#i've been trying since LAST summer

[twistedglass]

Me: PLEASE, game. I really want Jamil in his DORM uniform. Game: You want Jamil; got it. Me: Remember, I said DORM uniform. Game: Jamil, right! You want him. Me: Not SCHOOL. Not P.E. Not LAB WEAR.... Game: I got it, I got~! Me: C'mon…… Game: SCHOOL UNIFORM~! :D Me: ……..Why are you like this?

[gu6chan]

work related question does anyone have any fun anime for likely 12-14 year olds that to their ulta-conservative conspiracy theory parents would have no objectionable content whatsoever that's not like . pokemon. i live in the most conservative area in michigan btw /hj

[warm-mangoes-with-chai]

Just found something after 3 years,,,, life is with living still,,,,🥹

Bottom line? NEVER give up, my fellow yuri soldiers 🧡🤍🩷

[quitedisastrous]

i wish i could just do nothing for a few days straight. maybe even just sleep for a few days straight. sooo excited for constant misery over the next 20 days

ranting in the tags. i would just scroll past if i were you

[you-will-return]

--

(I keep telling myself that I won't post it and then I don't and then I feel annoyed with myself but I tell myself that I shouldn't post it and then I don't and-)

[thatfriendlyanon]

five words for my january: rhythms, ruminate, community, splintered, hope

link to picrew

[scorpion-flower]

Also, while we're on the topic of my parents being human turds:

Last year, I worked at a school (hey, preschool teacher here!) and when that year was over (you have no idea how difficult it was, lol) I didn't want all those group projects that I had made with the kids to be thrown out, so I took them with me inside a huge plastic bag.

Now, there is no way of really showing this to you, but my room is a mess. And it is this way because I have too many stuff (such as clothes, books, funko pops) while the room is not that big. And to be honest, I don't want to throw anything away. So, as you can guess, that plastic bag didn't help.

So, my boyfriend suggested, that he could take that bag and keep it at his home, since they have extra room, and I said 'sure'. He didn't do it tho.

And here's where my stupid parents come into the story!

They already don't like him (lol, it's not because of anything that he has done, I believe that they would like him only if he was filthy rich and beat me up like they used to) so they use his suggestion and his failure to deliver, as a way to both diminish him and me, because I continue this relationship.

Mind you, these are the same people who have promised me a lot of stuff and always failed to deliver.

I still remember being 3 or 4, watching commercials about Disneyland in Paris on TV and them promising me that they would take me there when I'd finish elementary school. Guess what, I am 29, 17 years out of elementary school and still, I've never been there!

And I remember, being like 18 or 19, and them telling me that they'd search for a small appartment for me to rent, in order for me to start being more independent, and even said that they'd help me with the bills. Did that happen? Of course not! Back then, I also had a therapist who, when I told her what my parents said about renting me an appartment, replied with a "They won't do it, it's all a lie" And she was right!

They even repeated that promise when I was 26, I flat out told them that I don't believe them, and I was right!

It's not like I expect them to do big things for me. They cannot even have basic human decency. It's the lack of self awareness and the gashlighting that gets me everytime tho!

[khargaotte]

My first ever @mayakern order just shipped today and it contains the ye olde cats skirt and I'll be damned if I don't go to the fine arts museum, wearing that skirt, to take a picture in front of my favorite painting in that building, the one with the cat with the human nose, which happens to be featured on said skirt. Consider this my pledge to do this.

[wewontbesleeping]

oh YAY the old coworker who had delusional fantasies about a relationship with me and harassed me about it both at work and in absolutely insane social media posts has started commenting on my old posts again! yay!!!!! i'm so happy!!!!

[avinox]

I'm not sure how viable it would be, but I could try to get an assessment for disability because my OCD really does impair my ability to function normally. Like even when I think I'm doing fine I'm really not, it affects every little thing in my life.

My family would probably refrain me from trying to get that, even though that's what they suggested I do when I went to that job helping thing. They'd say that'll for sure make me unemployable, or that they're gonna fire me for that or something (obviously illegal). I'm not sure if I care about it as much as I do about wanting to know the exact degree that they think having this prevents me from having a life.

[svnriseblvdd]

neighbour! clark kent x new girl! reader

SYNOPSIS: with a new problem in smallville ridding people of their inhibitions and exacerbating urges, clark finds himself confronted with a dilemma as his neighbour arrives in his loft, afflicted by the same epidemic

WARNINGS: where to start?, slight dubcon (purely because reader's emotions are being exaggerated by an outside force (not a person though, it's unspecified)) but consent is verbalised later between both parties, clark is kind of pathetic (what did you expect from me?), kissing, palming(?), he's a sensitive guy, clark reacts to seeing reader's bare skin like a victorian man seeing a woman's ankle, kind of dirty talk, clark in that white t-shirt (i KNOW you know what i mean), blowjob, handjob, clark compares every sexual experience to ascending to a new plane of existence and finding paradise, he's a loud boy, couch sex, semi-public sex? (in the loft in the barn, but literally no one is around and they're alone for hours), fingering, clark using his super speed for illicit activities, cowgirl, missionary, it's not said whether or not clark is a virgin, but he's definitely inexperienced, clark being scared of his strength being a danger to reader, praise kink (neither of them react to the praise in any particular way, it's just that there's a lot of praise so if anything i'm just showing off my praise kink), mention of sex against a wall, creampie

this is inspired by the episode of smallville in season one where there's that flower that makes people make poor decisions and behave rashly, and also by this scene that i saw on tiktok with clark and lana (if anyone finds this i need them to send me the link... for research purposes) (EDIT: someone found it so here's the link) where he just folds the moment she kisses his neck. i also borrowed a few lines of dialogue from my clark jacking off headcanons.

also for someone who rarely spells the word rhythm right first try, i use it a lot in this. fair warning there may be accidental tense changes and pronoun changes but i've tried to go through and eliminate that.

this will probably be the last instalment of the neighbour clark series, although i'll probably return to this idea eventually to add thoughts, but they won't be tied directly to this series, just to neighbour clark as an au. thank you to everyone who has enjoyed and supported this series and been so patient with me (i had no idea it had been over a month since part four).

part one! part two! part three! part four! part five!

Clark can’t seem to escape you over the next week, not that he really minds much. But it’s become almost impossible to make it through an encounter with you where he doesn’t feel like he’s at risk of coming undone. 

You’re always hanging out with Lana and Chloe in school and out of it, you’re at the Torch whenever he is, same with the Talon. He’s even come home to find you baking with his mother! What divine power hates him so much that you have to be everywhere he turns? 

