#comfoter

[thirdeyeiris]

Betinho

[buckyalpine]

18+ Bucky loves your back rolls. They’re the perfect place for his hands when he hugs you. You’re so soft. So so fucking soft. He loves to cling onto you, kneading his hands into your warm, silky skin, his fingers working into the little curves of your back. He loves that he can grab onto you with fistfuls of your body to hold, his face buried into your neck while he savours your body.

He loves how they look in dresses. Especially backless ones. He finds evey little curve so sensual and intimate. It’s the first place his hands go to for comfort. He sneaks them up your shirt with grabby hands, while you coo and coddle him like the needy baby he is for you and it’s the best thing ever.

It’s his favourite thing to feel when he has you on your back, arms wrapped around your body, his hips snapping into you, plowing you into mattress. There’s nothing soft or sweet about the way his thick cock stretches you open, hitting that spot that makes you scream. Then he wraps you up and his hands fine purchase on those sweet rolls along your back and it makes him whine and whimper, gripping them so he can be extra close.

You’re just so soft. How was he allowed to touch something so soft. He’s so greedy, fat drops of precum leaking from his tip when he moves to sit up and have you seated on his cock. He gets to run his hands up and down to feel your velvety skin, fucking feral when he catches a glimpse on the mirror reflection. Your pretty back moves in gentle waves with each thrust of his hips and it’s not enough. He wants you to feel his cock in your soul, feel every bit of him, fucking you so hard, your body has no choice but to take it.

He wants those pretty rolls to move.

His eyes roll back momentarily before focusing again, grabbing and squeezing your flesh, feeling it ripple and tremor with each slam of his cock.

There it is. Gorgeous ripples matching the way his name falls from your lips. Soft. Pretty. So sweet.

He doesn’t stop until his balls are empty, cum dripping down the seam of his balls and onto the bed.

Now he gets to hug you and he’s not longer gripping and tugging. He runs his hands up and down, inhaling your sweet scent while tucking his face into your neck again, keeping you right wherever you belong. Right on his lap, filled with his cock and cum, keeping him all safe and warm. He paws at them with grabby hands, never getting tired of how they feel.

God, he loves your back rolls.

[olymphianblood]

give it up for video 4 of phil in the wad hat guys

[ccrisalright]

2 dollars

[starwarjotta]

so angst it is

[blackkatdraws]

Comfort aftermath after the accident 💗

ft. @deviousnarrator and @indigo-art Narrators :D

[fazgoo-connoiseur-1987]

thinking about... Bill in his 20s again..

[zillyhooveseternal]

additional sketches to my last post! his ass still can NOT sit straight!!!

[0o-junebug-o0]

It's A Beautiful Thing

summary: Emily struggles to come to terms with her sexuality and goes to Tara for help after a disastrous hookup

genre: hurt/comfort

cw: internalized homophobia, comp het (compulsory heterosexuality), implied/referenced sexual assault (NOTHING HAPPENS it's just assumed that it did), religious trauma, religious guilt, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortion, using sex as a coping mechanism, unhealthy relationships to sex, Jemily mentions, coming out, unrequited love (or at least it's believed to be)

wordcount: 1.9k

Emily sits on the corner of the bed and sighs as she pulls her pants back on. Her whole body feels wrong and she wants to leave. She looks over at the door to the ensuite bathroom and listens to the sound of the shower running. She shouldn’t leave while he’s still in the shower. That would be cruel. It’s not like he was bad or did anything she didn’t want, it just didn’t feel right. 

She picks her bra off the floor and looks around for the first time as she clasps it behind her back. The whole room is painfully male. She hates it. And she hates that she hates it. 

Emily closes her eyes and runs her fingers through her hair to detangle it as best as possible. Her chest feels tight and she leans forward, burying her face in her hands and tucking her head between her knees. The sound of the shower feels like it’s drilling into her skull and the smell of sex that surrounds her makes her feel sick.

She presses her hand over her mouth and chokes on a small sob. She needs to leave, she needs to get out of here. She lifts her head and takes a deep breath before picking up her shirt and pulling it over her head. She then grabs her purse from where she’d discarded it in the corner of the room and pulls out her phone. 

An idea strikes her and she slips her phone into her pocket before knocking on the bathroom door. “Jackson?” Emily calls out, keeping her voice steady with practiced ease despite feeling like she’s about to implode.

