#jack spray painting the bathroom

[jellybeanium124]

if ofmd characters were middle schoolers the drama would be unprecedented. ed teach middle school popular girl getting your heart broke by the nerd who spends recess in the library I see you

[jstarr86]

HALLOWEEN FUN

I sighed looking down at him a smirk on his lips.

“Stop so I can paint your face or I’m leaving ya ass at home.”

“No you won’t first because you want me there two I’m never home and three you want me there cause I’m never home.”

“Baby.” I said breaking out a smile “let me paint your face. I gotta get ready too.”

“Fine, no fun.”

“You can have all the fun you want to later for now behave.”

“Yeet.” I rolled my eyes looking into his as he placed his hands on my hips.

“Joshua.”

“Aye I’m not doing anything I’m just holding you.”

“Mhmm.” I sighed sitting on his lap as he groaned arms wrapping around me while I painted his face. I was trying to get the skull part done since he was mixing a clown and skull. It looked cool, we hadn’t been able to decide on a costume this year so we combined both options and it actually looked pretty cool. “Turn.” I moved his head finishing the shading but also taking the chance to check him out. He was fine as fuck and I was lucky. “There Your done.”

“Eee this is sick thanks baby.” He said looking at me from the mirror as he checked over his looks.

“You welcome and you look good now go so I can do mine.” As he left I pulled the costume out getting dressed first. I then fixed my hair glad I had bought multiple sprays. After I started painting my face. This is why I’d made sure to not work today, knowing it was a busy day around my home, so I generally took off fully or at least half the day. I was half through doing my makeup when the bathroom door opened and my husband walked in arms sliding around my waist.

“Damn mamas. You look good.” Josh said rubbing my legs sliding his hands under my skirt grabbing my butt and squeezing.

(Like this but neon)

“Josh.” I said softly biting my lip trying to not moan. He was always like this coming back from the road. He’d always had a high sex drive anyway but this was always different. I mean don’t get me wrong I missed him too always did and he’d spent the last week not even in the country he’d been in Germany until this morning ; he’d gotten home at 445 this morning. I appreciated the thought of being with us and the sleep deprivation he had to be going through right now but wasn’t saying or showcasing it because he wanted the time and memories with and of us and that meant the world to me. Fuck the man being an amazing husband lover and friend him as a father was probably my favorite thing about him. The love the care the interest the devotion he had as father that man that was another level and I loved it that was Josh. The world can have him as Jey but Josh man if they only knew granted he was pretty much just him just super live and turnt up but still I wish the world saw the Josh I got.

“Hmm.”

“Let me get done.”

“You fixin be cold as hell mammas.” He said eyes trailing over my body. “It’s like 30 degrees.”

“I got thermo leggings on under these tights a thermal long sleeve onesie under this and I am wearing my coat and have this lovely human called my husband that will keep me warm.”

“Nah you bout be shivering and complaining lil miss thang. You too little for this shit and we both know it.”

“Then keep me warm daddy.”

“Shit call me daddy again we staying home and I’m trickin and treatin ya ass all night.”

“Our youngest son wants to go out.”

“Then remember that cause you say daddy again and Jaciyah gonna be takin him not us.”

“Now you know that ain’t happenin Jaciyah is on candy duty here.” I finished my makeup before meeting my three main men downstairs. My oldest in a jack skellington onesie but he’d at least let me paint his face. Our youngest a clown much like his dad and I but much more bloody. “You ready baby.”

“Yah let’s goooo!” I laughed watching as he got super excited.

“Alright grab a our bag and coat baby.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Jaciyah.”

“Ma’am.”

“If someone-“

“Knocks or rings give them candy don’t be rude be nice and don’t give it all to my friends I know. I got this.”

“Ok have fun we will be home in a hour or two.”

“K love you guys.”

“Love you too.” We walked out as our oldest locked the door behind us Josh pocketing the keys inside his hoodie. We’d taken some pictures that came out dope. Then again anything neon or glow in the dark if I wanted to pull it off it wouldn’t take a lot all I had to do was call my amazing sister in law and ask, the queen of glow. Josh and I walked watching as Jeyce ran up to each house or drive collecting candy. I leaned into Josh who chuckled moving to stand behind me wrappping his arms around me

“Cold?”

“Not too much. How much longer should we let him go he has school and no one needs to be sick.”

“Eh he’s ok give him some more.” I nodded popping a sucker in my mouth as my husbands smile widened the paint elongating it. I rolled my eyes as he winked both of us knowing why he’d smiled.

“What Joshua?” I asked nudging back into him

“You kno what, practicing for later tryin tease me.”

“I’m just eating candy if I was trying to tease you I’d do this.” I responded looking at him twirling my tongue over the lollipop and sucking as seductively as possible while keeping my eyes locked on his. He groaned nonchalantly rolling his hips into my ass so I could feel his hardening dick.

“Don’t do that baby. These kids gonna get a real show.”

“Oh my god Joshua.” I laughed out as a few people looked at us.

“What you the one acting like you sucking my lollipop.”

“Behave.”

“You behave over here performing oral on some candy.”

“You’re terrible.”

“And you a freak, but forreal though how you make something so simple and innocent so naughty and sexy.”

“You always say that.”

“Cause it’s true even in school that’s why everyone always gave you suckers cause they liked watching you eat them always more sexual then it should be even when you ain’t notice.”

“I really didn’t.”

“I kno but only me and uces believed it.”

“I remember you got into that fight sophomore year cause that guy flirted with me.”

“Flirted he was practically dry humping you made you uncomfortable and then didn’t care Nah homie deserved that ass whoopin.”

“Thank you for defending my honor.”

“Always wifey.” I took pictures here and there and Josh took some with me. I loved that he kept a hand or arm around me at all times. He was very touchy always had been I always joked physical affection was his love language. After a couple hours it was dark and getting colder and Josh could see I was getting cold.

“Aye Jeyce wrap it up.”

“Yes sir.”

“You ain’t have to do that.”

“Your cold and I peeped the cough that started you gonna get sick. Plus his nose is red and not from paint he’s getting cold too.”

“Mmm so observant I love when your home.”

“I love being home.” He replied kissing me.

