#i did little column a

[pinescrow]

Day twenty-three of #30dhs: 391/100

Hello gamers, I am struggling. I was gonna write the whole damn meet-cute but uhhh I barely could muster this. So uh... you get this.

Interested in doing the challenge with me? Check out this post here!

[fictionadventurer]

I think I underestimated how cool it is that Little House books are a "woman remembers her childhood" children's classic by an author from a working-class and rural background. Most working-class books of the genre have urban settings, and most rural girlhood classics come from a family that's in a fairly stable community--maybe not rich, but comfortable enough that they don't have to worry about whether they'll make it through a winter.

Laura Ingalls grew up dirt poor in a family that knew how to grow or build or hunt or make everything that they needed, because they had to. Yet when she grew up, she got into a position where she could publish about it. Which is pretty astounding, because people in her situation are usually too busy doing the farmwork to write about it--they don't have connections to the publishing industry. Yet she did, so we get to hear from someone who knows that farm and small-town setting intimately, and not because she grew up and and ran off to the city as soon as she could escape, but because she still lives it and loves it and advocates for it.

She knows the details of that life and loves it. Like, she genuinely cares about raising the chickens, not as a housewife's hobby, but as an important source of meat, eggs and money for the family. It's grounded, earthy, sensible, but also romantic, because she while she's doing farm work or house work she's noticing the little moments of beauty or thinking about the big issues of life. But it took a long series of coincidences to get this ordinary farm wife into a position of wanting to write, being able to write, and having a national audience for her writing, so I just want to appreciate how amazing it is that it happened.

[baticeer-sims]

Spending way too long moving my neighborhood tracking over from a spreadsheet (which I never kept updated anyways) to a database on Notion after I saw this youtube video explaining the idea and omg I love it, so organized and much more aesthetically pleasing

also wondering if it's truly possible I have 27 playable households in my hood now and omg, do I need to consolidate or townify some people bc that's so many 😅

[girlivealwaysbean]

.

[crychan]

I just had a breakthrough on my project while drinking, now my drunk ass is working at 11:00 PM

[nezuscribe]

there’s been a couple nights where you and arranged!gojo have had to host little dinners at the estate to show face and let people know you two are still alive.

it’s before the big confession, when the two of you were becoming closer, so it was just pretend niceness hiding the tension for a couple hours.

you tried to talk to the people around the large dining room table, sitting near gojo as you listened in on the conversation, but it was better to just be a part of it rather than the center of the spotlight. gojo had become increasingly aware of the long looks people gave your way, the hushed talks behind the women’s hands. you didn’t notice, maybe you’d been jaded to it, but he did, and he was becoming more tense under their stares.

he noticed how you’d try to jump in and say something, but was instantly cut off by somebody else. gojo had told you before the dinner started that the two of you should hold hands, but you hadn’t let go of his, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to let go of you either. he’d give you an encouraging squeeze, one which you gave him a little smile to, but still clammed up, sitting back in your seat.

"want me to tell them to shut up?" he whispered to you, dropping his head near your ear so that nobody else could hear.

"no it's okay," you say with a laugh, waving it off, "i was just going to ask what cashmere is," you say, in relation to a previous story one of the girls was telling about cashmere moth, and how her entire closet was chewed to bits because of the creatures.

"it's a type of fabric," he explains gently, his eyes searching yours, "very soft," he adds with a little smile and yours grows wider.

"i'd like to see it," you comment, leaning a little bit closer to him.

"i'll have your closets full of cashemere by the morning if you'd like," he says, but you know deep down it could be a promise if you simply said yes.

but you giggle, shaking your head.

"no," you're looking up at him in that way that makes his tongue feel heavy, "the moths, they must be huge," you murmur and he snorts, squeezing your hand a little bit tighter in retaliation.

to be honest, gojo hated these dinners. these people he grew up with were dull and annoying, their conversations full of lame gossip and cheap jokes, and he’d much prefer your lively stories with just you, but they were a necessary evil.

when the servants had cleared the meal away and had begun setting up for dessert, he could feel the stare of one of the girls, anya, and the way her eyes squinted when he caught her looking. he saw the way she sneakily tipped her head back, chin pointing to the opening near some of the stone columns, and excused herself a couple seconds later, looking over her shoulder at him before she disappeared.

gojo knew anya. he’d fooled around with her a couple of times long before the two of you got married, but he found her a bit shallow and dim, nothing he found interesting. he looked over at you to see if you had seen her, but you were looking at your plate, moving some grains of uneaten rice around with your fork.

curiosity got the better of him, wondering what it was she wanted, and so he stood up, his chair scraping behind him as you let go of his hand, you, along with everybody else, looking at him as he excused himself to the washroom.

he walked briskly past the table, leaving through one of the openings of the stone columns, looking around until he say anya at the end of the hall, waiting for him.

“what?” he bit out, hushed, looking behind him to make sure that nobody had followed him out.

anya smiled, her teeth glimmering as he neared her, standing a safe distance away as she pouted slightly.

gojo winced. he forgot how her smile up close was unnerving, the way it wasn’t as soft or full of emotion like yours. her eyes, a deep hazel, glimmered as she took a step closer, her fingers reaching for his collar.

“i missed you,” she whispered, lips glossy as she peered up at him, her lashes batting against her cheeks as he felt his mother dry up, feeling a sudden air of nausea overtake him as he swatted her hand away.

he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“is that all you wanted to tell me?” he hissed out, knowing how stupid he sounded seeing how he had followed her out, surely expecting this.

“what?” anya tilts her head, “thought you’d like to hear it.”

gojo rolls his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest.

“i thought you had something important to say,” he shrugs, looking away, focusing on a crack, getting ready to leave until she laughs, shaking her head.

nobody said he was the brightest soldier in all the land. he’s not above some actually good gossip, but he had a feeling this ain’t about to be that.

“you’ve always loved gossip,” her eyes glimmer as she takes another tentative step closer, “is that why you married the center of it?”

his eyes narrow slightly, but she just sees him listening to her.

“come on,” anya snorts, her hand coming up to his face until she stops at his cold gaze, pulling her hand away, “we all know it’s not rank or looks that made you marry her.”

gojo feels his arms tighten, a vein bulging in his neck as he swallows thickly. he doesn’t say anything, wants to see how she continues, wants to see what everybody else thinks without saying it.

"i mean, your mother keeps saying it was reciprocal," she rolls her eyes, laughing mirthlessly, "but i know that's a lie. you look miserable whenever you're around her."

gojo feels his eyes twitch, his ring shining in the slivers of moonlight through the large, overarching windows.

