#idk but this seems like they hate each other apparently

[rominadrawsart]

I read somewhere that apparently Necrozma, Solgaleo and Lunala fought before Necrozma came to Ultra Megalopolis-

[tearingdread]

havin a normal one 👍

[aroaceofthesea]

Hate it bc we used to have such a fun friend group and everything was great but then ppl started fighting with each other so now there's a lot of tension between some ppl and it makes me kinda sad to think about how it could have been if this all hadnt happened

[autumnrory]

godddd i will just never get the appeal of bucky/sam to me it is the equivalent of putting like. jim and dwight in a romantic relationship which I’m sure a lot of people do but STILL at least there’s more substance there

[sapphosclosefriend]

-Thanksgiving Fun-

Pairing: Stepcousin! Masc! Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Genre: smut

Summary: you were never able to resist her, not even on Thanksgiving.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: top! (beefy and tattooed 🤤) Natasha x bottom! R, stepcest, enemies with benefits, allusions to weed consumption, SMUT, oral on strap on (R giving), throat fucking (R receiving), strap on sex (R receiving), extremely brief oral (R receiving), squirting (R)

A/N: this story contains smut so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. I literally wrote this in 2 days out of a frenzy so Idk how good it is…M, P, G pt 2 will come, I promise!!!! Once again, thanks to @rt--link for being so sweet! As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

It was already November, which meant it was Thanksgiving time! You were so excited to finally get back home for a little bit after the couple of months you had spent away at uni. Contrary to most of your friends, you actually really liked Thanksgiving. Yes, it meant having to undergo the neverending interrogation from your classically nosy aunts, but you gladly did it every year to be able to spend some time with all of your relatives, even the ones who lived a bit more far away. Of course she was also one of them, though.

Natasha was one of your aunt’s daughters. Her mother had married your uncle 3 years before, making her, the redhead and her sister officially part of the family. Everyone liked Nat as soon as she became part of the group and her sister Yelena, with her sharp wit, was, if possible, even more beloved by everybody. As soon as the two girls regularly entered your lives, you had followed everyone’s advice and started to hang out together. You’d always felt very lucky for having cousins of your same age range, making them some of your closest friends ever, and having the chance of adding someone else to the group immediately sounded like the best idea ever, or at least that’s what you had thought at first.

That was because you didn’t like Natasha, you just didn’t. If at first, while witnessing her interactions with other people, she seemed to be the sweetest girl in the world, once you finally got to know her personally you started loathing her. She wasn’t necessarily a bad person, she was just so irritating all the time. And the worst part was that, apparently, she only acted that way with you, not with her friends, not with your other cousins, not even with her own sister, just with you. If you thought that, thanks to uni’s social life, you had met the cockiest motherfuckers in the world, you were utterly wrong. Natasha was the most terrible one of them all. It was constant teasing, constant comments, constant jokes, constant snickering and each time you heard her voice or looked at her, you wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug smirk off her pretty face.

You didn’t know how it all started. Well, of course you knew that one time, at your grandma’s house to celebrate her birthday, Natasha had been particularly annoying since the moment you’d gotten there, which resulted in you being bitchy and her pulling you into the bathroom and kissing you once she had you trapped against the locked door. You hated it, every second of it and the fact that you ended up begging her to keep going while she was with her fingers knuckle deep inside of you wasn’t of any importance. You weren’t proud of what happened that day, but you were too nice to deny her when a couple of days later she was at your door ripping your clothes off of you. You were both attending the same uni and, despite literally never seeing each other in academic nor social settings, you started finding the closeness to be a much bigger impediment to your initial want to put a stop to your newly found situation. You were growing weaker and weaker to her charm, only while in the bedroom of course, and your intent to end it all kept getting pushed to the back of your mind each time you came with her name on your lips, until it was completely gone.

And that’s how you ended up at yet another family gathering partly ruined by her, this time to celebrate Thanksgiving, having to try to push away the tingle between your legs at the sight of her in her usual casual clothes hiding the defined muscles underneath as she talked with her dad and your grandpa about something involving a bike she was fixing up for herself. You were keeping your distance for your own sanity, but you could clearly hear their words and her low, raspy voice regularly adding to the conversation. You didn’t know what the hell they were talking about and either way, you had stopped actively listening long before, once you got lost in the view of her hand as she held her glass. The second she noticed your eyes fixed on her, you were thankfully saved from her most definitely coming over to tease you, by your cousin Clint, bored out of his mind and equally in need of leaving as soon as possible, even if for very different reasons than you. Ok, maybe him being the person talking to you didn’t exactly make him your savior, he was the person Natasha had gotten the closest to after all, which meant that, as soon as she once again turned to get a peek of your outfit she particularly appreciated, he immediately called her over, most definitely hoping to lure her away from the party. She couldn’t have been more obvious with the way her eyes kept ranking your body head to toe as she listened to his frustrated rambling, but thankfully Clint’s desperation blinded him from noticing the less than innocent way in which her gaze was on you.

“I’m begging you Nat, I’ll get on my knees! Just one!”

You both couldn’t help but chuckle at the grown man’s antics, when you suddenly realized that you had no idea of what the hell they were talking about. You barely had the time to open your mouth to ask them directly, when, of course, she interrupted you without a care to keep talking to her friend.

“Fine, but I’m taking half of it”

As soon as the first word barely left her mouth he was throwing his fist in the air and putting his coat on to go to the guest house she was staying in with you. Because of course you had been placed in the same room, in the small guest house in the backyard that only consisted of one room with one bed. You didn't know why, but everyone apparently thought of you two as some sort of best friends just because you both went to the same uni, despite, again, the known fact that you did not have one single class together, lived in different places and had completely different friends, meaning that you only saw each other when she called you over or randomly popped up at your place to fuck, but of course they didn't know any of that.

“A quarter..”

He was already leaving once he spoke his final words, leaving her alone with you to shake her head at her friend’s antics.

“Fine”

You hated how easily she seemingly had you under a trance as she murmured the word while smiling to herself. She was able to put you out of it equally fast, though, as she turned to you to regard you before leaving the celebration to follow after Clint.

“Are you coming?”

Her almost soft tone had to have given you some sort of whiplash as you stood there, looking at her without being able to utter a single word for a second, before regaining control over your own mind, and sanity, once you noticed her lips starting to curl into her usual mischievous smirk.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna stay here a bit longer”

She was once again putting at risk your ability to talk as she ran a hand through her short hair to get it out of her face and moved closer and closer to you, sneaking her gaze towards the other side of the room where most people had moved to, before reaching behind you to get a snack from the table you were leaning against, pressing her front against yours and letting your feel a certain something poking your lower belly.

“I’ll wait for you then”

She looked way too pleased by your slightly widened eyes as you tried to contain your emotions in order not to draw any attention to the two of you.

“You’re packing?”

Her brows furrowed as you whisper yelled at her, before speaking matter of factly.

“Of course I’m packing, I’m always packing when I’m with you”

She didn't give you the time to respond to her, immediately licking the chocolate off her fingers while shamelessly looking at your cleavage before turning to go to the guest house. She was infuriating, her and her constant horniness. You decided to casually join some conversations here and there for the brief rest of the night, until almost everyone had gotten to bed, including a much more relaxed Clint, and it was just you and your aunt gossiping in the living room. The moment your phone buzzed in your lap you almost had a feeling of who might had been trying to get in contact with you, so you cautiously lifted the screen, in case a certain someone decided to share something a little too private, and noticed she had sent you a picture.

The moment you clicked on it, the initial, brief awe you found yourself lost in at the sight of her posing with her tongue peaking out and the hood of her sweatshirt over her cap, was unfortunately wiped away once you finally read the caption under it. You couldn’t help but mentally facepalm at her dumb words, even if you had to reluctantly admit that the text was successful in making your heart leap at its crude nature.

“Not enough pressure on my 🍆”

Her finger was pointing to the word “pressure” printed on her hoodie, why did she have to be that way? You knew what she wanted from you, it was all she seemed to be thinking about, like some pussydrunk teen, and the way she didn’t even ask you if you were down for it, expecting you to just indulge her wish, didn’t sit right with you. Who did she think you were? Her whore always waiting for her like a pet?

You locked your phone with a frustrated sigh and got up from the couch, quickly finding an excuse with the immediate questioning you got from your aunt as to why you'd go back to your room so early.

By the time you walked across the whole backyard and got to the entrance of the guest house you were finally able to make out her figure, sitting on the wicker armchair under the small porch with all the lights off, in complete darkness, to hide the very end of a hand rolled cigarette between her fingers and the suspiciously smelly smoke coming from her.

“Your tits look good in that shirt”

You knew it was coming, as soon as you had chosen your outfit, you knew some sort of comment was to be made by her, although it had taken her a bit longer than you had expected. You were wearing a quite simple blouse with a boob window, in reality nothing as scandalous as it sounded, but the complete opposite in Natasha’s eyes. The way your jeans perfectly hugged your ass and the sway of your hips anytime you had walked past her, were just the cherry on top to the main course right below your pretty face.

You barely looked at her as you kept walking by her past the door without acknowledging her words, hearing her chuckle at your usual uptight self. You hated to admit it, but the way she was manspreading, making a bulge under her sweatpants slightly visible, while she casually smoked, had made you even more willing to help her out with her “pressure issue”, not that she needed to know about your enthusiasm anyway. By the time you were just starting to get undressed she entered the room, locking the door behind her and standing against it to shamelessly look at your ass as you leaned down to take your shoes off. As soon as your pants were off too and you were about to slip off your shirt she spoke up.

“No no no, keep that on”

Despite the way too pleased look on her face, you were silently thankful for the piece of clothing still on you in the slightly chilly room. You didn’t even bother to take your warm, ankle high socks off and left yourself fall on your back on the bed, feeling satisfied after noticing her swallowing and wetting her own lips as her eyes stayed fixed on your boobs’ slight jiggling as you had dropped on the mattress. Once you got comfortable on top of the soft duvet, you made sure to look right at her as you slowly spread your legs and immediately started lightly rubbing yourself through the fabric of your own underwear, moaning softly at the light stimulation as a way to tease the motherfucker in front of you. Without uttering a word, she left her spot by the door and walked over to you, stopping at the foot of the bed to grab her cock through her pants and slowly pump it. Pushing down her sweatpants just enough for the dildo strapped to her hips to spring out, she gave you a peak of the beautiful, defined v lines you had kissed over so many times and the bottom of the tattoos on her torso and abdomen you had to admit you loved. There was some ink peeking out from the cuff on her wrist as well, making the sight of her strong hand holding the base of her cock even more pleasing.