“Ugh mom dad really.” I pulled back he and I laughing as he licked his lips the dark colors smudged slightly at his lips and a bit red from my lipstick and our small make out kiss.

“Sorry ya momma is beautiful.”

“Even like that?”

“Yeah even like that no matter what ya moms is beautiful. Let’s get you home.” We walked back home Jeyce trying snag candy until Josh took the bag. “You kno the rule.”

“Who made that rule what’s wrong with it why can’t I eat it.”

“Gotta check the candy ya kno people be stickin stuff in candy.”

“Don’t tell him that.” I said nudging my husband “you kno that’s a urban legend right there ain’t any known cases of that actually happening but there was this one man who tried offing his kids with laced pixie stix”

“How you do that no wonder he got caught.”

“Used the giant plastic ones gave them to his kids and their friends thought they’d all eat them only one his did and died then he got caught cause he couldn’t remember what house he didn’t get to Em from and where he told the cops those people wasn’t even home.”

“That’s fucked up some people don’t need kids.”

“Very true.”

“Sometimes it’s scary all the random stuff you kno.”

“I like criminal Justice or did you forget my major and I listen and watch way to much true crime stuff.”

“You do little serial killer.”

“That be a good costume.” Josh and I acted silly the whole walk back home racking jokes and dancing and laughing. He also every time or son turned was grabbing at me. Getting close to our home I saw some of our elder child’s friends walking down the street.

“Hi Mrs Fatu, hi Mr Fatu.”

“Hi guys.”

“Sup.” Josh replied arm going around my waist.

“Cool costumes.”

“Yeah you look awesome Mrs Fatu.”

“Thank you guys have a good night and behave.”

“Yes ma’am.” As they walked off Josh growled.

“Little ass boys crushin hard bout make me hurt a lil kid lookin at you like that. ‘Hi Mrs Fatu you look good’” he mocked as I chuckled.

“They are kids stop.” I said leaning to his ear “besides your the only man I want making me scream.”

“Mmm Gotdamn” We got in and Josh went through the candy while I shook my head and he let Jeyce get 4 pieces and they went to wash Jeyces face. I turned from the dresser as Josh walked in our bedroom eyes trailing over me before he locked the door. I laughed as he hit the light switches turning off the lights but turning on the black lights we’d put up for Halloween. “Wanna play a game.” He asked voice deep

“Boy cut on the light so I can see so I can go shower.”

“No.”

“No, boy.”

“You heard me.” As I looked up at him he looked sexy yet dangerous and dark, good on he was glowing but his face still dark his eyes dark. “Come here.”

“Josh.” I gasped as he didn’t verbally respond but reached out with a firm gentle hand grabbing my throat. He pressed his head against mine as I watched him close his eyes for a second. When he opened them again the want the lust was definitely behind his beautiful dark chocolate colored eyes. The intensity in his eyes and his hand on my throat had me biting my lip as I silently stared at him, trying to decipher what was going through his head. His other hand came up grabbing my right breast in his hand as he kneaded it. I watched him smirk as my bottom lip went back between my teeth. I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks he’d came home a couple days then was out again cause of work and they’d had a tour overseas “aren’t you tired.” I muttered softly to which I watched his eyebrow raised Josh didn’t respond but trailed his hand down gripping my thighs as he moved standing between them slowly dropping to his knees.

“You know when we all left town for ya birthday how I sent you away for a bit early with Trin.”

“Yeah.”

“Well I never told you but I got this room soundproofed”

“You did wha-“

“You better hope that shit really work cause you gon be screamin.” I didn’t get to respond as he roughly kissed me and the second I moaned he slid his tongue in my mouth easily winning the dominance battle as he lifted me up in his arms as he walked to our bed. He dropped me down on it as I watched him.

“We need shower take this makeup off, creppy.” Josh pushed my shoulder as I went to try and move. “Josh.” I jumped as he pulled out a knife my breath holding as I watched him as he slices the tights and pulled my leggings. I was lo key scared first I ain’t like clowns anyway and my husband was dressed like one with a damn knife. He slid it over my collarbone as I looked at him with wide eyes before he easily cut the strap to my costume and bra in one go. “Josh. Come on you know I hate clowns.”

“I love you but shut up.”

“Excuse you-“

“Mamas you know I’d never hurt you so just sit back shut up and feel, stop thinking.” He kissed me sensually as fuck his mouth tasting like chocolate his mouth blazed a passionate trail from my lips to my neck sucking gently at the spot that made me arch my back. He tugged down the top of my costume lips attaching to my left nipple as his fingers tweaked the other my hand gently grasping his head fingers playing with the curls at the base of his neck.

“Baby.” I gasped out as he somehow rough yet gently slammed two fingers inside me while tugging my nipple with his teeth.

“Wet as fuck. Tryin stunt like you dont want this dick.” Fuck he hadn’t even started and I was gonna cum. Josh knew how to play my body like an instrument and he did it with precision. “Look at me.” I moaned as his fingers hit my gspot with every thrust of his fingers thumb rubbing circles on my clit while he sucked at my neck. “Watch me make you cum sexy.”

“Mmm fuck. I’m gonna cum Josh.” My eyes finally closed as my head went back.

“So Fuckin sexy.” He groaned as I opened my eyes trying to breathe. Josh pulled his pants low enough for his dick to pop out before he pushed my legs up and thrust into me a groan leaving his mouth.

JOSH POV

It was takin everything in me to not cum already. She’d been getting to me all day and I’d waited hours to have her. Every sound leaving those thick pink lips moans whimpers uneven breaths only I could do that to her. I could feel her tightening on my dick pussy fluttering showcasing she was about to cum. I slid my hand around her throat as her back arched and she moaned.

“Josh.”

“Cum.” I pumped working her through her release before I pulled out rolling her over and slamming back into her my hand smacking down on her ass the sound echoing loudly along with her moans as she gripped the sheets takin these back shots like a damn champ. “Pussy so good. “ I stilled for a second rubbing on her ass as I let her toss it back riding my dick. I pulled at her outfit shredding it and pulling it off her as I resumed my pace chasing my nut. I knew I’d freaked her out a bit earlier only because she hates clowns. She had since we was kids. She’d walk through a haunted house laughing her ass off but clowns nah she’d be gripping me with her head buried in me. “Shit baby.”

