#i don't even know at this point

[clairewritesandrambles]

Scott needily grabbing your ass when he’s cums when you’re on top… 🫢 those hands 😩

Anon. ANON. Please, I am not strong enough for this today.

He doesn't let you get on top often. He prefers seeing you underneath him, either fucking you into the mattress from behind or watching your cock drunk face while you're a mess for him. So when he does? Oh, it's even hotter to him than usual.

Note: I wrote this with a plus-sized reader in mind, because my body is the exact reason why I actually hate being on top in my own sex-capades.

This spiraled. I started thinking this would be like 100-200 words. It's almost 1300. I hope it's good.

CW: Spanking (once), breeding, talking of body insecurity, Scott being sweet for once?, Claire talks too much

"That's it, baby. Nice and slow. I want to see you shaking from how bad you want my cock." Scott was reclined against his stack of pillows, one arm obnoxiously tucked behind his head while the other hand rubbed soft circles into your thigh.

"Scott... Please just fuck me." Your voice was soft, unable to hold his hungry gaze as he took in your form straddling his thick thighs. You felt too exposed, even with your hands resting on his chest allowing you to obscure some of his view of your body.

Shaking his head, he took the hand under his head and used it to caress your hip. "You're not getting out of this that easily. I wanna see you fall apart on my cock before I even think about having you under me." Seeing the uncertain look in your eyes, he threaded his fingers through yours as a soft, reassuring smile touched his lips. "You can do it, beautiful."

"Scott," you whined, "please." You shifted uncomfortably on him, thoughts running through your head a thousand miles a minute. Thoughts of your face from his point of view, the look of your body, and the feel of your weight on his hips and chest. Would he be turned off by it? Would it feel good for him? Not for the first time, you worried about Scott seeing the flaws you saw in yourself and realizing what he has gotten himself into.

You're jostled from your thoughts by Scott readjusting himself to sit up to your level, the concern on his face indicating he'd recognized the look of overthinking on your face. He always teased that he knew you better than you knew yourself and in moments like these you believed him.

"Talk to me. What's wrong?" He bumped his forehead against yours, giving you no option but to look into his eyes while his strong arms held you close.

"I just..." You trailed off, considering playing it cool before you saw him raise an unimpressed eyebrow, already a step ahead of you. "It feels good, right? I'm not too heavy or anything?"

A large hand snakes its way to cup your jaw, making you instinctively lean into his warmth. You always loved it when he used his hands on you, seeing them flex as he held and touched you, and the warmth they provided.

"You always feel amazing, baby. I could spend the rest of my life with you on top of me, letting me see that beautiful body of yours, and I'd feel completely at peace." He whispered these words like a sacred promise, his thumb dragging on your bottom lip as he softly angled his head even closer to yours. "I am so fucking in love with all of you."

Your entire body heated at his words, your hands grabbing at his face to join his mouth with yours. His tongue licked into your mouth, stealing your sighs as one hand slipped around your back while the other trailed down your jaw to land at your throat.

"Now," he said, breaking the kiss, "ride my cock like a good girl." He leaned back as his hands encircled your hips, his hair falling into his lust-filled eyes.

"Yes, sir," you mocked, leaning forward to brush his hair back into place as you pressed one last kiss to his lips. Your hips lifted on his cock before you sat back, drawing a heavenly moan from his lips, the sound mixing with his words and touch to spur confidence into you.

His grip was bruising as you rode him, profanities mixing with praises as you bounced on his cock. You knew you'd wake up with marks tomorrow, Scott's fingers brushing over them with a satisfied sigh as you two dressed for the day. 

"You feel so fucking good, baby." He breathed, thumb brushing over your clit. Your pussy clenched in response, a strangled sound escaping Scott's mouth as he threw his head back in pleasure. "Come on, beautiful. Come for me, I wanna feel you fucking leaking down my cock, you can do it."

