#i suck at putting things in a new thread

[queer-reader-07]

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[29121996]

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[bi-writes]

Okay since MOB is into showing Simon her new dresses she needs one with the milk maid neckline. Like seeing her yitties alluo and pretty I’m sure will get a similar result as her cherry dress lol

simon is a tits man, what can i say?

mail-order bride (18+)

"you can't be fuckin' serious," simon mutters. it's the first thing he says to you when he comes home. there you are, seated on the carpet in the living room, a puzzle spread out on the coffee table as a movie plays on the television.

the skirt of your dress fans out around you, and you raise a brow as you look at him, putting one of the corner pieces into place before folding your hands in your lap.

"what's wrong?" you ask, and simon nearly throws his gear off, tearing his mask off and pointing at you, or more specifically, your dress.

"tha' right there," he says with a scoff. "you havin' a laugh, baby?"

you shake your head, picking up another piece of the puzzle. it's an edge piece, and you look down to start finding it's place.

"i have no idea what you're talking about, simon."

"up. get up."

"simon, can't you see i'm doing this?" you whine, and you finally give in, looking up at him. "can't you wait just a little bit?"

"no."

you sigh, using the table for leverage as you stand, and simon grunts as he makes his way closer, taking your hands in his until he hoists you onto your feet. you can't contain your giggles as he backs you up into the couch, and you squeal with delight when he forces you onto your back, getting right on top of you, suffocating you as he holds himself up with just a hand beside your head as his other fists the little bow on the front of your dress.

you arch your back when he undoes the tie. your tits fall free from the dress as he tugs the fabric under them, and he wastes no time, leaning in and sucking one nipple into his mouth.

your eyes shut, and your toes curl. simon is so tender usually, so careful, but today he's sloppy. he sucks more purposefully, swirling his tongue around your nipple, not satisfied until it's pebbled and hard inside of his mouth. when he's satisfied, he moves to the other, his spit gathering against your chest as he licks, sucks, devours.

you can't help how soaked your panties become. you drool into them, back bowed and rigid as your husband lays there and nearly eats. he's so filthy, nasty with it, brain muddled as he cups the fat of your breast and spits on it just to lick it back up. your hips jerk, and simon groans, bucking his own hips to meet yours.

christ, he's getting off on this, isn't he? yeah. simon is so fucking enamored with you that he's getting off on simply drawing soft whines from you as he presses your tits together and nearly slobbers all over them. his pupils are blown wide, big hands fondling them as he ruts his hips against yours, giving you something nice and solid to grind against as you brace yourself with your hands pressed against the arm of the couch.

"yeah--" you gasp, widening your legs, and simon grunts, bobbing his head as he buries his face between your tits.

"y'r so fuckin' pretty, baby," simon mutters, and if you were paying attention, you would see the grip that simon has on the back of the couch, how he's nearly pulling the threads with how hard he's whiteknuckling the fabric. "should know better than t'tease me with this--"

"fuck--simon! i'm so close--please!"

"ach--fuck, y'r gonna cum, aren't ya? shit---"

the kiss is hot. simon fits his cock right against your clit, and with one smooth grind of his hips, you're soaking your panties to ruin. your legs are jelly, shaking, and you cry into his mouth as you try and keep yourself from spiraling too far from the earth. it's so easy with him, so nice. your entire world feels fuzzy and warm when it's with him, and you can't help the soft gasps and the drunken giggles that leave you as he stills between your legs.

"can't be lookin' so pretty when i come home, baby," simon murmurs against your lips, and you smile, opening your eyes, reaching up and smoothing both your hands against his face. your fingertips naturally trace the lines of his scars, and he scrunches his nose as he sits up a little.

"yeah...at this point, i should keep a tally on how many of your pants you ruin, shouldn't i?"

at that, he reaches down, adjusting himself, and the scrunch of his face again tells you he's really made a mess this time.

"ha ha. very funny, luv."

when you kiss him again, he's a little surprised to find your hands slipping low, reaching for his belt. but maybe it's only fair.

if you clean him up good enough, maybe you can salvage this pair, no?

[literalgrill]

Do NOT Support Hard Drive On Patreon

You might see friends today suggesting you support Hard Drive on Patreon today. You know, the funny video games version of The Onion? As a journalist, I will firmly tell you DO NOT GIVE THEM A DIME.

The CEO has pushed out all former staff that have built the site up to its current greatness and has been pushing the use of AI. The staff begged to have a Patreon before basically all being pushed out, but the idea was refused until now, when it will only line the pockets of a single person instead of hard working writers.

I know they might have provided laughs before, but Hard Drive is a shell of what it was once. Let it die and support the people who actually made those moments of joy possible. Don't believe me? Check out what former employees are saying below:

Kevin Podas: Okay you know what, I would feel bad saying nothing about this, so here goes:🚨SAVE YOUR MONEY🚨

We passionately advocated for a Patreon at Hard Drive & were aggressively shot down. The talent & people who built the site were pushed out. To see this now is beyond upsetting. For the past few years or so I put a lot of myself into this website. I pitched a ton of jokes, got over 120 articles published, & met a lot of great people. I'm sure if you've been following me for some time you could easily see this.

However, there is a lot of misinformation. I was eventually promoted to Managing Editor of the site & was ecstatic. Grateful for the opportunity. Felt like all of my hard work in the comedy mines was finally paying off. But things took a turn for the worst, & each day there were new surprises that affected our livelihoods. These were all very avoidable surprises, mind you.

A patreon was going to be our hail mary, but alas, for some reason, the power that be did not want it. Causing us to leave a dream job behind. "At least we did all we could," we consoled ourselves afterwards. I put a lot of myself into this project. I pitched all sorts of ideas that could have helped-- we all did. Merch collaborations, Patreon-integrated YouTube content, so much more. And most of them were shot down out of sheer stubbornness and nothing more. To see lie after lie spread, and multiple big publications and YouTubers that I am a fan of promote this Patreon under these pretenses is incredibly upsetting. There are so many receipts.

Please share this and consider pulling out if you've already put money into this. On Hard Drive using AI, also from Kevin Podas: I can't personally confirm that part aside from some of the recent header images for articles on both Hard Drive and Hard Times are being made with AI. As far as writing, it's been mentioned in the past, but I personally do not know. Maybe others do, maybe not. MORE From Kevin Podas suggesting the owner denying a Patreon being set up earlier cost an artist a job that was replaced by AI: We had a social media person who was awesome! He made the images until this AI implementation. He had to leave because ad revenue was low and a Patreon was aggressively refused.

Luca Fisher: at the risk of burning some bridges, i have to back up kevin here. i've only been part-time, in-and-out of hard drive since i got in last year, but i can corroborate that management doubled and tripled down about not hosting a patreon/crowdfunding and that many other suggestions and ideas, including mine (and ones much smarter than mine!), were shot down in really long, apocalyptic threads of everyone left on deck desperately trying to come up with ways to keep the lights on. managerially it has been messy and sad

i've written for multiple publications that have long since died, ones that were in the process of dying, and ones that, in this case, are soon to be put in the ground. it is sad and sucks every time. i don't know what could have been done differently, but i do know that a lot of great writers and content creators were left shorthanded and unhappy by the way things have gone. and it is sort of puzzling to see the sudden championing of patreon after we were all told plenty of times that it couldn't work and we should move on also, just to add my own personal two cents here, i was really disappointed by the shuttering of many different article sections on the site over the past 6-8 months. i understand cutting corners in a deficit, and i know it had to be done. that said…

all in all, i'm really sad to see this all happen. i don't fault anyone, if only because i don't really know enough about how this all can happen to make sense of it. games journalism is in a sad, sorry state, and will likely no longer be a thing in the next decade

VideoSealMan: I'm gonna say this because I think I deserve to. For months, MONTHS on end I was bugging Hard Drive management about a Patreon. Often I got ignored for a week+, but when I actually got a response I was encouraged to - of all things, write up a Google Doc pitching the concept I did it regardless. I wasn't the only one trying to sway management on a Patreon, but so fiercely was I fighting for it that last night, I was accused of making this comment directly by the CEO! With no evidence whatsoever! After I'd been gone for over a month.

I vouched so hard for Patreon because I wanted all the writers and creatives working with Hard Drive including myself to get paid better. When I actually got a response, the idea was often shut down. Eventually due to the state of my company, my pay was cut for a second time I confronted management alongside a couple other important figureheads at the org and told them that if we couldn't do a Patreon - I could no longer financially justify staying there. The answer was still no, so I left. Baffled at the decision, but whatever.

It is unendingly frustrating to know that myself and many other people who put their soul into Hard Drive LEFT because of management's absolute refusal to compromise on a Patreon, to then see them launch one anyway a month later and get over 1000 people pledging money. I'm seeing a lot of things float around about greed and people being fired. No one was fired. Everyone who left, left because they were sick of management's decision-making. And honestly, management is a lot of things but I would not call them greedy. (From my experience.) They did genuinely make an effort to pay people as much as possible. I found the pay very fair for a while. I am not disputing that I was paid what I was owed - yet management frequently feels the need to remind critics of that. Lmao, yes. I was paid what I was owed. No one is disputing payment. You did the bare minimum a business owner should do and paid everyone their due, very well done. I make no allegations of greed, cheating or foul play. I make allegations of poor management and incompetence that has fucked over other people.

Basically the only people left at Hard Drive have been there for about 2 months. They will reap the rewards of this successful Patreon I and so many others passionately fought for for so long. We will not see a dime.

I do not know the new people at Hard Drive, But I feel bad for them. They were haphazardly thrust into Hard Drive's workplace with little to no explanation on how anything works, or given any context on the state of the place. Even now managements feeds them half-truths and misinformation about other people's grievances. I am broke and have been for a while. I had to move out of my flat in Reading and back with my family because of how little money I was making. This has basically doomed my flatmate to moving back in with abusive parents, which is something I feel guilty about every day. If we had gone with the Patreon I worked myself hoarse over back then, this could have been avoided. Some of my other good pals could also not have been fucked over.

It was a bad judgment call, but it's not a crime. It's just management getting it wrong.

So should you give to the Hard Drive Patreon? I don't know! I don't think any of the new people working there to patch up the holes left by the recent mass exodus have any bad intentions. Maybe they deserve it! But it is not the same site you knew a year ago, or even a month ago. Myself and many people who were there far longer than me and did far more for it than I did are all gone now because we could not deal with management's terrible decision-making and dogass communication any longer. That's what you should know, imo

I had an agreement in place with management that I would receive the next 8 months of revenue from the Hard Drive YT channel from my leaving in November. This was a deal I appreciated, and thought was very fair on management's behalf. So far, the deal has been honoured for 2 months. However as of last night I was removed from the Hard Drive Slack without warning, and as an editor for the YouTube channel. This means I no longer have any way of verifying how much I am owed, I just have to take their word for it. I'm sure management will make their own statements full of half-truths and weird language on the many cases being brought against them - I'd take everything they say with a pinch of salt if some of the screenshots I've seen of them talking about me are any indication lol

To management; I do not want to talk to you. I want you to DM me a screenshot of how much I'm owed every month and then send me the money per our agreement until June, then we can go our separate ways. Do that and admit to your mistakes, and maybe you can recover your reputation! That's it from me, lol. If they pull out of the deal and fuck me over I'll have more to say, but most of what I know is other people's stories of incompetence and poor decision-making, lol. I genuinely get no pleasure out of doing this; I do not think management is evil - I just think they're really bad at what they do and it's cost other, more talented people, lol. You should believe the writers imo

One last thing I wanna say btw, management did often stress that no one should try to make Hard Drive a full time thing. They were transparent about that, and that is fair. I was working on it because at a few points, I was lead to believe we actually were doing a Patreon. Many other ppl have similar stories of being strung along by management changing their minds and stop-starting shit every 2 weeks. We all made the fatal mistake of overestimating our manager - who would tell you one thing one day and something totally opposite the next week lol

Hunter R. Thompson:

I'm not your dad, but speaking as a Hard Drive writer, I don't know that funding Hard Drive on Patreon is worth it

The driving talent on the back end—behind the kickass site I joined in 2019—have peaced out over the years as the site's been (in our view) increasingly mismanaged. Mismanagement like, not setting up crowdfunding before the ship sank and all its best crew failed; or publishing a screenshot of Andy Ngo pedojacketing a trans writer, complete with her deadname; or a disgruntled ex-writer getting falsely accused of shit-talk, by actual staff. I'm grateful for the writing I've gotten to produce for HD (and will forever be kicking myself for not writing even more, in the four years I've had to do it!! i'm a dumbass!!!) but it is very much no longer the site I signed up for.

I don't want to resign as a contributor altogether, because I'm open to the idea of the site recovering and bad practices being retired as finances level out-- it would just be dishonest for potential backers to not be Aware Of The Circumstances, I think.

Jeremy Kaplowitz: i truly don't want to start shit, but feel compelled to say: i want to see Hard Drive succeed w/o resorting to throwing former writers & editors, myself included, under the bus. surely there's a way to save the site without building it over the corpses of those who left. my $0.02 i don't blame anyone who wants to sign up for the HD patreon and i support the website, but that includes those who worked on it for years, have complaints, and don't deserve to be treated like bitter assholes like this kind of stuff is just objectively true, meanwhile there's these new writers who joined the site after i left (meaning, in the last ~3 months) claiming people are liars. decide for yourself if you care, but this is what happened! [Quotes this Tweet]

Seth Finkelstein: Writing for Hard Drive has been a privilege the past few years, and it makes me so angry to see people I looked up to get jerked around behind the scenes. The amount of grenades the editors jumped on our behalf is immense, and I don't think the way they're being treated is right.