“Mmm daddy.” Id assume by now the soundproofing worked cause neither of our sons was banging on the door yet and I knew we was being loud especially her and the headboard was thumping against the wall.

“I’m bout nut. Fuck.” I grunted out playing with her clit making sure she came again.I grunted out feeling her tighten as we both came. I lazily pumped through it before withdrawing from her body. I walked to the bathroom starting the shower. Walking back out I pulled her down the bed tossing her over my shoulder as she giggled and I smacked that fat ass. I let her down as we walked in and she looked wrecked we both did paint and makeup smudged missing we got in the shower washing up both us double checking the other for left over face paint. She’s killed it with all this, looked dope. I lifted her against the shower wall entering her as we sloppily kissed it going from a peck to extreme as fuck pretty quick. “Damn do ayt shit again.” I grunted as she moved, I dunno what she just did but that shit sent me deep as fuck. I gripped her thigh harshly fingers digging in as she made the same movement making us both moan out. “Grippin me so tight.”

“Josh, fuck don’t stop” she moaned gripping my shoulders as I bounced her up and down my cock her free hand slid down the glass before gripping the back of my head as she placed a sloppy passion fueled kiss the pit in my stomach knotting as my orgasm fueled causing me to thrust harder and deeper into my wife as she tossed her head back a loud moan of my name leaving her mouth. Her finish was my undoing as I buried my head in her neck pinning her to the wall with my hips as I came. Her nails lightly raking my scalp I pulled back kissing her softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” She replied as I wrapped a fluffy towel around her. I knew she was tired and fucked out. I dried her grabbing her favorite lotion and rubbing it into her skin leaving it soft as hell and smellin like some tropical ass fruit or sumthin. I lifted her carrying her into our room as I laid down pulling her into my arms as she curled into me head on my chest. I wouldn’t have long gone til I was back on the road but this Halloween was definitely great. I started the tv and turned in a scary movie as we winded down and finished out our Halloween night her falling asleep within twenty minutes

[sasha-psychedelia]

Infinite cum.

You sit on the toilet to jack off, but you begin to cum uncontrollably. After ten spurts you start to worry. Your hand is sticky and it reeks of semen. You desperately shove your dick into a wad of toilet paper, but that only makes your balls hurt.

The cum accelerates. It’s been three minutes. You can’t stop cumming. Your bathroom floor is covered in a thin layer of baby fluid. You try to cum into the shower drain but it builds up too fast. You try the toilet. The cum is too thick to be flushed. You lock the bathroom door to prevent the cum from escaping. The air grows hot and humid from the cum.

The cum accelerates. You slip and fall in your own sperm. The cum is now six inches deep, almost as long as your still-erect semen hose. Sprawled on your back, you begin to cum all over the ceiling. Globs of the sticky white fluid begin to fall like raindrops, giving you a facial with your own cum.

The cum accelerates. You struggle to stand as the force of the cum begins to propel you backwards as if you were on a bukkake themed slip-and-slide. Still on your knees, the cum is now at chin height. To avoid drowning you open the bathroom door. The deluge of man juice reminds you of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919, only with cum instead of molasses.

The cum accelerates. It’s been two hours. Your children and wife scream in terror as their bodies are engulfed by the snow-white sludge. Your youngest child goes under, with viscous bubbles and muffled cries rising from the goop. You plead to God to end your suffering.

The cum accelerates. You squeeze your dick to stop the cum, but it begins to leak out of your asshole instead. You let go. The force of the cum tears your urethra open, leaving only a gaping hole in your crotch that spews semen. Your body picks up speed as it slides backwards along the cum. You smash through the wall, hurtling into the sky at thirty miles an hour. From a bird’s eye view you see your house is completely white. Your neighbor calls the cops.

The cum accelerates. As you continue to ascend, you spot police cars racing towards your house. The cops pull out their guns and take aim, but stray loads of cum hit them in the eyes, blinding them.

The cum accelerates. You are now at an altitude of 1000 feet. The SWAT team arrives. Military helicopters circle you. Hundreds of bullets pierce your body at once, yet you stay conscious. Your testicles have now grown into a substitute brain.

The cum accelerates. It has been two days. With your body now destroyed, the cum begins to spray in all directions. You break the sound barrier. The government deploys fighter jets to chase you down, but the impact of your cum sends one plane crashing to the ground. The government decides to let you leave the earth. You feel your gonads start to burn up as you reach the edges of the atmosphere. You narrowly miss the ISS, giving it a new white paint job as you fly past. Physicists struggle to calculate your erratic trajectory.

The cum accelerates. The cum begins to gravitate towards itself, forming a comet trail of semen. Astronomers begin calling you the “Cummet.” You are stuck in space forever, stripped of your body and senses, forced to endure an eternity of cumshots. Eventually, you stop thinking.

[suicideenthusiast]

Infinite cum. You sit on the toilet to jack off, but you begin to cum uncontrollably. After ten spurts you start to worry. Your hand is sticky and it reeks of semen. You desperately shove your dick into a wad of toilet paper, but that only makes your balls hurt. The cum accelerates. It’s been three minutes. You can’t stop cumming. Your bathroom floor is covered in a thin layer of baby fluid. You try to cum into the shower drain but it builds up too fast. You try the toilet. The cum is too thick to be flushed. You lock the bathroom door to prevent the cum from escaping. The air grows hot and humid from the cum. The cum accelerates. You slip and fall in your own sperm. The cum is now six inches deep, almost as long as your still-erect semen hose. Sprawled on your back, you begin to cum all over the ceiling. Globs of the sticky white fluid begin to fall like raindrops, giving you a facial with your own cum. The cum accelerates. You struggle to stand as the force of the cum begins to propel you backwards as if you were on a bukkake themed slip-and-slide. Still on your knees, the cum is now at chin height. To avoid drowning you open the bathroom door. The deluge of man juice reminds you of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919, only with cum instead of molasses. The cum accelerates. It’s been two hours. Your children and wife scream in terror as their bodies are engulfed by the snow-white sludge. Your youngest child goes under, with viscous bubbles and muffled cries rising from the goop. You plead to God to end your suffering. The cum accelerates. You squeeze your dick to stop the cum, but it begins to leak out of your asshole instead. You let go. The force of the cum tears your urethra open, leaving only a gaping hole in your crotch that spews semen. Your body picks up speed as it slides backwards along the cum. You smash through the wall, hurtling into the sky at thirty miles an hour. From a bird’s eye view you see your house is completely white. Your neighbor calls the cops. The cum accelerates. As you continue to ascend, you spot police cars racing towards your house. The cops pull out their guns and take aim, but stray loads of cum hit them in the eyes, blinding them. The cum accelerates. You are now at an altitude of 1000 feet. The SWAT team arrives. Military helicopters circle you. Hundreds of bullets pierce your body at once, yet you stay conscious. Your testicles have now grown into a substitute brain. The cum accelerates. It has been two days. With your body now destroyed, the cum begins to spray in all directions. You break the sound barrier. The government deploys fighter jets to chase you down, but the impact of your cum sends one plane crashing to the ground. The government decides to let you leave the earth. You feel your gonads start to burn up as you reach the edges of the atmosphere. You narrowly miss the ISS, giving it a new white paint job as you fly past. Physicists struggle to calculate your erratic trajectory. The cum accelerates. The cum begins to gravitate towards itself, forming a comet trail of semen. Astronomers begin calling you the “Cummet.” You are stuck in space forever, stripped of your body and senses, forced to endure an eternity of cumshots. Eventually, you stop thinking.

