#but instead im writing this....

[vincess-princess]

we, the psychos

ch. 9

Word count: 2103 Warnings: - A\N: a day late, but the update is here! i figured tommy hasn't been in a spotlight for a while so this is all his pov

The laughter only stopped when they loaded Tommy with a double dose of laudanum. He slept like dead through the night, without his usual nightmares. Which would be nice were waking up not extremely miserable afterwards.

It took a lot of effort just to open his eyes. The grey light from the window, though rather dim, hurt to look at. Tommy’s vision was blurry, and his body felt like a puppet with cut strings, like it stuck to the mattress and had to be scraped off with a switchblade.

The switchblade came in the face of Duff carrying a fabric bundle.

“Well, good morning, my merry man,” he said cheerfully, placing the bundle at Tommy’s feet. “See your fit’s over. That’s good.”

“But at what cost,” Tommy croaked, pushing himself up on the bed. His head immediately reacted to the movement by exploding with such pain Tommy dropped back onto the bed with a groan. “I never want to take this medicine ever again.”

“Unfortunately, that’s the only thing that works,” Duff shrugged. “C’mon, don’t be a baby. I’ve got something for you.”

He unfolded the bundle, which, as Tommy feared, turned out to be a hospital robe.

“One of the laundresses got it tailored to your height.”

“No-o,” Tommy moaned, turned over to the wall and covered his head with his pillow. “I’m not putting that on.”

“Yes, you are.” Duff’s tone didn’t change a note. “You’re not special.”

“If I weren’t special I wouldn’t have an, um, ‘fancy’ ward,” Tommy mumbled. And also would have been punished for the fight.

“Well, beside that.” Duff didn’t relent. “Listen, you’re not having lunch until you put this on.”

“It’s lunchtime already?” For some reason Tommy thought it was morning. Though the grey skies looked the same at any time of day. “Why haven’t you woken me up for breakfast?”

“We couldn’t. You slept like a corpse. Dr. Duren told us to let you rest.”

Special princess, Wharton’s voice said in his head. Though if he truly was a special princess, he wouldn’t be forced to wear the hospital robe.

“Can I see the doctor?” Tommy asked.

“Now?” Duff frowned. “He’s seeing other patients, not sure if he can spare time for you before lunch… What do you want from him?”

“I wanna ask him something.”

“Alright, I’ll go check. Maybe he’ll fit you in somewhere. But you aren’t going anywhere until you put on the robe!”

“You are a horrible, horrible person,” Tommy said.

“I just treat all the patients equally.” Duff looked offended. “This is a public asylum, there are people of all walks of life here. And, regardless of their past, they deserve equal treatment. You included. C’mon, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

“You will burn in hell,” Tommy promised, sitting up on the bed. The fabric was rough and thick. God, it would hang off him like a potato sack.

“For treating everyone equally? I doubt it,” Duff huffed. Tommy managed to annoy him.

“This is just stupid,” Tommy complained, slowly undressing. He hoped Duff would get the hint and turn away, but the nurse kept watching him indifferently. “If people are to be treated equally, they would be born equal. But they’re not. Hey, could you not look at least?”

“No,” Duff disappointed him again. “What if you decide to pull something while I look away?”

“What, is that an impression you have of me? That I’m capable of something like that?”

“I haven’t formed it yet. But I do already know that you’re a spoiled whiny baby.”

“Hey!”

“The longer you dress, the fewer the chance Dr. Duren will see you.”

“Ugh.”

Tommy slowly unbuttoned his shirt, carefully folded it and lay it on the bed. His trousers soon followed suit. He needed to change underwear, but with Duff looking… no, he’d better do it at night.

Tommy was right about the robe. It did hang off him like a potato sack. The person it was tailored for was way wider in the shoulders and the hips, and the shoulder seams went like halfway down Tommy’s sleeves. The trousers separated into pant legs somewhere a bit above the knee. It was the worst outfit Tommy saw in his life.

“Not bad,” Duff said when he was done.

“Not bad? Not bad?!” Tommy almost screamed. “This is an atrocity! A crime against humanity! A horror beyond comprehe-“

“Save all that vocabulary of yours for Dr. Duren.” Duff rubbed his temples tiredly. “Now let’s go, I need to escort you to other patients. I’ll see about Dr. Duren and come back with the results.”

Dread washed over Tommy. Other patients were going to see him in this. Yes, they wore the same clothes, but they fit them. Psychos of their status weren’t supposed to look good. Tommy might be a psycho too, but he was different.