You didn't even have time to react before your orgasm washed over you, making you cry out his name and clench around him. He shot up to a half-sitting position, catching you as you collapsed on his shoulder. "Fuck, good girl. You're so fucking good for me."

With his hand behind him providing more leverage, Scott started thrusting into you, fucking himself even deeper into you than he already was. All pretenses were dropped as he desperately chased after his orgasm, his other hand gripping your ass as he pulled you down to keep as much of him inside of you as he could.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you feel so fucking good. So fucking tight, I can't wait to fill you." He mouthed at your neck, your fingers grabbing onto the hairs at the base of his neck as he sucked a mark onto a sweet spot. Praises fell freely from his mouth now, his grip on your ass tightening before crescendoing into a firm smack. "Gonna fill you and get you fucking pregnant."

His words drew out a sound that didn't even sound human, making you clench around him once again as a second orgasm rocketed up to settle as a tight ball in your stomach. You could hear his smirk as he continued: "You want that? Want me to pump you full of cum until you can't take anymore? You'd take more though, if I told you because you're so fucking good for me." You weren't even in control of your own body at this point, hips desperately meeting his thrusts. "God, I'd fucking love to see your body while you're pregnant. Nice and full of me, wearing little loose dresses around the house so I can fill you over and over again. Fuck I'll keep you nice and bred every day."

His words rip a second orgasm from  you, your body spasming as you kiss him again, all teeth and tongue through the rush of passion. More filthy words continued to escape against your lips, Scott losing coherency in the throes of his building orgasm. He fully straightens up, both hands grasping your hips to push you down onto him as his cock twitched and filled you. Deep grunts filled the air as he continued minuscule thrusts, the aftershocks of his orgasms continuing to go through him. As he came down, he mouthed at your jaw, dropping down your neck and chest before finalizing with a soft kiss in the valley of your breasts.

Satisfied, he leaned back against the pillows, more strewed on the bed than before. You moved to lay beside him, causing a discontent sound to come from his throat as he pulled you back down onto his slowly softening cock. "It's not going to stick if you get up right away. Gotta make sure it works." He spoke like he couldn't believe you'd think of getting off.

"How stupid of me." You rolled your eyes, taking in how good he looked with a sheen of sweat glistening off his skin and curling his hair.

He smirked knowingly at you, seeing you take in his appearance. But his words didn’t match the arrogant expression, instead reflecting only the soft look in his eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too. You're going soft, Miller." You taunted, reaching out once again to brush a hair off his face when he caught your wrist.

"Only for you," he conceded, pressing a soft kiss to your pulse point and pulling you to lay on his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

[sxtystrs]

rare art post

[zmediaoutlet]

Happy WW! 💜

Do you have a pet headcanon that is consistent in your interpretations of wincest, that isn't necessarily explored in canon?

hello, and a happy wincest wednesday to you and yours <3

This is a ponderer! Especially because I try to lift from canon as much as I can, lol. Like I was gonna say our running joke about Dean reading mommy blogs, except -- whoops, that's canon, he does read mommy blogs.

Maybe I'll say, since I literally have sat here for fifteen minutes thinking and can't come up with a better answer -- the way that Dean really, really resents his parents, and yet of course also loves them, and feels a massive sense of obligation to them and to what he imagines they would expect of him and at the same time has this nagging sense of 'fuck you two, you did this to us.' Which I know does come up in the show, but it was kind of depending on the writer and moment -- whether Dean's insisting his dad was the best dad to ever dad, or whether he was telling Mary that he hates and loves her and then it ends in that doofy hug scene. Eeesh. I really hate that scene, haha.