What

[notesfromthequotidian]

FEED THE STREET

spray painted in red letters

on the side of the last porno

theatre in the city: where old men

jerk off into paper cups in the dark

and slink through the fluorescent lobby

like beaten dogs. A mere drop of the loneliness

clotting the air would stop

the heart of a child. My cousin Jack

beats dogs with a knotted rope.

He wears a bearskin coat

blacker than tar. He never takes

it off even in summer. This is

my third face. I only wear it

in the room where I burn

reflections of my hands

until my crimes are sung

and the walls glow

like melted butter. My cousin

Jack wrote me a note

on a bathroom stall at Lucky's Tavern

I PISSED ON YOUR DEAD FATHER'S

COUCH AND FUCKED YOUR

GIRLFRIEND SHE LIKES REAL MEN

SWEATY TSHIRTS GUNS AND

THE RED WHITE AND BLUE

I dreamed that my hero Haruki Murakami

was dragging a dead cat

on a string down the street

outside the house I grew up in.

I watched from my bedroom window.

When I yelled at him he brandished

a pistol and disappeared in a cloud

of white smoke and the cat was resurrected.

The DEVIL is real. He is the proprietor of the theatre

the old men visit before they die.

He is very handsome but greasy.

His blue eyes glow in the white light

of the projection room like feathers

of prehistoric birds or the costume

jewelry on Elton John's jacket

as he threads the next reel of celluloid

into the projector. He says his dirty moves

are brilliant BLAKEAN ANGELS

punished by the charnel houses

known as the CITIES OF AMERICA

clanging in eternity like

a bellowing gong and RINTRAH

ROARS and SHAKES his FIRES

in the burdened air.

[heynessi]

nfinite cum. You sit on the toilet to jack off, but you begin to cum uncontrollably. After ten spurts you start to worry. Your hand is sticky and it reeks of semen. You desperately shove your dick into a wad of toilet paper, but that only makes your balls hurt. The cum accelerates. It’s been three minutes. You can’t stop cumming. Your bathroom floor is covered in a thin layer of baby fluid. You try to cum into the shower drain but it builds up too fast. You try the toilet. The cum is too thick to be flushed. You lock the bathroom door to prevent the cum from escaping. The air grows hot and humid from the cum. The cum accelerates. You slip and fall in your own sperm. The cum is now six inches deep, almost as long as your still-erect semen hose. Sprawled on your back, you begin to cum all over the ceiling. Globs of the sticky white fluid begin to fall like raindrops, giving you a facial with your own cum. The cum accelerates. You struggle to stand as the force of the cum begins to propel you backwards as if you were on a bukkake themed slip-and-slide. Still on your knees, the cum is now at chin height. To avoid drowning you open the bathroom door. The deluge of man juice reminds you of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919, only with cum instead of molasses. The cum accelerates. It’s been two hours. Your children and wife scream in terror as their bodies are engulfed by the snow-white sludge. Your youngest child goes under, with viscous bubbles and muffled cries rising from the goop. You plead to God to end your suffering. The cum accelerates. You squeeze your dick to stop the cum, but it begins to leak out of your asshole instead. You let go. The force of the cum tears your urethra open, leaving only a gaping hole in your crotch that spews semen. Your body picks up speed as it slides backwards along the cum. You smash through the wall, hurtling into the sky at thirty miles an hour. From a bird’s eye view you see your house is completely white. Your neighbor calls the cops. The cum accelerates. As you continue to ascend, you spot police cars racing towards your house. The cops pull out their guns and take aim, but stray loads of cum hit them in the eyes, blinding them. The cum accelerates. You are now at an altitude of 1000 feet. The SWAT team arrives. Military helicopters circle you. Hundreds of bullets pierce your body at once, yet you stay conscious. Your testicles have now grown into a substitute brain. The cum accelerates. It has been two days. With your body now destroyed, the cum begins to spray in all directions. You break the sound barrier. The government deploys fighter jets to chase you down, but the impact of your cum sends one plane crashing to the ground. The government decides to let you leave the earth. You feel your gonads start to burn up as you reach the edges of the atmosphere. You narrowly miss the ISS, giving it a new white paint job as you fly past. Physicists struggle to calculate your erratic trajectory. The cum accelerates. The cum begins to gravitate towards itself, forming a comet trail of semen. Astronomers begin calling you the “Cummet.” You are stuck in space forever, stripped of your body and senses, forced to endure an eternity of cumshots. Eventually, you stop thinking.

Cute! Thanks for sharing.