Other Bits On AI: We do know for sure however that AI art has been used by the site. Its fucking owner confirms it here:https://twitter.com/MattSaincome/status/1743040541603123622. Seems the owner pushed AI written articles as well! TayFabe: My vaguetweet is making the rounds & these made me apoplectic. - owner regularly lobbied using ai. Once he tested it & said ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. - ai images were used on the site & socials w/o consulting the team or disclosing it publicly I found the ai bit relevant to include bc 1) it illuminates a stark change in HD's current direction & leadership, 2) ai images have previously been used on the site and (since deleted) ig posts, 3) ai content fucking sucks, and repeatedly pushing to use it is a telling quality The "handful of writers who chose to leave" includes 2 editors-in-chief (both cofounders who wrote a combined total of >1,000 articles & defined the voice of HD), & at least 3 other editors. These guys put in WORK since 2017, so cool to be corrected by ppl who joined in Nov 2023 [Link to mentioned vague tweet from post.] More from TayFabe: owner continuously lobbied for using ai in every possible way. No one else wanted to do it, but he kept on, saying ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. Also, ai images were used on the site & socials without public disclosure or consulting the team.

The owner has responded now multiple times in a private discord... Thank you for people sharing screenshots! First Screenshot:

Kevin's Response: He banned me from the server for speaking out, so no, I didn't see it. And he gave no indication of a timeline, it was just "we'll do one when *I* say so" and gave every inclination he was totally against it. It bred an environment that pushed our hands to have to leave. Screenshot Round Two:

Kevin's Response: "Starting one in 3 months" is an absolute lie. He denied it, I have screenshots and others who can confirm. No timeline was given. Just "this is what it is now" and like, I couldn't live off of that. I wanted to do more but he was allergic to good ideas from others around him.

Matt, owner of Hard Drive, responds publicly on Twitter.

Matt: Kevin, the patreon launch was delayed because I didn't think it would work. Everyone is happy that it did work. Everyone who left the site because we didn't have money to pay for creative content which didn't revenue is welcome to return home. But unclear why the hostility.

Hard Drive paid out literally every dollar it had, then a bunch more, to creative people who worked on the site. When we ran out of money, we couldn't pay anymore. We did our best.

Kevin: Right, and my point of this thread was that it was completely and totally avoidable. This is reasonable to be upset about. How could I have been any more clear?

Matt: If we knew with 100% certainly that the community would have supported us via patreon, we would have done that. We didn't know. We had tried 4 years ago and got no support. We were wrong this time. We did our best to figure it out. We paid all the money we could.

Kevin: So you knew with 100% certainty this time? Or you took a leap of faith?

Matt: It was a last gasp panic effort after ad rates got cut in half on january 1st due to seasonal spending changes. We didn't know it would work. We were embarrassed to ask for support. We wanted to figure it out.

Kevin: Every site has a Patreon. Every YouTuber, comedy group, etc. But you insisted that nobody cared about Hard Drive. Which is wildly untrue. I know you see that now, but again, I think you can see why I and many others are pretty upset. A last ditch panic effort was long overdue. A couple more things from Matt:

It was about the size of the hole we needed plugged budget wise, the time I had left of personal resources, and the past data I had about us trying a patreon (which turned out to be a bad indicator). I didn't think the Patreon would help us fast enough. I made a bad estimation

aka "if we make $1000 more dollars a month via patreon, which would be 10x what we got last time, we will not solve any of our problems. If instead we try to plow down path B, we might make it out in time." That was the thinking. I chose the wrong path, but didn't mean to Kevin also retweeted this comment from the user Matt was responding to: So you're saying that you're bad at running the business, didn't listen to any of your employees until after they were forced to leave their jobs, and now you're going to get more of the money from the Patreon that was their idea in the first place? Matt's Response: Respectfully, I made a mistake delaying the patreon decision. But keeping a comedy site alive for 9 years is not easy, there are lots of potential ideas, and think overall we've done a good and honorable job. Will leave this thread in peace now to allow people their space.

Sorry for linking to Elon's hellsite (derogatory), but sources need links so...

[droolypupboy]

thread of things you can do to feel more puppy!!

warning, this is not for puppy regressors!! this is an nsfw post and probably not safe for u if you regress while online. stay safe, sfw puppies.

anyway. back to content for puppies who r fucking degenerates. i’m a switch & not only do i own a puppy sub but i am also one!! this is applicable for both partnered and solo pups, dw, there’s likely to be something here for everyone.

૮( ˃ ꒳ ˂)ა

◟/づ🦴

🐾 grind on pillows and/or furniture!! pillows are an accessible option for everyone, not everyone has furniture they can feel comfortable doing that on because maybe they don’t live alone or what have you. but pillows are an amazing option for any and all needy puppies.

🐾 snacks can help u feel puppy a lotttt!! while it can be fun to have your partner feed you little treats, you can also absolutely do this on your own. while you’re not in the headspace, set up small little snacks for you to have for when you follow rules or actions you set up for yourself. ppl often underestimate how satisfying solo play can be!! but it can be awesome. good ideas for pup snacks can be small cookies reminiscent of dog treats (scooby snack graham cracker cookies if you’re in the u.s., highly recommend), little cubes of meat and cheese, or dry cereal. it doesn’t have to be those things though, it can be anything broken up into small pieces. be creative!!

🐾 some people enjoy eating or drinking out of dog bowls but for some, that’s inaccessible or maybe just not to their taste. another option can be water bottles with spouts you have to suck on (oral fixation is so so so puppy!!). smaller sized snack bowls also work well for this. anything notably small can help a lot with headspace i find because a large part of puppyspace for many is feeling tiny and :3. if you know you know pfffft.

🐾 here’s a simple one!! have an article of clothing or jewelry you wear only during puppy time :) of course there’s the obvious ones; harnesses, ears, collars. but even just a bracelet or a sweater can work if you only wear it during pupspace and get your brain to associate it.

🐾 if you go into the headspace online (as i’m sure many of you reading do if ur here), you can do certain typing things to help you feel even more puppy. using certain emojis or doing a little :3 or :> it’s pretty common to have your voice change tone and your words get more simple when in a smaller mindset so it can be fun to have your typing also reflect this!! typing out “woof” or “arf” r silly but they r cute and i recommend it, 10/10.

🐾 find something you can safely bite on!! nothing you could choke on or that could hurt you. chewelry is rlly good for this, i’d recommend looking on etsy for some. but you can also just buy a new actual dog toy (fresh, not used, clean it before). puppies need to teethe!! the urge to bite is super common.

🐾 if you have enough privacy, play fetch with yourself. why not?? you can bounce a ball off the walls and even if you’re in a small room where you don’t have far to get to it, you’re still pretty likely to get excitable abt it!! if you’re doing this outside don’t put the toy in your mouth, if you’re indoors you can probably feel more comfortable to do this safely if you’re using something big enough not to choke yourself with.

🐾 ride toys!! it’s hard to do things yourself, riding or suction cupping a toy to a wall so you can just lay down and move ur needy hips against it can be wonderful for puppyspace.

🐾 suck your fingers or your partners fingers!! puppies need our mouths occupied. gently chewing on fingers, probably not enough to hurt (maybe tho, good for you), just enough to feel like you’re gnawing a bit, is SO so so good. this doesn’t even have to be sexual, drifting off to sleep with fingers or a gag (nothing that you could accidentally swallow) in your mouth can help you wake up puppy!! i wouldn’t recommend sleeping with a gag in long term, that’s more for naps or on special occasions. like i mentioned before; oral fixation oral fixation oral fixation!! you should also suck toys and cock 🤍🤍

🐾 wag your hips or kick your feet!! it’s like wagging ur tail :> wiggles can come naturally when in pupspace so embrace them as ur “phantom tail” pfffft

🐾 “puppyparts” “puppycunt” “puppyholes” “puppycock” “puppyanything”🏃🏃

remember, if some of these aren’t applicable to you and how you like to play, you are not any less puppy. these are general, not one size fits all. there are countless different ways to be puppy and i don’t think any two people should be doing it the EXACT same way. we all have our quirks, we all have our individual headspaces.

have fun and play safe, puppies 🐾🦴🎾

[sanguineterrain]

window pains | jason todd

Summary: He's got a habit of coming in through the window. You want him to start staying... and using the door. 

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings/tags: injured Jason Todd (he's okay dw), angst, pining, mentions of Jason's death.

A/N: sooo.... i guess i'm a dc girlie now. just a reminder that every character i write will always be 18+!!! this is probably canon divergent but we make our own canon.

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

the divider

"Can't you enter my apartment like a normal person?"

"You know who you're talking to, right?"

"You're getting blood on my carpet, Todd."

It doesn't really matter. He'll come back and scrub it out as soon as his ribs are whole. And fuck if he's not good at getting blood out of surfaces. Jason Todd ought to start a housekeeping column. 

You catch his limp as he climbs over the windowsill. It almost topples him, but he gets to the couch before it does. He doesn't make a sound. 

That had freaked you out the first few times he'd stumbled through your window. Once, he came with part of a windshield wiper impaled in his shoulder. He'd lain on your couch so still and so quiet, you'd thought Red Hood had croaked in your apartment. Which would not have been a good look for you. Or maybe it would. Depends on who you ask. 

Sometimes you want to tell him to make sounds. To hiss and grunt and complain. To grab your wrist so you'll slow down as you pull thread through flesh. 

But it's not your place to request such a thing. You don't know where you reside in Jason Todd's life, but it's not somewhere where you can request to hear him hurt. 

Outwardly, his injuries aren't bad-looking. He takes off his helmet and tosses it somewhere under the coffee table. You offer a hand to help him lie down on the couch—he doesn't take it. 

"Jesus Christ, Jay." You suck in a sharp breath and peel back his bloody suit. "What'd you do?"

"Took a midnight stroll in the Botanical Gardens. Why, what'd you do?"

You frown, eyebrows pinching in the center of your forehead. Jason's stomach is mottled with purple and red bruises. There's a sticky gash right above his hip. A knife. Or a sword, maybe. Apparently, swords are commonplace in Gotham. 

"How'd they get you?" you ask. 

It's a rule-break. Jason's number one policy: don't ask questions.

You always do. Even when it was new, this… thing between you two, you'd ask. Who were they? Why did they hurt you? Did you hurt them back?

The last one, you always know the answer to. 

"There were, like, ten of them," he says. "Cut me some slack, will ya?" 

He has a cut across his lips. A ringed finger that caught on his skin, you guess. You wonder if he'd wince if you kissed him. If he'd wince at the pain or the kiss itself. If you'd know the difference. 

Rage suddenly cuts through you. It makes your hands careless, cruel; you pull the bandage around his waist too tight. Jason coils up slightly. 

"Jesus—ever heard of bedside manner?" he asks, looking at you through his lashes. 

"Ever heard of not breaking into someone's apartment and making them patch you up?"

"I don't make you," Jason says easily. "You wouldn't do it if you didn't want to."

That only increases your rage. Because he's right. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be. You'd have kicked him out four first aid kits ago if you minded. 

You yank down his shirt and pack up the kit. Jason shifts on the couch. A sliver of skin above his waistband is still exposed. You have to turn your head to force your gaze away. 

"No bandaids?" he asks. "All my cuts'll be exposed to the elements."

"You can put them on yourself." 

His cheek could use one. And his eyebrow. You're not in the mood. 

Jason doesn't say anything in response to that. You get up to put the kit back under the sink. 

"Can I crash here?" 

"Do what you want," you say, suddenly exhausted. Like it's you who just went six rounds with Gotham's scumbags.

You peek over the kitchen counter when you hear rustling and the couch springs squeak. Jason leans heavily on the arm of the couch, reaching for the window. You walk over and stand in front of him. 

"What're you doing?" you ask. 

"You want me to go," he says flatly. "So I'm going."

"I didn't say that, I said—"

"I can read between the lines." 

"If you could read between the lines as well as you think you can, we wouldn't be in this situation," you say. 

"What situation?"

You turn your head. "Nothing."

Jason steps towards the window. You block him again. 

"What is the matter with you?" you ask. "You're injured. Lie down."

"I'm not your responsibility," he says, glaring. "I'm leaving."

"No, you're not. And since you're allergic to using the door, you don't have a choice."

Jason's eyebrow rises. "Are you saying you'd physically prevent me from leaving?"

You lift your chin. "If that's what it takes."

"Hm. Can't tell if your confidence is stupid or brave."

"Lie the fuck down, Todd."

His lip curls. "I don't stay where I'm not welcome."

Sometimes you forget how young he is. Not that you're not also young, but, well… you don't feel your youth as acutely as other people your age might. It's something you two have in common. 

Here, in the gritty glow of Gotham, you are reminded that Jason Todd died once. Before he finished school. Before he fell in love. 

Your stomach churns every time you see that Y-shaped scar on his torso, strapped over him like a chain. 

"I didn't say that you're not welcome," you say. 

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to."

He sags against the couch and it occurs to you that he's as exhausted as you feel. 

"Can you just—" You touch his bicep. He winces even though there's no injury there. "Can you just lie down?" 

You stare at each other for another minute. Slowly, Jason lays down. His eyes are alert instead of heavy with sleep. Instantly, you feel guilty for making him think he has to be cautious around you. His hand curls protectively over his stomach. 

"Do you want a blanket?" you ask. 

He squints. "It's August."

"I know, I… I thought maybe the blood loss made you cold." 

"'M fine. Perks of being risen from the dead." 

You watch him get settled for a minute. He shifts his weight to his uninjured side and meets your gaze. His eyes are gray in the weak light. 

"You're tired of me," he says. 

Your head snaps up. "No, I'm not."  

"You are."

"I'm not tired of you, Jay."

You see it. The fear. He thinks this is the last time you'll let him in. He doesn't know you can't lock him out. You won't. 

You get up and go to get the kit from the sink again. Jason follows your movement the whole time. His face scrunches in confusion when you sit in front of the couch and unzip the kit. 

You pull out the tiny red bandaids. You'd bought them as a joke, initially. It had made Jason laugh and that had been reason enough to keep buying them. And then he let you actually put them on.

You peel the adhesive off of one and gently stick it on his cheek. He blinks at you, thick, dark lashes kissing the corners of his eyes. 

"I'm not tired of you," you say softly. 