But! The reason I bring it up is that this multifaceted indefinable mass of Feelings about the parents necessarily hovers over how the wincest starts and goes on, and that tangle of FAMILY can't be extracted from how Sam and Dean lay in a bed beside each other. That resentment-but-devotion is such an integral part of how Dean thinks about himself, too -- that he's failing to live up to an ideal, and at the same time is better than the generation that came before, and yet he can't think about it that way because without the pedestal of expectations how can he even define who he is, and yet how dare they expect this much -- and so on, and so on. And then what does that mean when he reaches across a few inches of mattress and touches Sam's big sleeping body and Sam grunts and it makes Dean's whole body relax, even as he's rolling his eyes? How does that integrate with who Dean Winchester, Son of John and Mary, is meant to be?

That stuff. I guess I think about that.

[origami-butterfly]

It's incredibly weird being raised strictly christian, because I'll learn something new about myself and go "Great! I'm really relieved to have figured this out! No one can ever know about this :))))"

[bluepines]

He needed a good start and it looked like he was standing further at the top of the crease than he was in his first games (even in his AHL games if I'm being honest) and movement looked fine...I'm just so upset

[hauntingmiser]

Cw : body horror? Idk?????

It's monstertober !....aka.....

DAY 👏 8 👏 OF 👏 THIS 👏 SHIT 👏 SHOW.

Anyways here's a parasitic siren

[memesandmusicalss]

"poor frank, he handled that well" did he though???? did he really???????

[mrsreginagold]

Fic: Restless

Fandom: Ready or Not x Saw VI (Crossover)

Pairing: William Easton x Grace Le Domas (Willace)

Rating: R

Spoilers: Takes place in an AU, as William yet again survived his test and met Grace at some point. She isn’t fully aware of what he’s been through.

Summary: William’s restless nature worries Grace.

Author's Note: This is my second attempt to figure out what kind of universe and plot line works for this very random couple that I now ship incredibly hard. Most would agree that watching Will's ending in Saw VI is heartbreaking, but if he were to survive I know there would be a certain amount of trauma for him to process. Having Grace help and comfort him just felt like the right course. And she gets the added benefit of a really attractive man wanting to thank her afterwards which she absolutely does not mind.

Restless

                  The gentle rustle of cotton sheets was what alerted Grace Le Domas to William Easton exiting their bed. While it wasn’t unusual for him to wake in the middle of the night, she was admittedly touched that he took extra care not to disturb her. 

                  At the same time – the consistency worried her. She knew that he was able to function on less sleep than she did, but it wasn’t exactly a healthy habit. 

                  Resolved to help him in whatever way that she could, Grace threw back the covers, rose, and grabbed a thin robe to pull over her pajamas. She padded on bare feet through the hallway until she spotted William standing in the kitchen, waiting for the electric kettle to finish boiling some water, presumably for a cup of tea.

                  “Baby, you should be resting,” she strolled in, securing the robe around her midsection before curling her arms around his waist – embracing him from behind. “You have that interview tomorrow, remember?”

                  His response was a quiet sigh and to lean back into her. “Sorry, love, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

                  William’s voice – already a resonant baritone – was rougher with exhaustion, and despite her innocent intentions, Grace was unable to quell the pool of liquid warmth that gathered at her core. 

                  Biting back a moan at the effect he had over her, she instead pressed a feather-light kiss to his nape. “You have nothing to apologize for, but I can’t help being concerned. This has been going on for months and it’s not good for you.”

                  “I know that. I’ve been trying, but the insomnia is really tough to shake,” he twisted around to face her, and she visibly winced at seeing how dark the circles under his eyes were getting.

                  “God, you look exhausted,” she muttered, reaching up to push some loose strands of hair out of his line of vision. “Though I like this longer style on you.”

                  The corners of his mouth quirked into a brief smile. “You were the one who suggested it.”

                  “And I’m glad I did because it makes you look rakish,” she stood on tiptoe to kiss him properly, relieved when he pulled her closer on instinct. 

                  It was easy to lose herself in William’s arms, allowing the world around them to disappear into a cloudy haze while passion took over. However, distraction wasn’t what he currently needed, so she pulled back. “Make your tea, and let’s sit for a while and talk. Maybe we can get to the bottom of why you aren’t sleeping.”