[carnival-dollhouse]

NSFW

Infinite cum

Infinite cum. You sit on the toilet to jack off, but you begin to cum uncontrollably. After ten spurts you start to worry. Your hand is sticky and it reeks of semen. You desperately shove your dick into a wad of toilet paper, but that only makes your balls hurt. The cum accelerates. It’s been three minutes. You can’t stop cumming. Your bathroom floor is covered in a thin layer of baby fluid. You try to cum into the shower drain but it builds up too fast. You try the toilet. The cum is too thick to be flushed. You lock the bathroom door to prevent the cum from escaping. The air grows hot and humid from the cum. The cum accelerates. You slip and fall in your own sperm. The cum is now six inches deep, almost as long as your still-erect semen hose. Sprawled on your back, you begin to cum all over the ceiling. Globs of the sticky white fluid begin to fall like raindrops, giving you a facial with your own cum. The cum accelerates. You struggle to stand as the force of the cum begins to propel you backwards as if you were on a bukkake themed slip-and-slide. Still on your knees, the cum is now at chin height. To avoid drowning you open the bathroom door. The deluge of man juice reminds you of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919, only with cum instead of molasses. The cum accelerates. It’s been two hours. Your children and wife scream in terror as their bodies are engulfed by the snow-white sludge. Your youngest child goes under, with viscous bubbles and muffled cries rising from the goop. You plead to God to end your suffering. The cum accelerates. You squeeze your dick to stop the cum, but it begins to leak out of your asshole instead. You let go. The force of the cum tears your urethra open, leaving only a gaping hole in your crotch that spews semen. Your body picks up speed as it slides backwards along the cum. You smash through the wall, hurtling into the sky at thirty miles an hour. From a bird’s eye view you see your house is completely white. Your neighbor calls the cops. The cum accelerates. As you continue to ascend, you spot police cars racing towards your house. The cops pull out their guns and take aim, but stray loads of cum hit them in the eyes, blinding them. The cum accelerates. You are now at an altitude of 1000 feet. The SWAT team arrives. Military helicopters circle you. Hundreds of bullets pierce your body at once, yet you stay conscious. Your testicles have now grown into a substitute brain. The cum accelerates. It has been two days. With your body now destroyed, the cum begins to spray in all directions. You break the sound barrier. The government deploys fighter jets to chase you down, but the impact of your cum sends one plane crashing to the ground. The government decides to let you leave the earth. You feel your gonads start to burn up as you reach the edges of the atmosphere. You narrowly miss the ISS, giving it a new white paint job as you fly past. Physicists struggle to calculate your erratic trajectory. The cum accelerates. The cum begins to gravitate towards itself, forming a comet trail of semen. Astronomers begin calling you the “Cummet.” You are stuck in space forever, stripped of your body and senses, forced to endure an eternity of cumshots. Eventually, you stop thinking.

[a-teacup-of-golden-cracks]

Original post is here: https://www.reddit.com/r/copypasta/comments/htee6m/origin_of_the_cummet/?rdt=49344

Text of the post:

Origin of the Cummet

Infinite cum. You sit on the toilet to jack off, but you begin to cum uncontrollably. After ten spurts you start to worry. Your hand is sticky and it reeks of semen. You desperately shove your dick into a wad of toilet paper, but that only makes your balls hurt. The cum accelerates. It’s been three minutes. You can’t stop cumming. Your bathroom floor is covered in a thin layer of baby fluid. You try to cum into the shower drain but it builds up too fast. You try the toilet. The cum is too thick to be flushed. You lock the bathroom door to prevent the cum from escaping. The air grows hot and humid from the cum. The cum accelerates. You slip and fall in your own sperm. The cum is now six inches deep, almost as long as your still-erect semen hose. Sprawled on your back, you begin to cum all over the ceiling. Globs of the sticky white fluid begin to fall like raindrops, giving you a facial with your own cum. The cum accelerates. You struggle to stand as the force of the cum begins to propel you backwards as if you were on a bukkake themed slip-and-slide. Still on your knees, the cum is now at chin height. To avoid drowning you open the bathroom door. The deluge of man juice reminds you of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919, only with cum instead of molasses. The cum accelerates. It’s been two hours. Your children and wife scream in terror as their bodies are engulfed by the snow-white sludge. Your youngest child goes under, with viscous bubbles and muffled cries rising from the goop. You plead to God to end your suffering. The cum accelerates. You squeeze your dick to stop the cum, but it begins to leak out of your asshole instead. You let go. The force of the cum tears your urethra open, leaving only a gaping hole in your crotch that spews semen. Your body picks up speed as it slides backwards along the cum. You smash through the wall, hurtling into the sky at thirty miles an hour. From a bird’s eye view you see your house is completely white. Your neighbor calls the cops. The cum accelerates. As you continue to ascend, you spot police cars racing towards your house. The cops pull out their guns and take aim, but stray loads of cum hit them in the eyes, blinding them. The cum accelerates. You are now at an altitude of 1000 feet. The SWAT team arrives. Military helicopters circle you. Hundreds of bullets pierce your body at once, yet you stay conscious. Your testicles have now grown into a substitute brain. The cum accelerates. It has been two days. With your body now destroyed, the cum begins to spray in all directions. You break the sound barrier. The government deploys fighter jets to chase you down, but the impact of your cum sends one plane crashing to the ground. The government decides to let you leave the earth. You feel your gonads start to burn up as you reach the edges of the atmosphere. You narrowly miss the ISS, giving it a new white paint job as you fly past. Physicists struggle to calculate your erratic trajectory. The cum accelerates. The cum begins to gravitate towards itself, forming a comet trail of semen. Astronomers begin calling you the “Cummet.” You are stuck in space forever, stripped of your body and senses, forced to endure an eternity of cumshots.

Eventually, you stop thinking...

cum.

(Insert cummet copypasta here)

[alteredphoenix]

Could've been worse.

Could've been dead.

[quillquiver]

Listen listen listen all of these invitation and wedding planning posts are adorable but do we really think either of those two disasters can send a card??? No way. The proposal happens while they share their morning shower and it’s so off the cuff Dean gets soap in his eyes and Cas accidentally rips the shower curtain. The bachelor party? Shitty TV, good beer and great pizza. Tabletop games if they’re feeling adventurous.

Cas texts the group chat and that’s that. The only people Dean calls are Bobby and Mary. Sam is a little offended by how fucking lowkey everything is after he had to put up with twelve years of bullshit, so Dean leaves a post it on his door that says: “Me + Cas are getting hitched. Be there.” And then, squeezes into a bottom corner: “Best man?” 