"I'd be tired of me." 

"You keep this city safe. How could I be tired of Gotham's defender?"

Jason scowls and turns his head into the cushion before you can put the second bandaid.  

"I'm not its defender. The others protect this city a hundred times better. Nightwing does it with a smile on his face."

"I like that you go out there even when it's hard, Jay," you say. 

He doesn't respond. You lean in, so close that you can count the freckles on his neck. 

"Can I finish putting the bandaids on?" you ask. 

"I don't need 'em."

"You do. You need another on your forehead."

"It'll heal fine without it."

Your shoulders bunch like a cat on defense. You grab his cheek (gently, always gently) and his head whips to yours in surprise. 

"Jason Todd, I am not tired of you. I'm tired of the fact that you only come by when you need fixing."

He scowls. "I never asked you to fix me. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."

"I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay!" you burst. 

Jason scoffs. "No, you don’t. I'll overstay my welcome real fast."

"Maybe I care about you on purpose!" you say, voice rising. "Maybe I didn't stumble through a window; maybe I walked through the door and bought the bandaids and learned how to stitch wounds because I wanted to."

He suddenly looks overcome by grief. The agony in his face startles you. 

"I don't know how to use the door anymore," he says quietly. "All I do is stumble through windows."

Your hand slips off of his cheek. Jason closes his eyes; they fly open when you stick the second bandaid above his eyebrow. 

"You can come in any way you want to," you say, face an inch away from his. "As long as you come back to me."

His gaze darts to your mouth. You don't kiss him hard. He breaks anyway.

You avoid the right side of his mouth entirely, not wanting to pull at his cut. Jason shudders into your mouth. You cup his pulse through his neck and it quickens.

His eyes are wet when you pull away. His chest heaves like he's been swinging through the city. 

"I wanna try to use the door," he says. 

You touch the bandaid on his cheek, humming. 

"Then I'll leave it unlocked." 

[reachartwork]

PLEASE JUST LET ME EXPLAIN REDUX

AI {STILL} ISN'T AN AUTOMATIC COLLAGE MACHINE

I'm not judging anyone for thinking so. The reality is difficult to explain and requires a cursory understanding of complex mathematical concepts - but there's still no plagiarism involved. Find the original thread on twitter here; https://x.com/reachartwork/status/1809333885056217532

A longpost!

This is a reimagining of the legendary "Please Just Let Me Explain Pt 1" - much like Marvel, I can do nothing but regurgitate my own ideas.

You can read that thread, which covers slightly different ground and is much wordier, here; https://x.com/reachartwork/status/1564878372185989120

This longpost will; Give you an approximately ELI13 level understanding of how it works Provide mostly appropriate side reading for people who want to learn Look like a corporate presentation

This longpost won't; Debate the ethics of image scraping Valorize NFTs or Cryptocurrency, which are the devil Suck your dick

WHERE DID THIS ALL COME FROM?

The very short, very pithy version of *modern multimodal AI* (that means AI that can turn text into images - multimodal means basically "it can operate on more than one -type- of information") is that we ran an image captioner in reverse.

The process of creating a "model" (the term for the AI's ""brain"", the mathematical representation where the information lives, it's not sentient though!) is necessarily destructive - information about original pictures is not preserved through the training process.

The following is a more in-depth explanation of how exactly the training process works. The entire thing operates off of turning all the images put in it into mush! There's nothing left for it to "memorize". Even if you started with the exact same noise pattern you'd get different results.

SO IF IT'S NOT MEMORIZING, WHAT IS IT DOING?

Great question! It's constructing something called "latent space", which is an internal representation of every concept you can think of and many you can't, and how they all connect to each other both conceptually and visually.

CAN'T IT ONLY MAKE THINGS IT'S SEEN?

Actually, only being able to make things it's seen is sign of a really bad AI! The desired end-goal is a model capable of producing "novel information" (novel meaning "new").

Let's talk about monkey butts and cigarettes again.

BUT I SAW IT DUPLICATE THE MONA LISA!

This is called overfitting, and like I said in the last slide, this is a sign of a bad, poorly trained AI, or one with *too little* data. You especially don't want overfitting in a production model!

To quote myself - "basically there are so so so many versions of the mona lisa/starry night/girl with the pearl earring in the dataset that they didn't deduplicate (intentionally or not) that it goes "too far" in that direction when you try to "drive there" in the latent vector and gets stranded."

Anyway, like I said, this is not a technical overview but a primer for people who are concerned about the AI "cutting and pasting bits of other people's artworks". All the information about how it trains is public knowledge, and it definitely Doesn't Do That.

There are probably some minor inaccuracies and oversimplifications in this thread for the purpose of explaining to people with no background in math, coding, or machine learning. But, generally, I've tried to keep it digestible. I'm now going to eat lunch.

Post Script: This is not a discussion about capitalists using AI to steal your job. You won't find me disagreeing that doing so is evil and to be avoided. I think corporate HQs worldwide should spontaneously be filled with dangerous animals.

Cheers!

[deepestnightcolor]

☾ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋᴇɴ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ ☽

ᴀ/ɴ: I am already back with a new fic for Sam. I am in a groupchat with some amazing people and I decided to write some ideas out that were thrown around. I hope you enjoy! Maybe I will do Alex or Elliott next... Anyway, thank you so much for your time! ✧

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 3884 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: alcohol consumption, drunk sex, doggy style, cursing, unportected sex, drooling, exhibitionism, public setting, teasing, creampie, hornyness all around.

Sam’s mouth was watering, and the sole reason for it was you. Sam had fallen in love with you the moment you had stepped foot into Pelican Town yet had never managed to utter a single word about it. But now, the blonde was absolutely hammered, and that allowed him to shamelessly stare at you. Pupils blown, chest heaving and falling quickly, his eyes were focused on your ass while you were bent over the pool table, focused on your next shot in your game with Sebastian. The only thing that kept him from dropping on his knees and begging to be allowed to suck on those slender fingers wrapping around the cue was the fact that he still wasn’t sure if you liked him back.

When you wiggled your butt a little, a small groan passed his lips. It was desperate, and rough, making the attention of the room fall on him. “Are you okay, Sam?” You asked, worry in your voice. “Yeah…yeah…Yeah, ‘m fine… just gonn…you need help, dontcha? Winnin’ against Seb, I mean,” he slurred, pushing himself up on his legs, steadying himself using the pool table. Sebastian cocked his pierced brow; Sam sucked at pool when he wasn’t drunk, and now he was absolutely shitfaced. What help could he be?

Sam placed himself right behind you, pressing his crotch against you a bit, hoping – no, praying – that you didn’t catch on that he only did that to feel you against his growing buldge.

Though you were a smart girl. The feeling of his erection didn’t go unnoticed, but you kept up your pokerface. “I guess I could use a little help,” you murmured, voice coated in innocence. You leaned forward, smiling up at the oblivious Sebastian. “Sorry, I told you I haven’t played in ages,” you explained, directing the black-haired man’s attention back to the game. He shrugged nonchalantly, waving off your comment and watching you adjust the cue, but Sam had seemingly become hyper focused. He leaned over you, shaking hand gripping your wrist. He was so close, so close to you. He could smell you and feel you. If his mouth was watering before, now it was drooling. He had dreamed of this so often, having you bent over under him, and now he had, and you didn’t even notice his ulterior motives.

A thought that was disproved when he felt it. You pressed your ass against him, circling your hips just ever so slightly to cause friction. An accident? Sam didn’t care. The whine that slipped couldn’t be caught anymore; the despair obvious. The need to beg for you to at least let him feel you for one night, even just a single hour, maybe just put the tip in you if that was all you wanted to give, hanging onto his tongue by a thread. The only thing that kept him from speaking was a pair of attentive eyes that were placed on him.

“‘S…’s a bad position,“ Sam slurred in a weak attempt to explain himself, but he didn’t even really care. He cared about you, boxed in-between his wobbly arms. He could lean down, kiss your neck, suck on it. Leave his wet marks all over you – and who would stop him? “He’s right,” you mused, shifting yet again. This time you rubbed your ass from side to side as if to figure out how to stand, making sure to add pressure against his dick. Sam was creaming in his pants by now, his knees wobbling as he lowered his head. He licked his lips, hot breath hitting your neck.  The goosebumps that appeared made him want to drool all over you, but still, he cleared his throat and guided you into a sloppy shot. Trying to stay strong, not to make it too obvious. But fuck, your gentle grinding into his cock, the way you pressed into him – he swore his cock was about to burst right then and there for you, and if you kept it up, he’d cum in his pants in the saloon.

“Damn, Sam. You wanted to help her win, not make her lose. Maybe you should step back,” Sebastian grunted, an obvious edge to his voice, yet he would have never expected his best friend to actually growl at him in return. That was the only way the sound that radiated through the blonde’s chest could be described; it was deep and rough, almost threatening. Possessive, even.

While it shocked the other man, it sent a shock straight through your whole body. It was enough for you to put your cue away and stand up straight, giving Sebastian a small smile. “I think it’s time we get Sammy boy here to sleep.”

„Ugh, drunk like that? It’s best he sleeps on the couch here, Jodi’s gonna flip otherwise… and I doubt I can drag his drunk ass up the mountain.”

Perfect.

“I’ll take him to the farm, then. Until our ways part we are about halfway there, you can help me drag him.”

Sebastian sighed dramatically, but put the cue away, which probably signalled his agreement, or at least you decided to take it as such.

Both of you draped one of Sam’s arms over your shoulders and made the strenuous way up to your farm, Sebastian stubbornly staring ahead, while Sam was slumped between you. His cheeks were red, but the way you looked at him made him wheeze. The look that he gave you, so lustful and horny, eyes drowning in need, made your legs buckle every now and then, straining a grunt from Sebastian that now had to basically drag two whenever you did. “You sure you want him on your farm? I can stay over-“

“No,“ you interrupted, flashing him a quick, reassuring smile. “You’ve got to work with Robin tomorrow, and she will freak out if you’re not there. Besides, I have a guard dog, and if this fella acts up, he’ll be sent to the doghouse.”

Sebastian smiled a little and nodded, the thought of Sam sleeping in a small hut clearly bemusing him. Smacking his friend on the back, which almost sent the poor boy tumbling over, Sebastian turned. „Behave, you hear? Or I gotta whoop your ass.” With that and a wave, he began to make his way home.

“So…,” you began when Sebastian’s silhouette had blended into the deep night, looking at the blonde hanging onto your shoulder. “What was all that about?”

“All…hicc… what about?”

“In the bar. You drooled on my neck.”  

Sam giggled at that, tilting his head back as his laugh became deeper. “Yea…that-…that probably was ‚cause I really fuckin‘ love you…an‘…an‘ cum in my fist every night thinkin‘ of fuckin…fucking you.”

If that wasn’t drunken honesty, you didn’t know what else would be. “But  I didn’t know hoooow to tell youuuu. So, don’t tell on me, m’kay? Don’t want ya to..hate me, ya know.”

Chuckling quietly, you pushed a strand of hair out of his, face, dragging your lower lip between your teeth. “You know who you’re talking to, right”

“Mh..course. My little farmer princess.”

“And you know what I did to you in the bar?”

“Mhhhhm. Was so close to cummin‘. Still…still am.”

“Do you know what could mean, Sam?”

“That… you suck even more at pool than me?”

You snorted, head tipping back as you laughed. Yoba, he wanted to lick down your throat, down your body, devour your cunt. He wanted to taste you so, so bad. He could have bet that you had the prettiest pussy he would ever lay eyes on, and he would make sure to worship it. With slow licks, the fast ones, by spelling his name on your clit and with your legs over his shoulder so he could get into as much contact as possible.

“No, Sam. I’m into you. I have been for a while. Didn’t you ever notice me flirting? Not even when I told you you should show me what else those fingers can do than play guitar.”

Silence.

You could literally see the corks in Sam’s head reeling, trying to connect the dots of the information that had just been relied to him. “So…ya…like me back?”

You rolled your eyes, deciding that in this state, only actions seemed to count for Sam. Words took too long to process. You leaned down to kiss the man deeply - an opportunity he leaped at. His tongue immediately dragged over your lips, coating them with the taste of alcohol. The moan that left you was to his advantage, he shoved his tongue into your mouth clumsily, letting it run over yours, licking at it as if he was starving. His hands had found your body for support to stop himself from swaying back and forth. “Need ya…need ya so bad. This kay?“ He slurred against your mouth, pretty blue eyes staring at you, begging you without words.

You bit your lip and tried to steady Sam again, “Come on, let’s get to the farm, we can…we can-„ Sam’s mouth hit yours again, his teeth sinking into your lips gently. You moaned again, tugging at his hair, but your surroundings made you pull away and tug at him him. “Let’s get to the farm, I need you,” you ordered, setting a rather fast pace for drunken Sam.

He whined, begged and pleaded, but in the end, he strolled with you, legs buckling and wobbling, and the lack of blood in his brain seemed to make the short path to your house even longer. The fabric of his clothes rubbed against his buldge so uncomfortably, and the way your hips swayed when you walked brought him close to tears. He wanted you. He had wanted you for so long, he couldn’t wait any longer.

The moment you reached the bus stop, Sam dropped to his knees, almost making you fall over due to the sudden weight shift. “Sam! What are you doing?”

“Fuck…fuck, please. ‘M beggin’ you. ‘M so fuckin’ hard…it hurts so bad…shit, you look so pretty for me,” he gasped, rutting against his hand that he had rested in his lap. The moonlight hit you so perfectly…you looked so amazing. Amazing enough for him to throw his head back, now gripping his length through his clothes. “Pretty please,“ he added, helplessly looking up at you. You bit your lower lip again, your own knees growing weak. You could feel the wetness pool between your legs, and it was hard for you to not just let him have his way with you.

“But what if anyone is gonna see us? We can’t risk being caught. It’s not that far anymore…”

“No! No one will see us!” Sam cried, “I promise…promise I’ll be quick. I’ll be quiet. Anythin‘, princess. Pretty please. I beg you. Please. I’ll be good. Just…please.”