“Tommy.” Duff was calm, but there was something in his tone that made Tommy swallow all the objections he was going to unleash.

“Coming,” he could only say as he shuffled out of the ward after Duff.

***

“Oh, Tommy! How you doin’?” Mick greeted him warmly. “Your fit had us all scared. Is that a common thing?”

Oh, right, the laughing fit in the canteen. Lamenting the loss of his dignity, Tommy almost forgot about it.

“Depends,” he shrugged. “A couple times a week. And always at the least appropriate of times.”

“Yeah, that sure was not a good time to laugh,” Mick agreed. “But all that matters is that it’s over. And you’ve got new clothes, I see. How does it feel to be one of plebeians?”

“Horrible,” Tommy grumbled. “I’d rather kill myself than wear this.”

“Nah, it’s not worth it. You’ll get used to it.” Mick patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s go rake some leaves, or Simmons is gonna get big mad.”

They weren’t given proper rakes, of course. Instead they got shovels with blunt edges. These could still serve as a weapon, only with a little bit of effort, but the next step would be raking the leaves with hands so that was the best option.

“Do we have to…” Tommy grimaced, holding the shovel with two fingers like it was something disgusting. He just stepped in mud, and his boots – the last of his normal clothes – now looked just as awful as the robe. Tommy’s mood tanked completely.

“At least pretend you’re doing something,” Mick said, slowly moving the shovel back and forth. It didn’t gather a lot of leaves and was largely useless, but it did look like Mick was working. But Tommy felt offended by the entire concept. Why does he, a nobleman, have to work like a servant out in the cold, standing in mud? Did he not deserve some privileges? His father was a sponsor, after all!

Tommy stood upright and threw the shovel on the ground.

“I am not doing anything.”

Mick rolled his eyes. “You do you. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Tommy found a drier place under a tree and sat down there, observing other patients work. Nurses watched them on the other end of the garden and didn’t notice his impunity at first. But only at first.

Then one of the three nurses on site spotted him. He walked up to Tommy and squatted in front of him. He didn’t look angry or irritated, but there was something behind his indifference… something that said “don’t fuck with me”. And he badly needed a haircut. No wonder half the hospital was wearing long hair – the nurses couldn’t even provide an example.

“Tired?” the nurse said, tilting his head, a mocking glint in his eyes – or was Tommy imagining things?

“I’m not going to do this.” Tommy waved at the patients working.

“And why is that?”

“Because that shouldn’t be patients’ work. Hire a gardener or something.”

“With pleasure - if you provide the funds.” The corner of the nurse’s mouth curved ever so slightly.

“I’m not the one you should be asking.”

“Well, then you are not the one to make such requests. Grab a shovel and go.”

“No.”

The nurse sighed. “I don’t remember you: you must be new. What’s your name?”

“Tommy.”

“Alright, Tommy. Listen. You’ve got two choices now: to pick up the shovel and work, or to have a talk with nurse Simmons. You know nurse Simmons, don’t you?”

Tommy nodded.

“Then you know he’d not exactly the right person to bring your work complaints to. To him, the nurse is always right and the patient is always wrong. And he doesn’t like when patients are wrong.”

“Are you threatening me or what?”

“I am not threatening you. I’m just telling you of possible outcomes. The one to threat you would be nurse Simmons. So are you working or do I call him?”

“Call whoever you want. I’m not doing unpaid labor.”

The nurse smiled, and it was even more unnerving than his resting face. “As you wish.”

He rose from the ground and strolled to the other side of the garden. For a bit Tommy considered hiding in a nearby bush – there would be no scolding if they couldn’t find him – but then shamed himself for it. He was not afraid of some nurse. Even nurse Simmons.

He swiftly changed his mind when the man approached him. He was approximately the same height as Tommy, which – did that asylum collect tall people or something? Tommy couldn’t even use his height advantage here.

Simmons, lips pressed into a thin line, arms crossed, towered over Tommy. The nurse that called him stood a bit farther, clearly lingering to enjoy the show.

“Thomas Lee, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Stradlin here said you don’t wanna work.”

Aha, the nurse’s name was Stradlin then. “Work for free,” Tommy corrected him.

Simmons raised his eyebrows. “Sorry? You suppose we should pay you?”

“I suppose you should pay a gardener and not force patients to do his work.”