The actual wedding takes place in the backyard. Vows? Saved for when they’re alone, because why the fuck does anyone else need to know their business. Dean wants to tell Cas how much he loves him while he’s on his knees and buried between his thighs. Wedding party? Sam walks Dean down the aisle, Jack and Claire walk Cas. Rowena officiates, which is something everyone deeply regrets almost immediately. It’s the kind of wedding that involves a peanut gallery, which is... kind of awesome.

They just end up at the Roadhouse. Ellen and Ash might have planned for it, but you can bet our two clueless idiots were totally content with a backyard potluck. Is there a live band? Who knows. A cake? No idea. They arrived at some undetermined hour and there are good people and an open bar. Dean and Cas get hilariously sloshed and makeout in a dark corner like this isn’t their wedding reception. Charlie belts out Celine Dion and Jo has starting playing darts with her collection of daggers. 

At one point, Dean and Cas disappear, and if they miss the pie with the two shitty groom figurines stuck into the lattice, well, that’s just par for the course at this point. Benny checks the bathroom and the kitchen, but Ash slams the front door of the Roadhouse closed, smirking at everyone as he loudly announces: “If the car’s a-rockin’...”

Sex in the Impala is, predictably, a disaster for two middle-aged men. Neither are bendy in the right way, there isn’t enough space, but it’s fun and stupid and Dean and Cas have a great time. Do they fall asleep cuddled together under their clothing? Yes. Do they wake up to beer cans tied to Baby’s bumper and a spray-painted “Just Married” on her back window? Also yes. Does Dean have a fucking heart attack? You betcha. 

Most importantly, though, none of this happens in Heaven, but on Earth with everyone alive, because fuck that goddamn ending. 

[ethanharli]

I have a ton. This is all in good fun, so if you want me to stop just say the word and I will

Infinite cum. You sit on the toilet to jack off, but you begin to cum uncontrollably. After ten spurts you start to worry. Your hand is sticky and it reeks of semen. You desperately shove your dick into a wad of toilet paper, but that only makes your balls hurt. The cum accelerates. It’s been three minutes. You can’t stop cumming. Your bathroom floor is covered in a thin layer of baby fluid. You try to cum into the shower drain but it builds up too fast. You try the toilet. The cum is too thick to be flushed. You lock the bathroom door to prevent the cum from escaping. The air grows hot and humid from the cum. The cum accelerates. You slip and fall in your own sperm. The cum is now six inches deep, almost as long as your still-erect semen hose. Sprawled on your back, you begin to cum all over the ceiling. Globs of the sticky white fluid begin to fall like raindrops, giving you a facial with your own cum. The cum accelerates. You struggle to stand as the force of the cum begins to propel you backwards as if you were on a bukkake themed slip-and-slide. Still on your knees, the cum is now at chin height. To avoid drowning you open the bathroom door. The deluge of man juice reminds you of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919, only with cum instead of molasses. The cum accelerates. It’s been two hours. Your children and wife scream in terror as their bodies are engulfed by the snow-white sludge. Your youngest child goes under, with viscous bubbles and muffled cries rising from the goop. You plead to God to end your suffering. The cum accelerates. You squeeze your dick to stop the cum, but it begins to leak out of your asshole instead. You let go. The force of the cum tears your urethra open, leaving only a gaping hole in your crotch that spews semen. Your body picks up speed as it slides backwards along the cum. You smash through the wall, hurtling into the sky at thirty miles an hour. From a bird’s eye view you see your house is completely white. Your neighbor calls the cops. The cum accelerates. As you continue to ascend, you spot police cars racing towards your house. The cops pull out their guns and take aim, but stray loads of cum hit them in the eyes, blinding them. The cum accelerates. You are now at an altitude of 1000 feet. The SWAT team arrives. Military helicopters circle you. Hundreds of bullets pierce your body at once, yet you stay conscious. Your testicles have now grown into a substitute brain. The cum accelerates. It has been two days. With your body now destroyed, the cum begins to spray in all directions. You break the sound barrier. The government deploys fighter jets to chase you down, but the impact of your cum sends one plane crashing to the ground. The government decides to let you leave the earth. You feel your gonads start to burn up as you reach the edges of the atmosphere. You narrowly miss the ISS, giving it a new white paint job as you fly past. Physicists struggle to calculate your erratic trajectory. The cum accelerates. The cum begins to gravitate towards itself, forming a comet trail of semen. Astronomers begin calling you the “Cummet.” You are stuck in space forever, stripped of your body and senses, forced to endure an eternity of cumshots. Eventually, you stop thinking

At this point I'm getting used it, kind of wondering what will pop up next tbh

[firelord-frowny]

HEY WAIT A MINUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

having shitty tidiness habits doesn't mean i have to be doomed to live a lifetime of clutter and disorganization!

i can literally just pay somebody to clean my home! and if im not living in my own place (which i'm not), i can pay to have somebody clean my ROOM!

like, that's a thing!

and if i don't have a lot of bills (which i don't at the moment, on account of I Live With My Mommy), it wouldn't be prohibitively expensive to have somebody come in once every couple of weeks to tidy my room for me!

now, i'm not NECESSARILY saying I plan or want to do this. tbh i'm not sure I'd be totally comfortable with a stranger being all up in my personal space, even if they're working for a ~reputable agency~. (although i guess i could potentially find a family friend who'd be willing to do it? i think i'd be more comfortable with a family friend).

but just knowing that it's a realistic option is SO comforting!

and like! I imagine i'd only really need help with the ~tidying~ tasks. like, I can vacuum. I can spray cleaner around the bathroom surfaces and wipe/rinse them down. I can clean mirrors and wipe windows.

But putting my painting stuff away when I'm done with it?? yikes. putting my clothes in the hamper instead of on the floor??? what a dream. taking dishes back downstairs after i'm done eating? straightening up my bookshelf? putting literally anything back where it belongs when i'm through using it????

im a DISASTER.

but just because I'M a disaster doesn't mean my SPACE has to be disastrous! Because I! Can! Pay! Someone! To! Do! It! For! Me!

Just like some people pay somebody else to change the oil in their car! Just like some people have their groceries delivered instead of going to the store theirself! Just like I use uber since I'm scared to drive!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOW! honestly what a REVALATION!!!