“Come here, get it wet”

You wanted to come up at least with a remark at her blunt order, but found nothing but anticipation in you and your body, as if moving by its own accord, immediately left your spot to kneel on the bed right in front of her crotch. You didn't waste any time, you couldn't have even if you wanted to, and, as soon as your lips touched the head of her cock, you tried your best to relax your throat in order to take as much of her length as you could, earning a pleased hum from her at the sound of your gags every time she reached the back of your throat.

“Now that's a cocksucker”

Her words pulled your eyes to her face and found her looking intently at you. The groan that came from her once you stopped bobbing your head to stay still with her cock still in your mouth sent a strong twing of arousal through you as she easily understood what you wanted.

She gently grabbed your head with both hands to keep you in place and immediately started to move her hips to fuck your face. Relishing the sight of a string of spit dropping on the part of your chest exposed by the cut in your shirt, she started pushing even deeper to see just how far you were willing to go for her. The resistance was clear as she pushed a bit more of her cock with every other thrust, until you finally couldn't wait anymore and grabbed her ass to give her a push and hopefully make her understand what she needed to do. With one final thrust she managed to push herself past your tight throat until your nose was touching her crotch. She couldn't help herself and rushed to get her phone from her pocket to snap a picture of you looking up at her with watery eyes as you grasped her ass cheeks through her pants to keep her from moving away. It was only once the need to breathe got the best of you that you pushed yourself off of her, sucking in a deep breath while Natasha stared with hooded eyes at your swollen lips and the spit connecting them to her cock.

“You say you hate me but you need my cock that much?”

You hated so much how true her words were and tried to distract yourself from the thought by lying back down and grabbing her cock now covered in your spit.

“Well, you're obsessed with my pussy so it's even”

She just smirked at your remark, deep down knowing that you were so fucking right. She couldn't get enough of it, all the girls she had fucked and she had to loose it for her stepcousin? Well, she honestly didn't give a shit, as long as you were careful she was going to keep fucking you like the slut she knew you were for her deep down.

“For the first time I've gotta say you're right”

You didn't even have the time to process her words and the shock that they had caused when she suddenly moved your underwear to the side and grabbed your ass tightly to lift your hips and get a taste of you, moaning exaggeratedly at her now favorite snack. Despite the leg shaking orgasm you knew she would've easily gotten out of you with her mouth, you pushed the delicious thought to the side and firmly grabbed her hair to lift her from your center.

“Right now I need your cock balls deep in my pussy, not your mouth”

Her lips looked way too delicious as they glistened with your juices and as they curled up she suddenly left go of your ass, making you yelp as you fell back to your lying position, before grabbing your thighs and pushing them to each of your sides, waiting for you to keep them there yourself with your arms to fully open yourself up for her. From the position you had a clear view of her strap as she rubbed it over your wet folds before finally pushing its head inside of you. She could never get enough of seeing your reaction at her entering you for the first time and once again, she couldn't help but keep her eyes on your face from the first moment. She fucked you just with the tip for a bit in order for you to get used to her and, gradually pushed more and more inside as you rubbed your own clit. You knew you were very far away from everybody else, but you still tried your best to keep your volume as low as you could, making her smirk at the clear signs of your struggle to do so.

“More, go faster”

She loved it every time when your uptight, moralist voice turned in a second into the pathetic begs of her own cockdrunk whore and who was she to give up the chance of fucking her personal pussy when she asked for it? After lifting up her hoodie a little to get a better view of your center begging to be filled up more and more, she firmly grabbed your waist, gradually thrusting faster and harder until she had set a pace that knocked your breath away every time she pushed her hips forward and her tip stroked your g spot so deliciously a deep sensation quickly started to build up inside of you. Her flexed abs and veins popping up on her hands made the pleasure she was making you feel, become even stronger, getting your orgasm closer by the second. It honestly amazed you how fast she was always able to make you cum and, despite not wanting to show her any weakness, you admittedly always felt a little self conscious because of it. You could barely keep it anymore, though, it was going to happen in a matter of seconds and your mouth opening in shock told her everything she needed to know.

“Wait, I think I'm gonna-”

You didn't have the chance of finishing your sentence before an earth shattering orgasm hit you so strongly that small, clear droplets spilled out of you every time she pulled back.

“Holy shit”

She panted the words to herself before swiftly pulling out completely and quickly rubbing her fingers over your clit, making you moan loudly as you squirted even more for her while you rode out your orgasm. By the time you were done, your legs were a little shaky and you were almost sobbing from how intense and quick it all was. Once you looked back at her, though, you knew you would've gladly done it as many times as she wanted. Her abs were a little wet from your orgasm, with a couple of drops still lingering on her tattooed skin, and, once your eyes locked with hers, she looked like the most dangerous predator eyeing its prey, ready to eat it in one bite, and, god, wasn't she going to do exactly that.

After all, maybe Thanksgiving was actually going to be even better with her.

.

.

.

Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox @dmenby3100

[bansurii]

Pen Pals

pair: sukuna x afab!reader

content: smut, stalking, threats, slight violence, dubious consent i think ?, profanity, choking, an impossible angle, sukuna is a serial killer but we never touch fully on that, reader is scared a lot, and idk what more is needed but just be careful proceeding MDNI thank you!

line dividers @cafekitsune

“So, what if your charming pen pal turns out to look like Quasimodo?”

“I have his picture! Besides, it’s not like we’ll ever actually meet. He’s serving life.”

Your friend gaped at you, her eyes widening in disbelief. 

The conversation had begun with your usual letter-writing ritual. What had once been a simple hobby had evolved into an infatuation with a man labeled as one of the world's most dangerous criminals. Despite his reputation, his letters had been nothing but kind, making your heart flutter with each new page. His picture revealed a ruggedly handsome man, his body adorned with tattoos that hinted at a dangerous past.

You had told your friend about him almost a year ago. Predictably, she responded with trepidation, urging you to choose a less notorious correspondent. 

“He’s still a person,” you’d argue. “Even the most hated need love too. And what harm could he do if he never knows where I live, let alone what I look like?”

However, his latest request had unsettled you both. He wanted a picture of you, something to remember you by during lonely times. Your friend was livid when you mentioned it.

“You cannot send him a picture! What if he has friends on the outside? I refuse to become a target because of your bad decisions!”

You laughed it off, continuing to write a diplomatic yet affectionate refusal. Your friend, exasperated, finally sighed in defeat.

“Well, enjoy writing to the serial killer. I’m staying at my boyfriend’s place for a while. If he gets out and comes after you, call the police first, then me.”

You reassured her with a laugh, promising to be cautious. She hugged you tightly before leaving. Neither of you noticed the grey car parked across the street, its presence having become so familiar it was easily ignored.

The following evening, a knock at your door startled you. Expecting your friend, you were puzzled to find no one there. Just a box. 

With a mix of excitement and dread, you approached the door. The box bore a note in handwriting you recognized instantly:

*Such a beautiful home. I thought you would enjoy a little gift from the other side…*

Your anxiety surged. You scanned the empty, unnaturally quiet street before retreating inside. The flickering streetlight across from your home seemed dimmer than usual, casting eerie shadows. A rustle in the bushes sent you scurrying back inside, locking the doors and setting the alarm with trembling hands.

The box sat ominously on your coffee table. Despite your curiosity, fear kept you from opening it. Instead, you holed up in your room, hoping sleep would come despite the dread gnawing at you.

In the dead of night, you jolted awake to the sound of metal scraping against metal. Someone was inside your home. 

Determined not to fall into the typical horror trope of investigating, you stayed put. But then you heard it—footsteps, slow and deliberate, ascending the carpeted stairs.

Panic gripped you. Clutching the bat you kept in your closet, you listened as the intruder approached. The door across the hall creaked open, and you steeled yourself for the worst. But then you recognized the sounds—muffled giggles and a familiar voice.

Relief washed over you. Your friend had returned, and apparently brought her boyfriend. You set the bat down, heart still racing, and fell back into bed, the adrenaline finally giving way to exhaustion.

In the morning, you would face the box and the mysteries it held. For now, you allowed yourself to sink into the comfort of your bed, hoping that sleep would bring a respite from the turmoil of the past few days.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your bedroom. Despite the terror of the previous night, you felt a strange sense of calm as you padded downstairs. The box still sat on the coffee table, its presence a reminder of the eerie note and the mystery it held.

Taking a deep breath, you sat on the couch and gingerly lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of luxurious velvet, was an object that took your breath away. It was a stunningly crafted necklace, the centerpiece a large, gleaming sapphire surrounded by intricate filigree work in white gold. The piece was elegant, expensive, and utterly out of place for something sent from a prison.

You lifted it gently, the gem catching the light and casting tiny rainbows across the room. For a moment, the sheer beauty of the necklace overshadowed your fear. How could something so exquisite come from a man behind bars?

Elated but wary, you turned the necklace over in your hands, inspecting every detail. It was flawless, and the craftsmanship was impeccable. This was no ordinary gift. 

Your mind raced. How did he manage to send something so extravagant? More importantly, how did he know your address? You felt a shiver run down your spine as you recalled your friend's words: *“What if he has friends on the outside?”*

The realization hit you hard. He must have outside help. Someone capable of acquiring such a piece and delivering it to your doorstep. Your elation was quickly replaced by a deep sense of unease. 

How long had he known where you lived? You thought back to the grey car that had been parked across the street. Was it connected? Had you been watched?

You set the necklace back in the box, hands trembling. The beauty of the gift now seemed tainted by the sinister implications. Your friend's warnings echoed in your mind: *“I am not going to die because of your bad decisions!”* You couldn’t ignore the danger any longer.

Reaching for your phone, you dialed your friend’s number. She answered on the third ring, her voice groggy with sleep.

“Hey, it’s me. You were right. We need to talk.”

Later that day, your friend arrived, her face a mix of concern and frustration. You showed her the necklace, and she gasped.

“This is... gorgeous. But it’s also terrifying. How did he send this?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “And I don’t know how he found my address.”

She paced the room, glancing nervously out the window. “We need to call the police. This is beyond creepy.”

You nodded, knowing she was right. The thrill of your pen pal had turned into something dangerous, something that required more than just caution. As you picked up the phone to dial the authorities, you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on you, the sense of being watched. The beautiful necklace now felt like a heavy weight, a symbol of the peril you had unwittingly invited into your life.