“Well,” Simmons smiled unpleasantly, “we’ll consider it. Now get your ass up and work.” He picked up Tommy’s shovel and handed it to him, then pulled on his sleeve with such force he almost lifted Tommy from the ground. To his surprise, the rough robe fabric withstood the test with honor.

“Hey! Don’t touch me!” Tommy yanked the sleeve out of Simmons’s hand. “I wish to talk to Dr. Duren, and until I do that I am not doing anything.”

Simmons gave him a long, apprehensive look, and then, to Tommy’s surprise, nodded slowly.

“Very well. Cannot deny a patient access to his doctor. Come with me.”

Tommy blinked in surprise. Did this really work? Were all Stradlin’s promises a lie?

Without looking back Simmons headed down the path to the asylum. Tommy almost ran to catch up to him.

“But Du- Michael said Dr. Duren’s schedule was all busy.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll find some time for such an important patient,” Simmons said without looking at Tommy.

Well, that was an approach Tommy could work with. And what was Duff talking about then? Just wasting his time?

Tommy turned around to see Stradlin stand back there, following them with his eyes. And smiling.

They entered the building, and Simmons led Tommy down some corridor that he hadn’t been in yet. As they walked farther from the entrance and the canteen, Tommy grew nervous. Wasn’t Dr. Duren’s office on the second floor? They had already passed the only stairs he knew about. Maybe in the back of the building there was another?

Then Simmons stopped in front of a door. Metal, with a small barred window at eye level, it didn’t look like it could lead to Dr. Duren’s office at all – more like a yet another ward.

“This is Dr. Duren’s office?”

“Waiting room,” Simmons said, unlocking the door. “The door to the office is inside.”

He opened the door, but Tommy couldn’t see what was there from behind Simmons’s wide back.

“Then why is it dark there?”

“Because we don’t waste oil on scum like you,” Simmons grinned, suddenly very unfriendly, grabbed Tommy’s forearm and pushed him inside, into the darkness. When Tommy, panicking, grasped at the doorframe, Simmons slammed his fingers with his fist so painfully Tommy cried out and fell to the soft floor, clutching his hurt hand to his chest. The door behind him closed, and he was now in complete darkness, save for a small square of light coming from the hall through the barred window.

Behind the door Simmons was laughing. “The doctor will see you soon,” he said, and then he was gone.

[secretmellowblog]

Feeling normal about Javert and Eponine today

[riminiscensce]

Poor Ajaw bro😭

He will definitely go to you to snitch on Kinich, and while at it, he’ll throw in some make-believe stories that makes Kinich sound like a horrible person.

“Kinich said he’ll feed me to the saurian mountain king!”

“Kinich was going to throw me at the desert!”

“Kinich wanted to sell me to criminals!”

The only thing that makes his claim believable to you is how he was cutely trying to wipe his tears with his tiny, pixelated hands.

And one more thing to make you believe him even more:

“I-I just wanted to hang out with him, I had no one to play with and I thought that m-maybe we could’ve spent some time together as friends…”

That was an obvious lie, he would never say that.

But it works well enough to persuade you to talk some senses into Kinich.

The saurian hunter doesn’t even know what happened when you came barging into his place telling him to apologize to Ajaw, and you weren’t at all pleased to see him.

Then Kinich finds out Ajaw lied about him.

“I didn’t do anything he said—“

“Are you saying Ajaw is a liar?”

“Yes,”

“Hey!” Ajaw growled, but quickly clearing his throat to get back into his act. “I mean—It really happened!”

Then Ajaw decided to pull off one of his secret moves to persuade you:

“D-Don’t you trust me?” The dragon frowns, dots of tears still in the corner of his eyes while clutching onto your clothes like a little kid. “I-It was so scary…! I keep getting nightmares about it and—“

Then he continues to sob on your shoulder, saying how he can’t even bring himself to tell the full story at how terrified he is.

He felt an immense wave of success when you start to comfort him.

When you weren’t looking, Ajaw would sneak a glance at Kinich, quietly laughing at how helpless he has gotten.

And Kinich felt intensely mocked by it.

But before he could do anything else, you left with Ajaw, telling him that he’ll stay with you until Kinich can bring himself to apologize.

As the hunter continues to watch you baby Ajaw from afar, the dragon would always grab any chances he gets to rub it in Kinich’s face.

It was sweet revenge.

