming out of his mouth.

"Well, what are you waiting for then?" you question, walking over to him, coming to a stop between his legs. He looks up at you from his seated position. You can see the want in his eyes. He slides both of his hands under the back of your skirt. Your thong didn't cover much. Chris gently squeezes your, almost completely bare, ass under your skirt. He throws his head back as he swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He brings his head back forward and rests his forehead on your stomach.

"You know what? Maybe we should just stay home," Chris suggests.

You pick his head up by sliding your finger under his chin, forcing him to look into your eyes.

"No. We can't do that. Our friends are waiting on us," you say seductively, gently pulling down his lower lip with your thumb.

You begin to slowly back away from him and walk towards the door, dramatically swaying your hips. You pull out some lip gloss from your bag, purposefully dropping it on the floor.

"Come on, Chris."

You turn to look at him before bending over to retrieve your lip gloss, revealing the thong underneath of your skirt. You stay in that position until Chris makes his way over to you. As he smacks your ass, you stand up, leading him out of the door.

"You just wait until we get back home," he says with trouble written all over his face.

Before heading into the theater, you make sure to grab a blanket from your car, knowing that your legs will get cold. Chris places his hand in your back pocket as the two of you walk to meet up with your friends. You hit up the snack bar, grabbing some popcorn and two Pepsis. As the group files into the theater, Chris makes sure that the two of you go first. He wants you to sit in the end seat. You sit down, draping the blanket over your legs. The two of you chat with your friends while you wait for the movie to start. Eventually the lights dim, and everything goes quiet.

Throughout the entire movie, you are desperately trying to get Chris' attention. You begin to slide your leg up and down Chris'. You can see him trying to keep his composure. You then glide your hand onto his thigh, rubbing it gently. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. You remove your hand from Chris' leg and grab some popcorn. You can see Chris turn to you from the corner of your eye. You need him. Bad. You begin to eat the popcorn gradually, piece by piece. You provocatively take the popcorn into your mouth, pulling in each piece carefully with your tongue. You look at Chris, making eye contact. After the last few pieces slide into your mouth, you slowly take your fingers into your mouth, one by one. After licking the mixture of butter and salt off of each finger, painfully slow, you let your tongue graze across your lips and release a soft hum. You place your hand back on Chris' thigh and face the big screen once again. Chris' eyes are still fixated on you. You trail your hand up his leg, getting closer and closer to his dick. You barely graze over it with your pinky. Chris pulls you even further into him.

"What're you doing?" he murmurs.

"Nothing," your eyes never leave the screen.

"You look too good to be doing this right now," he says kissing your temple tenderly.

"You think I look good?" you ask, turning to finally look at him.

"Without a doubt."

You lean into Chris' ear, letting them rest of your fingers meet your pinky.

"And what're you going to do about that?" you question, pulling away from his ear.

"Take the fucking popcorn," Chris mutters lowly, pushing the bucket into your hands.

He slides his hand under your blanket, immediately feeling the wetness pool between your legs. Without hesitation, he moves your thong to the side and dips his fingers into you, curling them right into you G spot. You walls pull him in and you start to squeeze your legs together, searching for more pressure. You grip onto the popcorn bucket, shoving some into your mouth to drown out the sounds of your whimpers. You begin to squirm around in your seat slightly. Chris speeds up his pace, pumping his fingers in and out of you. You start to bounce one of your feet up and down. You take one hand off of the popcorn bucket and grasp onto the arm of your chair, squeezing tightly as you feel your insides tighten. Luckily, a joke was just made in the movie, earning a laugh from the crowd. You were discreetly able to let out a low moan as you came onto Chris' fingers. He pulled them out of you and grabbed some popcorn out of the bucket. He watched you catch your breath as the buzz died down. He then tossed the pieces of popcorn into his mouth, making sure to lick the remnants of you off of his fingers after he was done. He shakes his head as his tongue pokes against his cheek, a scoff falling from his lips.

"Just wait 'til we get fucking home."

[celestialwonders]

right, puppy? (s.jy)

jake x y/n facetime fun

one shot smut. minors dni.

author’s note: first time posting my writing lol be nice i will cry. shoutout the freakpen gc for forcing my hand (i willingly wrote this for them)

content/context: y/n (afab) and idol!jake calls them “mommy”, switch jake in sub mode, sexytime over facetime, diy bondage to chair, edging, hands free orgasm (bluetooth if you will), soft-ish dom y/n but jake eats it up anyways

.