As you waited for the police to arrive, you couldn’t help but wonder about the man who had written such kind letters. Was he truly as dangerous as they said, or was there more to the story? Either way, you knew you couldn’t continue the correspondence. The price of your curiosity had become too high, and your safety was worth far more than any thrill or beautiful gift.

A few weeks had passed, and your friend continued to stay with her boyfriend, feeling guilty for leaving you alone but too scared to return. She called you every day, ensuring you were unharmed and feeling as well as could be expected. The police had stationed an officer outside your house during those weeks, but with no further incidents, they eventually recalled the officer. They advised you to call if anything came up, assuring you they would do their best to keep you safe. You had downplayed the threat, omitting any mention of your pen pal. Had they known the full extent, they might have placed you under witness protection.

Unfortunately, the eerie calm was shattered today.

The grey car had returned, and this time, you could make out the driver. He bore a stark resemblance to the picture you had seen of your pen pal, the world’s most dangerous criminal, now sitting outside your home, watching and waiting. But for what? What did he plan to do once you were alone?

You couldn't call out from work again, needing to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Steeling yourself, you put on your best intimidating face and walked to your car, though you felt more like a deer caught in headlights. Ignoring the piercing, watchful eyes of the man was harder than you imagined, but you managed to get into your car and drive away.

You knew it was foolish to drive to work, thinking he might follow you, but if he knew your address, he likely knew where you worked. At least at work, you'd be surrounded by people and security personnel. If he tried anything—which you doubted he would in such a public setting—there would be help nearby.

The day dragged on, dread gnawing at you. Your focus was shattered, and your supervisor almost reprimanded you until they realized how shaken you were. They backed off, giving you space to regain your composure. HR knew something was seriously wrong but couldn’t disclose details to anyone else, offering you a temporary reprieve.

But this day was particularly harrowing, and you barely made it through. As the workday ended, you practically sprinted to your car, seeking the relative safety it offered while there were still people around.

Home was a different story.

You entered, not realizing the door had been unlocked until you were already in the living room. Shock, dread, and fear flooded you as you saw him there, seated on your sofa.

He was casually examining a picture of you with your friend, family, and your old pet. He looked content, as if he belonged there, as if he were truly at home.

Panic surged. You wondered what he could do to you in such close quarters. Thick walls muted sounds from neighboring homes; no one would hear you in time. You felt paralyzed, unsure of what to do if he made a move.

He shifted his position, dropping one leg and crossing the other, all the while holding your gaze. He took in your presence, the real you, not just the image he had studied. You were no longer a picture, but flesh and blood, standing before him.

“Nice to meet you, [Your Name].”

You had never told him your real name, only an alias. Somehow, he had discovered your true identity, just as he had found your address.

“I hope you don’t mind my intrusion. I couldn’t resist, especially after a month of silence from you. I noticed you called the police. I'm quite impressed that you managed to keep my presence in your life a secret.”

You trembled, tears starting to well in your eyes and trickle down your face.

“Ah, don’t cry. I’m not here to harm you. What I have in mind will be much more pleasurable. For both of us.”

His words chilled you to the core. The beauty of the necklace, the allure of his letters, all seemed like a distant dream compared to the present reality. You stood frozen, unable to move or speak, as he smiled at you, his intentions shrouded in menace and mystery.

“I-I…” 

The tears began to slow, your breath evening out as a semblance of calm started to return. He watched you closely, giving you a moment to dry your face and find the words that had eluded you. 

But silence persisted. Your thoughts were in disarray, still grappling with the reality of his sudden presence. He seemed to sense your inner turmoil, knowing you needed time to process the situation. As he approached, his imposing figure loomed over you, each step bringing him closer.

Realizing his intent, you instinctively retreated, but his long strides easily closed the distance. Your back met the cold, unyielding wall, trapping you. You wished you could tear it down, burrow into an indestructible sanctuary, and escape the nightmare your life had become. 

His proximity was overwhelming, a blend of menace and fascination, as you stood frozen, unable to tear your gaze from his. The intensity of the moment hung heavy in the air, a storm of emotions threatening to consume you both.

He continued to close the distance, his presence suffocating yet electrifying. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as he drew nearer, until he was mere inches away. He raised his arms, placing his hands on the wall on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. The scent of him, a mix of cologne and something distinctly male, enveloped you.

"Is this what you like?" he asked, his voice a low, tantalizing murmur. His eyes bored into yours, searching for a reaction.

Your breath hitched, the proximity overwhelming your senses. The thrill of fear and an unexpected surge of excitement coursed through you, leaving you dizzy and unable to respond.

"Tell me," he continued, leaning in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Is this what you've been waiting for?"

The intensity of his gaze, the warmth of his breath, and the sheer force of his presence made it hard to think, let alone speak. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, your mind a chaotic mix of fear, confusion, and a strange, unwelcome attraction. His dominance was intoxicating, leaving you both terrified and inexplicably drawn to him.

His hands remained on the wall, trapping you, as his eyes continued to hold yours captive. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with unspoken tension. In that moment, you realized you were at his mercy, and the realization sent a shiver down your spine.

The intensity in his gaze didn't waver as he spoke again, his voice a silken whisper. "Why don't you show me around? I'd like to see more of your home."

Your heart pounded as you nodded, feeling compelled to comply. Slowly, he dropped his hands from the wall, giving you a semblance of freedom, though his presence still dominated the space. He gestured for you to lead the way.

With trembling steps, you walked towards the staircase, feeling his eyes on you, a constant reminder of the danger and allure he embodied. The transition from the living room to the upper floor was surreal, the normalcy of your home tainted by his dark presence. Each step up the stairs felt like a journey deeper into an inescapable labyrinth.

You reached the top of the stairs and paused, glancing back at him. His expression was unreadable, but a faint, almost predatory smile played at his lips. You hesitated for a moment before pushing open the door to your bedroom.

"This is my room," you said softly, stepping inside.

He followed, his tall frame filling the doorway before he moved to the center of the room. He looked around, taking in every detail. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt exposed and vulnerable.

"Show me more," he instructed, his voice firm yet oddly gentle.

You led him to the adjoining bathroom, your hands trembling as you opened the door. The bathroom was small but neat, the shower glistening under the overhead light. He inspected it briefly, then turned back to you, his eyes locking onto yours.

"This will do nicely," he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of something more.

Your mind raced, the reality of the situation pressing down on you. "What do you want from me?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "For now, just your cooperation. Tonight is just the beginning. After the night's activities, I might need a place to clean up."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. The ambiguity of "activities" left your mind reeling with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. You found yourself nodding, unable to do anything else.

"Good girl," he murmured, his hand lingering on your cheek. "Now, let's make the most of our evening together."

His touch was both reassuring and sinister, a stark reminder of the control he wielded over you. “Take this off…”

You were shocked, appalled even, at such a request from a man you barely knew, despite the intimacy of his letters, the truths he shared, his truth. 

You hesitated, glancing up at him with a mix of trepidation and a spark of rebellion. 

He smirked slightly, as if he had anticipated your resistance. His hand reached out, but you scurried backward, clutching onto what felt like the last vestiges of your dignity. 

He wasn’t taking no for an answer, not from someone who had shown him such genuine kindness, such unguarded affection for the first time in decades.

It dawned on you just how monumental a mistake that kindness had been.

As you stood there, frozen in your shock, he moved swiftly. In an instant, he had closed the distance between you, his strong hands seizing your blouse. The fabric bunched under his grip, the force of his hold sending a jolt through you.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his voice a velvet threat. “You and I both know this was inevitable.”

His words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the palpable tension that seemed to throb between you. His touch, firm and unyielding, ignited a tumult of emotions within you—fear, defiance, and a disturbing undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite name.

“You think you can just come into my life and—” your voice faltered, the defiance wavering under the weight of his gaze.

“I don’t think, I know,” he interrupted, his tone commanding and confident. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. “You invited me in with every letter, every secret you shared. This connection we have—it’s real. And now, it’s time to face it.”

Your breath hitched as he pulled you closer, the proximity making your heart race. The air between you crackled with an undeniable energy, a mix of danger and an inexplicable pull that left you both terrified and entranced.

“You’ve got me all wrong,” you whispered, desperation creeping into your voice.

“No,” he replied, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the reality of your situation crashing over you. The walls of your sanctuary seemed to close in, the room shrinking as his presence dominated. You were caught in his web, and the more you struggled, the more entangled you became.

With a final, firm tug, he brought you even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s see how this night unfolds,” he murmured, a promise and a threat woven into his words.

In that moment, you realized there was no escape. You were his, for better or worse, and the night was just beginning.

His deft hands worked quickly, yet with a surprising gentleness, as he pulled at your blouse. He was careful, mindful of not tearing buttons or threads, his touch respectful in its slow haste to undress you. Each movement seemed deliberate, as if he were savoring the unveiling of your skin, as if he knew the value of each delicate inch.

Once your clothing lay discarded, you stood before him in just your bralette and panties, exposed yet somehow still veiled in mystery. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the sight of a woman—a vision of beauty that left him breathless. He drank in every curve, every line, every delicate feature, his gaze lingering on each detail as if committing them to memory.

He had seen countless women in his lifetime, but none had captivated him quite like you. There was something about you, something ineffable and intoxicating, that drew him in, leaving him hungry for more.

In that moment, as you stood there before him, vulnerable yet unyielding, he realized just how much he craved you. And he knew, with a certainty that bordered on obsession, that he would stop at nothing to possess you completely.

You knew that begging would likely be futile, so you chose silence instead, allowing your gaze to wander anywhere but at him and what he was doing. But he seemed to revel in being watched, his ego swelling as he unveiled each layer of your clothing.

His touch was insistent as his index finger and thumb grasped your chin, forcing your gaze to remain solely on him. You felt a surge of defiance rise within you, but it was quickly quelled by the intensity of his gaze.

With practiced ease, he removed your bra, followed by your panties. The air between you crackled with tension as he exposed you completely, and you couldn't help but feel exposed and vulnerable under his scrutiny.

A low groan escaped him, barely audible but unmistakable. It was a sound of longing, of desire unleashed after years of confinement. You realized then just how long it had been since he had seen a living, breathing woman, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You stood there, naked and exposed, feeling his eyes on you like a physical touch. There was something primal in the way he looked at you, as though he were seeing you for the first time, drinking in every curve and contour of your body.

You tried to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was difficult under his relentless gaze. You felt stripped bare, not just of your clothing but of your defenses, your vulnerabilities laid bare before him.

As he stepped closer, the heat of his body enveloping you, you knew that there was no turning back. The night stretched out before you, a vast unknown filled with equal parts fear and fascination. And as he reached out to pull you closer, you couldn't help but wonder what other surprises lay in store.