[ckret2]

So y'all know the Gravity Falls production bible that leaked three weeks ago. Someone in one of my discord servers pointed this out:

And, naturally, that spawned an entire AU.

AU Concept: Ford was kicked out instead of Stan and takes a job as a trucker to makes ends meet since he couldn't go to college, while still studying the weird and anomalous however he can.

Ford driving around from quirky small town to quirky small town, drifting through the liminal spaces of truck stops, meeting odd people in isolated diners, seeing strange things out on the road—a deer with too many eyes bounding across a two-lane highway, a flirty woman at a rest stop who doesn't blink or breathe, mysterious lights in the sky at night, inhuman growls on the CB or 50-year-old broadcasts on the radio—and taking notes when he stops for gas or food.

Aside from having gotten kicked out before graduating high school, Ford's the same person he is in canon.

He's still an ambitious guy, and here "ambitious" means working hard and saving as much money as he can—so, a long haul owner-operator who spends weeks at a time on the road. (He goes through a LOT of educational audiobooks.) Plus, this is the easiest way for him to get to travel the country; and since it looks like his "travel the world" dreams with Stan are dead, he'll take what he can get.

Since he's never in the same spot long and carries his life in a truck, almost all of Ford's research is in his journal. His bag of investigation supplies has an instant camera, a portable tape recorder, a thermometer, a flashlight, rubber gloves, and a few zip lock bags—and that's about it. It has to share space with all his clothes, toiletries, and nonperishable food when he's on the road. He doesn't have much opportunity to closely examine anything odd he finds, unless he's lucky enough to run into something when he can stop for the night. He has to cram his paranormal research around the side of his full-time job.

He doesn't live in Gravity Falls, but he knows it exists. Every time he moves—to Chicago, to Nebraska, to California—he seems to inch closer. He currently lives in Portland and usually hauls loads between the Pacific Northwest and Chicago or New York. He stops at the truck stop outside Gravity Falls when he can and has gone fishing in town a few times. He doesn't have the benefit of extensive research to know that this is the weirdest town in the world; but it seems pretty weird to him, there are local rumors about the town, and he's had some weird experiences in the area.

Plus, he can't explain it, but it's like the town's calling to him. He wants to move there, but it'd put him over an hour outside of Portland where the nearest jobs are. Maybe if somebody chucked him like $100k to build a cabin in the woods; but what are the odds of that?

He does know Fiddleford. Truck broke down somewhere and Fiddleford kindly pulled over to fix it on the fly. They looked at each other, had mutual knee-jerk "dumb trucker/hillbilly" reactions, and within ten minutes both went "oh wait you're the most brilliant genius i've ever met." Fiddleford's living the same life he was in canon before Ford called him to Gravity Falls—with his family in California, trying to start a computer company out of his garage—but they make friends and keep in contact.

One time Ford stops at a kitschy roadside knickknack store that also sells new agey magic things—crystals, tarot cards, incense, etc. He bought a "lucky" rearview mirror ornament that looks like an Eye of Providence in a top hat and hung it from his cab fan, and ever since then he's had weird dreams whenever he sleeps in his truck.

Things I don't know yet: what Stan's up to; or why Ford's the one who got kicked out. I tend to believe that in canon Stan wasn't just kicked out because he ruined Ford's college prospects, but rather because the family thought he deliberately sabotaged Ford; so in this AU, Ford would've been kicked out over a proportionate crime.

[mysicklove]

boys who love overstimulation live in my head rent-free. because who can really like something like that? it hurts so badly, and it makes their mind go terrifyingly blank, so why do they not use their safeword? why do they let you torture them so?

closing their eyes and letting out the most broken and pathetic sobs with every second to pass by. they cant do anything, just have to sit there and take it while their tip throbs and tears flood their eyes. sobbing out, "too much! its-stop it! im sensitive!!" while you kiss their cheek and force their thighs open.

the boys who like the way they feel powerless under you. they cant fight back against the overstimulation, their mercy belongs to you completely. there mind goes blank during this time, only focused on your movements and the pain. in the back of their heads they can hear the lewd squelching noise of the cum dripping down their shafts mixed with your cruel movements. the way their body jerks when you reach the head repeatedly and their wrists tighten against the sheets to bare the pain.

but the whole time they are looking at you with most lovesick eyes. some smiling at you while tears running down their face, while others plead for you to give them a break. either way, the next time you touch them, they are begging you for more after they orgasmed.