Sometimes you’re not even doing anything particularly scandalous. The only remotely salacious thing you did while baking was licking the batter off your fingers, and that definitely did send Clark through the loop. Your pure existence anywhere nearby just threw him off. 

~~~ 

You have one thought and one thought only as you walk towards the barn that contains Clark’s little hideaway. The farm is empty besides him - Mr and Mrs Kent are in town at the market, so they’ll be gone for a while. You’ll have plenty of alone time with Clark. 

“Clark?” You call as you enter the barn. 

“Hey!” He greets, voice a little breathy. 

“Can I come up?” 

“Yeah, no problem.” You make your way upstairs, finding Clark reading through some book when you reach the top. “Hey, what’s-” 

He turns, and the sight he’s met with has him pausing. You’re in a pair of teeny denim shorts, a black cropped tank top with thin straps, and an open button-up. It’s a warm summer’s day and your skin is practically glowing in the light that filters through into the barn. The cute little brown cowboy boots on your feet really tie it together. There’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary about your outfit, but something about it feels different. It feels… he can’t place it. Although maybe it’s just to do with the air you have about you as you stand there. 

“What are- what are you doing here?” He asks. 

You shrug. “Well, it’s just been such a long, hard day, and I missed you. Kept thinking about you. Thought we could hang out. We haven’t hung out together in ages, you know? Just the two of us.” You’re moving towards him as you speak. Well, it looks like you’re just moving further into the space - pacing, perhaps - but he’s sort of backing away the entire time, keeping equal distance, and you’re turning to match his direction the entire time. “It’s been so long, Clark.” 

Your hand grazes over the telescope, but you don’t move it, don’t look in it (which he’s more than thankful for, because it’s currently aimed towards your house). 

“Y-yeah, we can hang out.” 

“What have you been doing?” You ask, looking around, then at him.

You take off the shirt, and it feels like he’s watching it in slow motion. The way your head turns, the way the material just gently, slowly glides down your smooth skin, and then it’s draped over the back of a chair. You stretch, arms reaching into the air above your head and showing off more bare skin. And as you reach the peak of your stretch, fighting the tension in your muscles and bones, you let out a purposeful moan. 

Clark is going to die. 

“Uh, just homework,” he says, swallowing to combat the dryness in his mouth as you turn towards him and begin to approach him. 

You smile a little. “So smart. You’re so good, Clark.” Well, you and he both know exactly where that comment’s going. 

“Uh- hm. Not- I’m not…” He’s backing away from you to keep some distance as you keep walking towards him. His foot hits a metal bucket, a loud clang! ringing around the barn as he stumbles a little. 

“Not what, Clark? Not smart? Not good?” Clark glances behind him to make sure that he’s not going to trip over something else or fall down the stairs, and when he turns his head back to face you, he’s shocked to find you directly in front of him. 

Your fingers hook onto his belt loops, tugging him closer to you by his hips. His eyes go wide as he looks down, then at you, multiple times in very quick succession, his face the epitome of bewilderment. 

“We both know that’s not true, Clark. You’re good. And smart. And strong. You’re amazing.” 

“Wh-what are you doing?” He manages. 

“Come on, Clark, I know.” 

“What?” 

“I know how you feel. I get it now. I’ve been totally blind to it because you’re too polite to look. But I want you to. I want you to look. I want you to touch-” His eyes turn wider still, and he’s still looking confused beyond anything. “I want you to taste. I want you to do whatever you want.” 

He sees then how dilated your pupils are, how heat radiates off you. You’re not yourself. Whatever’s been going around and getting to people the past few days has reached you. This isn’t you. 

But everything he knows points to this thing, whatever it is, exacerbating existing feelings, not creating new ones. So maybe you do really want him. It doesn’t make it any better, though. It’s still taking advantage. 

“Y-you’re sick,” he tells you as you lean in and begin to mouth at his neck. 

His eyelids flutter and a smile begins to pull at the corners of his lips. No. No, he needs to be responsible. He can’t do this now. Even though you’re handing yourself to him on a silver platter, telling him you want him to. Even though his heightened senses are letting him know the way your heart begins to beat a little faster, the way your breath turns shallow and gaspy, the way you smell as arousal begins to form a little patch in your underwear. 

“This isn’t really you. You’re sick.” 

“Oh, trust me, Clark, I’ve wanted this for a while.” 

“N-no, you’re not yourself. You can’t - ah!” He’s cut off by his own high whine when one hand releases his belt loop and instead directly palms him. His hips buck into your touch involuntarily. “Oh my God.” You apply the slightest bit of pressure, and watch proudly as his eyes roll back momentarily. Oh, he’s pent up. “N-no, no you- you’re sick. This is wrong.” 

“Don’t you want me?” You ask. 

“Baby, I’ve never wanted anything more than this, but-” 

“Then take me!” You whine. “Fuck me!” 

“Please,” he tries, although with your hand still on his clothed cock and his neck still tingling with the lasting effect of your kisses, it comes out more like a whine. 

You lean up, kissing at his jaw. “What if it makes me feel better? What if it cures me?” 

“I-I don’t think-” 

“Don’t think, Clark. Please. Just- just let go. Just be with me.” 

His eyes shut for a moment. “Fuck,” he breathes out as he reaches his verdict. He turns his head, meeting your lips. It’s a messy clash of tongues, desperate for one another. 

You back him towards a desk that’s been set up against a wall, and push at his shoulders to make him sit down. He looks up at you with those angel eyes, pupils blown and eyebrows raised a little, lips pouting and all coming together to create a look that just begs you to ravish him. 

You meet his lips with yours again, hands reaching blindly to find the hem of his sweater. You find it, pulling it up and over his head with as much speed as possible, finding that tight white t-shirt underneath. 

“Fuckin’ love this shirt,” you mumble, kissing him again. “But I need it gone.” 

Clark nods, eagerly reaching to pull the t-shirt over his head. His desperation means it gets stuck a little on the way up, and you have to help him get it off, but you don’t mind. You’re quick to get your hands on him, as he begins to kiss down your neck, you trail your hands over every muscled inch of him. 

He sucks a mark into the skin of your neck, kissing over it when he’s done, like a finishing touch. “Oh, Clark,” you breathe out, nails lightly scratching over his stomach. He shivers a little, breath shaking. 

Your fingers find his chin, tilting his face up to give him another kiss, before you’re getting to your knees in front of him. He watches with wide, adoring eyes as you begin to undo his jeans, kissing down his stomach as you do. 

You make quick work of his jeans, bringing them halfway down his thighs, then pulling his boxers down far enough to free his cock. He looks painfully hard. Clark knows that this is his body’s standard reaction to you. You don’t. You’re also not aware of the way Clark’s thoughts run wild when he fists his cock to the image of you at night. Granted none of his fantasies have ever played out quite like today has, but he’s going to be thinking of this for a very long time. 

Your hand wraps around his thick base, and he lets out a precious little gasp. You smile up at him, and from this angle, you look like a fucking enchantress. He swears you’ve got him under some kind of spell. 

You move your hand. Clark is ascending to a new plane. 

And then, with your hand still pumping him, and as Clark watches, you lean your head closer to his tip. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. 

You lick over his slit, and his head tilts back against his wishes. He doesn’t want to look away. Doesn’t want to miss a single moment. He wants to bask in the glory of this image forever. 

And then your lips wrap around his tip, a sensation like no other, and you press forward, taking him as far as you can. “Oh, baby, please-” he moans, wrangling the urge to flex his hips forward. “Y-yeah, that’s it, honey.” 

His head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut as your hand pumps what you can’t fit in your mouth. You watch him through your lashes, waiting for him to look back at you. But he doesn’t. 

So you pull off. 

Clark just about suppresses the whine that threatens to escape at the loss of the wet heat of your mouth, and instead a rather disappointed sigh leaves him. The world outside your mouth feels cold and lonely. 