Your cheek pressed into the cold, quartz floor of your bathroom, every nerve ending alive with sensation. You could feel the weight of him behind you, his eyes drinking in the sight of your rear pressing against his hips. His blazer, shirt, and pants had been discarded, leaving him in just his boxers. Despite the fabric that still separated your bodies, you felt everything from him—his warmth, his strength, his desire.

He had positioned you in a neat arch, your body stretched taut, every muscle straining against the confines of your own submission. His command was clear: remain still, hold that position until he was ready to take you further.

You obeyed, every fiber of your being thrumming with anticipation and fear. The cold floor beneath you was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated from him, and the sensation only heightened your awareness of every touch, every breath that brushed against your skin.

Time seemed to stand still as you waited, your body poised on the precipice of something unknown. You could hear the steady rhythm of your own heartbeat, a counterpoint to the electric tension that hung heavy in the air.

And then, without warning, his hands were on you, tracing the contours of your body with a touch that sent shivers down your spine. His fingers were skilled, mapping every curve and dip with a precision that left you breathless.

You felt him shift behind you, his body moving with a fluid grace that belied the strength coiled beneath his skin. You were afraid of the movement, wanting to look behind you to see what exactly he was doing. And when you felt the tip of him nearing your heat, you redacted the beautiful arch he helped you to create for him and tried to squirm away.

Before you knew it, he had your hair twisted in his hand, pressing your head painfully further against the floor, his breath fanning over your ear. “Move again… and I will crack your skull over this floor and with this treasure I’ll summon something worse than death for you.”

And then, with a suddenness that stole your breath away, he entered you, filling you completely with a single, powerful thrust.

The sensation was overwhelming, a flood of pleasure and pain that threatened to consume you. You bit back a gasp, your body trembling with the effort to remain still as he took you further, deeper into the abyss of his desire. He was much too large to enjoy, your stretched muscles struggling to comprehend the intrusion.

And as he moved within you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of oblivion, you realized that there was no turning back. You were his, body and soul, caught in the grip of a passion that threatened to consume you both. And in that moment, as he claimed you as his own, you surrendered to the darkness that beckoned, knowing that there was no escape from the depths of his desire.

By the time he was finished, you had orgasmed nearly six times. The final was barely an orgasm, he had edged you and slapped your ass. Breathy laughs finding your ears and somehow you felt yourself able to share his laughter. Your cunt clenched against his twitching length, a feeling he relished in.

Just when you thought he was finished, he pushed your legs apart as far as they would go, nearly into a split, pressing himself further into you, impossibly deeper. Your eyes bulged, hips tightened and your cunt contracted against his deep-seated length once more, your cervix contracting and relaxing in slow bouts against his tip. He lifted your hips, allowing him a new arch, fresh angle, and an even deeper reach. 

You wanted to sob, to beg him to stop, but you also wanted to see what he would do in this position. 

He reached one hand in front, taking your neck into his possession and he pulled back just enough to keep you stationary and choke you slightly at the same time, the angle would do the rest. 

And slowly, he pulled back, allowing just the tip to remain before he thrusts intensely inside of you, pressing against the spot he knew would drive you insane. 

And you cursed him, screaming out all sorts of obscenities and lewd things as he continued to abuse the same spot. His girth squeezed in and out of you with much effort, the tightened feel of your cunt in this position was the one thing that kept him grounded, eyes drawn into a focus on your connected bodies. 

He had cum so many times and this position had him dangerously close to blowing his load again, but he held back just enough. He wanted to cum with you again.

Increasing his speed, he pushed and pulled inside your pussy, watching as it sucked him and pushed him out simultaneously. 

“S’kunaaaa… Fuuuccckkk! Pl-please!”

He knew what you were begging for, screaming out his name for. And he was so close to giving it to you. He had to give you what you wanted since you had been so obedient for him all night. He was nearing his end, bringing his free hand down to your clit and rubbing dangerous circles and odd shapes into it, nearly ritualistic in his methods and just he groaned his approval, you squirted. Full-body quakes erupting, your eyes rolling back into your head. Anyone watching the scene would have thought you were having a seizure. 

But Sukuna knew. And you knew.

It was simply nirvana.

[searchingforserendipity25]

exorcising my list of unwritten conclave concepts from a few weeks ago i haven't written much since, in case the list is all there ends up coming out of it or anyone wants to welcome any of them into a good home:

cardinal lawrence and sister agnes won each other’s respect and trust during ratzinger’s papacy (liberals who leak church scandals to the justice system and the press stick together). everyone lowkey thinks they are having an affair. they are not, but they do keep sneaking into corners to gossip during the conclave. leaning fully into the reading of sister agnes as the late pope’s intelligence expert. incredibly jaded vatican spy. aldo is not jealous. benitez finds lawrence with the yellow canary eating from his hand and going back to his side after short flights, and has a number of franciscan emotions about it. the whole thing would ideally be about their friendship, different views and thoughts on power, what it looks like, what it ought to look like. responsibility, and doubt. also: how horrible it is the only non smokers in an european workplace.

(does this change anything materially? possibly the adeyemi and trembley situation is revealed much sooner with lawrence and sister agnes working together earlier and sharing intel, which in its turn makes him seem more competent and aggressive in taking down competitors, ergo more votes, ergo more influence? maybe bellini supports him more overtly earlier idk.) 

cardinal lawrence is dead. as a matter of fact, cardinal lawrence has been dead for a few days after the pope dies; unlike the pope, he keeps coming back to do his job. the curia covers up his death, because the dean of the college of cardinals is a ghost who apparently hated his job enough that is it his very literal purgatory is both hard to explain, and bad for the press. the fate of his unliving soul is very much at risk when steering the conclave, which is, uh, fun. cardinal tedesco's vape smoke now strongly smells of sulfur to him, which is probably not satanic in origin but then again might be. people keep voting on him and their belief in him corresponds directly to how much he can interact with the world, which is a very straightforward way to test one’s moral limits and otherwise a great torment. the one silver lining is that he can walk through walls and scoop out corrupt dealing easily, and no one can really tell he is dead. well, barely anyone. cardinal benítez and his ability to walk easily between the liminal spaces and certainties of the world is an outlier, and should not be counted.

dean lawrence keeps getting kidnapped, poisoned, blackmailed and otherwise threatened. this is an unfortunate if occasional part of being the vatican’s manager of two increasingly liberal and unorthodox papacies. it is considerably less fine and unfortunately far too normal for innocent xiv, who has a non-zero number of experiences with friends being kidnapped, poisoned, blackmailed and otherwise threatened. 

bellini/lawrence full on established relationship nonsense. as in, they have been together for thirty years and counting. conclave rewrite?? 

innocent xiv’s phone messages get leaked. innocent xiv’s phone messages consist of selfies with turtles sent to various friends and family, a good deal of memes in the santa marta groupchat, and daily jokes, complaints and affectionate messages to dean lawrence. the media has thoughts. aldo bellini, newly in charge of the papal media strategy, also has thoughts. and prayers.

a glimpse at all the people that Did vote for benítez from the start, and how much his work is or is not known outside the hermetic sphere of the vatican. he's kind of famous in religious activist circle probably! he has fans! he has a wide network of people he regularly approaches for information, resources, mutual aid and donations to his clinics and dioceses! he keeps dropping insane facts about horrifying personal experiences with unnerving serenity!

vincent benítez soft doms cardinal lawrence into taking a rest during the conclave. this incidents turns into a habit and gains new dimensions, as per the forthcoming changes in job status

pope john has an ongoing crisis of faith and also a gigantic imposter's syndrome. unrelatedly, pope john would really really really rather vincent benítez did not die in kabul and/or cause a diplomatic disaster. how convenient, then, that he is now a benevolent religious dictator who can arrange (read: wholesale invent) a number of postings and duties only benítez can accomplish. if anyone ask, this is a long-delayed move on part o the church to develop a deeper connection to on-the-ground aid organization. this can’t possibly last forever, though, can it? 

friar lawrence has shed all politics and chosen an abbey who keeps a vow of silence. friar lawrence is genuinely having a lovely time of things in his little abbey post canon. for like, uh, two months? friar lawrence keeps accidentally gaining more and more influence. manager-guy who cannot not manage. six months in he’s in charge of shelters and social associations. one year on, and he’d be archbishop again, if he were not aggressively trying to clamber down the church hierarchical rung. his friend, innocent xiv, who went from being a non-entity to one of the most famous men in the world, is sympathetic but also thinks this is very very funny. epistolary fic?? email epistolary? there is a little cat in a friar's habit and this is the most important part.

possibly related: cardinal lawrence comes back from his enforced sabbatical in a peaceful retreat freckled, healthier and smiling. people have thoughts on this, and emotions also. 

turtle pov of benitez/lawrence. literally: turtle pov. is the turtle an angel?? unclear if the turtle is an angel.

cardinal tedesco must die au.

[wosoragebaiter69]

the heart wants what it wants

alexia putellas x fem!reader

request: here & here

A/N: tried a diff writing style in this one, i think i like it better.

TW: swearing? (idk if it’s considered but i see other people doing it)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

National camp, you hated it. Nearly everything about it sucked. Keyword, nearly. It means you got to see her. The captain of Spain, and the captain of Barcelona. You know it’s probably not a good idea to fall for your ‘enemy’ but how couldn’t you? Faded pink hair, absolutely drop dead gorgeous. Who wouldn’t love that.

It would be easier if you weren’t so devoted to your own club, Real Madrid. The biggest rival of Barcelona. But that can be put aside for the little bit that comes with National camp, even if friend groups are very much seperate.

You wait as the rooms get announced. For who knows what, you get paired with Alexia. Olga sends a sly smirk to which you immediately slap her on the arm.

“Don’t you dare say a word Carmona.” Is all you say before lugging your bags and taking a keycard, heading towards the shared room.

“The bed on the window alright for you?” She asks, you nod.

You miss the way that she’s slightly nervous, and blushing. Too focused on trying to keep your own feelings at bay.

After unpacking everything, you’re laying on the bed staring at the ceiling, daydreaming which soon turns to actual dreaming when you fall asleep.

You’re woken up by a soft voice telling you that dinner is ready and to go down to everyone. It’s Alexia, you blush again looking away. Nodding before getting your shit together and moving on.

You walk down splitting from Alexia and going to sit down at a table with Olga, Ivana and Athenea.

“Don’t give me that look Olga.” You sigh as she smirks.

“I will make you do laps.” You threaten.