izuku, kyojuro, denki, keigo, reo, armin, douma, eren, tengen, bachira, isagi, zenitsu

[x-amount-of-posts]

I NEEEEEEED Kurt shippers. or just Kurt insane people to know that the german word for tail is also german slang for penis

"You like my tail dont you" said in german ("Du magst meinen schwanz, oder?") will be read as "you like my dick dont you" by a german

this isnt to discourage people from using the word Schwanz, the oposite, i want people to write Kurt saying that because he WOULD

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 4 - (Leather or) Latex

Soap x F!Reader - 2.5k (on ao3)

summary: Johnny doesn't tell you about an allergy of his until he's already got you writhing and needy beneath him. (Reader POV)

cw: dubcon, reader & soap are drunk but not so drunk they can't consent (but alcohol is mentioned throughout the drabble)

You giggle against Johnny’s lips as he pushes his hand up your shirt, big calloused palm running over your stomach and wrapping around your hip. You return the favor, letting your fingers creep under the neckline of his wife beater and running over the dips of his muscles. 

You knew he was buff – could see it clear as day, even before he flexed his arms and winked at you from across the bar, the cocky ass – but feeling him beneath your fingertips, feeling the way his muscle moves as he runs his hands over your body has your thighs squeezing together and your heartbeat racing.

Most of the journey from the taxi he’d hailed to your apartment door is a blur, just you and Johnny stumbling into and around each other as you try to keep your lips locked for as long as possible, hardly willing to separate for even a breath.

You’ve always been a bit of a needy (see: horny) drunk, but the heat coursing through you feels like a whole new level of lust. You feel warm all over, the gusset of your panties already sticking uncomfortably between your thighs when you haven’t even really gotten past first base. 

If you’d had one less drink, or one more friend at the bar looking out for you, you know you wouldn’t have risked taking Johnny home to your apartment the same night you met him. But you’re delighted that sober-you had taken a few risks so that drunk-you can reap the rewards via a very sexy Scotsman.

“Fuck, lass,” he grunts in one of the few moments you have to pull away for breath. “Cannae think with ye pressed against me like tha’.”

“Like this?” You purr, practically pinning him to the wall of the elevator and rubbing yourself against him like a cat in heat. You’d be embarrassed if you couldn’t feel his obvious approval pressing against your stomach.

“Yes,” he hisses, groping your ass with both hands. He’s got you tugged out of the elevator and moving down the hallway before you even realize you’re on the right floor, nipping your neck lightly as he waits for you to find the right door.

“C’mon, c’mon, hurry up,” he urges, groping you through your short dress and nearly making you flash the empty hallway. 

You giggle, pressing your ass against him as you finally manage to stop fumbling long enough to get the key in the lock and shove the door open, both of you stumbling through. 

He’s got you pressed against the door as soon as it closes, your thighs locked around his hips and your dress rucked up around your stomach. You’re panting into his mouth as your teeth clash against his, writhing as much as you can against the bulge pressed to your core.

“Bedroom,” you urge, hands twisted in the front of his shirt. He pulls back with one last bite to your lips, mirroring the smile on your face. He’s already flushed, pink high on his cheekbones and pupils blown wide. Your grin turns shy, some semblance of awareness returning now that you’re finally home. 

“Where?” He asks, voice so low that it’s almost all growl. You surge forward enough to press more kisses to his mouth, closed mouth despite the way he tries to worm his tongue between your lips.

“First door on the right,” you say against his cheek, arching to rub your pussy against him, combing your fingers through his sweat-damp mohawk. 

He doesn’t put you down when he pulls away from the door, and the display of strength nearly makes you melt against him. You wrap your arms tight around his neck, sucking hickies into his throat as he quickly strides towards your room. The natural movement of his body keeps you lightly grinding against him, just enough stimulation to keep your head foggy with alcohol and lust.

You bounce lightly when he drops you on the bed, your laugh cut off when he quickly follows and drops his weight over you. 

“Johnny!” You cry, wrapping your arms over his shoulders and pulling him close. “You’re heavy.”

He laughs along with you, pressing hard kisses against your lips. “‘M too big for ye, bonnie, ‘s tha’ it?”

You let your look turn seductive, eyes half-lidded as you drag your nails over his back. “Not sure about that, handsome. We’ll have to wait and see, hm?”

His moan is downright pornographic, hips jerking against your stomach and biceps on either side of your head bulging. “Oh, I’m plenty big, lass. I’ll fill you up just fine, ‘nd then some.”