                  “And here I was hoping that some tiring lovemaking was in the equation,” he teased.

                  She rolled her eyes, but an affectionate smile crossed her lips. “It still can be, but first: we should figure out what’s happening.”

                  They relocated to the living room with their tea in hand and nestled together on the couch. 

                  “Tell me about what started this,” she invited, taking a slow sip of her drink. 

                  He sunk further into the plush cushions. “It’s been going on since before we met, actually. Since…” he shuddered at the memory that emerged, unbidden. “Since my test.”

                  Grace pursed her lips. She knew only the basic details of what William had been through. “I know you don’t like unearthing those memories, but maybe talking about the experience would help.”

                  “Are you sure? It’s pretty horrifying.”

                  She rubbed over the back of her left hand, which bore the scars from her own harrowing experience only a few years ago. “I think I can handle it.”

                  He hesitated for another moment before quietly launching into his tale. 

                  Grace listened with growing alarm as William described, in great detail, the challenges that he had faced. While she was aware that Jigsaw’s traps were terrible, painful experiences, learning that they were also personal in many ways – tailored to the chosen victim – left her aghast. 

                  The most terrifying aspect, though, was the knowledge that he might not have made it due to sheer circumstance.

                  “Wait, so – you’re telling me that the entire time, it wasn’t even really your test? And if that mother and son hadn’t shown mercy, you’d have been killed?!”

                  “Yes.”

                  “Then what was the point of testing you in the first place?!” 

                  Her companion fell silent, his head drooping. 

                  Her heart clenched when she heard her lover begin to cry. “That’s the part that I keep asking myself. What was the point? Do I even deserve to be here or was it just dumb luck?!”

                  Immediately she slid over to give him a hug, running her fingers soothingly through his hair and pressing light kisses to his forehead. “Of course, you deserve to be here, Will.”

                  “Sometimes, I wonder.” he sniffled and then buried his head further into her shoulder.

                  She allowed him a proper sob, wondering if he had ever given himself leave to break, even in private moments. “Hey. Baby, look at me.”

                  He hesitated but did as she asked.

                  Tenderly, she swiped away the tears that ran down his handsome face. “William Easton: you are caring, thoughtful, and a good man, despite your past. Even when you were helping run a shady insurance agency, you took the time to meet with clients face to face and at least attempt to help them. Then, after all that Jigsaw put you through – you learned. You changed, and you brought down the very company that gave you success in the first place. I’d say that you’ve atoned and then some. So yes – you deserve to be here. You deserved to pass that test. And above all, you deserve love. My love,” she clarified. “Will, I love you so goddamned much, please don’t ever think that you aren’t worth it.”

                  A heavy silence hung in the air while he studied her, those eyes of his searching her own in a manner that made her wonder if he could gaze directly into her soul. 

                  Without warning, William lunged, his mouth capturing her own in a searing, passion-filled kiss that sent them toppling back onto the couch from the intensity of it. 

                  Unbidden, Grace moaned, her legs tangling around his when he settled on top of her. Their bodies always seemed to fit exactly – two puzzle pieces crafted solely for each other. 

                  He pulled back to give her air, nuzzling her nose with his before murmuring: “I love you too. Thank you for thinking me worthy.”

                  In the past – she might have scoffed at the platitude, but there was something hidden in the sea of blue she often found herself lost in that told her how much he meant it. 

                  She reached up, tracing a light pattern over his cheek, and replied. “You are, Will. Always.”

                  He ducked his head, claiming her lips in another kiss that was sweeter this time, reclining her back against the plush cushions and deftly undoing the knot in her robe so it fell open. 

                  Smirking against his mouth, she surged up and pushed him back into a sitting position, shucking the garment off and straddling him in the span of a few moments.

                  They kissed again, fervently, with Grace tugging playfully at his tee-shirt until he lifted his arms so she could whisk it over his head. 