“You would not! I saved you a plate, look here.” She slides a plate over which you accept in thanks before turning to small talk with the girls.

Something which somehow goes unknown to everyone at your table, Alexia is watching. Receiving teasing from her own friends.

“Alexia, just ask her out already. My God it’s getting annoying of you two just blushing and staring at each other all day.” Jenni says to her friend, while they may be exes there’s still a lot of respect.

“I don’t know Jenni, she wouldn’t feel the same. We are captains of rival teams!” The dark haired spaniard rolls her eyes.

“Alexia.” This time it’s Misa. “I’m on the same team as her so let me. She says she has a crush but only Olga knows of it. And apparently it’s someone from another team. That’s all I know, but I did see Olga smirk when your rooms were read and then Y/N hit her whispering something.” She shrugs.

“If that doesn’t scream, my best friend is roomed with her crush and now she’s hitting me for pointing it out behaviour. I don’t know what is. You have until the end of camp to do this or I will ask her out for you myself.” The goalkeepers outburst surprises Alexia but she nods anyways, thinking that maybe tonight she’ll tell you. Maybe.

After dinner, and all the players are sent back to their respective rooms or to play games in the common area. You find yourself wondering around the hotel. Thinking about upcoming games and literally everything in between that.

After an hour or so of exploring different areas, finding a gym, swimming pool and jacuzzi you make your way back to the room where Alexia is pacing around.

“Penny for your thoughts?” This seems to get her out of the trance and she immediately looks up, blushing lightly. Is that a blush? You wonder.

“Lo siento, it’s nothing.” Your eyebrows light up in surprise.

“Well, if you need anything I’m right here.” She nods slowly, as if considering her options.

“Actually, there is something I’ve been meaning to ask.” She looks down nervously at her hands, fidgeting with them.

“Go ahead.” You answer lightly with a small smile.

“I was wondering… maybe you’d wanna go on a date?” Your eyes open wide, this wasn’t what you expected at all.

“Uhh, y-yeah! Sure. Like… romantic right?” You stutter as she relaxes and nods.

“Yeah, like that. Maybe when we have time to explore, the day before the game? We can find a place.” You nod.

“That sounds amazing, it should be fun.” After the conversation ends, you immediately message Olga the news. Who is… screaming in text messages.

- - - - -

Unable to keep a smile of your face for the next few days, it seems the team is doing alright given certain circumstances. Alexia does take you out on that date and it ends with a kiss that makes you feel like a high schooler experiencing their first love. Cheesy, but true nonetheless. The team hasn’t found out yet but the respective friend groups teased both you and Alexia relentlessly, which only resulted in blushing messes and stuttered words.

Sometimes, a little bit of encouragement and fate can work wonders.

[matan4il]

I have a query and I'm sorry that this question is going to upset you in advance. I see a post circling on here about Holocaust survivors apparently saying that Palestinians are exactly like them during attacks on Gaza. I just scroll past it because I have poor attention span that cannot stay focused more than one sentence but I wanted to know your opinion on this post or if you have seen it. Again, deep apologies that this ask is upsetting. Thank you for still being here and sharing with us.

Hi Nonnie!

Thank you for the kind way you approached this.

I have seen a post that might be the one you're referring to... It's a screenshot of a tweet:

The original tweet shows an interview with one Holocaust survivor. The response falsely expands this to survivors, in the plural, as if this one tweet shows a whole movement of Holocaust survivors, that people simply refuse to listen to.

The original tweet comes from an account that calls itself a "media company," but has no website (something I would expect from an actual media company), and is at least 80% tweets that are anti-Israel and anti-Jewish. I'll give you an example. We all know Elon Musk has allowed antisemitism to thrive on Twitter, all kinds of it, including the white supremacist type, and others that have nothing to do with Israel. In an attempt to educate him, he was invited to a tour of Auschwitz. But apparently, according to this "media company," that was just meant to stop anti-genocide speech on his social media platform:

Of the up to 20% of tweets this "media company" posts or shares, many are anti-democratic or in support of dictatorial regimes.

This account also amplified the words of Julius Malema, leader of the South African EFF party, as he justified the Oct 7 massacre, and demanded support for the (genocidal) Hamas and its "resistance."

Malema himself has repeatedly sang, "Kill the Boer," a song which many understand as a genocidal chant against the Boers, the South Africans of Dutch descent. This guy is a controversial figure at best, doesn't seem to have an issue with an actual genocide, and this "media company" upholds his words as if he is a role model.

But if this account tweets Israel hate, then I guess the Tumblr user who passed the tweet along has no issue with how questionable of a source this is.

I recognized the face of the survivor. This is what it looks like in the cut off screenshot in the Tumblr post I saw:

So how did I recognize him? Because the number of anti-Zionist Holocaust survivors is SO small (around 5), and I have seen every single one of them repeatedly tokenized by antisemites so much, that I'm familiar with the name and face of each. The man in this vid is Hajo Meyer, who died in 2014. He couldn't possibly make any comments about Hamas' massacre on Oct 7, 2023 and the war in Gaza since, unless this "media company" has managed to somehow contact the afterlife. Here's a screenshot from Google, showing a recent re-upload of this vid to IG:

And here's a very brief bio, mentioning his date of death:

I'm guessing that "media company" didn't name him, or specify the date out of the vid, because it didn't want people to know the guy was dead, and the views he expressed were pre-Hamas' massacre.

Hajo Meyer was, without a doubt, an anti-Zionist. But would he still be using this rhetoric after Oct 7, after the biggest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, after better understanding the kind of threat that Israel and Jews worldwide (since Hamas has tried to target Jews in European countries as well, including in the Netherlands, where Meyer lived) are facing from this genocidal terrorist organization ruling Gaza? IDK. I'd like to think he would be better than to continue distorting the Holocaust through this false comparison, but I can't say for sure, and I'm not about to claim that I do, putting words in his mouth just to exploit a dead Holocaust survivor. The fact that the anti-Israel crowd would continue to tokenize (meaning, exploit) a dead survivor like that, as if anyone could know for sure that Meyer would continue to toe the same line, just shows there really is no moral low they can't stoop to.

And here I wanna emphasize how wrong this antisemitic practice is, tokenizing Jews. Because no marginalized group is immune to the hatred spread against it, there will ALWAYS be some of its members, who will internalize and embrace poison aimed at it. There were gay Nazis (the notorious Ernest Roehm was the highest ranking one) and we also have contemporary gay neo-Nazis. So, should we use them in order to pretend that Nazi ideology is not homophobic? That it didn't harm hundreds of thousands of gay people? No, we know that the overwhelming majority of gay people suffered due to it, and would insist that Nazism IS homophobic. So, using those few exceptions to ignore (and embolden) the homophbia of this ideology, ends up being homophobic in itself. Embracing the unrepresentative few over the representative, mainstream majority of a marginalized group in "exonerating" what the group says is hateful and harmful towards it, ends up being hateful and harmful in itself.

And that's what people who only listen to the few anti-Zionist Holocaust survivors are doing. They're basically saying, "Listen to Holocaust survivors!" but they mean only the few who say what the anti-Israel movement does. All the other survivors they ignore, dismiss, silence or even erase.

They're ignoring the voices of the overwhelming majority of Holocaust survivors who WERE (and are) Zionist. Who do not agree with this distorted narrative. Yad Vashem estimates that two thirds of Holocaust survivors came to Israel at the end of WWII, and many more supported Israel even when they chose to settle elsewhere. Just recently, we had a group of 870 American survivors (along with their descendants, altogether 2,500 Jews) thank Biden for standing with Israel after the Hamas massacre. These anti-Israel haters are also erasing the survivors who were themselves targeted on Oct 7, whether threatened, kidnapped, injured or murdered (I've talked about several in my posts on this blog). This anti-Israel mob is exploiting Hajo Meyer even in ignoring that if he had been alive and present in Israel, even just to visit a friend or family member, he would have been targeted, too. These haters are ignoring survivors who said that what Hamas has done is similar to what the Nazis did (I've talked about several of them in my posts on this blog, too. All can be found in my Israel tag).

It is unconscionable, to treat most Holocaust survivors like they don't count, and only see a (literal) handful of anti-Zionist ones as if they do. And it certainly does NOT show the respect the anti-Israel haters imply survivors are owed, through the demand that we all defer to the opinion of the survivors, but ONLY the few anti-Zionist ones.

All that said, off the top of my head, here's a small number of HUGE differences between the Holocaust, and the Israeli-Arab conflict, and anyone ignoring them IS guilty of distorting the Holocaust.

-> The Holocaust did NOT start due to Jews repeatedly murdering Germans on German soil, in an attempt to keep Germans down and prevent them from establishing self rule in the German ancestral land. The Holocaust was completely unprovoked, unjustified and one-sided. Every oppressive measure taken by the Nazis against the Jews, was motivated by antisemitism, and was NOT a reaction to Jewish anti-German terrorism, that the Nazis had to protect their German citizens from. Speaking of unprovoked, unjustified and for a very long time one-sided, that describes the Arab anti-Jewish violence that preceded the establishment of the State of Israel by almost 100 years. But Jewish self-defense in this conflict, which only started about 50 years after said violence began, was provoked, was justified, was a response to what was done to the Jews first.

-> The Holocaust did NOT consist of Jews on German soil collaborating militarily with several Jewish countries surrounding Germany, with the goal of these combined Jewish armies invading and wiping it off the map, in order to prevent German self rule. Guess what the Arabs did to the Jews...

-> The Holocaust did NOT entail repeated German efforts to find a solution for how Jews and Germans could live together on the same land. In pre-state Israel, Jews did try repeatedly to reach an understanding that would allow Jews and Arabs to peacefully share (and co-exist in) the Jewish ancestral land.

-> When Jews finally started rebelling against the Nazis, they did NOT try to get as many Jewish civilians as possible killed. On the contrary, the outbreak of the most famous Jewish revolt, the one in the Warsaw Ghetto, was postponed until the Nazis entered, and the Jewish fighters believed this to be the final 'liquidation' of the ghetto (meaning, the deportation and extermination of the roughly 60,000 Jews still alive there). Only then did they fight back, because (in their own words), they did not want their decision to rebel to cost another Jew "even one hour of life." Compare that to how Hamas has been using Palestinian civilians as human shields. Or even to the Arab leadership back in 1948, which did not hesitate in risking or displacing the entire Arab population in the Land of Israel, in favor of fighting what they called "an extermination war" against the Jews.