.

.

“h-hello?” you answer groggily. who the fuck is calling you at 3am?

“hey… uh, its.. jake” you hear the quiet yet rough voice hesitantly say in your ear.

you shoot up from your bed, a chill running down your spin as a rush of memories come flooding in. oh shit.

it’s not as if this is the first time he’s given you a booty call. in fact, that’s how you first met.. sort of.

you’re still not really sure how it happened. one second you were screaming your head off in the crowd of an enhypen concert, dancing and singing along as jake worked the crowd in front of you. the next second, your screaming out jake’s name in his hotel bed, both of you reaching euphoria over and over and over till collapse. and just like that, he had to leave for the next stop. but not without exchanging numbers and starting your “textual” relationship.

and so it had been this way for months, him calling at all hours of the day wanting a quickie as a preshow relaxant, a post show pick me up, or a day off well spent. and of course you were going to give him what he wants. its jake fucking sim.

“i was thinking about you today.” you say slyly, already slipping yourself out of your covers and making your way to your desk.

you put your phone on speaker as you grab your various toys jake has so graciously sent for you over time.

“have you… mommy?” he pants out, almost questioning himself when it comes out.

this makes you stop in your tracks, sparkly pink dildo frozen in hand.

its not like you guys aren’t kinky, if anything sometimes it gets too hot to handle when he’s giving you his instructions as you sit in front of your phone screen, begging for more.

but you’ve never delved into this side of him. his submissive side. talked about it, sure, but actually having to step up as the dom… you felt a sense of insecurity as you put the dildo back in its storage space.

“jake… wh-what are y-“

“please just… just try for me, okay baby?” he’s almost moaning out his pleads.

“im not sure i… can” you say uneasily as you sit back down, placing your phone on your phone stand as you hit the facetime button. the vision of jake that pops up has you struggling to swallow.

he’s sat on his own desk chair, already with his pants down and face flushed to an almost strawberry color. his shirtless chest rising and falling quickly as sweat drips from the ends of his sidebangs down to the waist of his boxers. what you notice next makes the area between your legs pulse.

he’s gotten himself tied to his chair, arms tightly bound on each armrest. completely helpless. you could just jump on him and ride him all night if there wasn’t a screen and thousands of miles between you.

“fuck jakey…” you sigh out, feeling heat rising in your chest as your eyes continue to scan over his sweet, submissive face.

he whimpers at the sound of the pet name, hips slightly bucking into the air. this ignites something inside you, your eyes darkening as you crave more of his desperation.

“you like that? like when i call you jakey?” you tease, earning another whimper from him as he rolls his head back.

“how long have you been playing by yourself, puppy” your voice finding a lower octave to call out his favorite pet name.

“f-fuck… so long. so long just thinking about… you” he whines, hips gyrating as he seeks a touch that isn’t there.

your wetness seeps farther down your thighs as jake whines out with need.

“tsk tsk… playing by yourself? how selfish of you puppy. what am i going to do with you…” you trail off, sinking into your chair as you lift your legs into jakes view.

he moans at just the sight of your wet panties clinging to your core. grunting and tugging at his own bondage.

“i see… jakey needs to learn a lesson. dont you baby?” you almost whisper out, running your fingers down your chest to your panties, flicking the waist band.

“s’driving me… crazy… please” he says between deep breathes, mouth collecting drool at the sight of you touching yourself.

“just saying please won’t work baby… you’ve been playing without me… now mommy has to give you a taste of your own medicine” he lets out a loud moan as you push your soaked underwear aside, letting him get a full view of everything he can’t touch right now.

you begin to touch yourself with grazing fingers, biting your lip to resist interrupting the sound of jake’s whimpers and pleads. your eyes roll back as you enter a finger into your tight hole.

“fuck.. m-mommy please… i want-want to touch myself” he moans, eyes dripping with lust as drool begins to fall from his perfectly plump and pink lips.