You seriously doubted the value of a completely horny, drunk and in love person’s opinion, but before you knew it, you found yourself on your knees, kissing Sam sloppily.

The blonde immediately pounced on you, pressing his crotch into yours, his hands seemingly everywhere. “So pretty,” he panted against you, kissing down your jaw, down your neck, and then he already lapped at your throat. You seemingly felt him everywhere at once, making you moan out lowly.  That only urged Sam on more. He wanted more. He wanted to hear you, smell you, taste you, feel you. He wanted you. No, he needed you.

“You know how often I’ve dreamed of fucking you?”

It was just a murmur against your neck on which he greedily sucked. “How often I’ve dreamed of holdin‘ you in my arms? Pretty baby, makin‘ you all mine.”

Sam had seemingly sobered up a little but that didn’t help much – he was was already intoxicated by you again.

He tugged at your pants and at his at the same time, trying to get them both off at the same time, causing you to laugh out breathlessly. He gave up his attempt and back, licking over his lips.

“Need you so bad,” he repeated while he unbuckled his belt, struggling out of his pants.

You licked your lips and opened the button to your pants much slower, pushing them down your long legs centimetre by centimetre. Blue eyes were glued on you; Sam’s mouth hung open as he watched you, tongue hanging out just slightly. He was pretty sure you could see his dick throb against his already wet boxers, but fuck, who cared? He sure didn’t. The hunger in his eyes made you shiver, no man had ever looked at you like he did, and you were sure he was already fucking you in his head.

“The panties,” he stammered, making you grin to yourself. “The panties. Please, princess. Take them off. You’re so wet already, fuck, please, I- am pretty sure I’m gonna die if you don’t.”

“You mean these?” You teased, gripping at the waistband and letting it snap against your hips. The blonde groaned, the force of the sheer lust hitting him almost making him drop forward again.

“You want them off?”

He nodded, eyes yet again filled with tears. “Yoba, please, yes…need…need to see your pussy.”

“Then take them off.”

Sam was incredibly quick to move, much quicker than you had deemed in the range of possibility, he did have a lot of drinks, but he was on top of you the moment you gave the go. He pushed your shirt upwards and messily pulled your breasts from your bra, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. He trailed his tongue around it, before switching sides, his hand trailing towards your panties already. He let his finger glide along your slit over the fabric, growl escaping him upon feeling your wet spot. “All that teasing gotcha wet, huh?” He hissed, biting your nipple gently before he slowly licked down your cleavage, staying in-between your breasts for a moment longer, just inhaling deeply and leaving his love bites. You smelled so good, so sweet; it was hard to not get lost in his in his need. However, after a moment he picked up his journey again and licked down your stomach, until he finally reached the hem of your panties.

The night air began to fill with moans that tumbled out of your mouth, the eagerness you were treated with leaving your cunt pulsing. By now you felt a need similar to Sam’s, making you pretty sure you needed him all over you to ever think properly again, even though right now, you were far from it. He let his fingers run up to your exposed chest, gripping your nipples between pointer finger and thumb and rolling them gently. “Lift your butt,” he ordered, almost smiling to himself when you did. He gripped the lace of your panties with his teeth, slowly tugging them down. You shuddered when the cold night air hit your hot wetness, and Sam moaned lowly upon seeing your cunt.“ Look how beautiful. Such a sweet little cunt…all for me, isn’t it? All for my cock and me,” he rambled, having to sit back on his heels for a moment. The beauty of your almost naked body had him dangerously close to the edge, and he would have forever hated himself if his own dick cockblocked him right now.

“Sam-“

“Get on your hands and knees for me, pretty baby.”

You sucked in air through your teeth, eyes dragging down his body. He was hard as a rock, and you were sure his boxers were about to rip, so you slowly settled on your hands and knees. Maybe it was also because you just needed to be absolutely stuffed with cock.

You tried to wait patiently, even though your own need made that incredibly hard, but you couldn’t risk getting Sam distracted. His gaze seemed to burn holes into your back, making you shift around on your knees. Then you finally heard shifting and the gentle sound of skin smacking against skin.

“You are so ready for me, baby,” he murmured, his fingers spreading your drooling lips slowly. One of them pushed inside of you, low groan falling from his lips. He curled his finger and then thrusted it knuckle-deep, breathing in sharply upon feeling you basically pulling him in. You were so wet and warm… and he could finally get his dick into you. He couldn’t take it anymore. He was about to be ripped apart by the feelings tumbling around inside of him, and you were the only thing on this whole planet that would ease this ache he had for you.

You felt his finger leave you and whined, wiggling your ass in the air. Much to your surprise, a hand came down on your butt, forcing you to yelp out Sam’s name. “Teasin‘ me all night already,” he slurred, pressing his tip against your soaked hole. “And it worked…”

With that, he slowly pushed himself inside of you and the world seemed to disappear.

All he could hear was static, and the sound of his own heartbeat, mixing with your moans. He was pretty sure the world could explode and he wouldn’t have blinked an eye. All he could think about was how good you felt; despite only having the tip in, you sucked him in deeper already.

“This okay?”

You nodded eagerly, pushing back against his dick in a desperate attempt to get more. Yoba, you needed more. This time it was you that wanted to cry and beg for him, but Sam seemed to pick up your silent prayers.

His hips shoved forward eagerly; it seemed like your walls were made for his cock. You fit so snuck around him, cunt welcoming him with a wet sound. The two of you moaned and you had to rest your head on your arms to keep at least your butt up in the air for Sam, the promise of being quite long forgotten. Centimetre by centimetre Sam pushed inside of you, making sure to take his time, to really split you in two for him and only him. One of his hands was resting firmly on your hip, the other cupping one of your breasts. When he was balls deep inside of you, he abruptly stopped, his penis twitching violently inside of you. For a moment, you weren’t sure if he had just had his orgasm, and when you turned around you could see his eyes watering. You were about to ask, yet the thought was immediately cut off when Sam pulled back and rammed back into you.

Suddenly you could feel the weight of his upper body on your own as he angled himself to get better access to your sweet cunt.

“Mine, all mine,” Sam panted into your ear as he began to pick up a fast pace, humping you like an animal in heat. The sound of his balls smacking against your wet pussy and the way his pelvic bone hit your bare ass created sounds lewd enough for anyone within a kilometre to know what was happening. Neither of you cared.

You were a moaning mess beneath the blonde, and he was whimpering, close to sobbing your name. Sam sucked on your neck to mark you up, keep you away from dirty, greedy eyes such as his own, his cock bullying into you at a fast pace; your walls sucking him off so well. His eyes rolled in the back of his head when he felt you clench around him as he began to gently circle your clit.

“Like that, huh? Like when…I do this?” He snarled, licking his lips and kissing down your spine; a task that was rather hard given that his hard thrusts made your whole body shake.

“Sam!” You sobbed, trying to meet his thrusts desperately as if you just couldn’t get enough, and Sam was happy to deliver. He pressed you into his body and fucked into you as if his life depended on it, tongue hanging out and droplets of saliva falling on your back.

You swore you could see little fairies dance around you when Sam hit your sweet spot, this combined with his relentless spelling of his name on your clit made you approach the edge with fast steps.

Sam wasn’t much better – he was staring at his thick perverted cock vanishing into your pussy, spreading open your sweet little hole with each thrust. He loved to see how he forced wetness out of you with each thrust, and he swore to himself he’d make you cream.

“Sam, fuck, Sam! I’m gonna cu-cum!” You cried, the thought of if you could maybe wake someone with your needy cries for dick crossed your mind, but it quickly turned into arousal. You would love for people to hear how well Sam was fucking you, how mean he was to your cunt, snapping his hips back and forth mercilessly, accompanied by the sound of his skin smacking against your reddened ass that by now was sporting a red handprint. 

“Gonna cum, Sam, gonna cum!” You slurred, feeling his wet tongue trace patterns down the side of your neck again. White light flashed in front of your eyes, your toes curled up as you felt your face growing numb.

Sam’s whimpers and small groans had turned into dragged out whines, adoring how you let him fuck you out here near the bus stop. He wanted people to hear you. Show them you were his and his alone. He would have loved for each of the guys to see him ruining you, so they’d keep their hands off. Seeing how his cock vanished inside of you with each thrust, how his precum and your juices were mixing together, dribbling down his shaft. The thought of them seeing you sprawled out and crying for him and the feeling of you drooling all over his throbbing dick, begging for more was enough to push him over the edge.

His body tensed up, a cry of sheer pleasure was being bellowed into the night as his orgasm washed over him, his cock pressed deep inside of you. The feeling of his cum inside of you was too much. You sobbed his name, fingers wrapping around strands of grass as your body convulsed, the numbness that caught up to you soothing as you clenched around your lover’s dick, making it hard for Sam to move. The blonde gritted his teeth, his thrusts slowly slowing down as he hung his head; his breathing hard and laboured

You were lying beneath him, panting as well as your hand slowly searched for his. Upon finding it, you intertwined your fingers, and for a moment you two just sat there, Sam’s dick still buried inside of you, your hands interlocked.

“Round two when we reach the farm?” You whispered after a while, despite having his cum drip out of you as he pulled back slowly, making Sam smile like a lovesick puppy.

“Round two when we reach the farm.”

What the two of you didn’t notice was the text from Sebastian’s number that made the screens of your phones light up. Nice show. Make it less obvious that you want to fuck next time or send me videos so I can rewatch.

[iz-star]

Zayne: Hidden Motive - The hidden meaning behind these two images and other thoughts about this card.

Warnings: NSFW talk, personal interpretation about this card, some analysis (probably overanalyzing lol).

I've already mentioned this quickly over twitter, tho I have to admit that I hate to write down my thoughts over there cause it's already difficult for me to put my ideas in order, let alone writing them in threads (and not even in my native language, my brain can't do so much). So I'm going to try to explain this here better, especially cause I've seen a lot of people not so sure of what happened in this card, if what Zayne and MC did was straight up dry humping or if it was all just the movement of the chair without actually touching each other.

Of course, this card was wild just for the already suggestive (let alone, stimulating?) work of the camera when MC is on top of Zayne, but this game is not even rated +18 so they have to be careful about what they show. Sex isn't anything new to this game, however it all depends on the way it is portrayed and showcased. Most of the times, sex is always implied; there are spicy moments but it has never been anything overly explicit, most cases the sexy scenes are more like foreplay, what leads to actual intercourse/sex, the last part being left to the imagination. If they were going to be wild with this card, they had to be soft at portraying it, unironically. In order to do that, they had to resort to certain storytelling resources, in this case: the rocking chair, the leaf and the fabric over the couch.

The rocking chair's purpose I think it's quite obvious and it was to not to blatantly show MC and Zayne rocking against each other, it was like the perfect excuse to put them on such a situation without the characters doing it willingly, or so so cause it's already too much to know that MC is sitting on top of Zayne, however this is not new to the game, right? MC sitting on top of Zayne's lap is actually quite normal, she's done it several times; here they just had to give them an excuse to move and when Zayne pulled MC towars him, everything started. I seriously praise the masterminds behind this scene cause they literally gave us Zayne and MC starting to dry hump in front of our very eyes in a very subtle way.

Again, the camera direction is the most risky thing they had done to showcase a sexual act so far, and I'm not mentioning this to downplay any other sexy scenes from Zayne or the other LIs, it's simply bc the bouncing movement it's too explicit and induces quite strong sexual ideas related to it, to go further seemed to be impossible at this point, however it also looked like they wanted us to be sure of what was happening here somehow, that it wasn't only the rocking chair making us seeing things, so in order to confirm what our minds were thinking and it wasn't only the sound of Zayne's kisses filling the room, they resorted to metaphors: the leaf and the fabric over the couch.

Maybe this is my dirty mind speaking, but is so suggestive the way this image was showed right after Zayne asked MC "Do I look like I can work right now?" with all the movement of the camera going wild and he resuming to kiss/suck MC's neck. It literally started to rain in this very moment, and the drop running down the leaf seems to be a metaphor of MC's arousal. Yes, she was getting wet down there. For this one, I think that the reference is quite easy to understand and there's no need to explain more, except to say that I actually loved the subtle yet beautiful/elegant way to refer to her arousal.

But what about the fabric over the couch?

If the image of the leaf was a reference to MC, then this one is a reference of Zayne's own arousal. What this image has is a disheveled fabric that's hanging from the edge of the couch, so there's two things:

The couch → Zayne's thighs/legs (isn't it a common joke within the fandom that Zayne is MC's favorite chair due to all the times she sits on his lap, anyway?)

The fabric → Zayne's robe.

Did you notice that among the four LIs, it was Zayne's robe the only one with the loosest tie and both sides of his robe do not even cross? like this thing it's barely keeping together somehow.

Which is genuinely surprising coming from Zayne, the Zayne whose towel outfit has the safest tie, the Zayne whose workout outfit covers his body from head to toe, the same Zayne who has dressed five (or was it six?) layers of clothes in the past (Master of Fate), the same Zayne who is always wearing long coats and suits and literally the one who makes us feel like victorian man seeing a woman's ankles for the first time lol.

I definitely think they did this on purpose. Give him easier access? Hell yeah. What this image is intending to say is that he was already opening his robe down there, making the contact with MC's wetness closer? Maybe that's why after this, she told him not to be too intense? Hmm...

Now, this probably is my overanalysis, it's up to you if you choose to believe this or not. For some people, media is about what is explicitly told, but narrative resources say a lot most part of the time, it helps the writers to give the readers hints about certain foreshadowing or, in this case, to reference to certain things that are impossible to address due to censorship.