-> The Holocaust did NOT see a single day where Germans worked en masse to try and alleviate the suffering of Jews, whether by providing them with humanitarian aid, or by moving them to areas where they would be safe from death. That's in direct contrast to Israel's efforts to make Palestinians' lives better, whether through humanitarian aid, work permits in Israel that guarantee a higher salary and better social rights, medical treatments, warnings when a terrorist target is about to be struck, etc.

-> The Holocaust was NOT supposed to end with even one Jew alive at the end of it. The Germans were going for total extermination of the Jewish people. All Jews who had German citizens were stripped of it in 1935, even before the most murderous parts of this genocide commenced. In contrast, Israel did NOT seek to kill all Arabs, there were many calls for Arabs not to flee Israel and the war which the Arab leadership had started, at the end of the war Israel gave citizenship to 150,000 Arabs who did not leave and did not take arms against Jews, and there was even an offer for tens of thousands of Arabs to return (Weitzmann presented it to the UN), if they do so peacefully. Just a few thousands accepted that offer, but those who did, got citizenship and land.

-> The Nazis were so eager to kill every Jew, that they came to the conclusion they HAD to industrialize their genocide of the Jewish people. That's why they built extermination camps with gas chambers at their core. Auschwitz alone could, on certain days, kill about 20,000 people. No Jew was meant to leave those camps alive. The crematoria were mass murder factories. ANY crime that you want to compare to the Holocaust specifically, you have to show that it includes this industrialization element. Currently, NO GENOCIDE, no matter how horrific, has. And God help us all, I hope it stays that way (this is one of the reasons why the Holocaust mustn't be distorted or minimized. We can't prevent something from happening, if we don't understand what HAS happened, and that we're trying to stop from being repeated). There is not a SINGLE thing in the history of the Israeli-Arab conflict that comes CLOSE to being an industrialized form of massacre. Even the brutality of Hamas on Oct 7, the single bloodiest day in the history of this conflict for either side, doesn't come close.

-> While there are still Jews around, meaning the Holocaust as conceptualized by the Nazis failed, it was so deadly, that it DID lead to the murder of around 70-80% of the Jews living under the Nazi occupation over a short number of years. Even more than 80 years after the end of the Holocaust, Jews have not recovered demographically. Meanwhile, the Palestinian population has increased by about 10 times since Israel's Independence War. But let's say people wanna claim that just this current war is comparable to the Holocaust. There are presently around 7 million Arabs in the territories of the Jewish ancestral land, of which about 2 million are Israeli citizens. I'm gonna go with the anti-Israel narrative for a second, which claims ALL of them are occupied and oppressed by Israel (even though they're not). In order for the ruin of Palestinians to be indeed on the same level, that would mean 70-80% of them would have to be murdered by Israel during the war. Let's go with the lower percent, so it's easier for the anti-Israel crowd to reach the number of deaths that would support their claim. To have killed 70% of 7 million, that would mean Israel would have to kill 4.9 million Arabs in this so-called "genocide." Even if we exclude Israeli Arabs, and only focus on the 5 million Palestinians living in areas where the Israeli army currently operates (imagine the German Nazis allowing Jews safety inside Germany, and only killing them outside it *eyeroll*), that would mean at least 3.5 million Palestinians killed. But after almost 5 months of this war, the number of Palestinian fatalities, as claimed by Hamas, is around 30,000 people (I'm putting aside the fact that at least 12,000 are Hamas terrorists). The gap between what is happening, and what people who make this false comparison are implying is happening, is incomprehensible.

Sorry for the length, but I hope this is helpful!

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[moonshynecybin]

Sorry so random and hate to asking this like you’re google search engine but what is the deal with Vale and his parents lol

big question! im not sure how much you know so i'll generally cover as many bases as i can and sort of. gather some resources that might help you form a picture.

his dad: graziano rossi. former racer (his peak was finishing third in the 250cc class the year vale was born) who had to retire after some scary injuries (crucial for maximum vale neuroses). in terms of their relationship, first go peruse this webweave from @kwisatzworld. actually i frankly think theyre a better person to answer this question wholesale but i digress. important to note that vale straight up is like yeah he was not a good father lol. ALSO notable that graziano is asked what kind of son vale is and says 'one i can brag about to friends' which. okay. graziano also will not shut the fuck UP about vale in print (he was kind of the one to break rosquez not really being close friends anymore post-assen? for some reason??) which idk if my dad was constantly talking about me to reporters i would feel weird about that. like that is not something that i would enjoy. seems a bit like they have the sort of relationship dozens of us divorced children have with our parents where we can kind of only talk to our dad about sports.

additionally, his parents had him quite young (25 for graziano and in the thick of his racing career, unsure for his mom) and you get a sense that vale thinks they should not have done that.... he doesnt super call them 'mom' or 'dad', instead using their first names, he says they have a more 'friendly' relationship than parental, and apparently his dad and him just started saying i love you to each regularly uh. recently. heres a video of him talking about it (i get the sense the divorce exacerbated these issues as well). that being said i DO also think that vale is closer with his mom in general (she lived in his house for a long time! they lived together during covid as well!) (his mom is named stefania palma and shes a civil engineer, which i think kind ties into how journalists often mention that luca and vale talk about the bike like theyre engineers. i literally dont think that is coincidence, i think they got it from their super hot and smart mom...) heres a bit about her and graziano (x):

theres also LUCA. who is obviously his half brother (he has a few other half siblings on graziano's side, but they arent famous so we dont know as much. i get the sense they arent as close just by virtue of their difference in involvement w racing but its hard to say! its clear hes close with luca, ESPECIALLY after the academy really got going and luca got a bit older.) luca is born in 1997 when vale is 18 years old and just kicking off his career, so hes kind of never known a world where vale wasnt insanely famous. luckily and ironically his father is a sports psychologist. luca's story kind of ties in with stefania's (obviously), and here's a post about how some of the stuff going on in their lives mightve effected them and of course vale. idk why this became a luca treatise but hes important okay!!!! just a family with a lot going on that informs vale's whole deal (having much younger siblings and liking to teach perhaps as a result, his marriage feelings, his REPRESSION issues, how he shows love, how he self-protects, and a lot more. idk this is hardly comprehensive but hopefully it gives a little food for thought !

[oacest]

My thoughts on the audio are that I genuinely cannot come up with a sane explanation. I don't think Liam was necessarily in the studio but he has to be talking about him, right? Like IDK there was some visual effect or whatever, literally who else could be the cunt Noel doesn't want to see. Beyond which I am not a proper scholar so please let me know if I'm way off base but I have an extended divorce theory that goes:

2009: Breakup, they're both big mad for a minute

201?-2012: They are texting and like, sending their kids to the same school. possibly the most normal they've ever been.

2013-2015: Liam blows his entire life up and is extremely sad about the consequences of his own actions. I saw actual video footage of Noel saying that he's shocked beady eye broke up and he's actually sweet about it and tells Liam not to give up? who is this man. anyway while Liam will later claim Noel wasn't there for him during the divorce but as a general rule they're much nicer about each other when they're divorcing other people. this is where I become extremely conspiratorial because at some point they had to get the documentary off the ground and a second, more personal breakup is clearly going down around this time. I believe in their ability to deeply wound each other by playing cryptic telephone through the press but I think it genuinely makes more sense if they were actually talking, perhaps about a potential reunion.

2016-2020: supersonic documentary and also (coincidentally?) the apocalypse. Liam launches his solo career, Noel hates it and is pretty relentlessly mean about it and about Liam more generally. we are gearing up for the kind of tweeting/podcast commenting where you call your brother your ex-wife. I think this is also when Noel decides to drag Molly into it for some reason. Liam says publicly that he thinks Noel was waiting for him to hit rock bottom so he could be magnanimous about saving him. whether he thinks this because of something concrete noel did or said or because he's liam is a mystery. the Anais incident goes down, the vogue article comes out. we are never ever getting back together for real this time. noel says a bunch of normal and well adjusted stuff about how he wants Liam to die in a self driving car crash with Donald Trump and seeing his face makes him want to shoot up a MacDonalds.

2020-2022: the pandemic saves oasis. I'm serious. they're both stuck sitting at home with nothing to distract them from themselves and think of brighter days. apparently being trapped in a house with noel is genuinely so unbearable that Sara calls it quits (in the matter of Sara v. Noel I'm on her side). presumably this was cause for at least some self reflection. divorce is a lonely and difficult experience, sara and liam seem to legit hate each other in a way that would be a barrier to reconciliation (in the matter of Sara v. Liam I am also on her side but less so bcs she didn't get trapped in a house with him). at the same time Liam pulls off Knebworth 2022, demonstrating he can handle big events without headcasing (and without noel, and he will be doing those big events solo or otherwise). at this point I genuinely think it was just a matter of time before we were back, baybeee! let's hope they can keep it together.

bro your brain is so huge and deeply wrinkled, profoundly agree with all of this. why you on anon when your opinions are so correct and you could be sharing them with us directly tbh 👀.

but yeah, 100% covid saved oasis lmao. noel's divorce saved oasis. noel's miserable midlife crisis (ongoing) saved oasis 🥰🥰🥰. and it juuuuuust really seems like all those insane highs and lows that went on publicly in the media between them over the years probably, or at least quite possibly, had irl personal catalysts rather than just a general holdover of ill will from the 2000s. there are so many random little times one or both of them casually mentioned they were in contact, and any one of those instances can be disregarded, but when considered in retrospect from a collective standpoint..... AWFULLY DAMNING!!!

lots more to say about all of this actually, every point you've made is legit af and could be expounded upon for a hundred years, but it's midnight and im coming down with a flu (punishment for some kind of hubris im sure), so. thank you for all of this and goodnight 🙏

[bethanydelleman]

and i totally agree with what you said! i just hate hate this trend of painting annoying or unimportant characters as actually misunderstood! like no, they're just annoying.