"did you call me here to talk ill of my wife?" gojo bites out, but she can't sense his tone, giggling as she shoves him, his body not moving.

"drop the theatrics 'toru," he feels bile in his mouth at her sweetened words, "it's just me," she says, biting her lips as indiscreetly as she can, eyes raking over his toned body as she looks back up to his face, "but regardless, no, i had something else i wanted to tell you."

she sighs, her voice a little higher as if he wouldn't notice.

"i'm staying at the hostelry in the town near here for a couple of nights," she bats her eyes again, and suddenly gojo wonders if he had been insanely ill when he had slept with her those months ago because now he feels sick just looking at her, "if you wanted...i'm there for you."

he raises his white brow slightly.

"gods anya," he breaths deeply through his nose, his eyes darkened, "you have audacity if nothing else."

she smiles brightly, taking it as a compliment.

"i know," she winks, "i looked around the area, and nobody of import comes near there. i know you need it as bad as i do," her voice drops a little, eyes falling slightly to the ground, "people are talking. i know how lonely you must feel."

his nose wrinkles slightly in confusion.

"what are you talking about?"

anya looks at him briefly before looking away, shrugging.

"everybody knows you two don't share a room," she explains, "and how she's not even showing signs of pregnancy. is she frigid in bed? you know, some people are saying she's infertile."

gojo straightens up, a new look taking over his face that makes her voice die down.

"what? who's saying that? who's talking?" he presses, and she feels her mouth dry up, suddenly picking up on the fact that he doesn't seem to be at all interested in the deal she's trying to make.

he feels a sudden wave of mixed emotions washing over him.

are the maids taking? gods, that makes him feel even worse. it surely couldn't be yours, they care for you too much. but it must've been somebody who knows your situation, somebody who sees the way you live on different sides of the estate. gojo feels a sinking pit in his stomach. these rumors that are growing because of his own selfish actions, rumors at your own expense, ones you have no control over, by people you've been trying to befriend for ages.

he knows people look at you whenever you enter a room, hears their awfully concealed whispers. and despite the fact that you try to hide the hurt on your face, he sees the way you avade their glances, hide into yourself to act like it doesn't bother you.

are these whispers now because of him?

"i don't know," she mutters, annoyed, "everyone. you barely look at her. did your parents pay you to marry her? she must've been-"

"stop it." gojo warns, and she shuts her mouth, eyes shimmering with shock.

she looks like she's about to say something but stops, looking over his looming body at something.

"gojo? is that you?" another voice calls out, and he turns around, all the anger melting off of his face when he sees it's you, standing near the pillars as you try to find him.

you smile when you see him, still not seeing anya who's hidden behind him, and wave for him to come back.

"they're about to serve dessert," you say, trying to be as quiet as you can, "oh, are you with someone? sorry, i didn't mean to interrupt..." you trail off, your smile falling when anya shuffles around, making sure you see her behind him, your eyes widening.

gojo feels his world slipping beneath him as your shoulder drops, looking at him and then at anya, a somber look taking over your features. you look for another second, not knowing what to do. gojo feels like a fish, gaping silently at you, never looking back at anya, but you excuse yourself, going back to the dining hall without saying another word.

gojo stares aimlessly at the wall in front of him, not sparing his energy to look at the girl peering up at his face.

"get out," he murmurs, his voice low with timber.

"w-what?" she stammers, brows furrowing in confusion.

"get out before i call the guards," he snaps, looking at her from the side of his eyes, "fucking now anya, leave."

she looks up at him, swallowing thickly, but gets the memo that he's being serious. she scammers away, sniffling dramatically as she disappears through another hallway.

he drops his head into his hands, massaging his temples.

his eyes fall to his ring, the one that seems to be growing cold on his finger.

he feels his heart burn in his chest, every step feeling like he had stones tied to his feet as he makes his way back to the hall, hearing the edited clammer of the people welcoming him back, but there was only one person he cared about.

and you weren't looking at him.

in fact, you didn't speak to him that entire night. nor that following week.

gojo has almost bled to death before and has had arrows pierce his back and exit through his chest, but he'd rather experience that ten times again than feel the agonizing silence of the woman he's starting to love.

(second part)

[sugucide]

two weeks.

it's been two weeks since kento has been inside of you. He's gone months, hell even years without sex before he met you and he was fine. he didn't even wish for it like most of his bachelor counterparts did.

but now that he's had a taste of you? two weeks may as well be a death sentence. which is ironic, giving the nature of this sex ban. everything you do is inviting: maybe it's just his underworked sex drive or maybe he's reverted back to his teenage years because he sure does feel like an impatient, entitled brat whenever you walk past him.

he can smell you. not the smell of your perfume you spritz on each morning. not the product in you hair. not the moisturiser you use. but you, the scent of your self, your body, the skin he's so often inhaled as he bit down between your thighs or up the column of your neck. he can smell the memories of sex, sweaty and tangled in pheromones and all things primal.

he can hear you. not your words or laughter or the way you hum absentmindedly when you're pottering around the house. he can hear that sharp little intake of breath when you accidentally, or not-so-accidentally, brush against him. he can hear that whining tinge to your voice when you tell him you won't sleep with him, that you're punishing him, as if its moreso a punishment for you than him. he can remember the way you'd moan for him, desperate and glassy eyed and oh so perfect for him as he ruins you from the inside out.

he can't take it anymore.

"two weeks is more than enough time for me to think about my actions," he tells you over dinner one night, eyes cast downwards at his plate. "...and to come up with a suitable apology."

you place your chopsticks down at his last words and look up at your husband. "oh? let's hear it then."

over the frames of his glasses, kento's eyes meet yours. "i apologise for worrying you and risking my life for my work."

you tap your fingers against the table. "and will you continue to do it?"

"yes," he admits. "it's my job, one that i do well. if i die doing it, i hope it's in place of someone who didn't sign up for it, like you."

kento reaches over the table and takes your hand. "i can't just stop being a sorcerer. that would be too selfish of me. but i do promise that i will make more of an effort to reduce my chances of getting hurt from now on: no more unnecessary risks. okay?"

though that was all you needed to hear from him, you start to wonder if lifting the sex ban was a good idea when your pent-up husband is swiping plates from the dinner table to make room for you to lay back on it. claiming he can't wait the few extra second to carry you to the bedroom, he has you stripped and laid bare on the dining room table in no time, and he's ready for his meal.

"missed her," he mumbles as he parts your legs with a strong hand and bends down to kiss once at your clit. that's about and gentlemanly as it gets, though, because soon after he's making out with your pussy like he's a virgin. no technique, no precision, nothing but unfiltered need and its so much hotter than you'd imagine it to be.

eyes locking onto yours from between your thighs, he adds two fingers and works you open. two weeks was a long time for the both of you, so he'll need to get you used to the stretch of him again. he scissors his fingers inside of you, curls them upwards to hit your g-spot and smirks like a saint when your back arches off the table in response.