Personally, I loved this card so much, but at the same time, it leaves me with a sense of dread. Did you notice how emotional, bittersweet or even sad/nostalgic was Zayne's bgm during his kindle? I saw some people uploaded the recording of his kindle without the bgm just to appreciate the naughty sounds (no blame here cause I did too ngl ahaha), but it made me want to listen to the music alone and good lord, the music made me so emotional. After watching the kindle with the music on again, I realized of how emotional this moment becomes when the bgm is playing. It gives vibes of something so intense yet so fragile. Go listen and appreciate it alone, you'll see what I'm talking about:

I noticed that they used two new songs for these cards, one was this one and the other was used in Rafayel's kindle, for Xavier and Sylus' kindles, they used bgm that was previously used in other memories. It's also interesting that the art direction of Zayne and Rafayel's kindles has a bit of a somber mood to them, like even their scenarios make sure to use cold colors and emotional backgrounds, while Xavier and Sylus' use more warm and romantic colors, (tho at least Xaviers bgm music was also intense even if the song is not new).

I feel like the bgm wanted to give a sensual yet emotional feeling to most scenes (except Sylus' since this one was the most chill, which is normal considering that he's new), however, we can't deny that Zayne's song feels like something is about to break somehow, idk how to explain. Someone in the comments section of the video said that it was angsty and beautiful just like Zayne is...

I've been feeling like Zayne's latest cards have been really emotional an intense. In Snowy Serenity is Zayne the one who is in danger, in Hidden Motive, it's MC the one in danger and both cards showcase how far are they willing to get in order to secure each other's safety (and also how much they lie to each other about their own safety lol).

In Snowy Serenity, Zayne and MC get emotionally closer, in Hidden Motive they get physically closer and yet both cards have a bit of both themes too, emotional and physical intimacy on another level.

In Snowy Serenity, Zayne knew that he might not be back so he asked MC to see him off the airport and gave her a hug, even if he never said goodbye, and in Hidden Motive, he tells her that she's not allowed to leave him without saying goodbye. Then he tells her he'll like her as long as she's alive and well. We also have the Adventure above the clouds chapters where they talk about ther lifes in 50 years in the future and how they'll be together still relying on each other. In Dawnbreaker's anecdotes, MC gets to celebrate Zayne's birthday with him and tells him that from now on, she'll always celebrate his birthday with him.

It feels like they're starting to look into the future a little too much, like making promises too soon, it feels too perfect... as if something bad is about to happen and rob us from that bright future, you know?

Do you know who made promises before a tragedy?

I've been thinking about this since I finished Hidden Motive cause... my first thought was... Now what can top this? A lot of us got really surprised by Zayne's card cause the spice was unexpected and I think it's needless to say this, but even the kindle felt a bit different from what we are used to see normally, even some ppl said the kindle was a bit longer than normal. Why would they feed us so much good/emotional/intense content of Zayne lately? And how are they going to keep it up? My brain tells me that something sexual being released too soon after this might feel repetitive so in order to create a bigger impact after this they'll resort to angst. I don't think they'll make Zayne's bday event sad, however, they also announced that more main story branches are going to be added from September to December and Zayne's probably gonna be the first to return, since he was the first one to disappear from the main story.

I just can't help thinking about this, I have this bad feeling that I hope is just my stupid brain overthinking and that we will have happy sweet memories with Zayne from now on even tho the story seems to keep hinting that something bad is going to happen, ugh.

Anyway, sorry for my rant, I actually have a lot of thoughts about this card that I don't know if I'll get to write cause I've been really busy with work lately, however I wanted to at least get this out of my chest.

[ellecdc]

babe I recently discovered ur account and now I'm obsessed!!!!! I have devoured ur masterlist! Also I'm new to tumblr so I'm sorry if I'm doing or saying anything wrong pls correct me! I just wanna hype u up queen! Also ok fic request! It's not smut it's smut adjacent! I imagine this with Remus but u can totally change it if u want! Imagine reader whose boobs get super sore before her period and may be Remus is trying to initiate sex like they r making out and he goes to touch her boob and she winces and he's like did I just hurt u? And she's like no no it's fine and may be he believes her but he touches her again and she flinches and he's just like what is wrong don't lie and it's that her ex never cared if her boobs hurt or sex sad painful before her period and just Remus love (sorry it's so long def self indulgent bc my boobs r super sore and sex kinda hurts leading up my period and I just want someone to understand and not make me feel guilty about it)

aawweeee so glad you found me! and thanks for the prompt, lovie <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader whose boobs are sore close to her period [1.4k words]

CW: things get sort of steamy/lead up to smut with no real smut, sexual & non-sexual nudity, mature themes, 18+

You couldn’t help the smile that took over your face when you heard Remus navigating the hall in a way you could tell he thought to be quiet before his head of messy, tawny brown curls appeared in the crack of your bedroom door.

“Hi dove.” He murmured softly as if still unsure if you were asleep or not; his eyes were warm and sweet as honey as he smiled widely and unbiddenly at you.

“Hi handsome.” You greeted in return as you put your book down and invited him in which he accepted eagerly.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He moaned as he crawled up into the bed and melted into you; arms weasingly around your middle as he shoved his face into the crook of your neck greedily. 

“Missed me?” You laughed as you threaded your fingers through his hair. “You were hardly gone three hours.”

“S’too long.” He mumbled, earning him a giggle as you tried to pull away at the tickle of his breath against your neck.

He groaned somewhat hungrily as he pulled you in tighter, beginning to trace kisses up the column of your throat.

You tightened your grip of his hair which only seemed to spur him on as he shifted so he was hovering over half of you. 

“Didn’t you miss me?” He asked under his breath before bringing his lips to yours for an agonisingly long and slow kiss. “Hm?” He continued as if he hadn’t just impeded your ability to answer him. 

“I always miss you, Rem.” You murmured back as he began marking kisses along your jaw and trailing towards your chest. 

He made a sympathetic sound as he got to the top of the tank top you usually slept in, hooking his finger along the neckline and pulling it out of his way to expose your - quite swollen, actually - tits. 

“Neither of us should ever be allowed to leave.” He concurred, switching between wet, open mouthed kisses and sucking love bites into your exposed skin. 

“Don’t you think your friends would miss you?” You asked then, thoroughly enjoying the show as you continued to mess with his hair. 

“Tough.” He said simply before moving his hand to cup one of your breasts to lift it into his mouth, causing you to suck in a pained breath.

All movements stopped and Remus seemed to be holding his breath as his eyes flit up to yours. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asked cautiously.

You let out the breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding and nodded at him. “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” You agreed, trying to ignore how painfully sensitive your boobs were this close to your period as you encouraged his face back down to your chest.

With only a little hesitation, he continued his ministrations before moving over to your other to bestow upon it the same amount of care. 

You could feel him growing hard as he repositioned himself in your lap, and you tried to focus on that slightly warm feeling trying to grow between your legs (though not nearly as effectively as it had been the week prior) and his pleasure as you allowed him to take from you what he pleased.

But one more firm grasp of your tit had you wincing with a small whine and a flip was switched.

Remus was kneeling; his hands no longer on you which only made you wince in embarrassment rather than pain as he scrutinised you.

“What happened, dove? What’d I do?”

“Nothing, Rem, you didn’t do an-”

“Don’t fib.” He interrupted, his tone stern but his lip jutting out in a very dramatic pout. 

“I’m okay.” You murmured, though you did attempt to sit up and replace your boobs into the confinement of your tank top. Remus watched the action with rapt attention. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asked then, and his voice sounded so small that you actually wanted to cry.

“No! No, baby, I’m- ugh, I’m sorry, you didn’t hurt me, I’m just hurting.” You appeased, reaching out to stroke his arm in a manner you hoped to be soothing. 

He seemed to consider your form again as his shoulders sagged. “You’re sore.” He concluded. 

“Yeah, I… well, I get a little sore around this time of the month, you know?” You admitted, watching as Remus’ expression shifted from one of worry to one of abject horror.

“Dovey.” He chided as he stared at you wide eyed.

“It’s okay! I’m fine, we can keep going if you want, I-”

But you only seemed to horrify him even more as his head reared back in shock. “Keep going!? Baby, you are sore to the touch and you were just going to let me maul you?!”

You found yourself very much ill-prepared for this conversation as you shook your head in confusion. “Well, I just meant, if you wanted to we-”

But Remus was scoffing and waving you off before standing abruptly and moving towards the attached bathroom, scolding you along the way.

“Bollocks to what I want, dove. My desire doesn’t come before your comfort.” He explained before you heard water running and him muttering something in Welsh under his breath. 

You were having a hard time understanding whether you were in actual trouble or not before he came padding back out of the bathroom - still muttering to himself in Welsh - with a divot between his brows and a damp washcloth in his hands.

“Take this off, dove.” He directed; tone now soft and alerting you to the fact that there was no real heat behind his chiding.

You obediently shed your tank top and tossed aside as Remus guided you to lay back onto your pillows and placed the cold cloth on your chest.

“Poor girls.” He cooed as he situated himself beside you. “Was being s’mean to them, too.” 

“Rem-”

He simply shushed you and placed a quick kiss on your nose before dotting a gentle one on each of your tits. 

“They’re gonna hate me; they’re gonna think I’m a monster.” He lamented woefully before standing up to change into his pyjamas. 

“They don’t know a damn thing.” You laughed as you let out a breath, relishing in the ease of your banter with Remus.

You weren’t used to it; things being easy, that is. Relationships always felt like hard work before.

Your relationship with Remus still required work, mind you, but it wasn’t hard; it was comfortable and patient and flexible and understanding.

There was no forcing puzzle pieces to fit when their edges didn’t match, there was no walking on eggshells wondering what sort of mood he was going to be in, and there was no stewing on conversations as you tried and failed to fall asleep at night wondering what in the hell you’d manage to do wrong this time.

No, Remus was easy; he was easy to get along with, easy to live with, easy to love.

He was just so easy.

You hoped he thought the same of you.

“Dovey.” He murmured quietly, now apparently kneeling on the floor on your side of the bed as he rested his chin on his forearms. “You know that, right?” He continued when you opened your eyes to look at him.

“Know what?” 

His mouth pursed again in a small pout before he leaned forward to press a kiss to your shoulder. 

“That what I want should never come before what you need; that my desires are nowhere near as important as your comfort.”

His eyes moved to watch as you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. “Okay.” You whispered.

He let out a sad breath as his brows twitched in sympathy, but you were thankful he opted not to comment on it. 

“I love you.” He offered then, eyes moving back up to yours as he used one of his knuckles to rub at your upper arm affectionately.

“I love you too.” You answered readily. 

He seemed appeased by that and stood to press a more assured kiss to your lips. “Do you want me to run this under cold water again? Or would something else help?”

You pretended to think about it before looking back up at him through your lashes. “Think we could cuddle?”

Remus let out a chuckle as he pressed another kiss, this time to your forehead, and pulled the cloth off of your chest. 

“It’s like you read my mind, sweetheart.”

[triptuckers]

nothing without you - remy lebeau

Request: nope Pairing:  remy lebeau x reader Summary:  remy loses his beloved cards and you figure something out about him Warnings:  mentions of anxiety, mentions of blood/wounds (nothing big), remy is a lil sad :( Word count: 1.5K A/N: do I know anything about gambit or his lore? no. I do know I went to see deadpool & wolverine again and now I need him to call me chéri. enjoy!

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you knew remy loved his cards. after a while you'd lost track trying to count them. in every pocket of every piece of clothing he owned, you'd find a deck of cards. it was an entire chore to empty all of his pockets before doing laundry. and still some of them would end up in the washing machine, and they'd come out all soggy and messed up.

if he would round them all up, you're sure he'd be able to fill an entire storage box. he always had at least one pack of cards on him.

but there was always that one favorite pack of cards. the one he took with him on missions, the one he always had on him "just in case".

and now it's missing.

ever since he found out he lost it, remy has been heartbroken.

you helped him search for it, turning the whole place upside down. remy was the first to give up the search. he told you he'd accepted the fact he lost them, but you knew he was just too sad to have lost them to keep on searching.

his powers didn't have anything to do with that specific deck of cards, they were simply his favorite. he'd had them since he was a kid, learned all of his skills with them. of course they were special to him.

you tried to cheer him up by getting him a new deck and talking about his other decks, but nothing seemed to help.

you'd noticed he'd grown more restless since losing the cards.

from the moment you met him, you had only ever seen him with a deck of cards in his hand. safe for the moments where he was doing something that required both of his hands. but his fingers were never far from the cards.

now that he's lost them, he's constantly holding on to other things. you'd never really considered remy to be a very anxious person, but he's fidgeting constantly now.

if you're sitting next to him he's playing with your fingers or the hem of your shirt. he's tapping patterns that make no sense to you on your thigh. he'd repeatedly tap his own fingertips against each other.

right now, he's sitting on the couch after getting back from a mission. he got a nasty cut on his forehead but otherwise he was fine. you just got back from fetching the first aid kit from the kitchen when you see him staring off into space while rapidly tapping his fingers on his leg.

'hey.' you say, sitting on the salon table in front of him.

he blinks a few times before his eyes settle on yours.

'you okay?' you ask.

remy nods, but you can tell something's bothering him. you decide to let it rest until after you take care of him. it can wait.

you scoot closer to him, opening the first aid kid.

'I'll need to clean it first, before I can bandage it.' you say softly. 'it might sting a little.'

'it's okay, chéri.' he says.

you carefully put some rubbing alcohol on a cotton wad and lean in. as you gently press it on his forehead, remy sucks in a breath and closes his eyes.

'sorry.' you say, as you start to slowly wipe the cotton wad over the wound to get rid of the dirt and blood.

you feel something on your leg and when you briefly glance down, you see remy is fidgeting with a loose thread of your pants. they were really his, but you stole them so long ago they're basically yours now. you always had to roll them up a couple of times before you could wear them, otherwise they were too long.

as you get out a fresh cotton wad, you notice remy still has his eyes closed. he really hasn't been the same since he lost his favorite deck of cards, and you're worried about him.

'remy?' you say.

he hums in response as you lean in to finish cleaning the wound on his forehead. you put the bloody cotton wad on the ground next to you so you can throw it away later.

'talk to me. what's going on?' you say.