I obliviously get that the other sisters are not as fleshed out as elizabeth and jane are, but marys only scenes are her having that holier-than-thou attitude.

we see why the bennets don't work as a family unit, and we see the flaws of each member (which are the parents fault anyway) but I need people to understand that marys moralizing attitude (idk how else to describe it) is a flaw as much as kitty, lydia and mrs bennets impropriety and mr bennets careless attitude are. she's not the shy kid who cannot speak in class and spends recess reading alone. she's the kid who constantly interrupts her classmates to add unnecessary stuff when the teacher asks them a question, the one who tries to be the teachers pet but fails ; and she spends recess alone because she's above socializing (which she would announce proudly as everyone awkwardly stares at her)

like i don't even have anything against her, i even found the endgame romance cute but the mischaracterization in this book is something else, and it borders on misogyny when every other female character is turned into satan 2.0. to uplift mary (which shows a lot)

mrs bennet apparently has it out for her because she's not as gorgeous as jane, despite the fact that kitty and lydia were not described as beauties, they just have social skills (taken too far but still)

caroline apparently spends her free time bullying her but it's okay! she will be some guy's booty call as karma (even if that goes completely against her character )

elizabeth and jane are basically cinderellas stepsisters and charlotte is the evil stepmother, and their sole goal is to make marys life hell and have her end up in the streets :((

like if people are just so obsessed with mary then just write a sequel about her and kitty slowly becoming better and finding husbands and having their HEA by using the material given at the end of the book.

wish people would put all this time and energy into making worthy adaptations of underrated austen novels. asked the universe for some and I got this and persuasion 2022 💀 for all I know the next adaptation will be a lady susan-esque movie about the misunderstood mrs bennet, forced to marry evil mrs bennet and deep down just a little fierce :(

sorry for the long and a bit sour rant btw, and thanks for reading regardless, I was glad to find another person who seemed to hate it as much

This is about my dislike of The Other Bennet Sister

I have a whole, very long essay about the treatment of Caroline Bingley in fan fiction and misogyny.

When Mary spent time with the Darcys, my vibe was, "Ew, they are so disgustingly in love I can't stay here." Which was... a thing.

Enjoyed your rant!

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

totally get it! that makes perfect sense, thank you for telling me :)

that sounds like a fire fic! i seem to have missed a whole chapter cause this is like the first time i‘ve heard about you writing this fic but apparently you‘ve mentioned lots about it already? 😭 where was my brain when i was going through your blog smh

ohhh how did you like wicked?

sooo i sm kind of having something i‘ve labelled christmas depression and wanted to ask if you maybe could write some headcanons?

wanda has a big family and every christmas they have these big gatherings you always see in movies. since reader is her partner she wants them to tag along. reader is a little reluctant to go, because their family never had these big gatherings, because everyone kind of hated each other. christmas was never something special for them, just a random day like any other, just with sone presents. wanda is determined to get them to like christmas.

reader had always yearned for these dreamy family gatherings at christmas, so their just anxious that they’ll fuck something up or something.

cause this is what happens in my family, and i am fucking YEARNING for one of those big gatherings from christmas movies. just ONCE IN MY LIFE PLS. it’s kinda pathetic but because i don’t have that, i hate christmas movies cause they make me get emotional idk

x🧡 omg this feels like the weirdest ask i’ve ever send. feel totally free to ignore idk

ofc! and LOL yes i've mentioned it a few times but dw i talk about a lot of things on here it's okay that you missed it!! and yeah... hopefully it should be done for you guys but idk how to continue the story to get to the smut part idk i'm losing motivation and creativity

I LOVED wicked omg i cried it was so good and i just love theatre in general so seeing that musical on screen in movie format was really exciting for me

I gotchu, darling.

Wanda is super gentle with you, but not in a condescending way, more of a romantic i-love-you sort of way

She makes you wear a matching sweater with her, yours is dark green and hers is dark red, and she puts peppermint mocha in your coffee with whipped cream on top

Wanda makes sure to include many presents for you, both for your own private celebration, and presents for you to open with her family.

She also ensured that her family members (who you've met many times before, and they absolutely adore you) get you presents

You were very nervous about buying presents for them, not wanting to pick the wrong type of gift, and Wanda helps you, assuring you that her family will love anything you get them

Wanda and you spend the day before the family get together watching Christmas movies and making cookies and sweets to bring over

She holds your hand the entire car ride over, singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio as you begin to relax, your matching red and green nail polish shining

Her family is as wonderful as ever, and you gratefully accept some peppermint schnapps in your hot chocolate as Wanda's mother winks at you and pours some in her own mug

Wanda prefers mimosa's, and her family does a huge toast before lunch to thank everyone for celebrating with them

The meals are delicious, candles lit everywhere and faint Christmas music playing the entire day, and the laughter and conversation never stops

You get overwhelmed a few times, your heart swelling with happiness and a slight longing and sadness that you'd never gotten to experience this before, and Wanda's father hugs you and tells you that you're already part of the family, of course you're going to be welcomed to every celebration

Of course, you cry after that, happy tears of course. Wanda hugs you right after her father lets go, and her mother comes up to rub your back gently (I fear I may also have family issues oopsie)

You can't believe the amount of presents you receive, and you blush at the gratitude her family displays when they open your gifts to them

The day ends with the little ones all put to bed, and the cookies and milk to Santa and carrots for his reindeer all set up by the fireplace. You and Pietro giggle as you take careful bites from the cookies and carrots, and he swallows half the milk before grinning at you with a milk mustache

You sleep over that night in Wanda's childhood bedroom, after watching a Christmas movie with the rest of the adults who were still awake, your heart full as you thank her over and over again

Wanda assures you that you're family, and you'll always have a place in their home for Christmas ♡

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Productive Ways to Make Up | Dean Winchester

✦ pairing — Dean Winchester x afab!female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.1k

✦ request — Maybe taking charge of the plus size reader. Like hot angry rough sex. Spanking maybe? Idk that just seems like it would be a good one. Maybe just they get in a fight during the holidays. Like at the readers family’s Christmas party. Then dean takes charge of her and they have angry rough sex

✦ warnings — nsfw, teasing, hints of a fight, smut, spanking (reader receiving), angry sex, rough sex, fellatio, face fucking (reader receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (please don’t do this), creampie, aftercare.

✦ author's note — changed this to a New Year’s party just to fit the date better.

════════════════════════

The fight got out of hand easily, as things often did with Dean. It was one of those fights that you didn’t know how escalated to this, on this day specifically when you needed him on his best behavior.

Your parents had been excited to finally see you for more than a couple of hours, happy that your hectic schedule had given you a break for New Year’s. You had to skip Thanksgiving and Christmas because you were out of town, your mom didn’t take it well. This party was supposed to be perfect for everybody.

Dean rarely made things hard for you, but he had to do it today, apparently.

You left early, making up an emergency with Dean’s brother. Poor Sam, you had to drag him into this just so your dad wouldn’t start hating your partner out of nowhere.

For the first time in a very long time, getting home was worse for your mood. Dean didn’t help, glaring at you as you peeled off your jacket as if you had done anything wrong, as if you started the stupid fight.

He grabbed you by the hips before you could leave the living room, grip tight and strong. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the bedroom. Or am I not allowed?”

“Watch it,” he warned.

“I need to call my mom and assure her Sam isn’t dying.”

Dean pushed you against the wall to stop you, trapping you with his warm body to the cold wallpaper.

“Dean…” You struggled against his hold.

“Oh, honey, you know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

In most circumstances, you would wiggle against his hands just to egg him on. But this time, you honestly simply wanted to annoy him into letting you cross the living room and hopefully find the warmth of your cozy bed where you could call your mom and take a nap.

Dean had other plans. You hated that you weren’t as against them as you wanted to be. After all, it was a more productive way to take out your anger than yelling at each other in the middle of the half-empty living room on New Year’s Eve.

Your breaths mingled as both of you opened your mouths to say something. Dean took charge, as he often did with these things, and leaned in to kiss you.

A hand of his came up to grip your chin, forcing your mouth open to slip his tongue past your red lips. You squirmed, feeling your skirt ride up at the movement between the wall and Dean’s bulk.

“Don’t be a brat,” he gritted out. Yet he traced the outside of your thighs with both hands, forcing your skirt to bunch up at your hips. Humming against your skin, he manhandled you toward the couch.

His hands fell on your ass. He made it jiggle with a light spank, laughing when you gasped in surprise. “That okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you consented.

He immediately spanked you again. “Count for me.”

“One,” you mumbled as the first slap landed. Dean hummed, you could picture the smile on his face, and did it again. “Two.”

“See how easy everything is when you listen to me?” He sounded almost condescending. Slapping you again, harder, he waited for you to count once more before rubbing his hand over the spot he had just hit.

He made you count to ten, careful not to make you cry. No matter how pretty you looked with tears streaming down your face, this was clearly about control, not a punishment.

Rubbing your ass, Dean ripped your pantyhose and spread your legs open. “Of course you’re fucking dripping already.”

He sat on the couch and brought you onto his lap. You would probably ruin his new pants, but by the way he grabbed you and pulled you into a sloppy kiss, that was his intention.

You moaned as he pushed his tongue against yours. Before you could start enjoying yourself with the kiss, Dean pulled away. He even laughed when you whined.

“Be patient,” he told you. “You aren’t supposed to enjoy this too much.”

You pouted, naively thinking it would convince him. Dean wasn’t in a playful mood, he just wanted to remind you who was in charge and why. His grip on you tightened, bringing you flush against him.

The tent in his pants brushed against your sensitive skin. He purposefully drove you to move your hips backward, then forward. You rested your hands on his chest, grinding against him of your own volition.

"You're enjoying this, huh."

Dumbly, you hummed. His laugh almost snapped you out of it, but it was too late. You cried out as he stopped you from keeping grinding. It bordered on torture, feeling the texture of his pants on your bare skin, rough and so readily available for you to get off.

Dean pushed you to your knees and undid his pants in haste, pulling his cock out of his underwear swiftly. He petted your head for a moment, then tapped his cock against your cheek. “Open up.”

You did so, resting your hands on your thighs in expectancy.

He caressed your cheek before shoving his cock into your mouth, only careful not to get to your throat for a moment. As he hit your throat, you gagged from the force, then relaxed as your brain registered what was happening.

He groaned as you began to hollow your cheeks, thrusting his hips up and choking you with his cock. You gagged once again, balling up your fists. Not touching him was worse than the sensation in your throat, that one you weirdly enjoyed, something about him causing you to gag and slobber all over his cock simply did something to you.

He knew.

“Should have known this would shut you up.” He rutted his hips, groaning deeply as his cock slipped down your throat.

He grunted as your tongue slid along his cock, gripping your face tightly so he could fuck your mouth at a quicker pace. The only indication you got that he wanted to come was him pressing your face to his pelvis.

Before you could taste the familiar salty cum, he pushed you off his cock and caressed your neck with his thumbs as he regained his breath.

"On your back."

You understood he meant on the couch simply because you were sure he would never fuck you into the floor when your backs were so ruined from all the hunting. So you laid on the couch you had fucked on more times than you could count and waited for him to get inside you.

Dean showed you two fingers. "Keep these warm for me, yeah?"

You nodded and opened your mouth, eager to suck on his fingers. Dean cackled, shaking his head.