Did you guys know this???? am I the last person to figure this out???

YOU CAN PAY PEOPLE TO ASSIST YOU WITH THE LIFE SKILLS YOU'RE DEFICIENT IN!!! YOU DON'T HAVE TO SUFFER THROUGH YOUR OWN INEPTITUDE LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO my GOD can you IMAGINE??? somebody riding around with a jacked up car that breaks down every time they go anywhere just because they don't personally know how to fix their car????

some people know how to work on their own cars! good for them! some people don't! they can pay someone who does!

some people know how to keep their living space tidy! good for them! some people don't! they can pay someone who does!

i wanna shout this shit from the rooftops oh my god!!!!!!

[supercasey]

character head canon thing with uhhhh heisenberg and or ethan? 🥺

I don't know who you are, Anon, but I love you with all my heart <3 it's time to be self-indulgent!

Karl Heisenberg What they smell like: Gonna be honest even though I adore him; he probably doesn't smell all that great, seeing as he's around so much metal and machinery all day. His scent is a mix of oil, sweat, and whatever body spray he can get ahold of to mask those first two things. How they sleep (sleeping position, schedule, etc): Just kinda sleeps whenever/wherever he can, considering how much time he spends working on his soldats. Prefers being able to sleep on a mattress under his workbench, curled up on his left side and cocooned in as many blankets as he can get his hands on. What music they enjoy: Has really weird taste that fluctuates on a daily basis. Can go from listening to nothing but David Bowie on loop to blasting Avril Lavigne so loud that the walls vibrate. How much time they spend getting ready every morning: Not a lot. Every day he wakes up, gets some water, uses the bathroom, and then it's right back to whatever he was doing the night before. Their favorite thing to collect: Vinyl records! Since he was young (after he got some more freedom and time away from Miranda, of course), he's been keeping a stash of records from outside the village in his factory, and he frequently listens to them while working, hence his weird and varied music tastes. Left or right-handed: Left-handed! I actually think this might be canon, seeing as he primarily wields his hammer with that arm (at least from the game footage I've seen). Religion (if any): At most he's agnostic, but he has a severely nihilistic view of g-d/religion in general, so it might be safer to call him an atheist. Favorite sport: If he ever got the chance to watch live TV, I don't think he'd be too into modern day sports. That is, until he sees an episode of Battlebots; after that, he'd be begging Ethan to help him sign up to compete with his own bot! Favorite touristy thing to do when traveling (museums, local food, sightseeing, etc): He's gonna be doing fucking everything once he has a chance to leave the village. Catch him going to every restaurant he can, taking a billion pictures, and just oo-ing and ah-ing at everything he sees. Would probably like museums the most! Favorite kind of weather: Loves it when it rains, especially when there's thunder to go along with it! Hates getting wet, though. A weird/obscure fear they have: Nyctophobia, the fear of the dark/nighttime. I HC that he was locked in dark rooms by Miranda a lot as a kid- both as punishment and to "help" calm him down while he was trying to cope with his powers- and unfortunately the trauma of that experience has followed him into adulthood. He can sleep with the lights off sometimes, but he'd much rather sleep with at least a few candles lit. The carnival/arcade game they always win without fail: Kicks ass at any game that he can get away with using his powers for. Other than that, he's pretty good at guessing games.

Ethan What they smell like: Smells like a mix of cedar scented cologne and fresh lavender; the dude takes good care of his hygiene, and likes to look/smell nice whenever he can. How they sleep (sleeping position, schedule, etc): Before the Baker incident, he used to sleep all sprawled out on his bed, but afterwards he started clutching to Mia in his sleep, as if he's scared that she'll be taken away from him again if he doesn't protect her. What music they enjoy: Listens to a lot of indie and country, his favorite artists being Modest Mouse, Lil Nas X, and CHVRCHES. How much time they spend getting ready every morning: Quite a bit of time, especially if he has to go to work. Likes to get up extremely early, do a quick workout, shower, eat a full and hearty breakfast, get dressed, comb his hair, brush his teeth, and then put on some cologne as he's heading out the door. He more or less has his mornings down to a science at this point. Their favorite thing to collect: He has a few collections, his main ones being stamps, books, and paintings that he finds at thrift stores. He's weird, okay!? Left or right-handed: Right handed! If he was left, I feel like the games would be so much harder for the poor dude 😅 Religion (if any): Grew up in a fairly devoted Catholic household, but he's since come to identify as an atheist, especially after the Baker incident. ((Ethan, pointing at Jack Baker mid-fight: You look in a mirror and tell me there's a g-d.)) Favorite sport: Somehow finds cricket, of all things, entertaining. Besides that, he often watches baseball and football when games for his home/current state are on. Favorite touristy thing to do when traveling (museums, local food, sightseeing, etc): He's the kind of person that takes one million photos of his wife and daughter but none of himself, save for when he's posing in a dumb way in front of a famous monument. Favorite kind of weather: Snow! He grew up in Texas, so whenever it snows, he's immediately outside and trying to build a snowman, even if there's next to nothing on the ground yet. A weird/obscure fear they have: Ophidiophobia, the fear of snakes. Thankfully he hasn't had to deal with them very often, but the centipedes on the Baker plantation nearly made him faint a few times. The carnival/arcade game they always win without fail: He sucks so bad at most of them, but since he got some military training, he's gotten much better at any games that involve hitting a target. Still loses a lot, though 😔

Thanks so much for the ask, Anon, this was so much fun to do!

[write-orflight]

Trouble: Chapter 5

*Gif not mine*

Pairings: HotchxReader

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2  Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Rating: M

Words: 2.4K

Warnings: SMUT, fingering, choking, slight degradation, sexual contact, dom/sub overtones. TW!! mention of past rape/abuse. witch shit.  

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: After Haley’s passing, Aaron Hotchner has lost the light in his eyes. He seems to find it it the most unlikely of places, an occult themed coffee shop ran by a witch.

A.N There is a Trigger warning for the beginning of this chapter! Talks heavily of past abuse and Rape please if that is something that will trigger you, skip to the first break! Take care of yourselves, Cia

Chapter 5: My sweet love, won't you pull me through? 