You hum, pressing slow kisses across his cheekbones. “I’m hearing a lot of talk so far.” You press yourself up against him, dress hiked up high enough to reveal your white panties, the gusset nearly translucent from your arousal. “You sure you can back it up?”

Your taunt works almost too well, Johnny’s narrowing before he’s shoving your dress up and over your head, leaving you in your matching bra and panties. He moans as he throws your dress to the side, diving straight into your chest and kissing your tits through the lace of your bra.

You run your hands through his mohawk, scratching along his scalp in encouragement as you press your knees to his ribs. The second he starts dipping his head further down your body you grab his tank top, yanking the hem of it until he looks up at you from where he’d been kissing your stomach.

“No more foreplay,” you whine, tugging his top until he gets the hint and tugs it off. “Just want you to fuck me.”

He smirks against your belly, big hands rubbing up over your hips and waist. “Yeah? Needy thing.”

You cock an eyebrow, dropping one leg to rub your knee against the tent in his jeans. You don’t bother saying anything, letting yourself smirk when he moans and drops his head onto your plush skin. 

“Alright, alright,” he pants, and you feel a flush of pride when his hands are trembling just a bit as he unbuckles his belt, discarding it without care and pushing his jeans off just as quickly. 

You can’t help but moan when his cock bounced up to press against his stomach, red and hard and so clearly aching. You want him in your mouth almost as badly as you want him in your cunt.

“Ye’re good for the ego, hen,” Johnny teases, lifting himself enough to press against your stomach, showing the both of you just how deep he’ll sink inside of you.

“Shit,” you whisper, writhing beneath him. “God, you better be able to last.”

He barks a laugh, twisting one of your nipples in playful retaliation. “Ye gonna have yer way with me?”

You hum, wrapping one hand around his cock and biting your lip. “Hope you can go a few rounds, baby.”

“Don’t worry,” he purrs, and you find yourself suddenly flipped around, resting on top of him, pressed stomach to stomach. “I’ll keep you busy for hours, lass.”

You giggle, pushing up with your hands on his chest, squeezing the muscle there and arching your back to present your tits for him. Your ass rests against his cock, the warm length of him pressed against your panties. 

“Condom?” You ask, tugging your underwear to the side so you can fully press yourself against him. His hands are hot on your hips, fingertips pressed into the fat of your ass so he can guide you into grinding against him.

He furrows his brows, moves you a little more quickly over him. “No,” he says simply, pushing himself more firmly against him. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You frown now, placing one hand on his chest to hold yourself steady and looking down at him. “No? What do you mean no? We need to use a condom.”

He sighs, exasperated, and jerks his hips up against you. You gasp when the head of his cock nearly slips into your slick hole, your body jolting up and away on instinct. “Wait, wait, Johnny, condom!”

His sigh is verging on pissy now. “Ye really telling me ye don’t want me to come inside of ye? Don’t want my come dripping out of ye, a treat to remember me by?”

The thought makes you shudder, but there’s enough rationality left in your head for you to scooch forward enough that his cock isn’t pressed quite so directly against you. “Johnn, seriously, we need to use protection.”

His eyes narrow, clearer now than they have been since he hailed the cab nearly an hour ago, and you find yourself flipped back onto your back without any warning. 

“I cannae use one,” he says, eyes trained on your tits as he speaks. “Latex allergy.”

Your eyes narrow, sobering more quickly now. “What are you talking about–”

He ducks his head to your chest before you can finish your sentence, locking his lips around one pert nipple and sucking. You gasp, arching up further into his hold as words slip away from you.

“J-Johnny,” you try, yanking on his hair when he won’t listen. He pulls off a moment later, but only just long enough to start yanking your bra over your head. “Seriously, we need to use protection–”

You’re cut off again, grunting your displeasure this time when he flips you easily to your stomach. You huff, pushing yourself up on your hands and glaring over your shoulder.

“I already told ye,” he insists, pressing kisses over your shoulders and slipping his cock between your folds, your underwear tugged to the side enough to leave you revealed to him. “I cannae use them. Ye want to fuck, or ye wanna take a trip to the ER when my cock stops working halfway through?”

You hesitate, all of your instincts telling you to say a resounding no and kick this jackass out of your apartment, but well… you’re more worked up then you’ve been in months, and he’s already gotten this far. It’s not like you don’t take birth control, either.