"missed you ken," you ramble on as your climax nears. "missed you so much. hated doing this. love you. loveyouloveyou god i love you."

you cum hard, harder than you've cum in a long time and kento laps it up like he's never tasted anything so good. he savours your taste on his tongue like he would an aged wine, something expensive and delicious and worth keeping bottled. though he's harder than diamond and worried he'll cum in his pants if he doesn't sink inside of you soon. so he stands and undoes his belt in record time (with those lovely hands of his) and repositions you at the end of the table with his leaky cock already pressing against your wet entrance.

he leans over you and shares a kiss with you as he pushes in. he inhales the gasp you let out at the stretch and moans into your mouth as a gift in return. he pulls out almost entirely, so it's just his head nestled in your tight pussy, and then slams in again. hard.

"god kento—" you start, about to chide him for being so rough with you when you notice his face dip into your neck and the sudden warmth filling you from the inside. kento's hips stutter and he bites at the skin of your shoulder to muffle the heavy moans that ache to free themselves from his chest.

"did you just—"

"don't," he cuts you off, cock twitching inside of you with his release. he's plugging you up, keeping you full of him and his cum. "give me a minute and i'll fuck you so stupid that you forget that just happened."

"you just—"

"don't laugh."

"im not laughing! it's just, you know like our first time..."

"shut up." kento's hips pull away and then slam back into yours as he starts a brutal pace with you.

that shuts you up good.

[volfoss]

the only good part about reading green arrow vol 2 is the insane amount of times that they get letters being like hey. dinah is being completely reduced to ollies gf and that is IT (and a lot of other well written points). and every single time the letter is responded to with well shes getting her own miniseries (and once its out, just pointing them towards that) or that shes getting her OWN four part storyline (which is one of the following: 1. how jealous she is of the woman who also wanted ollie. OR 2. how she and the cop shes on a date with have to fight people during the date except she does nothing and ollie saves the day). like every single time they do not even remotely acknowledge that gasp. mike grell may in fact have some misogyny issues. and just go ummm no actually there are WOMEN in our comic theres no problem here ^-^

[foolishmortal]

I want to remind people that it isn't just the shooter's actions that made Anthem reverse their anesthesia coverage decision.

It was people like YOU calling into the government offices of Connecticut, New York, and Missouri and telling those governors that you would not stand for it. and those governors working for their people to tell Anthem NO. and it was the decision of those few states that prevented Anthem from rolling this decision out to more of us.

granted, the Anthem story would probably have run as a tiny column with very little notice if it weren't for the midtown shooter. It was the shooter story that led the news to run other stories they had with similar ties, which brought the Anthem news to our attention.

but as South Korea has shown us, ordinary citizens working collectively together to hold power to account, delivers results. All of you are the ones that forced Anthem to reverse their decision. and that is something I'll remember as privatized healthcare continues to try and wring us for profit. thank you for all you did. One person can make a statement. Together all of us make lasting change.

[landoom]

How does drivers call each other based on Grill the Grid

Drivers calling each other GTG

So, I did a little analysis on how the drivers are referring to each other in the last Grill the Grid video!!

You need to read the line to see how that driver is calling the ones in the columns.

Some conclusions :

Lando and Lewis are mostly referenced by their names as his Zhou but that's a specific case.

Checo and Danny have nicknames

Charles went all out on the name/surname combo

Max, Logan, Alex and Estie loves calling the others by their names only

Lando uses surnames unless your his friend, (ex)teammate or Lewis

Oscar uses surnames unless your Max, Lando, Logan or Zhou

George says Lance but Lance says Russell

Nico called George "Georgie" (while saying he has feminine lips...so what you want with that!)

There are many more things to read into this... In a more serious way or with shipping glasses.

You can see the table better with the link, if you want!

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

Tintin Tarot - A Fool's Journey, Part One. A collaboration with @josephscoat who knows a lot about tarot and other spiritual and cultural topics. They're a very talented writer too, so go check them out!

They first pointed out how perfectly the Fool tarot card mapped onto Tintin himself, and it led to me illustrating the Major Arcana as Tintin characters. I'm surprised Moulinsart hasn't released an official Tintin tarot deck yet, though knowing them if they did they'd probably just reuse existing art...

I wanted this set to reference the Rider-Waite tarot deck, as it's iconic! I tried to keep as much symbolism from this deck as possible, while incorperating a lot of appropriate Tintin references. It was important to us that none of these felt like a stretch, so we tried our best to find the best fit for each card, including the card's reverse meaning!

The Fool - New beginnings, taking risks, embarking on a new adventure, independence and blind faith. He even has a little white dog. Of course Tintin is the Fool! The yellow tights indicate he moves forward with self confidence, even if forwards means off a ledge. He carries a white flower, symbolising purity.

The Magician - Manifestation, creation, resourcefulness and inspired action. Calculus's inventions behind him are a nod to each element - the shark submarine represents water, the moon rocket represents fire, the sound weapon represents air and the white roses he creates for Castafiore represent earth! On the table we have Didi's sword, a bottle of Loch Lommond whiskey, a pentacle and King Ottokar's sceptre. This card is my favourite!

The High Priestess - Mystery, intuition and the subconcious mind. Madame Yamilah was the obvious pick, being canonically psychic! I incorperated the curtains from the theatre she performs at, as well as the columns Haddock knocks over, now in black and white to represent light and dark.

The Empress - Motherhood, protection, femininity. There aren't many parents in the Tintin universe, probably by design. Mrs Wang came to mind. I used phoenix motifs in her headress as in Chinese culture they are symbols of femininity, and are distinct from the fiery immortal birds from Greek mythology.

The Emperor - Fatherhood, authority, structure, control. Mr Wang runs a crime fighting organisation and is Didi and Chang's stern father. Dragon motifs represent masculinity, and I referenced ancient Chinese armour as a symbol of protection.

The Hierophant - Tradition, conformity. The Prince of the Sun sticks closely to ancient laws and traditions, but like the card's reverse, is open to new approaches, such as when he takes in Zorrino. I gave him some elements of the priest's clothing to symbolise the Prince's role as a religious leader.

The Lovers - Partnerships, duality and unity! Despite being identical, the Thomsons aren't related. They in fact come from different countries - one is from France and the other is from Switzerland. Me and my friend confirmed this fact at the Herge museum in Belgium! The card's reverse meaning, disharmony and loss of balance, is also very much in line with the Thomsons. I included the internet famous Gay Lions in the background!