“no.” you say sternly, closing your legs, resisting the urge to continue touching yourself to prove your point. “you touch yourself and i stop, got it?”

he nods haphazardly, his mind already fuzzy and full of need for you.

“you’re going to sit and take your punishment and be grateful. right, puppy?” you moan out, opening your legs back up to resume chasing your impending climax.

“y-yes mommy. ill be good for you” he nearly cums from your demanding voice alone, not wanting this new dark side of you to end.

he watches with hunger as you continue pleasing yourself, your eyes dark as they bore into jake’s helpless expression.

“fuck baby… p-puppy” you moan out as a knot in your stomach begins to tighten. closing your eyes tightly to resist climaxing too quickly, loving how jake is eye fucking you.

when you open your eyes back up, jake is mindlessly thrusting into his boxers, eyes glazed over with lust as drool freely falls from his open mouth.

“fuck mommy.. i-im so close. please. please let me… let me cum.” he begs out, his thrusts becoming more sporadic and weak. this drives you over the edge, feeling yourself tighten on your fingers as your eyes roll back.

“fuck puppy, yes cum with me.” you manage to get out as your climax hits hard. your hearing fading as your orgasm muffles the loud, whiny moans and curses that jake lets out as he hits his high with you.

finally coming back to your senses, you slouch into your chair, eyes finally able to refocus on the phone screen in front of you.

jake is completely wrecked, boxers sticking to his descending member, chest slowing the intense breathing pattern he had taken on. his face is devastatingly ruined, with his hair sticking to his forehead and drool beginning to dry on his cheeks. tears roll down his cheeks as he weakly smiles at you.

“i…i really needed that” he laughs weakly, leaning down to use his mouth to free himself from his bondages, his now free hand fumbling with the ties on his arm.

“yeah?” you sigh out, catching your breath. “well next time, do not play without my permission” you seductively say as you pull your underwear back on.

“yes mommy. ill be sure to play with you extra nicely from now on.” he says with a wink, grabbing his phone to share goodnights and go to bed.

you plop back onto your bed, not able to shut your mind off from the image of a needy, submissive jake. pondering to yourself as you google enhypen’s next tour stops. maybe next time you play with your puppy in person.

[thydungeongal]

That encounter joke Anon is wrong. Every 5e GM I've ever met went the route of "one fight per day oh my boss is already dead accutally he has 50 more hitpoints and now here's 2 more minions now the fight is properly exciting and dramatic" and the lack of a poker face meant we all knew.

How do you feel about that kind of rewriting, anyway?

For context, none of the GMs ever admitted to this on the LFG posts, or the pitches, etc.

I'm not opposed to it on principle. Ultimately I do think it's a bit like "oh so you're shifting the goalposts when it seems like the party is winning the encounter more easily than you think they should have," but ultimately that's just a maladaptive response to a different issue. Which is, once again, people trying to run D&D as a game it very much is not.

D&D isn't a game of epic bossfights where characters snatch victory from the jaws of defeat after an extended combat encounter. It can produce such encounters but they will usually emerge incidentally, not naturally. D&D is ultimately a game of attrition, of managing character resources through the course of an extended period, and even though D&D 5e's actual expectations of what an adventuring day is supposed to look like are whack D&D 5e does support a type of gameplay that relies on managing resources over an adventuring day much better than it does "a single epic setpiece encounter per day."

Because ultimately D&D is at its best when it's about weaponized player agency and system mastery, and in modern D&D this sometimes manifests as "the party knew they were going up against a lich so utilizing everything they know about liches they kicked that guy's ass in two turns." Now that would be really anticlimactic if the GM had set that encounter up as narrative culmination of a campaign that had been leading up to this moment for two years. But if you take it as "just one more encounter in the story of a bunch of assholes trying to grow stronger and more epic" then it's just a moment of those characters getting to flex for a moment.

Now of course adjusting the stats of a monster on the fly is sort of a problem in that it goes against the game and thus undermines player expression within the game. When the group pulls off a cool trick that immediately deals a million points of damage to the dragon's dick and you say "oh actually the dragon had two million hit points" then you're ultimately undermining player expression. I don't think this makes someone a bad GM because the motivation behind it is usually to provide a more entertaining experience for the group, but it is a sign of a GM fighting against the system and not knowing what it does, and they and their group would probably be better served by another game. And given that players won't necessarily know that happened it maintains the illusion that the game does produce that type of encounter.