'I didn't look where I was going, the knife barely missed me but it nicked me. I should-'

'I'm not talking about today's mission, love.'

remy opens his eyes and looks at you with a slight frown on his face. you give him a soft smile.

'you've been... different. and it's okay, I just want to know how I can help you. you haven't been yourself since you lost your favorite cards.'

he closes his eyes again and leans into your touch as you bandage his forehead. his fingers are still playing with your pants.

'they keep my mind off of things.' he says eventually.

'the cards?' you say.

remy nods. 'I've got something to do with my hands. I can think about the cards. not about... other stuff.'

'all done, my love.' you say, when you finish bandaging him up. you press a soft kiss to the bandage and look down to find remy looking up at you.

'thank you, mon amour.'

'you're welcome.'

you get up to put the first aid kit away and throw the trash out. then you get back to join remy on the couch.

his fingers immediately take a hold of yours as he starts to play around with them.

'you know, I never figured you for a very anxious person.' you say.

'I'm not.'

'baby, you can't keep your finger still. and when you're doing something with both of your hands, your leg is always bouncing up and down.'

remy frowns. 'I do that?'

'it's usually something people do subconsciously. then again, being the gambit is a pretty stressful job.'

'I guess.'

you turn to look at remy. 'you really miss your cards, huh?'

'chéri, you have no idea.' sighs remy.

'I'm sorry we didn't find them.' you say.

'it's not your fault.' says remy, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. he knows it's not anyone's fault but his own. he probably lost them somewhere outside, because they did search the entire house. every cabinet and under every piece of furniture.

'how about we watch a movie? try to get your mind off of it for at least an hour or two?' you suggest.

'sure, alright.' says remy.

'you pick the movie, I'll get the snacks.' you say, getting up to go to the kitchen.

you get out a bowl and half a bag of popcorn. you dump it in the bowl and stuff the empty package in the trash, which is nearly overflowing. knowing it'll only annoy you in the morning, you let out a sigh as you take it out.

after taking it out of the bin - which took more effort than you would have liked - you close it and take it out the backdoor. just as you throw it in the larger bin outside, something purple catches your eye.

you walk over to where it is sticking out from under the bin. as you drag the bin away so you can take a closer look, you see a familiar rectangular box.

remy's beloved cards. his very favorite deck.

you quickly snatch it up and head back inside.

when you get back to the living room you see remy has picked one of your favorite movies.

'hey.' he says, glancing over his shoulder at you. 'no snacks?'

'I've got something better.' you say.

remy looks over his shoulder again and his eyes land on your bright smile, then drop to your hands.

'tada!' you say. 'found them outside under the bin! I knew we didn't lose them and they had to be around somewhere so I-'

you're cut off when remy grabs your face and kisses you. you hadn't even noticed him getting up and walking to you in two quick and long strides.

'mon amour, you're the best!' he says, smiling at you. he kisses you again and you can feel he's still smiling.

he pulls back and takes the deck of cards you're holding up for him. instantly, he takes them out of the case and twirls them around, throwing them in the air and catching them again.

you watch as his face lights up. you're so glad he's got his favorite cards and he looks like your remy again. you watch him for a while, following the cards with your eyes.

eventually, he puts them away and pulls you against his chest, making you laugh as he hugs you tight.

'oh, what would I do without you?' he says as he pulls back slightly so he can look at you.

'well you'd have to find someone new to fix you up after a fight. and to find your cards. and take care of-'

'alright, alright, I get it, I'm nothing without you.'

'and don't you forget it.'

'I won't, chéri, I promise you I never will.'

A/N:If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost, steal or translate my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[fairene]

hello!! i LOVE your work you write the most interesting dynamics and your style always completely sucks me in! i saw you mentioned in the tags that requests were welcome and if it sounds fun, i'd love to read something with lando and a tennis player!reader, not just bc i love tennis lol but also bc it could be interesting to have him with someone who has experienced the same level of pressure. i'd love anything you wrote though!❤️

say less, my love.

pressure / ln4

a/n ⋯ a short pause from the one of your girls dual part. this was a beautiful request, and as a huge challengers enthusiast, i had to put it to paper. thank you so much for the request. also i am aware that the u.s. open takes place in new york, but for simplicity sake, we'll say its in miami.

music ⋯ link

warnings ⋯ no smut, fluff, angst, insecure thoughts, anxiety.

wordcount ⋯ 2.6k (unedited).

“you’re going to do amazing, my love.” lando’s words were soothing as he held you firmly against his chest. it was a saturday night in miami, both of you were dueling your own matches for the weekend. you were in the finals of your tournament held for the US open, whereas he was debuting in the miami grand prix the following afternoon. 

your head shifted into his chest, nose burrowing into the fabric of his shirt with a soft hum. you knew he was right, but the pressure waned on you. how could it not? your entire career balanced on your performance, and thousands of people would be watching you. not only were you lando norris’ girlfriend, but also an up and coming star in your own career. 

you kissed the fabric of his shirt, knowing the sentiment held little, but he appreciated the gesture regardless. his hand found the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair. his touch was gentle, kind, one reserved only for you. it was moment’s like these that the pair of you found solitude in one another. 

“i know, i just…” you hesitated, lifting your head so your chin rested on the center of his torso. he tightened his hand around your hip, cradling you against the firm shape of his body. 

“what, baby?” he said with a soft tone, velvety to your ears. you couldn’t resist him. couldn’t hold anything back from him, despite wanting to spare him the worries you held. the last thing you wanted him to do was worry about you. especially when he had a huge event of his own.

but all he did was worry about you.

day and night he would dream both through the sun and beneath the moonlight of you. you. it was always you that he was concerned about. you, that he searched for atop his podiums. you, that he would attend all your matches when he could.

this was one of the rare events where they overlapped. he would only be there with you in the morning to see you off before your matches. then, you would reconcile with him in the evenings. post race, post tournament. it would be a tough day to manage on your own, but he felt the same way. you were the light to all of his races, the focal point of which he could relax. his anxiety roared in these conditions, but you somehow soothed him at every turn. 

he needed you. but you couldn’t be there. 

“i want you there.” 

his features softened. there was a cloud of guilt brewing a thunderstorm above his head, threatening to rain down tears in your obvious distress. he hated seeing you this way, and most of all, he hated being the one who caused it. 

“i know.” his thumb stroked across your cheek. “i would if i could.” you believe him. he was your number one fan, just as you were his. a match made in heaven, one might be able to jest. “‘nd i want you there, tomorrow, with me on the radio.” 

you blushed, letting your face drop into the fabric of his sweatshirt. you felt his chest bellow with a deep laugh, centered at his core, letting his lids flutter at your bashful expression. your teeth even went as far as biting at his sweatshirt, which had him grumbling and pulling your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, raising your head to meet his eyes. 

“you’ll be the death of me,” he uttered, saying with pure love. your relationship with him was full of complexities, but overall dominated by your fatuous love for one another. the pressures you both face in consequence of your performances…

“you’re going to win tomorrow.” you sat up on his lap, straddling his hips. you were both in your shared bed in the hotel, lounging in your sleepwear in the messed up sheets. tonight was between you two and no one else. lando slammed that ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door the minute the pair of you walked in for the evening. “i can feel it.” 

“you think so?” he gulped, both his hands coming to run up the skin of your thighs. you shivered at his touch, but you were determined to keep a clear mind. 

“i know so.” you watched his face relax with relief. your words of comfort meant ten times than anyone else's, and you would always give him the truth. its what he loved about you so much. your blatant honesty, your charisma, your ability to power through every obstacle in your life. but he knew just as much as you did that you wouldn’t be able to do any of it without each other. it was one of the many little beautiful things about your relationship.

lando’s anxiety would gnaw at him every chance it got. but since he’s entered a relationship with you, he feels like a fucking king, but he was nothing without his queen. 

“don’t know,” he said, breaking the silence. “you’re my lucky charm.”

you rolled your eyes. “you’ve scored points at every race this season,” you pointed out. it was a fact. he was one of the only contending drivers to have such a prosperous season. you were delighted for him. “with or without me there.” 

but he didn’t like your excuses. he squeezed your plush thighs beneath his calloused fingers, which had you gasping. 

“don’t do that.” 

you quirked a brow. “do what?”

“pretend like you don’t mean the world to me.” 

you blushed and fell forward on his chest, your head falling into his neck. you giggled against his skin, unable to contain your smile. “stop that,” you insisted, blushing fiercely. a hand of his came to hold the back of your neck in a comforting grip. 

“loving you?” you caught his gaze, bleary with love. “i don’t think i can.” 

you were up at 5:30 that morning getting ready. lando was still sound asleep, snores being heard from the ensuite bathroom as your brushed your teeth and fixed your appearance. you wore a white tennis dressed, sponsored by fila, and just left when you made your way to the bed.

your hand brushed over lando’s exposed hip, shirtless in the bed with only a pair of boxers. he moaned in his sleep, pulling a pillow closer. but he was wide awake when he realized the pillow was made of feathers, and not you. 

“come on, my love.” you said to him in the dark room, looming over him with your hair undone and bright white dress. he turned to face you, sitting up against the headboard. his hands came to rest over his head, stretching. 

then he leaned in for a kiss, his hand cupping your cheek. you met him half way, sucking on his lower lip. he groaned, and you felt yourself shift, but couldn’t fall into his trap of desire. 

“ah, ah.” you pulled away before his hand came to snatch you down into the bed. “you promised me breakfast.” 

he fell back into the bed with disappointment. you laughed to yourself and made your way to the foyeur. you didn’t have to wait long when you heard him shifting and getting ready for the day ahead. 

when you arrived to the courts that morning, lando was carrying most of your things. it had you smiling with appreciation, insisting that you could carry your wilson tennis bag. but he refused, saying that you worked too hard for this day to be carrying your own bag. let me help you, and you were sold. 

you caught on to how much the crowds began to fill in. you were a sensation. but the notion would consistently fly over your head. 

you were tense and lando could see that. 

“hey,” his hand came to rest on your back. you leaned into him. “you’re going to do great, baby.” 

you sucked in a tight breath. but what if you didn’t? what if, that these set of matches, would damn your career to near ruin? what if you could never be perfect? 

your breathing became erratic. lando’s eyes widened, jumping into swift action as he covered your body with his. he backed you into a corner where no one could see the pair of you, and wrapped his hands around your body tightly. 

“match me.” he said. the words were so familiar to you. the both of you had discovered a coping mechanism when things got too much, too overwhelming, and too over pressured. you’d fall into each other’s arms and hear one another breathe. 

your lip quivered with tears. but you did as you were told. 

with an ear pressed to his chest, you could hear the steady beat of his heart. the strength in his muscles. the blood rippling through his veins. most importantly, the rise and fall of his abdomen against your own. 

with your thummering heart, you found pace with him. “in and out,” he would soothe, saying into the top of your head where he left kisses in his wake. 

he stroked the small of your back, thumb running circles over you. you fell completely into him. 

“what if i’m not good enough?” 

the words broke him. 

“then the world is full of fuckheads, i’ll tell you that.” his tone was firm, but ebbed with softness as he spoke into your scalp. his attempt at humor had you breaking into a soft chuckle. you appreciated him in this moment. “i’d kill all those fuckers, you just tell me who–”

your head broke away with a smile, finger coming to shush him. 

“lando!” 

“what? it’s true.” 

you loved him. 

“maybe so,” you reached up to kiss both of his flushed cheeks. “but i want you here. with me.” 

his forehead connected with yours. 

“you’ll always have me.” he placed his hand over your heart, and you placed yours over his. 

“always?”

“always.” he promised. 

the matches were flawless. you played to your body’s ultimate limit. you were skating across the base line, the volley line, snapping your shoulder with everything you had for your serves. 

“love, all.” the announcer began. 

you were up serving first. 

this was it. 

the final match out of six. whoever won this, won the title. 

you thought about lando. you thought about his breath against your neck. the texture of his stubble. the pride in his eyes. sweat dribbled from your forehead as you let the tennis ball bounce a few times before you to get a feel for the clay courts. 

and with one fluent swing and leap, the ball was set into the air. 

the cockpit was hot. lando was sweating profusely in the miami air. the humidity had changed their course of strategy at mclaren, but he agreed with his engineers wholeheartedly. there had been a safety car, and he abused it. attack it. 

when he was rounding corner after corner, lap after lap, he only thought of you. he thought of you in your pretty tennis dresses. you and your bright smile. you and your comforting touches, kissing him goodnight. it had his racing heart relaxing, fingers flexing against the steering drive. 

you were perfect. his perfect fucking girl. you were all his– his soon to be championship winner. and he wanted to make you a promise that he would win. he would win this for you. 

‘you’re going to win tomorrow,’ you said idly from atop his hips. you looked towards him with such riveting devotion. such intimacy that he never imagined was possible for someone to convey. but with you, anything was possible. 

the two of you were not so different from one another. the pressures you both faced were immaculate. it’s what held you both so heavily bonded to one another. you needed each other’s comfort. the touch of your hands. the sweetness of your lips. he didn’t give a fuck about codependency. fuck who ever came up with that. 

he’s going to fucking win. he will win for you. whatever it takes, he will stand on that podium in the firelli hat, and dedicate it all to you.

the score was 40-40. 

your body shook with adrenaline, muscles pounding beneath your layer of skin. your body pumped with red hot blood, blood of a future champion. this title would be yours. you knew that the minute you walked onto this court with your opponent. 

he was a smug gentleman. too smug. you wanted to wipe that fucking look off of his face. bruise it black and blue if you could. 

though your anger could be taken out on the court. you let it. 

your strokes were harder. faster. your serve pace was up to 140mph. he couldn’t even get to most of them with how your body contorted mid air, slamming it down and leaving an indent into the clay. you were a powerhouse. a machine. a gauntlet of beauty. 

and when you scored the winning point after an intense rally, jumping high into the air for an ace, you rocked back into the balls of your feet. your hips swung, racket thwanging, and you cheered; “come on!” 

your anger for him was palpable. it blinded you enough to forget the crowds. the only thing you had on your mind was winning, and that you did. 

the stadium lit up and you were met with a flushing amount of cheers. you were handed a towel from one of the members of your team before being swarmed with paparazzi.

they all complimented you. congratulated you. asked about certain points, but there was one member that caught your eye. 