The Chariot - Direction. Control. Willpower. These are the perfect descriptors for Arturo Benedetto Giovanni Giuseppe Pietro Arcangelo Alfredo Cartoffoli, the Italian driver that helps out Tintin and Haddock in the Calculus Affair. He may have only appeared for a few pages, and I may be the only person to get this reference, but he is a perfect fit. He drives.

Strength - Compassion, bravery, endurance. Not only has Chang demonstrated these qualities in Tintin in Tibet, he's had to endure a lot of hardship throughout his life, being orphaned, swept up in a flood and watching his home get torn apart by imperial forces. He still comes out the other side patient and compassionate, being one of the few people to recognise a form of humanity in the Yeti, and possibly being the one to change Tintin's entire political journey! Chang is draped with juniper berries.

The Hermit - Laszlo Carreidas is a lonely and isolated millionnaire who goes through a huge personality change. Being drugged with a truth serum makes him more honest and open. His base personality before his development fits with the card's reverse - isolation and a loss of direction.

Wheel of Fortune - Alcazar and Tapioca's conflict is an endless cycle of war for political control. The Wheel of Fortune represents cycles and inevitable fate. Reversed, it represents a lack of control - both Alcazar and Tapioca cycle between having absolute power and no power at all. I dressed Tapioca as Anubis as a nod to the original card!

Justice - I picked Miarka to represent Justice as she and her community are wrongfully accused of crime due to being profiled. Instead of a sword she weilds the golden pair of scissors she is accused of stealing, and the gemstone representing a third eye is the Castafiore emerald. The owl, a symbol of wisdom, and the magpie from the Castafiore Emerald sit beside her.

[fictionadventurer]

"It looked like a good day for setting fence posts, and my mother said so while taking the biscuits from the oven. 'Some morning early, when I can get away, I want you to come with me along the edge of the hill in the wood-lot," she continued. "When the shadows of the trees begin to come down the slope, as the sun rises you feel the turning of the earth. You feel the whole globe under your feet rolling into the sunlight. . . . That's something I found one morning when I was driving the calves to pasture. I've been saving it up for you. I wonder if you've seen a more beautiful dawn in any of the places you've been.'

On my fingers I count the dawns I have seen--memorable, just in being dawns. Sleepy-eyed dawn from the Paris markets after a night of dancing; mist dawn against which I was just to late to see the minarets of Constantinople--all the fault of the stupid stewardess who didn't wake me in time; one startling moment of color on the hills around the Dead Sea before they went colorless in merciless heat; sudden dawn like a clap of light over the freezing-cold Syrian desert. Four dawns in twenty years. No, I do not know dawns as my mother does."

-- Rose Wilder Lane, "A Place in the Country" (1925)

[niennanir]

Listen to your elders

So last week I posted abut the importance of downloading your fic. And then three days later AO3 went down for 24 hours. No one was more weirded out by this than I was. But while y’all were acting like the library at Alexandria was on fire I was reading my download fic and editing chapter eight of Buck, Rogers, and the 21st Century. And also thinking about what I could do to be helpful when the crisis was actually over.

So first off, I’m going to repeat that if you’re going to bookmark a fic, you really need to also download the fic and back it up in a safe place. I just do it automatically now and it’s a good habit to get into.

But let’s talk about some other scenarios. Last October I lost power for over a week after hurricane Ian. Apart from not having internet or A/C I did find plenty to do, I collect books so I had plenty to read, but maybe, unlike me, your favorite comfort reads aren’t sitting on a bookshelf. So let’s do something about that, shall we?

In olden times many long years ago around 1995 we printed off a lot of fic. It was mostly SOP to print a fic you planned to reread and stick it in a three ring binder. And that’s totally valid today too, but you can also make a very nice paperback with a minimum amount of skill and materials.

Let’s start with the download; Go to Ao3 and select your fic, we’ll be working with one of mine. This method works best with one shots, long fic tends to need a more complicated approach. Get yourself an HTML download

Open up the HTML download and select all then copy paste into any word processor. Set the page to landscape and two columns, then change the font to something you find easy to read, this is your book, no judgement. This is all you have to do for layout but I like to play a little bit. I move all the meta, summary, notes to the end and pick out a fun font for the title: 

No time like the present to do a quick proofread. Congratulations, you’ve just created your first typeset. On to the fun part.

Now you’re going to need some materials:  8.5x11in paper ruler one sheet of 12x12 medium card stock (60-80lb) scissors pencil pen or fine tip marker sheet of wax paper white glue two binder clips 2 heavy books or 1 brick butter knife

You’ll also need a printer, if you’re in the US there is almost a 100% chance your local library has a printer you can use if you don’t have your own. None of these materials are expensive and you can literally use cheap copy paper and Elmers glue.

Print your text block, one page per side. Fold the first page in half so that the blank side is inside and the printed side out:

use the butter knife to crease the edge. Repeat on all the sheets. When you’ve finished, stack them up with the raw edge on the left and the folded edge on the right. I used standard copy paper, because you’re only printing on one side there’s no bleed to worry about. Take the text block and line everything up. Use the binder clips to hold the raw edge in place.

Wrap the text block in the wax paper so that the raw edge and binder clips are facing out. I’m going to use my home built book press but you don’t need one, a brick or a couple of books or anything else heavy will work fine.

Once the text block is anchored down, take off he binder clips and get out the glue.

You can use a brush but you don’t need one, smear some glue on that raw edge.

Go make a margarita, watch The Mandalorian, call your mother. Don’t come back for at least an hour

In an hour smear some more glue on there and shift your brick forward so that the whole book is covered. This keeps the paper from warping. While glue part 2 is drying we’ll do the cover. Get out your 12x12 cardstock

Mark the cardstock off at 8.5 inches and cut it. Measure in 5.5 inches from the left and put in a score line with the butter knife (the back edge not the sharp edge)

Carefully fold the score line, this is your front cover. You have some options for the cover title, you can use a cutting machine like a cricut if you have one, you can print out a title on the computer and use carbon paper to transfer the text to the cardstock. I was in a mood so I just freehanded that beoch. Pencil first then in pen.

Take your text block out from under your brick. Line it up against the score mark and mark the second score on the other side of the spine

Fold the score and glue the textblock into the cover at the spine. Once the glue dries up mark the back cover with the pencil and then trim the back cover to fit with your scissors.

Voila:

I’m going to put this baby on the shelf next to the Silmarillion.

The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour.

If you want to make a book of a longer fic, I recommend Renegade Publishing, they have a ton of resources for fan-binders. 