My advice? As a GM, be honest: "hey, I didn't think you all would one-shot that boss. Are you okay if we add a bit more HP to that thang?" And if this is a consistent issue of the game not producing the type of experience the group wants they should ultimately look for a different game.

[noahsresources]

A-Z NSFW HEADCANON MEME !

i know this has been done several times before, but if by chance any of the following questions appeal to you specifically, you've come to the right place! this meme contains NSFW content, so adults only please! ♡

afterwards — what kind(s) of aftercare do they like being given? do they like giving their partner aftercare? do they fall asleep quickly after sex?

beg — do they like making their partner(s) beg? do they like begging their partner?

body — what is their favorite body part of theirs? of their partner(s)'? are there any specific body parts they like to pay special attention to (ex. feet, hands, ass, etc)? where are their erogenous zones? where are they most sensitive?

clothing — do they like to have sex fully or partially clothed, or do they prefer having sex naked? would they ever move an article of clothing aside for stimulation/penetration (ex. pulling their panties to the side for penetrative sex)?

cum — how long does it take to make them cum? do they have any kinks relating to cum? do they like when their partner(s) cum(s) inside them? do they like cumming inside their partner(s)? do they like when their partner(s) cum on any of their body parts? do they like cumming on any of their partner(s)' body parts?

delay — do they like having their orgasm delayed/denied? do they like delaying/denying their partner(s)' orgasm?

dirty talk — are they turned on by dirty talk? turned off by dirty talk? is there anything they like their partner(s) to appeal to when talking dirty with them?

drive — how high is their sex drive? are they hyposexual, hypersexual, or somewhere in between? does it change depending on the circumstance? how often do they have sex?

dynamic — are they dominant? do they like to be dominated? how do they show their dominance? how do they show their partner(s) they want to be dominated? are they more versatile or does it depend on the context/their partner(s)?

eyes — do they like to be watched while they're having sex? do they like to watch others having sex?

fantasy — do they have any sexual fantasies they'd like to try out? have they ever gotten to act on a sexual fantasy?

g-spot — do they like g-spot/p-spot stimulation? do they prefer giving or receiving it, or does it depend on their partner(s)? do they like to stimulate the area with toys?

hair — do they shave or wax? do they let their hair grow out?

humiliation — do they like being humiliated or degraded? is there anything specific they like being humiliated or degraded for? do they like humiliating or degrading their partner(s)?

impact — do they like spanking/being spanked? whipping/being whipped? hitting/being hit? any other kind of impact play not listed here?

kink — what are their kinks? do they have a primary kink? are there any kinks they'd be interested in trying? are there any kinks they don't like or aren't interested in trying?

lingerie — do they own lingerie? if so, how often do they wear it? what kind of lingerie do they like to wear the most? do they like when their partners wear lingerie for them?

location — where do they like to have sex the most? would they ever have sex in a 'risky' place (ex. in the office, closet, public bathroom, etc)?

lube — do they use lube during sex? how much of it? do they like flavored lube and/or lube that brings particular sensations? can they become naturally lubricated enough to not need lube during sex?

marks — do they like being marked? do they like marking their partners?

music — do they like to play music while having sex? what kind of music? is the music for vibes, aesthetic, or simply to drown out the sounds they and their partner(s) make (or even a mix of all three)?

names — do they like being called names in the bedroom? if so, what kind of names? are they pet names or are they names to appeal to a praise/humiliation kink? do they like calling their partner(s) names in the bedroom? do they have a daddy/mommy kink?

orgasm — how would their partner(s) know if they orgasm? what is their orgasm reaction like? are they sensitive after having an orgasm? what is the most effective way to get them to quickly orgasm?

positions — what are their favorite sex positions? do they have a singular favorite sex position? are there any positions they would like to try? are there any positions they don't like?

praise — do they like being praised? is there anything specific they like being praised for? do they like praising their partner(s)?

queen — are they a size queen? do they prefer length, girth, or both? do they like textures?

restraint — do they like being restrained? do they like restraining their partner(s)? are they into softer bondage or more hardcore BDSM?