“lando’s in the lead!” a cameraman said from the back. your head raised, brows quirking.

“what did you say?” you forced a path for the man to walk forward. he accepted your invitation, holding up his phone screen in one hand.

sure enough, you saw the standings. lando was in first. your boy was in first. 

your eyes widened. “this is live, isn’t it?” you were panting, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the lemon-scented towel. 

the man nodded, holding a microphone to you. 

“how do you feel right now?” you kept watching. lap 55. 

you kept quiet, and the rest of the paparazzi did too.

lap 56.

your hands clasped together, raising them to your mouth. 

“come on, baby…” you said beneath your breath. this was the longest minute of your life, you were sure of it. 

and when he crossed the finish line, he was only thinking about you. 

lando norris, first time grand prix winner, shrieked with joy over the microphone. 

you did, too, jumping up and down from your place on the court. the paparazzi swarmed you again, anticipating what you had to say for the both of you. 

“he’s incredible, isn’t he?” you gushed with a smile on your face, tears dripping down your cheeks. 

“what a day for you two, isn’t it?” 

you couldn’t agree more. “i’ll cheers to that.” 

you practically ran through the paddock. your tennis dress was still on, your team was irritated that you didn’t stay for press. you didn’t give a fuck. you just wanted to see lando. you had the rest of your life to deal with the press, but he only had one maiden win. 

you were greeted with a plethora of congratulations from the mclaren team. zak brown even caught a glance at you, waving you over. 

“podiums just about to start.” perfect. you made it in time. 

and when you saw him there, standing idly as they played the national anthem, you were brought to the front. the camera panned on you and your weeping expression, hand covering your mouth from your sobs. 

he saw it from the distance and his head snapped down to find you. his own emotions couldn’t be contained, not with you there– you, here, looking beautiful in the sea of people– and the tears slid down his cheeks. 

your face broke into a smile when he saw you. he was yours. 

and you were his. and you were in this together. 

forever and always. 

[bobbinlacebliss]

Finished project: Rosemary

I was scrolling through my own blog today (as one does) and realized I never did a proper round-up post for Rosemary. So this is a bit of a retrospective I suppose! Click through for my notes on the project if you're interested - otherwise, I hope you like the pictures!

This is certainly one of my favorite pieces that I've done. I think it really turned out beautifully! But, it also stands out in my mind for having a foul, foul, truly foul number of broken threads that had to be replaced in the middle of the work. I think at least 6? The ideal number of course being zero. At the time, this sucked. I had no idea what I was doing - you can see in one of the pictures that I was referencing three different books at one point trying to figure out how the heck to fix the dang things. But in hindsight, it was valuable experience! I got a lot of practice splicing in new threads, and I also stopped being so afraid of it happening. (Though of course one still likes to avoid it...)

I am not sure why so many threads decided to part company with their fellows, but I have some theories. I'm fairly sure it's not because of putting too much tension on the thread, because it didn't snap under pressure so much as just kinda fray and drift apart. My prime suspect is the bobbins - something about this style of bobbin makes it really hard (for me, at least) to prevent them rolling wildly all over the pillow during the work, which runs the risk of untwisting the thread. This is very sad for me because I love these bobbins. But I haven't given up hope that I can still make them work. They seem to roll less on my box pillow, so maybe they can just be reserved for that pillow. Also, I'm on that "it was a bad batch of thread" copium 😅

This was also the first time I tried mounting the finished lace onto fabric, which I was very worried about screwing up but it wound up not being so bad! Sewing is definitely not my strong suit, but I got through it and am pleased with the result.

Technical Notes

Pattern: "Rosemary" from A Visual Introduction to Bucks Point Lace by Geraldine Stott

Thread: Egyptian cotton 80/2 in bright white

Gimps: 8 ply of the base thread

Pins: .5 mm pins for the picots and motifs; .8mm pins for the ground and footside

Picots: 5 twists

Started: September 14, 2020

Completed: August 11, 2021

(If you've made it this far and you somehow haven't heard enough about this project, you can check out the "rosemary" tag on my blog to see my other posts about it.)

[bandgie]

On Your Knees Pt.2

ONE | TWO

synopsis: They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but this one seems eager for a treat.

warnings! MDNI 18+, fem!reader, incel!seungmin, pussy eating/fingering, PIV (raw), edging (m!), blue balls, multiple orgasms (f!), dom reader (kinda), banter, prolly more that I missed lol

3.1k words

Seungmin doesn't think there'll be any way for him to live how he has been. Even the friends he spends time with hardly compare to the time he spends on the bathroom floor eating you out. Embarrassingly enough, it's all he can think about. Even as the podcast he's watching blares through his headphones, he can barely make out what they're saying.

Something about how it's submissive for a man to eat pussy. How demeaning the act is for a man to do. Yet, Seungmin questions the validity of what these so-called 'alpha' men are saying. Is it truly so terrible to have the taste of a cunt on your lips? To suck and lick on such a delicious flower?

He shuts his computer off, ripping the headphones by the wire to hone in on his conclusions. 

Okay so maybe this is normal. Seungmin's a big boy; it makes sense that he would eat pussy sooner or later. And if he liked it, that's also fine. He's a man, after all, it makes more sense to like giving girls head than to hate it.

Just as long as he doesn't try to reach out to you. Now that would be submissive of him. And if there's anything Seungmin is dead set on, it's that he is not submissive. 

But days after not seeing you with Han, days of not getting a taste of the pussy that has him whipped has him doing things he's sworn not to do. He found your number, he texted you, and he's going over your house on your conditions.

He's so fucked. 

It's too late to turn back by the time he's at your front door. Seungmin only waits a few seconds before the door swings open. He's seen you about a dozen times, but it's the first time he's felt his heart swoop at the sight of you. He reasons it's just because you're in a t-shirt.

"Oh wow," you take a step back and look at him up and down, somewhat in disbelief. "I can't believe you actually came."

Seungmin can't find it in himself to believe he came here on his own violation either. "Whatever," he shivers from the cold, night air. "Are you gonna let me in or what?" 

You take a step aside to make room, "Since you asked so nicely."

Seungmin takes awkward steps into your apartment, noting the cozy setup and simple plants littered in your living space. His fingertips run on the soft material of the couch, pulling on the loose threads automatically.

You walk past him, taking a seat on your couch and reaching for the remote. "I was just about to put something on," you turn and look up at him. "Come on."

Tentatively, Seungmin walks around the sofa to you. Just before he takes his seat, you click your tongue. "Nope. On the floor." You point to the space between your legs. Seungmin hands close and open, unsure what to make of the situation. You sigh and loll your head to the side, looking at him unamused. "You gonna sit down or what?"

Seungmin glowers at you, "I am. You don't need to be such as ass about it." He grumbles a little more before bending down and crossing his legs to face the TV. "Nope, wrong way," you twirl your finger in a circular motion to indicate him to face you instead. 

He looks at you confused, "But you said we were gonna put something on." You shake your head at him, "No. I said I'm gonna put something on. I never said anything about you." A hint of red begins to show on Seungmin's face, but before he has the chance to most likely curse you, you spread your legs. 

You can practically see the words die in Seungmin's throat at the sight of your bare cunt. He acts before he can think, twisting his body fully and gripping the underside of your thighs to spread you further. It's better than he remembers.

"This is why you came, right?" You look down at him. "Missed the taste of this pussy?"

Seungmin licks his lips, nodding mindlessly. Something about taste and pussy, but he understood nonetheless. His tongue pokes out, but you grip his hair and yank him upwards. Seungmin whines, like an animal tore away from his meal, but you ignore it. "You're just here to make me feel good, got it? You don't get to cum, only I do. Do you understand?"

You have to shake his head to force an answer out of him. "Yes yes yes." He shifts anxiously in your hold. "Only you. I'll make you feel good."

Despite his desperation, you smile. "Good boy. Go ahead."

The moment your grip loosens, Seungmin latches onto your core. It's soft, it's warm, it's good. He moans into your cunt, inhaling through his nose and he dips his tongue between your folds. It's only been days since he's tasted you, but it feels far too long. How could he go a single minute without tasting you? Getting that sticky arousal on his lips so the taste could mingle in his mouth the entire day? Seungmin puckers his lips and kisses your cunt, a thank you for introducing him to a whole new world. 

Your fingers mindlessly click on the buttons of the remote as you try and find a show. You keep switching back and forth between options, clicking random buttons until you accidentally set the caption to a different language. One of your hands pet the top of Seungmin's head, pushing back his hair and twirling it in your fingers. 

His tongue slides down until it catches your entrance, barely prodding it until he slides it back up to your clit. He swirls your bud in his mouth, sucking and licking until your hips buck. "Shit," you breathe. "You really missed my pussy, huh?"

Seungmin opens his eyes to look up at you. He turns his head sideways to place your clit in his mouth, flicking your clit rapidly. That's as much of an answer as you're getting, but it does the job. He lifts his head back up and sucks harshly, pulling on your sensitive flesh before releasing it. You shiver and moan, feeling your arousal drip onto the couch that you'll make him clean up later. 

"Fuck yes," your grip tighten on his hair. "Finger me." Seungmin leans back and uses his hands to rub your pussy. His fingers rub and swirl around your core until they're drenched. He trails them down until they catch your entrance, pushing his middle and ring finger in. 

You throw the remote on the couch and grip the cushions. The stretch is slight, but his fingers are long. They reach much deeper than you could ever do yourself, and you let out a loud moan when they finally settle all the way inside. Seungmin pumps you slowly, getting used to how your walls pulse and clench around him. He watches as your cunt swallows his fingers. His cock throbs in his pants. 

"Shiiit," you throw your head back onto the headrest. "I'll cum if you keep doing that."

That's all he's ever wanted. Seungmin places his mouth back onto your clit where his tongue flattens against your cunt. He moves his head up and down while thrusting his fingers in and out. Both of your hands are tugging on his hair, pulling and pushing him away. 

"Already?" He pulls away for a moment to speak. "Didn't think you'd be this easy, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised." A devilish smile appears on his lips as you lift your head to look at him. You wish you could come up with a snide remark, but your head starting to feel fuzzy and all you can focus on is how close you are. 

You push his head back to your pussy and wrap your legs around his body, locking him in. "I'll make you regret saying that."

Seungmin laughs into your cunt, happy that he succeeded in pissing you off. Now that he's pushed against you, it's a little difficult to finger you as rapidly, but you rather like the shallow thrusts. It gives you more to clench down on and ride while he licks your clit. You buck your hips and ride his face inelegantly. The first hints of your orgasm build in your stomach, making your body feel unbelievably warm as your hips stutter. 

"Fuck," you rasp. "Imma cum." You blink a few times and lazily smile at him, "Did you miss the taste of that too?"

As an answer, Seungmin buries himself so deep into you that his nose is pressed against your clit. The extra texture is enough to send you over the edge, creaming on his fingers and twitching in his mouth. He happily gulps down your arousal, slipping his fingers out to replace them with his tongue instead. 

You just taste so good. Seungmin is delightfully reminded of how it felt to swallow you for the first time, how the taste settled on his tastebuds. His tongue scoops out the white cream your pussy flooded out and spreads it on your clit before licking it back up again. 

He hums, shoving his cum-stained fingers when you finally release him from your hold. 

Seungmin wants it again. His hands splay over your thighs to spread them. After all, it's you who gets to cum. It's only fair he makes sure you can as much as possible. But before his tongue has the chance to find its rightful place in your pussy, you snap your legs shut.

He looks up at you like a wounded dog, "Hey! Open them back up!"

Seungmin isn't sure what he's expecting to see, but it definitely isn't how you look right now. Flushed with a heaving chest, eyes that are wide and full of arousal, and a cheeky smile on your bitten lips. He's reminded of how pretty you actually are. 

"Get up," you snap him out of his thoughts. "Take off your pants too."

He doesn't need to be told twice. Seungmin rises from his aching knees and fumbles with his belt. He unties it quickly before undoing the top of his pants, shoving them down along with his boxers. You gasp, eyes locking with his cock for the first time. 

"Holy shit," you slap a hand over your mouth. He's hard. His cock is red at the tip, leaking with so much precum you think he's had to stain his underwear. You can almost see it twitching from lack of attention, begging to be touched. 

Seungmin smiles, grabbing the base and squeezing it. "You like it, huh?" It's not easy to take your gaze off his length to look into his eyes instead. The sight of him has you aching to be filled. Your pussy clenches around nothing, but you keep your nose upturned, "It's alright."

He scoffs, but the smile never fades. You widen your legs and welcome him, watching as he gets into a half-squat position to angle his cock towards your entrance. Seungmin rubs his tip over your sensitive clit. When it catches your nub, you jolt. You wrap your legs around him and bring him closer. He does it again, this time pressing the head of his cock down to apply pressure. 

You reason he's doing this on purpose. Making your pussy squelch and your hips jolt to try and get him inside. As much as you hate to admit it, he's good with his dick. Teasing you by slowly dragging the fat of his head down your slit, slapping his tip and your wet cunt. You're annoyingly reminded of what he said days ago; 'I can make a girl cum. I just don't care to.'

The words echo in your mind and you scrunch your nose. "God, fuck! Stop pissing me off and put it in already."

For a moment, you think he's going to defy you. His tip trails lower and lower until it's against your entrance. Seungmin steadies his cock at the base and pushes forwards, barely spreading you open. "Didn't think I'd ever hear you begging for my cock," he smiles at you teasingly. "You were being such a feminist the other day. What happened?"

Not-so-nice words begin to form in your head and before you get the chance to spew them out, Seungmin pushes all the way in. His cock stretches you out more than you anticipated, and it's whines that leave your lips instead. He doesn't give you the chance to adjust as he pulls nearly all the way, save for his tip, before slamming back in. Your entire body jolts and you whimper again. 