But you fix it by leaning forwards and beginning to kiss around his pelvis, smirking a little against his skin as he shudders. Your hand is still moving to a steady rhythm, and even though Clark misses the feeling of your mouth, the combined sensation of your slick hand and your kisses on his hips is too good. “Clark, honey,” you mumble, nipping at the skin over his hip bone. He gasps. “Would you look at me?” 

“C-can’t,” he denies, shaking his head. 

“Why not?” 

“Because - oh, God-” You suck his skin just a couple of inches away from his base, disappointed to find no mark when you pull away. “Because if I look at you, I think I might cum.” 

You give him a sympathetic look. “What would be so bad about that?” 

“I can’t. Not yet. Have to - have to last.” 

“Oh, Clark,” you hum with a pout. “It’s okay if you cum. I want you to. We’ll go as long as you can. We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.” You reach a hand up, smoothing it over the planes of his chest. “Look at me? Please?” Clark nods, looking down and meeting your eyes. “There’re those pretty eyes.” 

You plant a final kiss on his hip before taking him in your mouth again. “Oh, please,” he whimpers, his hips twitching. 

His hands rest against the desk beneath him, but not gripping it, instead clenching his fists until his knuckles turn white. You reach for one of his hands, guiding it towards you, but Clark shakes his head and pulls it back, placing it firmly on the desk again. 

“Keep going, baby, please. I’m almost there.” 

You pull away to breathe, jerking him off with newfound speed, and Clark’s breaths turn into panting moans. This time, when he feels the urge to throw his head back, he fights it. He holds the eye contact you’re giving him, just like you’d asked. 

“Let go for me, Clark. Wanna see it. Wanna taste it.” Your tongue meets his tip as you wrap your mouth around the blushing tip of his cock, and you drag along his slit. 

“Yeah. Right there. Yes, yes, fuck!” 

Clark crumbles as he cums, shooting spurts onto your tongue and moaning through it, your hand and mouth working him through the pleasure and milking him for all he’s worth. 

You grin up at him, kissing the head of his cock, and standing. He lifts a hand, cupping your face and shifting some fallen hair, smiling at you, blissed-out and awe-struck. 

He leans forwards, catching your lips in a sweet kiss. “Couch?” You mumble, and he nods, taking your hands in his as he walks towards the couch. He sits down on it, an old and worn piece of furniture - but it’ll do. It looks sturdy enough. 

You sink into his lap, knees either side of his hips, kissing him. You blindly find his hands, pulling them to the button of your shorts. The way his fingers move to get you out of those shorts is nothing short of eager, quick and fumbling in his desperation to become impossibly closer to you. 

He finally gets the button undone and the zipper down, and you clamber off him, pushing the shorts down till they hit the floor, and you step out of them. Clark sits forward, pretty green eyes gazing up at you, flickering down to the hem of your tank top. 

His nose nudges at the skin revealed beneath the bottom, and he takes a long breath in, eyes closed, as though he’s savouring a sweet smell. Through all this, though, his hands remain balled into fists at his sides. He doesn’t grip the couch cushions like you’d expect, doesn’t dare touch you, for whatever reason. 

You toy with the hem of your tank top for a moment, Clark watching with hopeful eyes, and then you pull it up and over your head. You hook a finger into the band of your underwear - another light blue set Clark remembers fantasising about, silk and lace and matching the bra - and pause. “You wanna help me take these off, Clark?” He nods, lifting his hands and hooking his fingers into the material on your hips, tugging them down gently. 

“Oh-” he breathes out. You push him back softly with a hand on his chest, straddling him again. His eyes trail down from yours, landing on your clothed chest. 

You laugh a little. “Touch me, Clark. Then I’ll take it off and you can get a look.” 

“Y-yeah. Yeah. Okay.” 

You smile, grabbing one of his hands and guiding it to your core, fingers gently stroking over your folds. One finger slips through, and Clark almost gasps. 

He’s slow with it at first, tentative, until you kiss him and whisper, “Clark, please.” 

He adds a finger, finds a rhythm, faster, but still so gentle, like he’s afraid he’ll hurt you. He curls his fingers just right, prompting a moan from you. 

“Oh, God,” he whispers to himself at the feel of how wet you are. Because of him. 

You reach a hand between you, middle and index finger on your clit, and you begin to rub tight circles, gasping at the spike in pleasure. 

Clark is watching every response to every bit of stimulation, and he looks down at your moving fingers. “Does it- does it feel good when you do that?” He asks. You nod. He meets your eyes, innocent as can be for someone who’s got two fingers buried inside you. “I want- can I?” He asks. 

“Uh-huh.” Clark replaces your fingers with the thumb of his free hand. His hands are huge. You’ve thought about it before, plenty, about Clark’s large hands on you, on your chest or cupping your ass, but now that you’re actually with him in this setting, the thought turns you on even more. If only he didn’t seem scared to touch you. 

“Am I-” Clark begins, looking up at you with hopeful eyes. 

“You’re doing so good Clark,” you praise. “So good. Please.” 

He leans forwards, kissing your neck, collarbone, down until he finds the tops of your breasts. He kisses you there too, while his fingers below speed up in their rhythm, driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Clark- Clark, oh, please.” 

“Good?” He questions. 

“Yes. Yes. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, breathless. 

Your hips begin to move with the rhythm of his fingers, and Clark watches in awe as you do, adding pressure to your clit and practically doubling his speed. Your eyes go wide at the feeling, intense but so, so good. He’s so fast, you think it’s inhuman. In fact you’re pretty sure it has to be. 

“Hhhmmmm, Clark, how are - fuck, oh, God - how are you doing that?” 

Clark doesn’t respond, and you don’t get the chance to ask again because all of a sudden, your orgasm crashes over you in a heavy wave that feels like it’ll never end. 

You collapse onto him, legs trembling and chest heaving. You bite into his shoulder, hard enough to break skin possibly, which you feel bad for, but he doesn’t seem hurt by it. 

“Oh my God, Clark. That was incredible.” You lean back, cupping Clark’s jaw and tilting his head so he meets your eyes. 

“Can I- can you, uh…?” His gaze lowers to your chest momentarily, and you smile. Your hands reach for his wrists, lifting them up, pushing his fingers towards his mouth. He knows what you want, and he complies wordlessly, sticking his fingers in his mouth and licking them clean of your slick. 

“That’s it,” you hum, guiding his hands to your back, to the clasp of the bra. 

He unhooks it, dragging the straps down your arms, and discards it to the side. He stares at your bare chest in complete awe, green eyes shining. 

You reach down, pumping his cock to get him good and ready, and Clark still struggles to shift his gaze. “You ready?” You ask, and he nods. 

You push yourself up on your knees, and Clark’s eyes widen a little suddenly. “Wait, wait, what about protection?” 

“I’m on the pill,” you say. “And I’m clean. Are you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And do you still want to do this?” 

“More than anything.” 

“Good.” You line him up with your entrance, and sink down onto him. 

If Clark thought anything before was good, this was a whole new level of ecstasy. “Fuck, oh my God,” he gasps. 

His hands clench into fists at his sides again. You ignore it for now, even though you want nothing more than to feel his hands on you. 

You begin to move, starting with a slow rhythm to ease Clark into it, and hooking your arms around his neck, kissing him. “You feel so good,” he whispers. “You’re tight, and wet, and warm.” He kisses you softly. “Baby, please.” 

“I know.” You pick up your pace, bouncing on his lap, smiling at the way he moans. Your ass meets his thighs with a rhythmic plap! plap! plap! sound, your hands clinging to his shoulders for some stability, because he’s still not touching you, and more than confused, you’re starting to feel even a little insulted. 

You kiss his pulse point, just beneath his jaw, and bite at his earlobe. Your hands slide up to his hair, giving a tug, and he moans. You notice his hands twitch, but he doesn’t touch you. 

“Why won’t you touch me, Clark?” You ask, leaning back and slowing your hips. 

He meets your eyes, guilt flashing through. “I-I just… I’m really strong.” 

“I know,” you say, one hand squeezing at his bicep. 

“N-no. I mean… like, really strong. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“I’m not fragile, Clark.” 

“I know, but - I’m inhumanly strong. And if something goes wrong…” 