The decision is taken out of your hands when you feel the plush head of his cock notch against your hole, then a stretch that has any hope of denial yanked right from your chest. You go a little blind as he steadily fills you, breath hitching and fingers gripping desperately to your sheets.

“Tha’s it,” Johnny moans above you, hips jerking just once and making you squeal. “Fuckin’ take it.”

“Johnny,” you moan, eyes squeezed shut. “C-condom.”

He growls above you, bullies himself to the hilt and huffs when you yelp. “Already said no, lass. Besides,” he says as he pulls out nearly the whole way, his voice breathy. “It’s too late now.”

He sets a steady but relentless pace, hips smacking against your ass as he fucks you relentlessly. You have no hope of quieting your moans, reduced to nothing but animal desire. 

“Fuck, ye feel so good, bonnie,” he moans above you, sinking his teeth into the side of your neck until you reach back and tug his hair, forcing him away. “Gonnae fuck ye full, yeah?”

“Johnny, Johnny,” you cry, pressing back against each of his thrusts as much as you can, mindless with your pleasure.

“What?” He pants, smacking your ass once and driving another moan from you. “What’re ye bitchin’ about now?”

“Feels so good,” you manage, worming one hand beneath your body so you can rub as best you can at your clit. “Gonna- gonna come.”

“Yeah, yes, come on my fuckin’ cock,” he groans, voice rough. His thrusts are deep and harsh, penetrating you so quickly that you can hardly keep your fingers steady enough to get yourself off. “Yer squeezin’ me so well.”

“Gonna come, gonna come,” you chant, clit hot and slick beneath your fingertips. You feel like you’re hardly breathing as you finally find the perfect rhythm, your pace matching Johnny’s as he tries to rearrange your guts.

You melt into nothing but a puddle as you finally manage to find your peak, ears ringing and every part of you buzzing as you go limp underneath Johnny.

“Fuck, fuck,” he pants above you, losing what little rhythm he had. “God, hen, yer so– shit, gonna come inside ye, gonna fill ye up.”

You whine, some distant part of you upset with that, but you can’t bring yourself to complain, God forbid trying to stop him. Johnny presses bites across your shoulders as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm, the bruising pain only dragging out your own euphoria.

You’re so wrapped up in your own pleasure that you hardly realize when he comes, only distantly aware of the way he collapses over you. 

You bask in your orgasm for as long as you can, tolerating the sweaty man giving you nearly all his weight since he comes with a cock for you to clench down on as your body floats through the aftershocks.

Eventually, your discomfort with Johnny on top of you becomes too much to tolerate and you shift uncomfortably, grumbling. “Get off,” you moan, trying to buck him off and failing terribly.

He complies easily enough though, rolling off of you but keeping you held tight to his front. His cock slips out of you a moment later and you wince at the feeling of spunk dripping between your thighs.

You wriggle out of his arms a few minutes later, groaning when he holds tight. “Johnny, let go.”

“No,” he pouts, wrapping his arms tight around your chest and burying his face in your neck. “What happened to a few rounds?”

You groan, throwing your weight away from him and hardly managing to move an inch. “Unless you want to give me a UTI, I’ve gotta go to the bathroom.”

He moans, sounding a bit like a kicked dog, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Don’t wanna let ye go.”

You hate the way your heart warms at that and only just manage to keep from smiling. “I’ll be right back, Johnny. Promise.”

He props himself up on an elbow to look down at you, eyes narrowed as he studies your expression. “Fine,” he finally decides, flopping away from you and down onto his back. “But hurry.”

You can’t help but laugh as you head to the bathroom, affection keeping you from any lingering grumpiness. You do your business quickly and discard what’s left of your clothes, finding yourself eager to finally get a true taste of more than just Johnny’s mouth.

He’s propped himself up against your headboard when you step back into the room, cock already chubbing up against his thigh at the sight of your naked body. You can’t help but smirk, feeling sexy under his hungry gaze.

“Now,” you say, sauntering towards the bed and letting your hips sway. “How about a few more rounds?”

He’s already grinning as you climb onto the bed, hands reaching for your body as you settle over his thighs. “Oh, bonnie,” he says, lips cherry red from your kisses. “Ye and I have a long night ahead of us.”

[choccy-milky]

seb's 2 modes around clora 🥰👿

[bluerosefox]

In Luminous Green Glow.

Another TaliaxDanny idea

So we knows those AU where Danny pops out the Lazarus Pits and meets like Damian or Jason.