The water shuts off. “Yeah?” he calls back.

Emily squeezes her eyes shut for a moment before speaking. “I’m so sorry. I have to go. I just got a call from work.”

“Yeah, yeah, you should go,” Jackson says sounding surprisingly okay at the thought of her leaving. “Go kick some ass.”

Emily opens her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I will. I’ll call you,” she lies.

“Yeah! Yeah! Just lock the door on the way out, you can do it from the inside.” There’s silence for a moment before the shower turns back on. Almost immediately, Emily rushes out of the room and out of Jackson’s apartment, making sure to lock the door.

She takes the stairs instead of the elevator, unable to stand the thought of standing still for a moment longer than necessary. After five floors she makes it to the basement level parking lot and she thanks her past self for not drinking because her car is here and that means she can leave now. 

Emily unlocks her car and throws her purse into the passenger seat not caring that it immediately slides to the floor. She climbs inside and closes the door behind her before slamming the heels of her palms against the steering wheel. 

“Fuck!” she cries, curling her hands into her hair. She feels like she’s about to explode. Everything is so wrong and she doesn’t know how to fix it. Sex with Jackson was supposed to fix it but that just made it worse and now she feels gross and dirty through no fault of his. A strangled scream tears its way up her throat. Why does she have to be like this? Why can’t she just be normal? Why can’t she just have sex with men and enjoy it?

Tears pool in her eyes and Emily angrily swipes them away. She needs to leave, to get far away from this stupid apartment complex. She starts the car and it takes nearly all of her self-control not to tear out of the parking lot. She’s already distracted, adding speeding on top of that would be a recipe for disaster. She needs to talk to someone. She wants to talk to JJ but she won’t understand and Will and the boys will be there and she just can’t. 

Emily parks along the edge of the road and pulls out her phone, opening her texts with Tara. She stares at the screen for a moment before typing, “Can I come over?” and hitting send. Emily closes her eyes and tries to calm herself while she waits for Tara’s reply. Her hands squeeze a white-knuckled grip on her steering wheel and each breath rattles in her chest. 

Her phone buzzes in her hand and she looks down.

“Come on over.”

Emily shuts her phone off and drops it into the cup holder between the seats. She wipes away the tears that had managed to fall and, checking to see if the road is clear, does a U-turn and drives toward Tara’s house. 

The turmoil Emily is experiencing makes the drive feel simultaneously seconds and hours long. She turns onto Tara’s street and parks along the curb in front of her house. She leaves her purse in the car, only grabbing her phone and keys, before climbing out and walking up the steps to Tara’s front door, locking her car behind her.

The closer she gets to the door the more panicked and ashamed she feels and by the time she knocks, she’s barely holding it together. The door swings open and Tara takes in her appearance with wide eyes and clear concern. Emily opens her mouth to speak but all that comes out is a choked sob. Tara pulls her into a hug and Emily nearly collapses in her arms. 

They stand there for a while, Emily sobbing into Tara’s shoulder, as they stand on the threshold of her house. Eventually, Emily’s crying subsides and Tara leads her inside with a hand around her waist, closing the door behind them. Tara guides Emily into the living room and onto the couch, keeping her arm around her. 

Emily leans forward to rest her head in her hands and Tara pulls her hand away to brush Emily’s hair to the side and tug on the collar of her shirt. “Emily,” Tara says softly. “Did someone—”

Emily shakes her head, recognizing the voice Tara uses when speaking to victims and realizing that there must be a hickey on her neck. That combined with the state she’s in: it’s only natural Tara assumed something had happened. “No. It was–it was consensual. It just–“ Her voice breaks.

Tara doesn’t speak, waiting silently for Emily to continue. 

“It just felt wrong,” Emily whispers. She keeps her head bowed, too ashamed to look up at her friend. “How did you do it?” 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean,” Tara says kindly. 

Emily uncovers her face and sits back against the couch, chewing on one of her nails. The tightness in her chest is still there and she doesn’t know how to say it. She doesn’t know how to ask the question she so desperately needs to ask without sounding offensive.

“You can speak your mind, Emily,” Tara says. 

Emily chuckles. Thank God for profilers.

She pinches the bridge of her nose with her free hand. “How did you let yourself be with a woman?” she whispers. 

Tara is silent for a moment. “I don’t know how to answer that question.”