“I don’t care. It’s a minor risk. You know what I do care about? The fact that I have an insanely hot guy under me who refuses to touch me. And my legs feel like they’re gonna give out. So unless you want this to stop right now, you’re gonna have to take the risk.” 

He nods. “Are you sure? I don’t want-” 

“You won’t hurt me, Clark. I trust you.” 

He nods again, hands finally finding your hips, and with the aforementioned inhuman strength lifts you up and lays you down on the couch, crawling on top of you. 

“There we go,” you say, grinning and looping your arms behind his neck. 

Clark slips back into you, beginning to thrust slowly. “You look so pretty under me,” he muses. 

“Clark, you can’t just say that to a girl,” you giggle. He laughs a little, kissing you softly. He’s still keeping a slow pace, which you presume comes from the fear of hurting you accidentally by using too much force, but you’re impatient. “Clark, can you go faster?” 

“Y-yeah. Yeah.” He speeds up, and props himself up with one arm above your head, while the other heads south, fingers finding your clit and beginning to rub circles onto it, just like before. 

“That’s good. That’s good.” 

He nods, and more sounds begin to flood from his mouth, matching your moans. “Oh, God, baby. You feel so good. You’re so good. So pretty.” 

“You’re doing so well Clark,” you tell him. You wonder about his strength, about what he means by inhuman. Certainly, there was something inhuman about his speed earlier as he worked your clit. “Do I get to see this inhuman strength later?” 

“Uh- I probably-” 

“Please?” You clench around him for a moment. 

He falters, hips stuttering a little as a whimper escapes him. “If you do that, I think I’d give you anything you wanted.” 

“So I can see?” 

“Yeah, you can see. I’ll show you. Promise, baby.” 

Clark lets out a breathy moan, head falling into the crook of your neck as his hips gain speed, and he adjusts his thrusts to match it. “Are you close, Clark?” 

He nods. He hardly trusts his voice. “Just need a moment.” 

“It’s okay. You can cum.” 

He shakes his head. “Not before you.” God, you’d think his invulnerability would give him some advantage in holding out, but poor Clark’s so sensitive that every stroke feels like absolute heaven and it feels like he’s barrelling full-force to what will no doubt be the most incredible finish of his life. 

And then his fingers are moving against your clit just as fast as before, if not faster, desperate to get you to finish before he does. “Oh my God, Clark, what the fuck? How are you doing that?” A loud moan escapes you. “Fuck-” 

“You like that?” He asks. 

“Fuck, yes. What other inhuman abilities are you hiding from me?” 

“I’ll tell you later?” 

“You better.” 

He leans down, kisses everywhere he can reach, your jaw, your neck, your chest, your lips, even drags your earlobe between his teeth and gives it a gentle bite. You really don’t care about Clark hurting you, because it doesn’t exist as a thought in your mind that he could. He wouldn’t ever lay a hand on you, and you know that. In fact, at this point you’d willingly let him throw you against a wall and take you there. 

“Clark, I - I’m close. Please.” 

“I’ve got you. It’s okay, baby.” He adjusts himself to grab your hand, holding it by your head and intertwining his fingers with yours. 

You lift your head, searching for his lips, and he’s more than happy to gift you a kiss, soft in comparison to the speed and desperation of his thrusts. You moan into his mouth as you reach your climax, body twitching as Clark carries you through it, your walls clenching around him like a vice, drawing a particularly loud moan from him. 

“That’s it,” he hums as you come down from your high. “You okay?” 

You nod, a blissed smile on your face. “So okay.” 

You card your fingers through his hair, pulling lightly, and Clark moans. “I’m close, baby. Please, I need it. Need it so bad. Can I - where do you want me to-” 

“Inside,” you say. “Want to feel it.” 

“Okay.” 

His eyes meet yours properly, finding your dilated pupils, hazy eyes, and the utter joy in them, and that’s all it takes for him to be thrown headfirst into his own climax. He presses his forehead to yours, gasping your name as he spills his load inside of you. “God, you feel so good. Oh, fuck.” 

“There you go. That’s so good, Clark,” you praise, kissing him and swallowing his whimper. “You’re so good, honey.” 

Clark pants as he slows to a stop, giving you a soft kiss before he pulls out. He watches in awe at the way his cum drips out of you and onto the couch beneath you. 

“You were amazing, Clark.” 

“You were incredible,” he says, smiling at you. 

You pull him onto you and wrap your arms around him, smiling when he does the same to you. 

Needless to say, when Clark later demonstrates his inhuman strength by lifting a literal tractor above his head (not forgetting the joke you made when you met him about him benching a tractor), you’re quick to drag him up to his room before he can show you all the other superpowers he possesses. Although he does a damn good job of showing you that super strength.

taglist;

@mariswxt @blueeweeb @ssnapsaurus @i-got-a-bad-feeling-about-this @milestellerismybf @purple-1995 @writergiih @elysianrosie @glennussy @rainwaterxx @brinascorpio @withthistreaserisummon @babble28 @mollymal @alexcole1326 @mizzfizz @jiminie1028

[rainydayathogwarts]

ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ᴛʀɪᴏ ᴇʀᴀ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ˋ°•*⁀➷ navigation

꩜ smut ❀ fluff 𖤓 angsty/angry 𖤐 funny

ʀᴏɴ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

✩ jealous, jealous, jealous girl - ron notices you upping the PDA when Lavender starts flirting with him and you decide to show her who he belongs to (꩜𖤓)

✩ popular!shy!reader - ron’s friends think you were the one who made the move but are shocked to find out the opposite (❀𖤐)

✩ the dream - ron has a dirty dream and wakes up hard next to reader (꩜𖤐)

✩ needy - needy!ron misses you because you've been taking NEWTs too seriously but he finds the perfect moment to drag you into an empty classroom (꩜)

✩ overstimulation with dom!Ron (꩜)

✩ goodbye kisses that last longer than intended (❀𖤓𖤐)

✩ opposite teams - You play a Quidditch match against your boyfriend, who's a very sore loser (❀꩜𖤓)

✩ glossy lips - Wiping off lip gloss from his lips after a kiss (❀𖤐)

✩ late to class - Ron doesn't want you to leave to class so soon and manages a convincing excuse for you to stay (꩜)

✩ unsteady desk chair - When ron's been locked in his dorm trying to finish an essay all afternoon, you decide to help motivate him a little (꩜)

✩ shameless - Ron and his gf are absolutely shameless about pda, even with their friends around. They face some friendly consequences (𖤐)

✩ the chosen one - Ron has lived in the chosen one's shadow since they became best friends, so when he gets the one thing Harry wants, he decides to never let go (𖤓)

✩ sewing kit - "The instant Ron came to you asking for help sewing a rip in his t-shirt, Molly knew you were the woman he was going to marry." (❀)

✩ i think i've seen this film before - when sirius found out that bellatrix lestrange was having a daughter, he did everything in his power to protect her. he never met her until one day she showed up at his doorstep the same way he had at the potters. but what he didn't know was that she was dating a boy who was under this very roof. (❀𖤓)

✩ buy you a drink - when ron unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams through a one night stand, he rushes to tell his friends the next day. but unfortunately, that reveals some new information about you, the apparent love of his life. (❀꩜)

Ron won't stop complaining about Seamus and his girlfriend taking up the dorm until he's the one with a girl in there. coming soon...

ʜᴀʀʀʏ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ

concussions and interruptions au wolfstar!daughter au

✩ Harry's bi awakening (𖤐)

✩ "you knew?" "you didn't?" - In which the twins only just find out their sister is dating Harry (𖤐)

✩ me and you - You keep telling Ron to just 'ask her out' but he won't take your word seriously until you take your own advice. Somehow, you both end up with dates... (❀𖤐)

✩ long kisses, risky places - When kissing in the library leads to something more... (❀𖤐)

✩ love, mum and dad - Harry gets the memory book you and James made for him to open on his 17th birthday, but he gets it a little sooner, and discovers things about the family he could have had (𖤓)

✩ more than anything - keeping your relationship a secret is difficult when you just can't stop staring at your boyfriend (❀𖤓)

✩ what boyfriend? - when you are bed ridden due to your period, Madame Pomfrey comes to check in on you and play match-maker (❀𖤐)

✩ summer lovin' - you decide to visit harry over the summer, playing the classic 'girl next door' so harry's uncle lets you in (❀)

✩ a job for a godparent - harry knows you're the love of his life, but he just needs to know that you want kids as much as he does. a day at his house over the summer confirms it. (❀)