[exopelagic]

maybe straight boy might have a maybe girlfriend. 18 dead 34 injured

[fushiguho]

✰ finally domming toji & he’s a brat about it… at first!

cw fem! reader, dom! reader, light bondage, premature orgasm, a little cum feeding :/

“you’re a mean little thing.” toji grouses between little pants of incredulity as you push him in his chest, forcing his bare back against the silken sheets. “c’monnn, this isn’t you. what happened to my sweet girl?���

“jesus, do you ever stop talking?” you bite, throwing a leg over his burly hips, straddling him. “should’ve gagged you.”

he sucks his teeth, scoffing. “doll, i don’t think that’s necessary.”

you huff an agitated breath. “then shut up. you promised to let me have this.”

tonight, your boyfriend has finally, finally given you the chance to call the shots… or try to, rather. however, he’s having a hard time letting go, relinquishing his inborn desire to assume power. it’s rare to see him like this, beneath you. still, he’s grasping at straws, hanging on to any fleeting shred of power that he can muster as you begin to tie his wrists.

nervously, you fumble with the thick piece of rope that you hold in your hands. a sleazy little grin kisses his beautifully scarred lips. toji almost can’t help but to laugh as you attempt to bind his wrists to the wooden headboard. something between a wince of pain and a groan of pleasure leaves him as you pull through the final loop, finishing your double column tie.

he groans. “a little tighter, yeah?” it’s hardly a joke, but he pulls at his restraints roughly, wrists aching.

you pout, dropping your head to the right in feigned concern and you can hear the breath that catches in his throat. toji, far too stubborn to admit, loves you like this, bad. it took a lot to get here—days of begging, bribery, orgasms. he’d only be kidding himself if he said this isn’t turning him into such a… whore. after all, how could he say no to his pretty girl?

something warm and dangerous twitches against your inner thigh. the sweet tune you hum as you trail an idle finger down, down, down his heaving chest makes his hips rut beneath you, a fruitless attempt at finding release. a guttural sound is parting his lips when you take one of his hardening nipples between your thumb and index.

“you know, i could get out if i wanted.” it’s breathless, a wicked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “you did a good job…” he pauses, gaze flickering up to observe his bounded wrists before tugging at his restraints, “but this won’t hold me, pretty girl.”

you scoot down a bit, revealing the pretty, achy bulge that rests so angrily between his strapping thighs. briefly, his eyes meet yours, the subtle furrow in his brows making your core tighten with need. a slow, teasing finger skims the stubble beneath his waistband. his stomach caves, sinking in his ever growing arousal.

“you know, maybe i should gag you.” you finally reply after some thought. the notion lingers on your conscious as you drop your head, kissing him through his underwear. “you’re insufferable when you’re not in charge.”

toji can’t help the near feral buck of his hips, an ensuing growl dragging from his mouth. he can feel himself losing his fucking mind as you drag a warm palm over his clothed cock. a violent shudder rattles his body, an unintentional gasp pulling his jaw slack.

“baby, it h-hurts… c’mon now, you’re being mean.”

“take your cock out then.” you challenge, backing away slightly to watch as he struggles. “show me you what it is you want.”

scoffing, he rolls his eyes, looking like the grumpiest of bears as he ruts his hips helplessly, desperately attempting to wriggle out of his underwear with his hands tied above his head. you smile, a pretty little giggle leaving your lips. watching toji struggle to find relief makes a warm, electrifying heat pool between your thighs. how the fuck could he ever deny you of this?

“fuuuck! i can’t!” it’s merely a high-pitched whine as he huffs frustrated little breaths through his flaring nostrils. “help me! you tied me t-too tight, i can’t do it.” he’s whimpering now, chest heaving in time with the mindless jerk of his hips. “baby, i need you to take it out for me. p-please okay?”

never. you have never seen him like this and you’re not sure how there was a time that existed before. a raw moan of relief is belting from his lungs when you finally slip a hand down his tightening briefs. your fingers brush over the twitching length of his erection, collecting the syrupy precum that adorns the head of his weeping cock.

with your other hand, you’re tugging his underwear down and his head is deliriously nodding back to rest against his pillow. your fist wraps around the base of his cock, squeeeezing. the messy tip drools, rivulets of pretty, pearlescent arousal drip, drip, dripping down his throbbing shaft.

“god, j-just put it in your mouth. don’t be like that… why are you being liked this, huh?” instinctively he tugs at his bindings, attempting to reach out for you but finds that he can’t.

he is so fucking desperate for it, yet he can hardly stomach the thought that it’s him begging like a slut to feel your tongue on the head of his cock. god and he’s just pitifully unaware of how he’s fully whining—the usual bass of his tone lost in the pathetic quaver of his crackling voice, reaching an octave so high that it shocks even you.

still, you shake your head, a bewitching smile gracing your lips. instead, you’re shifting lower, lolling out your tongue as you peer at him through batting lashes. toji’s breath hitches as you drool down the length of his cock. a longggg string of saliva tethers your bottom lip to his cock head as you start to stroke him from the base.

toji’s mouth gapes, yet nothing of coherence is uttered. he babbles mindlessly, those dark, drunken eyes stupidly following the hand that works at his cock, utterly enthralled by the subtle twist of your wrist as you near the weeping head. he curses to himself, needy hips still attempting to buck underneath your weight.

with your legs on either side of his body, you keep him grounded as you pump up and down his angry shaft. your warm, wet lips are trailing along his tightening abdomen. the poor boy writhes beneath your touch, his body reacting in a way you didn’t know was possible—his spine bows, hips bucking almost carnally as his stomach caves, arousal swirling deeep in his core.

“please.” it’s merely a breath as you nip the soft skin behind the shell his ear, soothingly dragging your tongue along the forming bruise. “will you kiss me at least?”

you peck the corner of his gaped mouth once, pulling away before he can even register your fleeting lips. toji turns his head, chasing your teasing lips and you smile, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock which pulls the filthiest little groan from him.

he pouts, thick brows furrowing slightly. “you’re being mean.”

“oh, you poor babyyy.” his cock jerks against the palm of your hand at your sweet, condescending tone. “maybe i should keep you like this forever, hm? actually think i prefer this.”

“mmh—why? you like torturin’ me?”

you nod, bringing a hand up to his pretty, contorting face. he can hardly help the subconscious part of his mouth as you tap your fingers against his bottom lip. like an obedient boy, he’s swallowing around the digits with a satisfactory gurgle of unwitting pleasure. curiously, your fingers creep farther down his throat, the tips brushing the very back of his wet tongue.

saliva drips from the corners of his mouth and he gags once, his sable, lust-ridden eyes welling with thick tears. the smile that mars your face is sick, but it’s pulling a loud moan from the depths of his chest. another helpless sound leaves him when your hand tightens around his weeping cock.