sensation — do any specific sensations turn them on? are they into hot wax? ice? tickling? specific textures? anything else not listed here?

sexting — do they like sexting their partner(s)? do they ever send nudes? do they like receiving nudes? do they find sexting more or less difficult/fun than curating sexual experiences in real life? are they any different while sexting than they are during real life sexual experiences?

size — how big are their genitals? what cup size are they? what are their body measurements?

sounds — what sounds do they make during sex? do they laugh a lot during sex? are they chatty during sex?

stimulation — how do they prefer to be stimulated? do they like being given handjobs? do they like being fingered? do they like being given oral? is/are there any specific spot(s) on their body they like being stimulated the most? where do they like to stimulate their partner(s)?

strip — does your muse like stripping for their partner(s)? do they like when their partner(s) strip(s) for them? do they like their partner(s) stripping them naked? do they like to strip their partner(s) naked?

style — do they like it rough? do they like it soft? do they prefer fucking or making love? do they like a hard and fast pace, a slow and gentle pace, or does it vary/depend on the situation?

top or bottom — are they more of a top or a bottom, or are they more versatile? does it depend on their partner(s)? do they like penetrating or being penetrated more? do they like giving oral or receiving oral more? do they like stimulating or being stimulated more?

tease — do they like teasing their partner(s)? do they like being teased? how do they like to tease/be teased?

toys — do they own sex toys? how often do they use them? do they prefer using them on themselves or their partner(s)?

turn on — what turns them on?

volume — are they loud, quiet, or somewhere in between during sex? do they get louder over time? are there any activities that affect their volume during sex? do they prefer a loud or quiet partner?

wet — do they like bath/shower sex? would they have sex in other bodies of water (pool, lake, ocean, etc)?

[witherby]

If Punch line can trigger Jason easily what would happen is she ever met Harley?

Let's explore that!

Punchline: First Session

Masterlist is Here!

"I need your help."

Harley perks up, gasping, and rushes over to hug Batman tightly.

"I never thought this day would come," she says, jumping up and down and clutching a gauntleted hand. "Yes!! Yes I would love to be your therapist! We have so much to work on, starting with your parents. I really think you never internalized the event and haven't given yourself any space to grieve after —"

Her hands get squeezed gently, recapturing her attention. Blue eyes meet white lenses, and she furrows her brow.

"Okay, that's fine!" She sighs. "Can't say I'm not disappointed, but if one of your kiddos is looking for help instead, I'm still more than hap—"

"Not one of mine," Batman gently interrupts. "This is a...very delicate case, Harley."

"What's delicate mean in this context, Batsy?" She asks. "Delicate like schizophrenic? Delicate like CPTSD? Delicate like one wrong word away from explodin' and killin' everybody in a mile radius?"

"Delicate," he says, "like...this might hit too close to home for you."

"Me?"

Batman nods. Harley hums, equal parts curious and cautious.

"Any good psychologist worth her salt won't let a personal connection get in the way of providin' aid," she tells him. "If the patient isn't somebody I can help myself, I'll help ya find someone who can. When can I meet 'em?"

--

Your file lies scattered across the floor of the cave. Harley stares wide-eyed at your picture while she trembles on her hands and knees. Bruce, having changed out of his suit, kneels beside her with a steadying hand on her back.

"Oh," she whispers, "Brucie, she's so small for her age. And her age!! Sh-she's..."

Harley shakes her head. Bruce continues rubbing small circles in her back. When she leans against him for support, he holds her upright.

"How'd he keep a kid hidden for eight years?" She whispers, voice thick. "I know I fucked off to go play Happy Family with Ivy, but..."

"Nobody knew," he says. "Harleen, don't play the blame game, not for this. He kept her a secret for a reason; no one was supposed to know."

Harley lifts her hands to her face, rubbing her eyes before any tears can well up and fall. She takes deep, calming breaths, gathering her focus, then carefully collects the papers and stands with his help. She draws a pad and pen out of her pocket.

"I ain't promising anything," she says, looking up at Bruce. "This is...this is a whole different ball game, 'specially with that chucklefuck as the daddy. But I'm gonna try, okay?"

He nods. "Take your time. You were the first person I thought of, but don't force this if it's too much."