✩ a motherly visit - when harry sends you another owl claiming that professor snape has it out for him, you decide to pay them a short visit (❀𖤐)

✩ second time's the charm - when you're bitten by greyback again during the battle of the astronomy tower, you find yourself with new company (❀𖤓)

✩ always the prefects bathroom - despite harry potter's presence in the prefects bathroom, you aren't stopped from taking a soothing bath (❀𖤐)

ɴᴇᴠɪʟʟᴇ ʟᴏɴɢʙᴏᴛᴛᴏᴍ

✩ snake ring - In which the twins pull you into a game of seven minutes in heaven. (❀𖤐)

✩ dry-humping Neville at a party (❀꩜)

✩ kiss and tell - In which a very aware y/n of Neville's crush on her gets the courage to make a move (❀𖤐)

✩ stolen glances - Stealing glances at each other across the room until your friends notice (꩜𖤐)

✩ strangers to friends - Neville, terrified of a scary, confident slytherin, finds out that she's more welcoming than some of his own friends... An unlikely friendship develops (❀)

✩ grim greenhouses - when you defend neville against your cousin, he is convinced he has to give you a little gift as a thank you. but what happens when you decide to thank him for his gift? (❀꩜)

✩ creepy crawlers - your usually calm and composed front breaks in herbology, but neville comes to the rescue (❀)

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

✩ into the woods - Waking George up to go out for a morning walk at the Burrow has him feeling quite frisky (❀꩜)

✩ in this together - When you find out that your mother, Bellatrix Lestrange has escaped Azkaban, you have a crisis, thankfully short lived due to your boyfriend's care for the situation (❀𖤓)

✩ dear diary - Ron can't help his crush on his older brother's girlfriend, and catches himself in some inconvenient situations (꩜𖤐)

✩ bloody quills and teary eyes - George comforts you after your first detention with Umbridge (❀𖤓)

✩ god, i missed you so much - when you and george have spent the last few months doing long-distance, with you at hogwarts while he runs the shop, the reunion is bound to be good (❀𖤓)

✩ reasonless hatred - severus snape's daughter causes him nothing but chaos, hatred where love should be in their relationship. but she is finally given a real reason to hate her father, and she decides to give him one to hate her too (❀𖤓)

ᴏʟɪᴠᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴏᴅ

✩ I already won - even though he very much lost the game, he still won you (❀𖤓)

✩ how he reacts when you tell him you're in the mood (꩜)

✩ blood, dirt and reunions - You almost die and reunite with an old ex-boyfriend... or not (❀𖤓)

ꜱᴇᴀᴍᴜꜱ ꜰɪɴɴᴇɢᴀɴ

✩ tipsy - Seamus takes care of you when you're drunk (❀𖤐)

✩ safe in his arms - Brother!Harry Potter makes Seamus promise him to keep you safe because of how obvious your feelings are for each other (❀𖤓)

ᴄʜᴀʀʟɪᴇ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

✩ guilt trip - Charlie tries to guilt trip the reader to visit his family with him (❀𖤓)

✩ bloody introductions - When some of Charlie's siblings break in to his apartment to surprise him, they find out about his roommate/girlfriend (❀𖤐)

ᴘᴇʀᴄʏ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

✩ just a swim - Percy's partner tries to get him to break a couple of rules (❀𖤐)

✩ how they react when you're in the mood (꩜)

'For the first time in his life, Percy pushes academics aside to focus on a girl, but his family doesn't know and thinks he has gone down a dark road.' coming soon...

ꜰʀᴇᴅ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

✩ before you go -  fred weasley has relentlessly asked you out for years, but you’ve never given the younger boy a chance. not until sixth year, when he makes the compelling argument that if the date goes terribly, at least it’ll be the last year you’ll ever see him at hogwarts. (❀꩜)

✩ ready for bed - ready for bed, you didn't bother to cover your hickeys, because you had nowhere to be, right? (𖤐)

ʙɪʟʟ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

✩ "malfoy" "weasley" - when you watch the quidditch world cup with your family, the last thing you're expecting is to see an old friend. a weasley. (❀𖤐)

ᴄᴇᴅʀɪᴄ ᴅɪɢɢᴏʀʏ

✩ no disturbances - You and Cedric make such a cute couple that teachers have turned a blind eye to several accounts of PDA (❀𖤐)

ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ ᴋʀᴜᴍ

✩ what's her face - Rita skeeter being annoying (𖤐)

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ

✩ someone finds out you're dating

✩ he gets turned on at the wrong time

✩ she gets turned on at the wrong time

[vanishintoyou]

kinda wanna get baldurs gate 3 hmmmmmmm but i shouldnt

[catboybiologist]

A rant to the void. I'm transgender. I've been doing molecular biology and genetics research for over 8 years. Those are not in conflict with each other.

(this is a copy/paste of a post I made to r/labrats last night, a subreddit for lab scientists. Its directed towards scientists. I'll link it at the end if you want to see the positive reception from other scientists, but I thought it would be worth posting here, to my predominantly transgender userbase.)

I'm exhausted.

I'm laughing and memeing about the transgender mice as much as the next person, but there's genuine pain and grief here. I'm in grad school right now, and I've been doing research since my freshman year of undergrad. I started estrogen hormone replacement therapy in 2023, and I've been living openly as a transgender woman since summer last year.

I attribute my studies in biology, and my ability to read primary sources about the biology of sex determination, hormonal physiology, and my background with fundamental concepts like gene expression as key reasons why I was able to finally feel comfortable enough to transition, both medically and socially.

I've received nothing but love and support from other biologists. Mostly a few fun nerdy rambles while catching up with old colleagues about the precise biology of what I'm doing to myself right now, and over sharing about my own changing gene expression and physiology.

The growing hate coming from outside the field, from nonscientists, from stupid fucks who've never picked up a pipette in their fucking life, who've never seen a fasta file, who would struggle to pronounce two words in a paper... I can't even begin to articulate how simultaneously stupid and heartbreaking it is.

My career, my passion, my contributions to the world, are being gutted, censored, and used against me. I'm trying to be as grounded and practical as possible, but sometimes I break and feel like I need space for the genuine grief I'm feeling, for lack of a better word.

I feel like I'm in a unique position to do something, say something, but I'm in such a whirlwhind myself and trying to figure out what to do with my own life and survive through these years, that I really don't know what I can or should do.

So I guess I'll scream into the void with this post, attend a march on Friday, survive, and see what I can do later. Fuck.

[flatstarcarcosa]

LIKE. the WHOLE FUCKING POINT of ‘i’m you’ ‘i know’ is to show that despite ben’s basic failures to perform masculinity correctly* and despite all the bravado and bullshit he spews it’s all a facade to cover up the fact that he’s still emotionally stunted and scarred from having an abusive father.

and also that despite the toxic ass way he deals (or, more accurately, doesn’t) with it, there is a part of him on some level that knows it’s wrong. 

what he says is ‘maybe i could have made you better and not some weak sniveling pussy’ but what he means is ‘maybe i could have done it right and kept you from ending up like me.’

he literally got an entire fucking monologue with butcher immediately before this scene about his abusive toxic ass and emotionally neglectful father that gave you all the fucking context clues on a fucking platter but all anyone wanted to talk about was ‘deehee he called homie a pussy’.

for a show that has a fandom that thinks they’re soooooo smart for noticing the satire, i swear to god

[likeumeanit9497]

made for me | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: it's been three years since they've seen one another, two and a half since they last spoke to one another. but on this night, time seems to stand still as they meet once again.

warnings: SMUT; angst; unprotected p in v; oral (f receiving); handjob; mentions of alcohol; dirty talk; 18+

notes: hey party people...i...have been trying to work on this singular one shot for months. i've been so busy with school (yes, my program goes over the summer how lucky am i!!!!) and have had absolutely no motivation to write more than like a paragraph or two in one sitting. i miss writing and the tumblr community sooo badly literally every single day, but unfortunately i just have to accept the fact that i don't have the free time i had this time last year. so long story short i'm still here and will still be writing whenever i have the time (and inspiration) to, but pls be patient with me if i disappear for months again (and again). i love you all and appreciate the support u all have given me for over a year (WHAT?!?!?) i hope u enjoy this little angsty fic <3333