“god, i’m so close.” toji gasps around the digits in his mouth, peering down at his furious cock and your jerking hand. his jaw is falling slack, head dizzily slumping to one side. “f… fuck, it feels so good—your hand feels s’gooood. g-gonna cum, can’t h-help myself. you are just sooo pretty like this, baby.”

“yeah? you gonna cum for me already?” the coy tilt of your head makes his stomach sink. a victorious smile cracks along your face. “hardly touched you.”

toji nods dumbly, breath hitching. his hips stutter pathetically, rocking against the agonizing jerk of your fist. the most beautiful sound leaves him, something like a whimpering gasp, his heaving breaths shuddered and choked. it’s loud and shameless and like nothing you’ve ever heard. several, long ropes of pearly white cum follows, coating the expanse of his chest and abdomen like it was meant to.

it’s perfect. everything about this image is perfect. toji looks so pretty drenched and heaving in his own arousal. you watch as his warm, sticky seed trickles down his perspiring skin. you almost can’t help the curious fingers that are dragging along his pectorals, collecting the mess.

“don’t.” is all he mutters as you creep the cum-soaked digits toward his lips.

you smile sweetly. “open.”

and with a dramatic roll of his eyes, he does. he takes your fingers into his warm mouth with a deep, guttural groan, sucking on them until nothing remains. a triumphant smile graces your lips as you push them further, forcing a proper gag from the depths of his throat.

“okay! okay, you’re doing too much, doll… untie me now.” he grouses, drool pooling against his tongue.

you hum in contemplation, tracing mindless shapes against his skin. “and if i don’t?”

“if you don’t and i get out on my own,” he pauses, lifting his head slightly to take in this beautiful sketch of you before smiling something sinister. “you’re gonna fucking regret it.”

it’s a threat and you know it is, so why does it make your core tighten with a need you’ve never known? why does it make your mind race at the possibility of punishment? discipline? it’s merely a warning, yet your cunt aches at the thought of him escaping, it makes your body burn with a fire the begs to be doused and it’s toji who must do it, so you challenge him.

“then why don’t you get out and make me regret it.”

[unintentionalseductress]

Razor's Caress

Warnings: MDNI, depilation, piv sex, oral (fem receiving), creampie A/n: Just felt kinky and needed to write Zayne. Also, it is my firm belief that Zayne is a clit kisser after he performs oral. Hope everyone's New Year is going well and that the pull gods have been generous to you in the latest banner!

You giggle as Zayne’s large hands wander over your body, softly squeezing your curves as he nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your skin. His tongue traces a warm line up the column of your throat and a contented sigh leaves your lips as you cling to him. Zayne takes his time, always keeping his touches light and teasing as he samples and savors every inch of your body that falls prey to his mouth. 

As he starts slipping his smooth hands under your top, cupping your breasts, you can feel desire pouring into your veins as you take in his appearance; those mesmerizing eyes that were starting to darken at the periphery, his hot breath as it tickled your ear, and the unmistakable hardening bulge that was pressing against your thigh. Longing falls heavily on your senses but you hesitate, remembering that this little rendezvous wasn’t planned, and as such, you were completely and utterly unprepared down there. 

It never failed to surprise you, how quickly the bush grew back like it was being treated with an extra strength hair growth formula, the coarse locks covering your mound and creeping onto your thighs. With a sigh, you knew you wouldn’t go any further tonight. You fully intended to make it up to him tomorrow, once you could groom down there and look presentable. Part of you knows that body hair is natural and you shouldn’t be fussing over it so much but considering this was a new relationship, you simply weren’t confident enough yet to bare yourself in your native state. It was the beginning of a relationship that was starting to solidify, and you wanted to stretch it out a little longer. After all, keeping the area free of hair was something that you did for yourself; it made you feel confident and well-kempt. 

You place a hand on Zayne’s shoulder to grab his attention and he gazes at you, fire in his amber-green eyes. It almost makes you want to forget your hesitancy but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to do it. “Yes?” Zayne’s voice is a low growl as he waits for you to speak.

You clear your throat before speaking. “I-I’m sorry but, I don’t think we can go further tonight.” The disappointment is subtle but it makes your heart clench as you see it in his face, the slight droop in his mouth, and the change of warmth in his eyes. He sighs, then composing himself, rolls off you and you feel the loss keenly. You knew he could be balls deep inside you and if you said stop he’d pull out immediately, and you ached because right now you wanted just that; to feel his tongue all over you, to have his hot, velvety, flesh invade the part of you that throbbed and radiated with heat. But you remember what you looked like down there and try to curb your impulses. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, reaching out to stroke his shoulder.

“Don’t be. It’s all right.” Zayne cups your cheek and strokes it tenderly, and it almost breaks your already paper-thin resolve. “Was I going too fast?”

“No. It was perfect.” You lean over and card your fingers through his silky hair, leaning towards him till your foreheads touch. “And believe me, you have no idea how much I want to.”

“Then why stop?” Zayne presses a kiss to the tip of your nose and you almost groan in frustration. 

“It’s…it’s just a thing I have to deal with.”

“What sort of thing?” Zayne pulls away to look at you and you feel yourself blushing under his gaze. How could you possibly tell him the reason?

“It’s kind of personal. I just need to take care of it before we can do anything.”

Zayne’s eyebrows knit together in puzzlement. “You know you can tell me whatever it is right?” There’s a pause and you look away, feeling strangely shallow about your reasoning for not wanting to have sex tonight. You shake your head.

“It’s nothing. Can we let it go?”

Observing the flustered way you’re avoiding him, Zayne frowns. “Are you sure you’re all right?” Embarrassment creeps into your being and you turn to hide your face in your pillow and hear Zayne make a noise of amusement. He lays down beside, you, reassuringly patting your head. “You can tell me if you want to. No pressure. But I can’t see your face now.”

His words carry a light, teasing tone making you feel like you’re about to combust spontaneously. You feel him continue to pat your head and finally give in and admit the reason. Your voice is muffled by the pillow as you say it.

“I haven’t shaved.” 

A moment of silence follows your words before Zayne lets out a huff. “Is that all?” His tone sounds relieved. “I thought I did something.”

“No! It’s not you at all.” You raise your face from the pillow and give him an earnest look. “I haven’t had time to do maintenance and don’t want you to see me like that.”

“Why not?” There’s a quirk in Zayne’s lips. “I think I’d very much like to see it no matter how it looks.”