Harley gently squeezes his hand in acknowledgement. She walks past him and down the hall towards the containment cells, heels clicking quietly against the floor. She dug out her old coat with the name tag pinned to it and even threw her hair back in a low braid to appear as non-threatening as possible. The closer she gets to your door, the more the wonders if you would've been more comfortable if she showed up in her combat getup and mallet.

"Miss Punchline?" She calls, stopping in front of your cell. A cursory glance of your environment tells her immediately that you're under-stimulated. She writes that down. "I'm Doctor Quinzel. Do ya mind if I come in and chat with you a while?"

You cease all movement. You'd been sitting with your back to the door, gently stroking the head of the teddy bear Alfred gave you while muttering Mistress Mary's nursery rhyme, but when you hear her, you practically turn into a statue. Unless she actively stares at your back, Harley can't even see you draw breath.

"Miss Punchline?" She repeats calmly. "I won't come in if you don't want, but I'd really like to talk to you."

"...Popsy talks about you, sometimes," you say. Harley can't decipher your tone, but the words make her feel cold all over. "Says he used to miss his favorite gal."

"I'm sure he's mentioned me once or twice," she says, clearing her throat. "But I'm old news. Why don't you tell me about yourself? I'm gonna punch in the door code now, okay?"

You don't move. Harley unlocks your cell and walks inside, getting a better look at how sparsely decorated it is. The bed is clearly unused and half of the activities left here would cause an ordinary child to lose interest in about an hour without company. Overall, Bruce and his family are keeping you in a dreary room. If she accomplishes nothing else today, it's a guarantee that she's gonna get you better accommodations.

Harley walks around the room until she can see you face-to-face. Once she's in your periphery, your eyes snap to her and follow her every movement like a predator. She lowers herself to the ground, taking a seat a few feet away from you.

"There you are," she says kindly. Your smile is just as placid as the one in your photo. "I like ya make-up. The swirly pattern on your cheeks is very cute."

You don't respond, though your smile widens briefly. Highly receptive to praise. Your eyes don't leave hers, scanning, assessing, calculating. Harley doesn't feel like you're about to attack her, but you're clearly juggling something around in your mind.

"Bet you're thinking about mine," she continues. "Normally I like puttin' on the face paint, but sometimes my pores gotta breathe, you know? Well — the pores I got left." She glances down at her hands, paper white like the rest of her body from her dip in a vat of acid. With relief, Harley notes that your unpainted skin is a healthy color. Even though the bar's lower than Hell, it's nice to know that at least the Joker didn't immediately treat you to a dunk of your own.

"Punchline, I'm gonna be frank with you," she says.

"Nice to meetcha, Frank," you chirp, grinning mischievously. Harley lifts a brow.

"That was funny," she praises. "I know your, eh, Popsy, he places a lot of value on bein' funny. Used to say nothin' was worth the effort if it didn't amuse him at the end of the day. I'm sure you know that already."

"A giggle a day keeps the boredom away!" You say, pitch and cadence matching that of your father's. Harley knows that the grip on her pen is too tight. She breathes deep and forces herself to relax. "Ohh, hit a nerve, Frank?"

"I'm doin' just fine," she says. "What's boredom look like for you and Popsy?"

You separate your hands, fingers splayed wide, and make explosion noises.

"Do you get caught up in that explosion?"

Your smile doesn't change but your eyes get sharp. Harley makes a note.

"It's hard keepin' him entertained all day, every day," she says. "I would know. But I'm gonna tell ya somethin' your popsy probably never has."

Harley scoots a tad closer to you, reaching her hand out and gently taking one of yours. She can feel every bone in your hand and has to utilize all of her training to school her expression.

"It's not your job to make yer popsy happy. In fact, it's not your job to make any adult happy. Grown-ups shouldn't rely on their children for emotional regulation."

"Couldn't rely on you, either, could be?" You snicker. "Since you ran away."

"I left him because he was treatin' me like dirt," Harley says, a little more firm than necessary. "He's real good at drawin' you in, Punchline. Shows you an ounce of praise that makes you feel invincible, makes you wanna do anything he asks to get more of it."

Harley lets go of your hand to tuck a lock of emerald green hair behind your right ear, brushing gently against the shell. The edges are distorted, flatter than your left.