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

You winced as the tequila burned your throat down to your stomach. Bringing a lime to your lips and sucking desperately, you shut your eyes so that all you could focus on was the sound of blaring music coming from the speakers littered throughout the house. You were at a party, which is not unlike you on a Saturday night. In fact, you couldn’t even remember a weekend that you hadn’t spent stumbling through crowds of people in a strange house — their figures so blurred you couldn’t even see the faces of the men you let take you home at the end of the night.

It was still early, this shot being only your second of the night, but you had a feeling that it would be far from your last. The past week had been especially stressful — you had told your friends that it was your busy work schedule or that finals were coming up, but you knew what the true reason for the stagnant pit in your stomach was. Matt — your best friend since first grade, your first love, and the one who you thought would be your forever — had been rumoured to be back in Boston for the first time since you saw him last, three years ago.

You dropped the lime and leaned against the countertop — hoping that your body language wouldn’t give away your despair but rather lead your friends to believe that the shot was sitting wrong. When he left three years ago, deep-seeded love combined with youthful naivety blinded you to the severity of your distance. You were so certain that no matter what, you and he would be okay and that the love that felt so powerful at the time would never fade.

Only one of those things proved to be true — and after only six months of him living across the country, one gut-wrenching phone call put an end to what you thought would be your forever. You had no idea that, upon picking up that call, you would shatter the years of what was, but it was as though your mouth formed the words without the help of your mind, and once they were spoken aloud, you both dissolved into tears of acceptance. Not because it was what either of you wanted, but because it was what you believed both of you needed.

That was two and a half years ago, and you hadn’t seen him since. He had been busy with his career in LA, and at times you allowed yourself to search him up — watching his YouTube videos with his brothers — just to allow your chest a moment to ache for what once was. Because the truth was, no matter how much you drank or how often you moaned out the name of another man, his face was what haunted your dreams each night. And now, he was allegedly back home — living, breathing within the same time zone; the same zip code as you.

You shuddered, pushing away the thoughts you had been attempting to drink away as you lifted yourself off the counter. Reaching for the bottle of tequila, you were sure you felt eyes on you. And as you began pouring the clear liquid into a shot glass, you nearly lost your grip as your eyes lifted to find the culprit. Because no more than 10 feet in front of you — as though he had been summoned by your disparaging thoughts just moments before — stood Matt.

It was disorienting seeing him in this environment — at 18 years old you and he cared very little for the house parties of your peers. Yet there he stood, a figure so familiar yet somehow completely different. Arms once completely bare now covered in tattoos crossed against his chest while his eyes — the same crystal blue from your dreams — burned your skin as they travelled across it. The room had grown deadly silent; whether that was truly the work of those around you or simply the fact that the blood roaring in your ears muted their chatter, you weren’t sure. But in that moment, you and he were the only ones in that room.

Not a word had been spoken between you two, yet your frantic, searching eyes seemed to have a conversation of their own. After what could have been hours, Matt’s eyes dragged themselves from you before he began heading in the direction of the stairs. Your stomach dropped at the sickeningly familiar tug, as if an invisible string tied you to him and refused to let go. Fingers white against the counter top, you forced your feet to stay in place as your eyes followed his back — a back that now seemed like a canvas of power; each stride of his revealing coiled energy beneath his black t-shirt — waiting for some sort of signal, an invitation for you to come to him.

As he reached the first stair, the signal came in the form of a brief pause and a final look over his shoulder. Your mind had no say at that point — it had long ago surrendered to him — and you began following him in a daze; throwing a brief regard to your friends over your shoulder as you did. Only once he recognized the determined look in your eyes as you headed in his direction did he continue up the stairs, trusting that you were in fact just behind him.

Once you reached the top of the stairs you found him at the end of the short hallway, peeking his head in the door of what you only assumed was a bedroom before taking one last glance at you as his frame slipped past the open door. The upper level of the house was obscenely quiet, and you could hear your heart pounding as you reached the doorway he had just walked through.

The door clicked behind you, and suddenly you were both alone. No more loud music, no more people, just the two of you and the gravity of three years hanging between you. He was standing a few feet away, arms crossed — not defensively, it seemed, just unsure of what to do with his hands now that you were there in front of him. For a moment, the only sound in the room was your breathing. Quiet, but shallow, the kind of breathing that gave away how much restraint was barely holding both of you together.

Closer now, you took a moment to really look at him. He hadn’t changed much. The boyish narrowness you remembered was gone — replaced by the quiet strength of a man who had grown into himself — but the essence of him that you had somehow memorized without realizing was still very much there. But more than anything, the way he looked at you — longingly, desperately, lovingly — that was exactly the same.

“You really came back,” Your voice came out more breathless than you wanted it to. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did he was gracious enough to not react with pity. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and took one small step closer to you. “Why did it take you so long?” You added at nearly a whisper, terrified to hear his answer. “You know why, Y/n.” His voice sent shock waves down your spine. Deeper, the voice of a man, yet still achingly recognizable to the voice of that young boy you met on the first day of school all those years ago.

Your eyes fell in shame from the weight of his reply, knowing that you were the reason he had chosen to stay far away from his home town — his friends, his family — for three years. When you spoke again, your voice had somehow managed to drop even quieter, “Then what made you come back now?” The silence permeated the empty room so immensely that your ears began to ring from the density of it. With your eyes still on the floor, you felt more than saw him move one step closer to you. “The same reason I stayed away for so long.”

His words left his mouth like a confession, and they draped themselves across your skin like a python — the weight of them satisfying but also jarring; threatening to wrap themselves tight around you until your walls cave in. Your eyes flashed back up to his, and upon noticing the question marks swirling within them, he clarified with earth-shattering honesty. “You. It’s always been you.”

The silence after his statement was charged — thick with everything you hadn’t said since that last phone call, with every memory you both buried under the weight of growing up — and growing apart. “I hurt you,” You finally replied, voice thick with emotion as tears began welling in your eyes. Through the blur of your tears, his face seemed to morph into that of his younger self as he fought against his instinct to comfort you. “You did,” He replied, his own words laced with pain, “But I never blamed you for it, not once Y/n.”

You didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything, so you just looked at him — studying the faint lines beside his eyes that hadn’t been there before, the shadow of a beard that 18 year old Matt could only dream of growing. “Why not?” You asked, true disbelief trapped in the crack of your voice. Instead of answering your question, he pulled on a weak smile. “You cut your hair.” Subconsciously, you ran your fingers through your shoulder-length hair; about five inches shorter than it was the last time Matt was standing in front of you. “It’s been a long time.” Your reply almost sounded bitter, and you instantly wished you could take it back because how could you possibly blame him for the unilateral decision you made years before?