What if, due to time travel shenanigans or even dimensional reasons Danny pops out of the Lazarus Pits when he was investigating it (maybe he's CW apprentice and helping keeping the Zone in check) and while looking he suddenly gets a sword put to his neck and a voice, a very very spine tingling smooth voice, saying

"Who are you. And how did you find this place."

Out the corner of his eye Danny could see a woman (or if time travel, teen! Talia) around his age and ooooh boy the Fenton 'I love a woman that just might kill me' genes are totally kicking into high gear.

[elsecrytt]

Satoru Gojo goes to the same cafe every day for his coffee-flavored confectionary beverage. You are the barista tasked with pumping his drink with the unreasonable assortment of syrup squeezes.

You don't blink at it. You've been in customer service forever. Everything is second nature to you. But you give him a look when you hand him a drink and he just starts going.

He likes to make small chat, you learn. About meaningless things - desserts, drinks, the weather - but he makes you laugh, and he laughs at your jokes, too. He's smiling every time you talk.

He's beautiful - in that way that makes you uncertain if he's really there - and friendly, and he seems a bit lonely, eager to converse.

Something tells you Satoru probably doesn't have a lot of close friends. He's rich, too, judging by the massive tips he leaves you.

The thing is, you do a lot of things on autopilot. It's just the way these things get after a while. Pouring drinks, "What would you like today?", "I'll have that out for you soon!", "Have a nice day!", all that stuff.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes. Wires get crossed.

He's picked up his drink to leave, giving you a cheeky smile and a little wave, and you tell him, without thinking twice:

"Love you, bye!"

Oh. Oh fucking hell -

"Love you too!"

[idyllcy]

God, I want Childhood Friend!Tim Drake

childhood friend!Tim whom your family trusts with your life for some twisted reason despite your protests about how he's more reckless than you

childhood friend!Tim who your friends all pester you about — well aware of the silly crush you've had on him since childhood

childhood friend!Tim who scared your family shitless when he revealed he dropped out of high school to search for his adoptive father

childhood friend!Tim who despite his status as drop out, your family still asks to have him over for dinner

childhood friend! Tim who has been at every single major event in your life whether in or out of his Robin mantle, flowers always in his arms as he greets you

childhood friend! Tim who has a file of photos of just you

childhood friend! Tim who happens to be... adding to that file at the moment

"Stop covering your face." He mumbles, fingers reaching to clasp around your wrist as you crane your neck to hide from his camera. "Please? Come on. You always look so pretty like this."

You only squirm in response.

"Come on." He whispers, pulling your wrist from your face as he's breathless from the way you look. "There you go. You're so pretty like this, birdie."

You try focusing on the way his camera clicks, but your eyes roll further back as he gives you a particularly harsh thrust — making you see stars. You trust that he wouldn't share the photos even if he was at death's door. You trust him with your life, but it doesn't mean you aren't embarrassed that he wants a photo of you like this so bad.

"Ah, Tim." You try, voice coming out in a whimper.

"Yes, birdie?"

"Close."

"That's right, birdie." A hand moves down to hold you down by the hip, speeding up. "Let me see that gorgeous look on your face when you cum."

You make him swear on his hard drive to never let the photo that he gets of you fucked out see the light of day. (not that he would've either way. only he gets to see you so vulnerable.)

[wasyago]

i imagine it's quite chilly in the black sea (for the lack of sun and color), so they're wearing slightly warmer clothes now uwu

+ thoughts

[sandushengshou]

to defeat monsters: become the greater monster | m.a.w

(requested by @highwarlockkareena for my 1 follower celebration)

[bottombaron]

oh ok so its the usual no-homo bullshit you always hear, good to know.

[stuckinapril]

I want to read books I want to write more I want to play the piano I want to sing in key I want to delve into fashion history I want to travel I want to publish research papers and I want to become a surgeon and I’m supposed to do all that in this one wild and beautiful life

[galactichoneybee92]

Not to sound like a boomer on main, because I love my phone- I do. But I really miss the day when I could hang out in public without having to hear everyone else's phones. I don't care if there are babies crying (because babies cry sometimes) or if other people are having conversations (because that's what people come to cafes and such to do) but hearing tinny little phone sounds blasting out loud out of their speakers drives me insane. I'm only in my 30's, why are you making me complain about how things were "back in my day" like I'm 80? Public phone noise is prematurely aging me. Send help.