"Can't leave this pussy unattended, honey." He teased at your entrance, gathering the slick dripping down your labia. "So good for me," he mumbled to himself.

Sliding his middle and ring finger inside you, Dean hummed to himself. "Knew you'd be warm and ready for me."

Teasingly, he curled his fingers. You whimpered.

"More." You couldn't help yourself.

He started shoving his fingers in and out, thrusting like he had done this a million times before. He almost had. The lewd sounds bouncing against the walls made your skin grow hot, feeling yourself getting more aroused at the wet echoes.

You squeezed around his fingers and rolled into his hand. Dean tsked, shaking his head. He tried to hide his proud smile from you as best as he could, but the cockiness always won over. His thumb grazed your clit as he wiggled his digits inside you, crisscrossing them.

"You know what? Go ahead, fuck yourself on my fingers. Can't do all the work for you."

Rutting against Dean's hand, you allowed yourself to enjoy the tendrils of pleasure every time his thumb made contact with your clit and his digits became buried inside you. He would stroke against your movements when you would get too complacent, reminding you he was still in charge. As if you would have it any other way.

You gasped out his name, hands floundering in search of something to hold onto. Dean removed his fingers before you could even grasp your orgasm.

Taunting you, he licked his fingers clean. "You would have made your mess already if you hadn't been so difficult earlier. You know that, right?"

You mumbled a reminder, "You were difficult too."

"Take that back," he demanded, wrapping a hand around his hard cock.

You shook your head, frustrated to no end as Dean started to pump the cock you should have been riding already.

As if reading your mind, and somehow agreeing, he roughly grabbed your thighs and forced your legs open enough to slot himself between them. He slapped his cock against your clit, smirking when you jolted. He did it a couple more times, only stopping when he dragged his tip along your slit to wet it.

Dean coated his cock all over with your wetness, using his fingers to gather some more for good measure. The emptiness inside you grew. All of this was not only unnecessary but only dragged your so much-needed pleasure.

"Gonna fuck some manners into you, honey," he announced in glee as he pushed inside you.

"Uh-huh."

He hovered over you to kiss you, sticking his tongue into your mouth while holding your legs open. You panted as he thrust into you with little care of pace or rhythm, only worried about fucking you stupid.

"I can feel how badly you want to come already," he boasted, relentlessly pumping his cock into you like he would die if he didn't reach as deep as humanly possible. "Hold on," he insisted, almost desperate. "You gotta wait until I tell you to."

Just as you were going to hum in acknowledgment, he pulled out and forced a desperate cry out of you. Dean grabbed your hips, guiding you onto your knees and hands.

Pressing his chest to your back, he pushed back in. His hands moved to your belly, searching for the hem of your top; as he found it, he rode it upward. Some of his fingers were ice cold, leaving goosebumps all over your skin as his hands reached your breasts.

He pulled on your breasts as he pistoned into you, quickly and harshly, pushing your face into the couch. You gasped for air, whining as you ground back against him, chasing permission to come.

Dean wouldn't relent that easily. He dropped your breasts, wrapping an arm tightly around you whilst resting his other hand on your thigh. Slapping your clit, he started to pant in your ear. "You're so fucking close," he told you, as if you didn't feel like you were on fire.

His fingers drew circles on your clit, applying as much pressure as your desperate humps and his hurried thrusts allowed him to. "Come on," he encouraged you, "let go. Make a mess all over my cock."

His thrusts only slowed down long enough for you to ride your high, coming so close to using him to get off that you hoped you would remember to plant the idea of trying that out into his head. He picked up the pace again, taking advantage of your pulsing walls and your half-relaxed state.

"Inside?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yeah." You moaned at the overstimulation, hoping he would just come already so you wouldn't have to go through more of it right now. Maybe later.

Not only did he fill you with cum but he pushed it deeper with a couple of pumps, moaning through a string of curses. His embrace loosened around you, but Dean didn't let go.

With his chest against your back and ragged breath in your ear, Dean coaxed you into laying flat on your stomach. "You okay, baby?"

You hummed. "Yeah, all good."

He kissed your shoulder and slowly withdrew from you, slipping out. "Gonna clean you up," he told you before you could ask if something was wrong.

Cleaning you up with a damp rag, Dean caressed your skin soothingly. "Can you sit up and drink some water?"

You gave it a try, groaning as you turned around on the couch. Sitting up was especially daunting as your sore ass made contact with the cushioned seat.

"I..."

You looked up at him, glass in both hands.

"I'll run you a bath, then we'll call your parents and invite them over for dinner this weekend."

"Really?"

"Really."

By the end of the night, you called your mom from your warm bed, head on Dean’s chest while his fingers traced your back.

[glitter-stained]

I’m trying to get a handle on Jason as a character. I got a great answer on Jason and Tim from @ultimate-marysue but they directed me to you as the Jason Todd expert. I’m wondering about Jason and Damian now. Do they interact at all in canon? Are they friendly/friends, typical brothers, enemies, or just acquaintances? Or do they just ignore each other?

I hope you can give me an answer. Thanks either way!

Oh goodness, that's because @ultimate-marysue is an absolute sweetheart but unfortunately my Jason knowledge is far from exhaustive, especially when it comes to Jason and Damian since some of their relationship happens in, um, unfortunate comics that are hard for me to get through (they probably say that because I study developmental psychopatholgy and do in-depth analysis about jason through that length rather than exhaustive lore-knowledge).

Sorry to toss you around like a pingpong ball, but I know @daisybell-on-a-carousel is currently trying to read through every single one of Jason's apparitions in comics (godspeed), so depending of where they're at in the comics they're definitely the one to ask for stuff like that in general. Unfortunately, I don't know anyone who posts a lit of lore/meta about Damian and Jason's relationship, but I do know @spicy-apple-pie loves Damian a lot and does really sweet comics so idk if they can help you but at the very least if they can't you'll get to read some cute comics.

The little I know about Jason and Damian's relationship:

-Jason and Damian's first meeting, from what I've gathered, is either from Battle for the Cowl (brutally butchers Jason's character, my second least favourite ever if I could go back in time to stop Tony Daniel from writing it I would), in which Jason shoots Damian in the chest, or Morrison's Batman & Robin run (somehow even more hated by the fans than Daniel, Morrison has admitted later to just not liking Jason's character. According to a survey I'm running these two are in the top three of worst Jason writers, but Morrison has a bonus of also butchering Talia's character to an unfathomable level and I don't know if I like his Damian very much either.) in that run (which is Dickbats with robin!Damian) Jason is portrayed as the classic "crazy evil villain" bs and making Dick his sworn-enemy apparently (he's more of a plot device than anything imo). So, we're off to a great start.

-The issue is, with the reboot, I find it pretty hard to clarify for some events which ones are still canon or not. The current state of dc comics is pushing the batfam conception more than ever before, with Jason back in the family (something that vaguely happened off-screen in the n52) and neither jason, dick, tim, damian nor anybody else seems to reference or resent anything about that despite how cartoonishly evil jason was in those so I think it's implied that they're not canon anymore (and I hope they stay this way and buried under twenty layers of retcon). However I don't think I've heard or seen any mention of a different first meeting for them so there's this shadow area of yeah btfc and morrison's jason probably didn't happen but then what did?

-currently as I said dc (ie tom king amongst others) pushes for a very "classical family batfam vibe" so they're on panel/on missions together but i haven't heard of them having arcs together in mainline (people who know more than me please feel free to correct me in the notes, in general but also if there's more about this specifically). I'm getting "siblings that don't really like eachother but don't hate eachother either vibes", especially on Damian's part. It's really not the most developed relationship in the batfam, of that I'm sure.

-for many people I've seen that their favourite damian and jason comic is juni ba's boy wonder volume 2. It isn't canon in mainline (and not my favourite jason characterization tbh) but since the two of them don't seem to interact that much in canon and the story is pretty popular and feels kinda parallel-ish to canon I get why people would consider it their reference. Also it has pretty sick designs for the both of them which certainly doesn't hurt.

-in the young justice show, a brainwashed/brain damaged(?) Jason is shown holding a baby Damian in his arms. This has no incidence on any dc comics canon but is extremely cute and therefore worth mentioning.

[friend-lover-traitor-narrator]

I’ve read a couple of reviews for Twisters saying that the plot is bad, that there is no plot, that you can only watch the movie for the sound and the visuals but the rest is crap- and that is something I don’t get. I don't get it at all.

We have Kate who is a massive nerd up to a point where she actually studied what she’s passionate about and almost developed a way to reduce the intensity of tornadoes. Already that by itself is an achievement! Also, she was the one leading the project five years ago! Not a guy, not anybody else, her!

Then she loses everyone in her crew except for Javi. I can only imagine how traumatizing this must be. She feels guilty and it makes sense that it estranges her from Javi and leads her into a safe job in NYC. The job’s not dangerous, there are barely any tornadoes in NYC but she’s still in the field of profession she’s passionate about. Her choice makes sense!

Next we have Javi. Of course, he's traumatized, too, but not as much as Kate it seems. He took a different path. His business with Riggs is shady to say the least. I want to believe that he was too naive and too passionate about tornadoes to get that Riggs shamelessly exploits the misery of tornado victims. Regardless of that he's so passionate about his current project that he knows he needs Kate for it although they apparently haven't spoken in years.

Kate is hooked and she agrees to work with him on the project. It's only logical that she panics the first time she's near a tornado in presumably five years.

Also, I don't get why people call the movie schmaltzy. Because of the developing relationship between Kate and Tyler? Idk.

From the first moment, Tyler is this braggy YouTube guy who comes across as nothing but dumb at first and yes, I've hated him for being like this. But then you get to know that he's actually intelligent and that he and his crew do their part in helping the victims. Yes, they are crazy (and you have to be crazy if you voluntarily drive into a tornado) but all of them are essentially good at heart! It only takes some time to find that out.

Also, I love that both Tyler and Kate keep up with each other. They're both equally sassy, passionate about tornadoes, intelligent. Yes, Kate might have needed his push to go back working on her five year old project but that doesn't mean that Tyler suddenly does all the work. Also, no damsel in distress bullshit here. Kate feels like a well written female character, just like her developing relationship with Tyler.

I don't know if I see Tyler and Kate together as a couple in the future. Tyler is interested, definitely, but I feel like Kate could enjoy them bantering around and rebuffing him constantly more than actually being his girlfriend.

Anyway, as I said I don't get how people can say this movie doesn't have a plot worth watching. For me it definitely has- there's character development, the characters are well-rounded, and I could (and probably will) write much more about them.