If he took offence to your tone, he didn’t show it. Instead, he took another step towards you, closing the ice-cold gap between you even more. “I just mean,” You began, letting your eyes flutter shut for a moment as you pulled your trembling lower lip between your teeth, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” There was the air of hesitation between you now, just for a moment, as he struggled to find the words. “I tried to stay away, because it seemed like that’s what you needed,” His words were spoken in the soothing cadence he always used to comfort you all those years ago. “I didn’t want to make it harder than it already was, for both of us.”

It was you who took the next step forward, making it so that you were only inches apart. “Then why are you here nowMatt? And how could you possibly not blame me for what happened between us?” You repeated your question from before, hoping that he wouldn’t ignore it once again. Looking up into his eyes, you recognized the weight of his gaze and the pain buried within it. “Because,” He began, clearing his throat before continuing, “Because I have never been able to stop missing you, and every day without you has felt like a living nightmare. I thought if I stayed away, we would both heal. But instead, I forced myself to endure years of a torture that I knew would never go away unless I saw you again.”

A tear fell from your eye as you watched his face through his confession, each word resonating so deeply within you that it felt like looking into a mirror. “I regretted it the moment I did it, you know.” You replied softly, feeling the years of regret boil over within you, “I was weak.” He shook his head firmly before gently brushing your hair from your face; his familiar touch sending a welcomed shiver down your spine. “You were young. We both were.” His tone was firm, an attempt at freeing you of the guilt that had been slowly eating you alive. You nodded sadly, recognizing his words as truth. “Maybe,” You began, closing the gap so that your chest was pressed against his front, “But I really did love you with everything I had, and I really don’t think I ever stopped.”

Something glimmered in his eyes, then. The same glimmer that had appeared that day on the playground when you had asked him to be your best friend, the day in ninth grade when you had told him that he had been your first crush, and the day in junior year when you had told him you loved him for the very first time. That glimmer had given you so much pride each time you had been the reason for its existence. Another tear fell in relief, as you had long ago accepted that you would never again be witness to it.

His hand slipped from your hair down to your cheek, where he swiped away your salty tears before resuming his movements down your shoulder, down your back, before finally resting in familiarity against your hip. You felt the electricity from his fingertips permeate your skin — shooting throughout your body at the revival of your intimacy. Your hand traveled up to his neck where you toyed with the ends of his hair — slightly longer than it was the last time you had ran your hands through it.

“Did you stop loving me?” You whispered, your lips mere inches from his own. His grip on your hip tightened slightly, pulling you against him even closer than before. “Never.” Was his reply before pulling your lips into his with the slow burn of long-suppressed hunger. The kiss was slow at first, hesitant, like a rediscovery of one another’s mouths after too long apart. Not yet frantic, as you had imagined it would be; just aching.

His tongue brushed against yours with a deep, searching kiss that made your knees weaken. You clutched his shirt, pulling him closer and grounding yourself in his taste, his smell, the gruff sound he made when you moaned against his open mouth. The kiss deepened as his hands slid around your waist, carefully walking you backwards until you were pressed in between him and the wall. When his mouth dropped to the sensitive place on your neck, just below your jaw, that only he knew existed, everything felt too hot, too necessary. You wanted to drink him in — every groan, every sharp scrape of his stubble against your skin, every part of him that you hadn’t touched in years.

You tugged his shirt up, hands dancing across familiar warm skin and foreign muscle. You pressed your palms against his chest, where you felt the rapid thud of his heart below; matching your own. His lips found yours again, and the kiss was deeper — darker. His mouth opened hungrily against yours before strong teeth bit down on your lower lip. A claiming, yes — but not possession. His hands roamed slowly, deliberately. Skimming under your shirt, teasing the bare skin just above the hem of your jeans. A muffled gasp fell from your lips when his fingers travelled higher, delicately brushing the curve of your tit over your bra. You felt his lips curl into a smile against your swollen lips. “Your boobs got bigger.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t deny the flutter in your stomach from being reacquainted with Matt’s goofy side. “Shut up,” You replied with a giggle before taking his mouth in yours again; not wanting to lose the familiar taste of him on your tongue. With a soft hum, his hand traveled behind your thigh, lifting it until it wrapped around his waist; your hips instinctively grinding into his. You released a gritty moan into his open mouth, and he swallowed the vibrations like it fuelled him.

He pulled at the hem of your shirt, undressing you as though he was afraid you might disappear behind the wall of fabric if he moved too fast — each button, each inch of new skin exposed was met with a soft breath of relief. Once you were in nothing but your bra and thong, Matt lifted you up and carried you to the bed; lowering you gently atop the soft comforter before pausing to look at you as though he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You’re just as beautiful as I remembered,” He murmured, lowering himself on top of you, kissing your sternum while reaching behind you to unhook your bra with a practiced flick. Discarding the material, you watched as his lips traveled to the underside of your tit, then higher, before taking your pebbled nipple into his warm mouth; circling his tongue until you whined.

“God, I missed you,” He mumbled against your skin as he began fumbling with his belt buckle. Your body responded to his words as though lit on fire by them, and once he was in just his boxers, you grabbed the back of his head and pulled him closer to you before whispering, “I have dreamt of having you in this way since the last time I saw you.”

He kissed you again then, rougher than before — raw tongue and teeth and years of longing poured into it. Moans slipped between you two as your almost-naked bodies pressed against one another, reconnecting like old friends into a familiar mould. One of his hands slid down your body slowly, between your legs, and as his fingers ran delicately against the warm, damp material of your thong, he groaned. “Still so ready for me,” He uttered against your lips, slipping his fingers under the lacy material and pressing two inside of you just deep enough to make you gasp for air, “Say my name,” He pleaded, his words laced with a longing you had never quite heard from him before, “I need to hear it.”

“Matt,” You moaned, breathless as he began slowly pumping his fingers up into your spongey core.

“Again.” He demanded, picking up his speed slightly — giving you some relief, but not quite enough.

“M-Matt, please,” You begged, your words punctuated by sharp breaths.

He didn’t tease you for long. After hearing the desperation in your tone he pulled his slippery fingers from your core before kissing down your stomach, leaving a trail of your juices along your left leg as he pulled your thong down to your ankles. Now completely exposed, you spread your legs to give him full access to your glistening core — wordlessly begging him to bring you the relief only he can. His mouth traveled from your trembling stomach down to the crest just above your core, hovering there for a moment with his eyes fluttered shut. “Tell me what you want.” He breathed, his voice soft but laced with gruff undertones; giving away just how bad he needed you too. “You,” You replied without hesitation, comfortable in telling the man on his knees in front of you exactly what you needed, “Your mouth. Please, Matt.”

The honesty was all it took, because as soon as the words left your mouth you released a moan at the feeling of his warm tongue against your clit. His tongue moved with slow precision — as though he remembered exactly how to undo you. You threw your head back with a cry, hips bucking against the strong suction of his mouth, but he held you down — savouring every second as if it were something sacred. Through hooded eyes you looked down between your legs, watching Matt’s practiced routine in awe. His eyes, glazed over in sheer satisfaction, locked onto your own as he absorbed every sound, every expression you made in response to the pleasure he was granting you.