"He's also real good at draggin' you through the mud, makin' you feel like everything's your fault. Like you got no choice but to make it up t'him. Ya never wanna get on his bad side cause he really makes you feel it."

You tilt your head away from her hand, eyes dropping back down to the teddy bear Alfred gave you. You resume petting it, slightly faster and rougher than before. Harley makes a note.

"His anger's always more powerful than his joy, Punchline," she says, "but both of them are destructive. I wanna help ya break away from his cycle."

"No thanks," you say, "if I wanted to be a washed-up, third-rate party clown, I would!"

Harley feels a wave of pity for you. It's obvious you're just regurgitating your father's words back at her, and she's not surprised. Change doesn't happen overnight, especially not for you.

There's so much work to do, but Harley's not afraid. You may look and behave similarly to the Joker, but you're young and still impressionable and already starting to pull away from him without even realizing it.

"I can tell yer getting upset, and that's the last thing I want," she says, climbing to her feet, "so I think this is a good stopping point for today. But I'd really like to see you again. Would you be alright with that?"

You blow a raspberry at her, then cackle. Harley exhales sharply through her nose, giving you a fond smile, and pats your head as she steps past you and opens the cell door.

She can do this. She will do this. For you.

But, first thing's first.

"Brucie, you're kidding me with the furnishings! How's the richest man on the planet gonna put a kid in such a shitty room!? Don't look at me like that, mister. You brought me in t'do a job and I'm gonna do it right!!"

[beguilingcorpse]

weaponry in the locked tomb is so interesting because when you break it down it's like:

guns exist in-universe but are used by the freedom fighter terrorist organization almost exclusively

swords are (were?) commonplace enough that gideon was able to find and train with a decently well-balanced two-hander on the ninth, despite the fact that the ninth has no military force or even interplanetary traffic. gideon's sword is at least 20 years old, probably older

swords are definitely still in use within the empire, at least by cavaliers, but likely within the cohort as a whole. to my memory there are no mentions of cohort members carrying military-issue guns

even though they're trained in a variety of weapons and techniques, cavaliers (are supposed to) carry exclusively rapiers. gideon prefers her two-hander and cam carries twin shortswords, but these seem to be rare and shocking exceptions to the standard.

rapiers are used by cavaliers explicitly for the purpose of lyctorhood. they're light enough that a scrawny necromancer without swordfighting experience can pick it up and rely on their cav's training without needing to build the muscle to wield the sword effectively

because of the secretive nature of the megatheorem, and lyctorhood as a whole, most people just follow the rapier rule because it's tradition. it is what is done. harrow makes this pretty clear at the beginning of gtn

cavaliers can carry a variety of offhand weapons. it seems like the full spectrum of middle age weaponry is possible - but still, no guns. not even secretly, as with cam's dual blades. some cavs choose to carry material for their necromancers as their offhand - ortus carries a bowl of bones for harrow, and i can only assume "the powder" mentioned as harrow's choice for gideon's offhand towards the beginning of gtn is some kind of bone dust

from a doylist perspective, all of this creates a aesthetic that starts very analog and gothic and gradually grows into a more standard sci-fi space opera through the series. by ntn, we've hit most of the established genre weaponry tropes that we've come to expect from older futuristic space media like star wars and alien. blasters and guns are standard fare, and it makes sense to hold off on introducing them until the scope of the story gets broader and more interplanetary

from a watsonian perspective, it's a little more difficult to draw concrete conclusions without the context that atn will inevitably provide. but if i had to hedge a guess, i'd say that, as with most things, It's All John Gaius's Fault. when he resurrected the galaxy i'd assume that he wanted to keep the aesthetics of medieval imperialism, and given his 21st century liberalism probably didn't want guns to be part of the equation. but they were anyways - we know this because wake carries a big one - and instead of standardizing firearms within his military and for his lyctors, he clings to the aesthetics of swordplay. please correct me if i'm remembering it wrong, but to my knowledge every gun shown in the series is either directly linked to boe or implied to be sourced from them. jod dooms his own lyctors and military by refusing to update their weaponry.

all of this poses a lot of questions about atn: who will carry a gun, and why? where did the gun come from? why DON'T the lyctors just use firearms? and most importantly: will they be fighting zombies with swords???