Emily sighs. “I think I’m gay.” She opens her eyes and looks over to Tara to gauge her reaction. She knows she’ll be fine with it, she has a girlfriend for Christ’s sake. But this is the first time Emily’s ever said those words out loud and she’s terrified. 

Tara nods and smiles softly at her but doesn’t speak and Emily knows she can tell that she hasn’t finished saying everything she needs to.

“I’ve tried so hard not to be,” Emily admits. “I’ve had boyfriends, I’ve had sex with men.” She lets out a pained laugh. “I’ve even gotten knocked up. Did you know that, Tara? When I was fifteen and living in Italy, I dated a boy I didn’t like because I wanted to fit in and stop thinking about a girl. And we had sex that I wanted but didn’t like and he got me pregnant. My friend helped me get an abortion. All that because I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that I liked a girl. And–and I’m doing the same thing now! I went to a bar and went home with this guy to have sex that I wanted but didn’t like, all because I want to stop thinking about a girl. Like maybe if I let enough men fuck me I’ll stop liking women. I–I know that’s not how that works and I know being gay isn’t something that needs to be fixed but I feel like I need to be.”

“Emily,” Tara says gently. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

Emily sighs. “I know that, Tara.”

“I know you know that, but I think you need to hear it. There is nothing wrong with you for liking women. I know it’s hard and it will take time but you are going to have to accept the fact that you’re gay. You can’t keep doing what you’ve been doing. It’s not healthy. And it’s not fair to yourself or to the men you’ve having sex with.”

Emily nods, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “I know it’s not. It’s just my whole life I’ve been thinking that maybe this guy, maybe this time it won’t feel wrong. Maybe this time I won’t feel gross and–and—“

She shakes her head, unsure of how to finish. 

“I know there won’t ever be a ‘this guy’ or a ‘this time’. It won’t ever feel right with a man. But that scares me, Tara. I don’t know why it scares me but it does.”

“Because it’s a scary thing. Realizing and accepting a part of yourself you tried to push away is scary and it’s hard. Especially if you’ve spent a good portion of your life hearing that that part of you was wrong like I suspect you have.”

Emily nods. “Catholic guilt,” she whispers.

“Catholic guilt,” Tara echos. “I don’t know if you still believe in God, Emily, but in case you need to hear it: you wouldn’t be gay if it wasn’t God’s intention. He made you exactly the way you’re supposed to be.”

A violent sob forces itself from Emily’s chest and she can feel her whole body shaking with the force of her crying as Tara pulls her against her chest. Emily doesn’t know if she believes in a God anymore either but knowing He doesn’t hate her fills her with relief.

Emily doesn’t know how long she and Tara stay like that, holding each other close as Tara runs her hands through her hair. But eventually, Emily’s sobs subside into sniffles. 

“It’s JJ, isn’t it?” Tara asks softly.

Emily stiffens and sits up. Tara’s hand falls into her lap. 

“What?”

“The woman you’re trying not to think about. It’s JJ, isn’t it?”

Emily opens and closes her mouth before slowly nodding. 

Tara looks across the room to a photo of her and her girlfriend. “It’s a beautiful thing, loving a woman. Don’t you think?” 

Tara looks back over to Emily, who is still looking at the photo. 

Eventually, Emily nods.

__________________

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@lover-of-books-and-tea

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[demiboydemon]

New pre-Calamity Zelink fic!

Summary: When Link gets injured fighting recklessly, it’s up to Zelda to help him. This help includes patching him up, and also telling him he’s grounded from getting hurt unnecessarily.

He doesn’t listen, but he does answer her question: Why is he always so reckless? Maybe his answer is more complicated than Zelda expects.

[nuppu-nuppu]

Ignore if you don’t want to read about me being stupid once again

[mrsoharaa]

sooo, steamy horror movie marathon night with Suguru orrrr Barou? either one would be yummy and kinda hilarious 👀👀

[lightning-system]

Universal

Riz has always loved griffins. It was a special interest of his since he was a kid- a small bean of a child. He’d always been obsessed with them, gathering and clinging to books, graphics, stuffed animals, and stickers depicting them.

-

Or: Riz meets Baxter.

[gootube]

[ilikewritingandspeedcore]

[taktitty]

I can’t believe that “The Only Exception” by paramore was released when Neil and Andrew were still in college... 

Losing it over the idea of them both hearing the song and thinking about one another while just NOT MENTIONING IT- holding together at the seams because no one can know they are SOFT