Your mouth dropped open in pleasure, fingers knotted in the sheets below you, as he used his powerful tongue to break down your walls. He slipped his thumb inside of you, leaving it there, unmoving, knowing that the slightly-full sensation made your head spin. He used his free hand to push gently against your lower stomach, knowing that the pressure intensified your orgasms tenfold. You moaned on each breath now, your heavy eyes refused to stay open. And once your hands flew to his hair, pressing him firmly against your pulsing core, he responded to the wordless confirmation of your impending orgasm by finally pumping his thumb in and out of you while simultaneously twirling his tongue feverishly against your swollen bundle of nerves.

You violently came undone against his tongue, trembling, moaning his name as if it were the only word you’d ever known. Back arched, you held tightly onto his wavy hair, unsure whether you were pulling him away or closer as the pleasure tore through you in overwhelming waves. Still, he continued to push you through the high, flitting his tongue expertly against your clit as you trembled below him. “Matt!” You cried out, your body so hot with intense pleasure that your skin grew splotchy and red — something it hadn’t done from an orgasm in years.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the pleasure slipped from your fingers. As your loud cries turned to gentle moans of satisfaction, Matt’s deliberate licks transformed into sloppy kisses as he drank up your juices — memorizing the taste of what had just hours before been a memory. When he finally moved up your trembling body, you immediately dragged him into another kiss — reigniting your desperation at the taste of yourself on his lips.

Hooking your legs around his waist, you tugged gently at the elastic on his boxers. You were both flushed and panting, bare skin against skin, yet still it didn’t feel like enough. Matt seemed to feel the same, because without you having to say a word he covered your hand with his own — helping you slide his boxers down. With his mouth on yours hungrily, you couldn’t see his cock, though as soon as you heard the firm slap of it making contact with his stomach, your hand wrapped around it with ease. A grunt escaped his lips and you swallowed it hungrily — relishing the relief that you were able to grant him — as you began pumping his length in just the way he liked it; soft at the base, tighter and with more pressure at the tip.

“No more waiting,” He breathed against your gasping mouth, “I need to feel you.”

With a soft moan, you began guiding his cock to your core. Not with your hand, as that was proven unnecessary, but by the widening of your legs — the damp warmth emanating from your centre enough to act as a gravitational pull to bring his length right to the slippery crest of your opening. Wrapping his strong arm around your waist, he sank into you slowly, both of you gasping at the sensation; the crushing weight of it all. The heat, the stretch, the sensation of home was enough to bring tears of relief to your eyes — mirrored in his anguished face before you.

He pressed his forehead against yours, locking eyes with you as his hips rolled against you as though he couldn’t look away for fear of missing a single second. Your bodies moved as one, slow at first. Then deeper, harder, a shattering rhythm that came to you as easily as breathing. Yet, neither of you rushed. Every movement, every hushed sound, every messy kiss was a memory revived. Your moans were not just out of pleasure, they were the release of years spent missing him.

He placed a hand under your lower back and you moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his cock hit that spongey spot that made your body tremble. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder, your jaw, and your chest as the room filled with the wet harmony of two bodies that know one another so well. Everything you never said was finally being spoken in the sound of your arousal as it coated his front; and everything he never said was finally being spoken in the sound of his pelvis spreading the sticky fluid against your inner thighs upon each methodical thrust.

“Made for me.”

His head nestled against your shoulder, where the rumble of his groans burned through your skin. The familiar phrase caused your stomach to do a flip. Those three words had been spoken by Matt thousands of times over the years — both in and out of the bedroom — that the fact that they had fallen from his lips thoughtlessly, as though they had been sitting there waiting to be spoken aloud for years, in a tone of sheer desperation, was enough to tear away any last shred of sanity you had.

You smiled through a breathless gasp, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging at the strands until his mouth met yours again. His kiss was messy, open-mouthed and wet; the kind that said he needed you in every way. He lifted your right leg higher to angle deeper into you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “More,” You pleaded against his swollen lips, “Right there.” You felt his mouth curl into a smile bordering on arrogance, “I know.” Was all he replied with, proving that each of his movements were calculated, as though the years of exploring your body had burned into his memory and he had every intention of giving you exactly what you craved.

He held you there, driving his cock at just the right pace, into just the right spot. Your mouth dropped open, unable to kiss him back as the pleasure building deep within you doubled, and then tripled. “Oh my god, M-Matt—” Your head fell back against his left palm, and he cradled it gently as your toes curled around his waist. “That’s it,” He murmured, dropping his mouth to your exposed neck and deepening his thrusts, “Let go, I’ve got you baby.”

You shuddered, the pressure of your impending orgasm laying heavy against your helpless frame. He thrust into you again — this time deeper, slower. You could tell that his control was fraying, the cords of his muscles tight beneath your hands as you felt him struggle to keep from falling apart himself. Using all of your restraint, you held your own orgasm back as you spoke, “Cum with me,” You whispered, the strain evident in your thin voice, “I want to feel you fill me up.”

You felt his mouth drop open against your damp neck, his body trembling above you as his struggle was intensified by your filthy words. Using all his strength, he lifted himself from the crook of your shoulder to gaze down at you with his dark, hooded eyes. Him before you like this — undone, trembling with need, his body worshipping yours with every movement — was almost more impactful than the physical pleasure itself.

“I love y— Fuck,” He dropped his forehead against yours once again, “I love you.” He whispered, voice scratchy with tension as your heart melted. “I l-love you.” You parroted just as he sank into you one final time, releasing a guttural moan as he buried himself to the hilt as he came, his breath catching in your ear and spurring your own mind-bending release.

Warm ropes of his cum painted your walls as they flexed maniacally around his pulsing length, driving you both to the edge of insanity as your bodies took complete control. And as you moaned, cursed, and cried out one another’s names, it wasn’t just release. It was relief. The kind that settles deep in your chest when something you thought was gone forever finds its way back. It was a homecoming.

Once both of your bodies stilled, you stayed completely still; breathing one another in at last. Time passed, and as your heart rates returned to normal, the sound of the party still very much alive below you returned to you consciousness. Still, neither of you made an attempt at moving, instead you let the weight of what had just happened settle into your veins. Not just the satisfaction, not just the pleasure, but the rediscovery. The ache that had shaped who you and him had become over three years now filled by each other’s presence.

Even once Matt eventually shifted above you, the post-sex lull was evident in the way he delicately pulled himself from your raw core, using his discarded boxers to clean you up before tucking you against his chest — his lips peppering indulgent kisses against your hair as you ran an idle finger along his forearm.

“What happens now?” He asked, his words soft against your hair but laced with an undertone of fear of what your response may be. You look up at his gorgeous face that, while slightly older, you knew you had memorized, offering him a soft smile. His eyes focused on your lips as his hand subconsciously reached for your cheek; his expression one of a man hungry for another innocent taste of your lips. You relaxed into his hand, granting him the kiss —deep, tender, and laced with words unspoken — before replying in a whisper. “Now we stop pretending we ever stopped loving each other.”

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