“No!” you squeak the word and shake your head. “Trust me, you don’t.” Bemused at his reaction, you allow him to pull you into a tight embrace, his chest shaking with laughter, which did little to quell your insecurity. “Stop! This isn’t funny!” you pout, making him grip you harder. 

“Of course it’s funny. Darling, do you really think I’m unaware that women have pubic hair? Or that it’s impossible to keep it neat all the time?” His breath tickles the back of your neck and you squirm. 

“I’m not ready for you to see me like that! If we’re at that stage it means-” you stop abruptly before you could spill the beans. 

“Hmm? What does it mean?” Zayne rolls you onto your other side so that he can look at you. Instead, you bury your face in his chest, listening to the barely contained rumble of his mirth. 

“It means we’re in an actual relationship. Where you see me all gross and untidy and I’m not sure we’re there yet.”

You hear his breath hitch, and when there’s no response you boldly glance up at him. There’s a depth of softness there that you hadn’t seen before and your heart skips a beat as you see it; his gaze is making you melt and sends tingles through your body.

“Oh my god. You think we’re there.” There’s a moment of tense quiet as your heart hammers in your chest before he gathers you close to him. 

“Yes. I think we’re there. Is that bad?” Zayne murmurs into your ear and you feel like your being might burst from the tenderness of his embrace. 

“No. It’s not bad.” You play with his hands, letting your palms lay flat on each other, intertwining your fingers with his. “I wasn’t sure is all.”

“Then let me remove any doubts you may have.” Zayne kisses your forehead. “We are together. It is serious. And I’m honestly not bothered if you haven’t had time to shave.”

You swallow and look up at him. “Thank you for telling me. I like that. Us being serious.”

A calm atmosphere replaces the previous tension, and you relax in his arms as he strokes your back. “Would you like to go to sleep?” he asks quietly. You consider it, then shake your head.

“No. I want to pick up where we stopped.” You take a deep breath then say, “Can you give me a little time? I’ll shave right now and we can get back into it.”

“Oh? You’re ok to tell me you want to shave now?” There’s humor in his tone. 

“Yeah now that we’re serious. I think I can openly tell you that now.”

“Do you want any help?” The deep, sultry way he murmurs the question has your stomach doing flips. Wetting your lips you let out an awkward laugh.

“No! I mean why would you want to help me with that anyway?” Your pulse quickens as you realize he’s completely serious, based on the new intensity that forms in his eyes. 

“Why not? I have a clear vantage point. I can see all of it, but I’m sure it must be challenging for you. Not to mention…I have a very delicate touch. Surgeon’s hands and all.” Zayne flourishingly flexes his fingers and you lay down on the bed as a fit of giggles captures you.

“Zayne stop it! I can do it on my own, really!” You shake your head at the image of him kneeling between your legs with a razor in hand. “Why are you so keen on this anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because a certain someone once told me I’m not allowed to do anything and then helped herself to a variety of my personal toiletries. Including my shaving cream and razor.”

You blink as his words slowly settle over you and blush as you recall the day when you’d helped shave his morning stubble, watching his demeanor become increasingly aroused until he’d snapped and you’d rode him on the rocking chair until you’d milked his cock dry. Unsure how to reply you give him a sheepish smile, receiving a smirk in return. 

“So that’s it? Revenge?” You ask as he rolls off the bed. You squeak as he pulls you towards him then scoops you up in his arms, holding you securely against his chest. 

“Not at all, darling.” He nuzzles your hair as he walks towards the bathroom. “Think of it as me returning the favor.” He switches on the light and deposits you on the large counter next to the sink. Your heart hammers in your chest as you watch him open one of the drawers and take out his shaving cream, and an unopened razor head which he replaces onto the handle of his razor after discarding the old blade. 

“Must be sanitary after all. Don’t want to bring any bacteria to such a sensitive area. Now…I believe it’s time to disrobe my patient.” Your mouth goes dry as he stands between your legs, running his hands along your bare calves before flirting with the waistband of your shorts, hooking his finger into it and tugging it down, slowly revealing your abdomen and belly button. You shiver as the elastic lowers onto your hips and brace yourself on your hands to raise your lower body, assisting him in slipping off the garment. Once it’s been discarded, his eyes fixate between your legs, and you feel the unmistakable sensation of wetness. Could anyone blame you? Zayne’s foreplay was always intense and effective, it wasn’t much of a surprise that you had a stain of moisture on your panties. 

Zayne runs a finger over the patch and you suck in a breath at the contact. A small huff of satisfaction falls from his mouth as he looks back at your face. “Were you honestly planning on staying like this all night? Aroused and denying yourself relief?” 

“I would have calmed down after a while,” you murmur defensively, letting out a hum as he leans closer to you to lick and nip your earlobe.

“What a disservice that would have been to both of us.” Transfixed, all you can do is watch as he starts to remove your panties, the small strip of fabric clearing your legs in no time and falling to the floor. Chills race down your spine as your bare ass settles on the marble counter. You avert your gaze as Zayne takes a look at your hairy mound, the coarse, curly hair fully visible on your sex. He gently pats your knee.

“Open.” The word is a gentle command and despite the heat rushing to your face, you obey and part your legs, letting him have an unfiltered view of your unshaven pussy. You feel moisture gather in your core under his gaze, a familiar throbbing feeling returning to your clit, and your nipples start to perk up under your pajama top. A strangled gasp falls from your lips as his fingers softly pet the tatch of hair, running a finger down the crease of your thigh before he takes your ankles and sets them up at an angle on the edge of the counter.

Your sex was now fully on display to his probing vision and, heat and need gathering in your lower belly as he ran his fingertip down the partition that separated the labia from the inner membranes, then running it superficially over the length of your slit, and you can’t help but make a quick bucking motion at the touch. 

“Soon. I promise.” Zayne reaches for the shaving cream, pressing down on the nozzle until the foamy substance falls onto his fingers. He carefully spreads the cream all over your mound, the edges of your labia, and the creases of your inner thighs. Every small stroke only stokes the fire inside you, the unexpected eroticism of the act making you wetter and eager to feel his fingers on a more intimate spot. Your breath catches as the cold, metal edge of the razor is felt on your skin, and then with a smooth dragging motion, you feel your hair part company with your skin. The quiet noise of the blade removing your hair fills the bathroom, punctuated with the sound of both your breathing and the soft taps of the razor as Zayne clears the head into the sink. 

He’s meticulous and patient, slanting the instrument delicately to get into the small nooks and using a firm but delicate touch to hold apart your lips as he works the razor near the delicate spots, then going lower to the back ends of the labia near your core. Time seems to move slower under his ministrations, and when he’s finally satisfied with his work, he takes a small hand towel which he runs under warm water from the sink before cleaning off the excess shaving cream. You peek down to admire his handiwork, seeing how smooth your skin looked, at how tidy and tamed it now was. 