Your pussy can't keep up with his pace, but you hardly mind the pain. It blurs into white pleasure that burns hot in your cunt. 

"You hear that?" Seungmin pants through his thrusts. "That's the sound of your pussy getting fucked by an...what was it again? An incel?" He laughs as your eyes darken with anger, seething with a type of emotion you're not too familiar with. 

You reach out the grip his wrist that's placed on the side of the couch, digging your nails into his flesh. Seungmin hardly notices the pain, his teeth shining in his shit-eating smile.

The words are stuck in your throat. You want no more than to tell Seungmin how much of an ass he is, that his cock is merely adequate, but you can't. Every drag of his length rubs against your walls deliciously. You can practically feel every vein on him as he fucks you raw. He makes your hot pussy even hotter and he, unfortunately for you, keeps dragging his cock against that sweet spot deep inside you.

"You," a breath from you, "are a dick."

Strangely enough, your words seem to spur him on more. He tears his hand from your iron grip to place them both under your hips. Seungmin angles your hips upwards and drives forward, shoving his cock unbelievably deeper. Your hands shoot up to your face, trying to block all sounds of pleasure, but Seungmin can hear them. He can hear the gasping behind your fingers, the high-pitched moans muffled in your hands. 

Seungmin laughs, but it sounds winded. "A dick huh? That's funny. You seem to like being fucked by one."

It occurs to you that you've been too lenient on him. Letting him eat the very same pussy he's thrusting into, letting him fuck you raw. His attitude needs some shaping.

You let him keep fucking you. You let his cock throb and twitch in your pussy. He's close, but he's doing good at holding back. Seungmin must be used to dumping his cum and leaving, but he seems to hold out just for you. It's cute, but your plan is better. 

Your head bounces with every thrust. Seungmin makes sure to keep his long fingers at your clit the entire time, switching between pinching and flicking against it. It helps to build your second orgasm. Your jaw falls open and your moans become more frequent.

"Shit," he breathes. "Pussy gripping me so tight. Is someone gonna cum again?"

Blinking up at him, you nod. Your hand grips your chest, squeezing your boobs underneath the material as you keep nodding. "Mhm. Keep fucking my pussy and I'll cream all over your cock." That does it for him. Seungmin has been holding back his orgasm so much that his ears feel like they might burst. 

With new vigor, he fucks into you harder, deeper. Seungmin doesn't try to hide the animalistic sounds he makes, groaning and moaning as your walls wrap around his cock. "You want my cum, huh? Acting all big and strong when it's you're begging for it. Say it. Tell me you want my cum."

You don't, not because you're prideful, but because you can't. He's thrusting into you so roughly that words seem to leave you. His hand pulls your clit roughly, and the harsh tug drives you over the edge. You squeeze your breasts so tightly to anchor yourself. You can feel how your pussy floods with your cum, leaving your legs trembling and shaking. 

Seungmin can feel it too. The pulsing, the wetness. It's enough to finally let him release. His balls tighten, his dick twitches, and he-

"Pull out."

Seungmin doesn't know why he listens. He was so close to his orgasm, he could still taste it on his tongue. But your demand outweighs his need to cum. With a wail, he pulls out. A small whimper makes its way past you as he finally slips out, cock shining in your cum. 

His cock is red, rubbed nearly raw from how good he was keeping himself at bay. You can see the head of his cock pulsing, worse than the first time you saw it. A wicked smile finds your lips. 

"Do you remember what I said earlier, Seungie?" You speak with artificial gentleness. Seungmin is too busy trying not to cum, squeezing the base of his cock almost painfully. You have to repeat your question before he finally looks up to you. "Huh? About what?"

"About who gets to cum," you remind him. "Who is it that gets to cum tonight?"

Seungmin thinks back about how you presented your cunt to him, bare and wet. He briefly recalls how you said something about being the only one to cum, but he was so entranced by your sweet pussy that he hardly cared.

He frowns, face flushed. "But that's not fair! I ate you out. You came on my tongue. You came on my dick. I'm so hard and-"

"And that doesn't matter," you interrupt him. "I never said you can cum. That's your fault for assuming you could." You have to bite back you smile at his pitiful reaction.

Even with his dejected look, you can't help but find it somewhat cute. You fake a pout and click your tongue, "Poor thing. Here, kisses will make you feel better."

Seungmin wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't you widening your legs and him falling to his knees. Yet, he does just that. You feel his warm, wet tongue on your throbbing clit. Sucking and licking eagerly like he forgot about the aching cock between his legs. 

You fondly brush the hair from his face as he eats you out for the second time tonight. His eyes look up to you with your clit in your mouth and you shiver. Seungmin will be a handful for sure, but you can't help but think you've found the perfect diamond in the rough.

a/n: omfg I actually had a whole different idea but I scraped it and did this instead :p. if you wanna ask for a third part, please don't, I have no more plot for this fic tags: @mynsung, @andassortedkpop, @jminnnnnnn, @geneziesm, @applekiwi3202, @i6gyuu, @lazycarolinamoment, @lewoh-ot8-wh0re, @ihave-atummyache, @seeeeking-skz, @loeyscock, @blankdyean, @dini-recs, @yzsqu, @desirehorizon-recsextra a/n: I need to start asking if people want tags rather than looking through my comments and see who was asking for a pt 2 :(

[mistakenot4892]

Disclaimer that this is a post mostly motivated by frustration at a cultural trend, not at any individual people/posters. Vagueing to avoid it seeming like a callout but I know how Tumblr is so we'll see I guess. Putting it after a read-more because I think it's going to spiral out of control.

Recent discourse around obnoxious Linux shills chiming in on posts about how difficult it can be to pick up computer literacy these days has made me feel old and tired. I get that people just want computers to Work and they don't want to have to put any extra effort into getting it to Do The Thing, that's not unreasonable, I want the same!

(I also want obnoxious Linux shills to not chip in on my posts (unless I am posting because my Linux has exploded and I need help) so I sympathise with that angle too, 'just use Linux' is not the catch-all solution you think it is my friend.)

But I keep seeing this broad sense of learned helplessness around having to learn about what the computer is actually doing without having your hand held by a massive faceless corporation, and I just feel like it isn't a healthy relationship to have with your tech.

The industry is getting worse and worse in their lack of respect to the consumer every quarter. Microsoft is comfortable pivoting their entire business to push AI on every part of their infrastructure and in every service, in part because their customers aren't going anywhere and won't push back in the numbers that might make a difference. Windows 11 has hidden even more functionality behind layers of streamlining and obfuscation and integrated even more spyware and telemetry that won't tell you shit about what it's doing and that you can't turn off without violating the EULA. They're going to keep pursuing this kind of shit in more and more obvious ways because that's all they can do in the quest for endless year on year growth.

Unfortunately, switching to Linux will force you to learn how to use it. That sucks when it's being pushed as an immediate solution to a specific problem you're having! Not going to deny that. FOSS folks need to realise that 'just pivot your entire day to day workflow to a new suite of tools designed by hobby engineers with really specific chips on their shoulders' does not work as a method of evangelism. But if you approach it more like learning to understand and control your tech, I think maybe it could be a bit more palatable? It's more like a set of techniques and strategies than learning a specific workflow. Once you pick up the basic patterns, you can apply them to the novel problems that inevitably crop up. It's still painful, particularly if you're messing around with audio or graphics drivers, but importantly, you are always the one in control. You might not know how to drive, and the engine might be on fire, but you're not locked in a burning Tesla.

Now that I write this it sounds more like a set of coping mechanisms, but to be honest I do not have a healthy relationship with xorg.conf and probably should seek therapy.

It's a bit of a stretch but I almost feel like a bit of friction with tech is necessary to develop a good relationship with it? Growing up on MS-DOS and earlier versions of Windows has given me a healthy suspicion of any time my computer does something without me telling it to, and if I can't then see what it did, something's very off. If I can't get at the setting and properties panel for something, my immediate inclination is to uninstall it and do without.

And like yeah as a final note, I too find it frustrating when Linux decides to shit itself and the latest relevant thread I can find on the matter is from 2006 and every participant has been Raptured since, but at least threads exist. At least they're not Microsoft Community hellscapes where every second response is a sales rep telling them to open a support ticket. At least there's some transparency and openness around how the operating system is made and how it works. At least you have alternatives if one doesn't do the job for you.

This is long and meandering and probably misses the point of the discourse I'm dragging but I felt obligated to make it. Ubuntu Noble Numbat is pretty good and I haven't had any issues with it out of the box (compared to EndeavourOS becoming a hellscape whenever I wanted my computer to make a sound or render a graphic) so I recommend it. Yay FOSS.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Stitches, Films and Sponges Baths?

Cw: fluff, shy!team doctor!reader, Dick being a flirty shit

“Nightwing B-01, injured.” Calls the electronic voice through the comms and you get moving immediately.

“How bad is it?” You ask as you snap gloves on and reach for your kit.

“Bad enough that I’ll miss seeing your concentrated face, angel.” Dick flirts and you suck at your teeth.

The moment he comes into view, you realise that as much as he flirts he hadn’t been lying.

He’s cut under his eye, there’s another on his bicep and a tear in the side of his suit.

“Who did you lose a fight to?” That gets him to open his eyes and he spots a slight frown on your lips.

“I didn’t lose, I’m just a little more cut up than you’re used to seeing me.” You clean up his face first and your frown smooths out when you realise it's more blood than wound.

“This one isn’t too bad, maybe a butterfly stitch if you really want one. It should close within the day.”

Dick reaches for your gloved hand, “Put the stitch please, angel? Don’t want you having to stare at that cut every time you look at me;” he smiles and as if he’s reconsidered his statement he adds. “Unless it makes me look rugged and even hotter.”

Your body flushes, heat rushing through you and you nibble on your lip as you set the stitch on his cheekbone.

“You look fine, can you open your eyes now?”

He does, “Missed seeing them, did you?”

“Dick,” it’s only a warning, but he likes when you say his name so it’s one he elects to ignore- on the basis of the fact that if he does, you’re going to fluster even more. And he likes that even more.

“Your bicep isn’t too bad, just a scratch really. I’m more worried about your side, so I’m going to look at that first.”

His arms reach up for you to undress him and Dick bites his tongue to keep his smile at bay when your eyes widen and your fingers drag up his stomach as you lift off the top of his suit.

You wonder if he can tell that your pulse is rioting now?

He’s always been pretty, flirty and overly friendly to you and you’ve never known where to put all that.

Dick is gorgeous, he’s been gorgeous from the moment you’d been recruited here from the Bat, but he’s also never been by himself since you’ve been here- a little bit of a relationship man and while you’d love to pursue that, you don’t know if your poor heart will handle his flirty unleashed.

“It’s not so bad, just a little jagged so the stitching is going to hurt a bit. I’m sorry.”

Dick tuts, his heart clenching at how considerate you are- then he wonders if that’s just your bedside manner.

“No need for that, I can take a little pain.”

You nod, and get started with your needles and thread, closing up Dick’s wound with a steady hand.

“These are dissolvable, but they can still rip if you aren’t careful so you’re on bed rest until they dissolve.”

“How long will that take, angel? Trying to plan how many days I have with you.”

You clench your jaw to stop your smile, but Dick takes note of the way that your eyebrows jump and your eyes crinkle with little crow’s feet.

“A week or two for the most, but you can’t go around training like usual until they dissolve.”

He nods, “So what do you say to movie nights and reading challenges all week?”

You do let yourself smile then, Dick’s proposed things you like that he doesn’t necessarily find that mind blowing.

“And what will you do?” You ask, a vote of confidence to play along with his tease.

“Probably work on some tech stuff, but we’ll at least be together so you can have all the time in the world just staring at me till you’re ready to make a move.”

You grumble and scrub your face making Dick chuckle.

“That was mean, I’m sorry angel.” He coos and you look up to find him still smirking.

“Mhm, I totally believe you,” you finish his stitch and cover it with a piece of gauze and medical tape. “I don’t think I’ll be able to spend the entire week with you Grayson. I’ve got class.”

His eyebrows jump, “Class? Did you start a new programme?”

You nod, “Behavioral analysis.” Dick smiles, a little wicked at the confession. You move to his bicep, cleaning up the blood to find three claw-like marks tearing through his skin.

“Do you need real life case studies? I’ll be happy to help you out. You can analyse my behaviour when I’m with you.”

Your belly heats, and you’re sure the way you fluster is evident to Dick and that makes you feel even more bashful.

It’s clear he does feel a little bad about how flushed he’s making you when you feel his hand reach up to your cheek.

“I’ll stop for a little, angel. Don’t want you to pass out from all the heat you’re pushing out.”

“Dick!” You whine and he laughs, a full belly laugh that makes your frown turn to a small smile. “You’re the worst.”

You finish cleaning and dressing the scratches on his bicep, they only needed a few stitches on one of them.

“Oh am I?” He coos and you grumble, biting your lip to stop from swearing at him. “Okay okay, I’ll really stop now.” He promises; you look up at him through your lashes as you pull away from his hand and start cleaning up.

“Wanna watch a film with me?” He asks as you finish cleaning, his body suddenly tired now that he’s not worried about flirting and teasing you.

“One of your black and white French films?” It’s his turn to flush a little, clearly not expecting anyone to notice his choice in movies. “You always leave the disk in, and I don’t think anyone else is watching espionage French films except you.” You explain with a little smile.

“Maybe not a French one, we can do Russian or Spanish- I know you watch those.”

You shrug, “We can trade off, one French, one Spanish.”

Dick nods, groaning as he stands. His hand pressed tight to his side. “Why don’t you choose first, angel. Gonna get Alfred to sponge me off,” he pauses at the door, a mischievous smirk on his lips as he turns back to you. “Unless you want to do it, which I have zero objections to.”

“Go get your sponge bath Grayson, I’ll be in the media room.”