                  Her hands immediately rushed to his bare chest, sliding down through the hair that dusted it before lingering at the drawstring waistband of his sleep pants. 

                  He arced his hips to assist her in their removal, grinning between heated kisses. “You’re overdressed.”

                  “Easily fixed,” she mumbled, shimmying halfway out of her nightgown so her bare skin could brush along his.

                  He helped her with the rest, until they were both completely naked and he twisted to bear her back under him. 

                  She raked her nails over a remarkably toned torso, sliding one long leg against his before hitching it over his hip, drawing their nude forms even closer together.

                  He didn’t need further invitation and joined them with a fluid movement, the air soon filled with their mingled cries as they drove each other to completion. 

                  A while later…

                  “It hasn’t escaped my attention that we’re very partial to this couch,” William stated, his words slightly muffled from where his head was pillowed against Grace’s chest. 

                  “We are, aren’t we?” she couldn’t help a chuckle, stroking through his hair, which had been lovingly mussed in their exertions. 

                  “Between this and the shower, I’d say that the bed itself has been horribly neglected.” He shifted so he could peer down at her. “We should probably do something about that.”

                  “Maybe get a better mattress?” she suggested, running her hands slowly up and down his chest. “I mean, it could help with the sleep issue.”

                  “That’s going to be less of a problem from now on,” he admitted, touching his forehead to hers. “As long as you’re next to me, I can rest.”

                  “Provided there’s thorough, tiring sex beforehand?” she joked. 

                  “Not necessary but appreciated.” He laughed, which made his features light up in a way she hadn’t seen in a while. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight. 

                  “I meant it earlier…you’re always worthy of my love, Will.”

                  “I know that Gracie,” he leaned in, kissing her gratefully. “I know.”

                  And judging from how eager he was to prove that fact – she had little doubt in the sincerity.

The End

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

me when the horrors persist

[crazyindianboy95]

Sharing this stupid drawing of Lupine and Ruff Ruffman I did for the Discord! with Ruff Ruffman server, based on the smoking in bed trend from Twitter.

Also as a bonus: here's the sketch of the drawing

[alphyadventures]

Idk if this is an actual issue I see with myself or I'm somehow gaslighting myself;

I feel like I've overused Amber's ghost version (like, way too much) and I kinda wanna throw in the cursed dragon Amber from a dnd-like roleplay server I'm in (I can explain that in more detail if anyone wants) but at the same time my brain's like, "Nah just do the ghost," "So no Brick Bronze?", and "Just make a ghost dragon and get it over with" while I'm trying not to make it seem like I'm begging for attention or going too crazy with it

[john-keels-sinister-goatee]

So today I learned that gnomeposting is a thing, and going through that tag triggered a vivid memory of watching an episode of Johnny Bravo sometime last millennium where Johnny was dating a woman who turned out to be a werewolf. She took him to a club or something (?) where everyone there turned out to be werewolves and vampires, except for this one jolly little guy who was a gnome. As a child of a decidedly lower middle class family with no yard of our own and apartment regulations against putting up lawn decorations, I think this was my first exposure to gnomes as a concept. But that launched me into reminiscing about cartoons and childhood apartments and playing on grass and exploring woods (read: groups of trees near the apartments), and what I'm trying to say is today I lived the life of a Proust character, only instead of eating a madeleine I saw a shitpost about gnomes.

[rainhearted-ramblings]

There are stars on my bedroom ceiling, and I dream of becoming a constellation after I die.

[maybe-thou-shalt-find-valimar]

Aragorn: Hey Gimli, what's your favourite colour?

Gimli, not paying attention at all, gazing dreamily at Legolas: *whispers* Legolas....

Aragorn: Legolas is not a colour you fucking dumbass

[origami-butterfly]

It's been a tough day guys. The guy I thought was my rival actually thinks a different guy is his rival. And the different guy thinks of me as his rival.

[pyxy-styx]

I changed my icon because I've already cut my hair this week, and I can only do that once per mental breakdown