Your clit was conspicuously visible now, unconcealed from the hair that was hiding it from view. You can feel it throb from the attention and your calves quiver from holding yourself apart for so long on the counter. You’re about to drop them down when Zayne firmly puts his hands on your knees. “Just a little longer.” 

You don’t dare move as he bends, his breath ghosting your sensitive skin which feels even more naked than usual with the missing hair. You sensed what he was about to do before it happened. A soft moan of wantonness leaves your lips and echoes off the tiles of the bathroom as Zayne’s clever tongue delves into your folds, lapping at the gathering honey that’s been accumulating all night. He leisurely dives into your hole, letting the watery nectar flow into his mouth. Your cunt was ripe with the scent of desire and it takes all his strength to not senselessly fuck you on the counter at this very moment. 

His tongue drags upwards sinfully, stimulating every nook and cranny of your delicate sex before teasingly flicking against the base of your clit, upsetting your balance as your hips arch forward in need. Your heels almost slide off the counter but Zayne reassuringly has you in a tight hold that keeps you in place. The little moans turn into mewls of pleasure as he sets up a rhythm, letting saliva dribble onto his tongue and slowly tracing short lines on your clit, patient little strokes from the bottom of the little bud to the top that have you squeezing your eyes closed as you try not to scream out from insanity. His spit combines with your arousal and pools down at the base of your cunt, a little messy puddle forming on the counter. 

Your hands keep flexing before finally finding purchase on his shoulders, squeezing them tight, and you hear a low noise from Zayne as your fingernails dig into his skin. You’d never felt so exposed, so utterly defenseless, all of you display for him to toy with as he pleased. You can feel your walls spasming in expectation and let out a quavering whine as you feel his fingers probing your entrance, pushing into you and scissoring inside to stretch you out. As he begins to stroke that spongy patch of nerves inside you, you feel the control snapping away from your body like a curtain being ripped off its hooks. Unashamedly, you moan, your hips undulating on his face as Zayne pushes you to the point of ecstasy.

You cry out sharply as you orgasm, the delicious spasm of ripples from within bubbling into your core and sending a heady rush into your system. The aftershocks continued to trickle through you, and Zayne slowly pulled his fingers out, covered in your essence. He places a soft kiss on your clit, a tender gesture that has your heartwarming despite the carnal act that had just taken place. He licks his fingers clean, then cups your cheek lovingly, taking in the sight of your flushed face and bright eyes, the way your hardened nipples showed up through your sleep top. He rests his forehead against yours.

“Darling…What am I supposed to do with you looking so delightfully sweet right now?” His thumbs brush the sides of your breasts you’re acutely aware of how close he is to losing control. You can feel the rock-hard push of his cock against your legs and his breath mingling with yours as he leans down for a hot kiss. You taste the salty tang of your arousal coating his lips and greedily suck his tongue, reveling in the flavor and the muffled gasp of desire that bubbles from Zayne’s chest. His strong arms hook around you and you feel your bottom part contact with the counter and wrap your legs around him instinctively. Not breaking the kiss and positive he was taking you back to bed, you fumble with the elastic of his pajama bottoms, sliding them down with your feet and teasingly pressing against the heated flesh. 

Zayne’s body tenses at the feeling of your toes strolling along the length of his cock and he feels something primal unleash in his belly. Thoughts of a soft bed and taking it slowly are driven from his mind barely a few steps out of the bathroom door. He turns and you feel your back come in contact with the wall, eyes opening hazily as a string of saliva connects your tongue to his. 

“You make me insatiable you little minx.” Zayne growls in your ear and supports you against the wall as he tries to free himself from the confines of his pajamas. “Didn’t think shaving your cunt would get me this hard.” Swaying in his arms and seeing his struggle, you carefully unwrap a leg from around his waist and use it to push down the pajama pants all the way, hearing them swish to the floor as they pool around his ankles. 

You pull your leg back up and resume your position, purring in his ear. “Maybe we’ll make that a permanent arrangement then.” A growl of approval rumbles from within him as he holds you firmly in the air against the firmness of the wall. You slide your body ever so slightly, reaching down to help position him as he pushes upwards and notches his thick, weeping, cockhead at your entrance. You let your body slide further, moaning as he instinctively closes the gap between your bodies. The eroticism of the moment is heightened by the sensation of your pajama tops brushing against each other while your bare lower halves worked in harmony to seek and provide each other with the intimate pleasure you’d been craving all night.

Zayne’s hot, velvety, length glides into your wetness, each thrust pressing you back against the wall. Helpless to anything else but cling to him you moan sexily in his ear, holding onto him for dear life. Each stroke sent bursts of euphoria through you, your pants growing heavier and more broken as your nails dig into his back. You feel tension in his body, finally realizing how badly he’d been craving you all night and your body completely surrenders to his movements, content to let him have you anyway he pleased. 

Wet noises fill the air as Zayne ruts into you, his tip kissing your cervix and brushing against your gspot, his hips deliciously thrusting against yours. The stretch and fill of him felt undeniably satisfying. You stroke his hair, whispering endearments to him as he chases his orgasm. The soft feel of your lips near his ear encouraging him to let go have Zayne’s vision growing fuzzy at the edges, his fingers digging into your flesh as though you’re an anchor. His abdomen is taut with anticipation, balls heavy and ready to unload themselves.

His eyes squeeze shut as he feels every little contraction of your pussy on him, then finally gives in to the demanding needs of his body. The coil snaps in his belly and the ecstatic contractions of gratification grip his body as he thrusts into you as high as he can, sheathing himself fully into your wetness, thick jets of his seed rushing forward to paint your womb. He moans as he waits for the contractions to subside, then gently caresses your cheek, easing his body out of yours as he helps you off the wall. Your legs quiver and burn from the position they’d been in and you lean on him for support, clenching your walls as you feel the naughty liquidy slip of his seed about to fall from your channel. 

He tenderly runs his hands over your body, pressing kisses to your hair, then cradles you against him. “How are your legs?” he inquires and you chuckle weakly, feeling a sheen of sweat coating his chest.

“They hurt. But I think I’ll survive,” you say jokingly. Zayne huffs and starts leading you back to bed. You lie down on the cool sheets, eyes heavy with fatigue, and snuggle into Zayne’s body. 

Gentle moonlight falls across both of you as he strokes your back soothingly, bringing an uncontrollable wave of sleep across your body. As you settle down for the night, there’s a deep sense of comfort in knowing that Zayne was now going to be a constant in your life and you smile sleepily into his neck before succumbing to your dreams.

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

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