You were sitting at the table of your shop opposite of Hotch, drinking tea. Or at least trying to, Aaron decided to try and make you some but it was disgusting. You couldn’t help but smile at the effort though. 

He watched you intensely before you sighed. 

“I met Charlie about half way into my senior year of college. He was TA of my psychology class and everyone wanted him so I guess I felt special that he wanted me, a quiet girl from a hick town. He was sweet in the beginning, always planning these elaborate dates, never once forgot an anniversary or birthday; it wasn’t until we were dating for a year that he changed. He was jealous, at first it was just guys at bars who happened to hit on me, he would get mad then it started to be the waiter at a restaurant or the guy servicing my car. He always blamed me called me the slut for trying to fuck other men while we were together.” You sighed, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. “Pretty soon after that is when he started beating me. I felt so hopeless and dark and it seemed like I could do nothing right. Nothing was going to stave off his hand. One night, we were out together and as we were leaving the bartender slipped me his number. Charlie was furious, said I had to have been doing something to make him do that and that if I was going to act like a whore he was going to fuck me like one.” 

You were fully sobbing now and Aaron was immediately out of his chair, hugging you tightly. He says nothing for a while, just  let’s you quietly sob into his shoulder. 

“You don’t have to talk about it, I understand. We can stop, dove.” He whispers. You shake your head. 

“No, I need you to know this.” You choke on another sob before clearing your throat. “He raped me, and didn’t even bother to use protection… so some time after that, I found out I was pregnant with Bean. I couldn’t let him anywhere near her so I ran. And he found out about Bean around her 1st birthday. Silena’s a good friend who followed me anywhere but this is the 3rd state we’ve moved to, to avoid Charlie. I can’t do that to her or Bean again. I’m not leaving this time.” 

“You don’t have to, okay? I’ve got you.” Aaron says. “It’s not just you guys anymore. You have me now, okay? And I’m sure the team wouldn’t want they’re favorite coffee place gone so you have them too.” He laughs, inducing a chuckle from you too. 

Silena comes out of the kitchen then. “I’m going to head out, but I don’t want to leave you alone.” She says, sadly. 

“I’ll be fine, Sil.” You roll your eyes “Go sleep.” 

“My sister in law has Jack tonight, I’ll stay with her.” Aaron adds. “That is if you want me to.” 

“Uh, yea. That’s fine.” You flush. “Goodnight, Silena.” 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” She moves to hug you which you instantly return. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She whispers in your ear, winking as she pulls back. You roll your eyes.

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

Soon after you and Hotch head up the creaky stairs of the shop to your apartment in silence. You relieve Malia, Artie’s babysitter who asks if everything’s ok because she heard yelling. You reassure her everything’s fine and see her out. 

“If you want to wait here you can, I’m going to check on Bean.” You say, Hotch nods and watches you walk away. 

He takes this time to survey your apartment. He's never been in it before and now he knows why. It wasn’t that it was dirty, in fact it was clean and organized but it seemed every corner, shelf or place you could find space there were mason jars with labels like, Moon water, Banishing powders, Aura Repair tea, Mugwort, etc. Uses that, of course still eluded Hotch to this day, despite knowing and dating you for some time. The only shelves not taken up by jars are the altar where Silver and white candles are half melted, alongside some stones and various flowers. The second shelf was littered with frames. Hotch stopped to look at them, there were a lot of pictures. You, standing with an older couple who Hotch assumed were your parents, He didn’t particularly like that one because though you were smiling you can tell that you aren’t happy in the slightest bit. The next is a photo of you, Silena, and a third girl he never met on your graduation day, your hair is blue in this photo and you have Silena in a headlock in one arm and your degree in the other. The next one was you in a hospital bed, holding a sleeping child, flipping off whoever was holding the camera, red hair frizzled beyond belief. The last photo was his favorite though, it’s you and Silena, standing in front of a building that he immediately recognized as Hallowed Grounds, both in paint splattered overalls, your green hair tied up in a red bandana. 

“That was the day we finally signed the deed for HG.” He hears behind him, he turns to see you smiling. “The realtor we signed with laughed at us because we showed up to the meeting with paint cans. He wanted us to look at different places but we knew as soon as we saw it this was the place for our shop.” 

“I’m glad it was, I don’t think we would’ve met if you opened somewhere else.” Hotch says. 

You shake your head, grabbing his hand to rub your thumb across his knuckles. “I don’t believe in ‘what ifs’, The goddess tends to steer me in the right direction. So I believe when I opened my shop here it was just her steering me towards you.”  

Hotch looks at you for a second, smiling. “Come here.” He says, tugging you into a passionate kiss. You sigh deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck, his hands leave small bruises along your hips. You both look at each other headily before you whisper. 

“We should go to bed.” 

Aaron looks at you sincerely. “You sure, Y/N? I don’t want you to feel press-I can take the couch--” 

“Come to bed with me, Aaron.” You cut him off, grabbing his hand. “Please.” 

He nods and allows you to lead him to your bedroom. Hotch takes in the space for a second while you enter the bathroom to change. There were plants pretty much all over the room, some hanging, some shelved and some in a planters box outside the cracked window. 

He looks at you when you come out the bathroom, only wearing a giant long sleeve Stevie Nicks sweater. He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“I don’t tolerate Stevie Nicks slander in this house. She’s like the queen of earth witches so whatever comment you have, keep it to yourself.” You say, climbing into bed. Hotch takes this time to undress from the suit he’s wearing. You try not to watch to give him privacy but you can’t seem to take your eyes away as you watch him peel off the layers until he’s left with nothing but his boxers. His broad chest and toned stomach now on display before you. You smiled as he turned back to you, looking into your eyes before he turned out your light and climbed into bed beside you. You instantly turn towards him, laying your head on his chest. He wraps an arm around your waist and you feel a kiss on your temple as you drift off. 

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

You wake up gasping hours later. You haven’t had a nightmare in years but you suppose with Charlie being back in was only a matter of time before those came back too. You suddenly feel arms around you, you flinch but then you remember last night and Aaron staying over. 

“What’s wrong, dove?” He mumbles. 

“Nothing, just a nightmare.” You sigh. “What time is it?” 

“Little after 9:30.” 

You spring out of bed shit. “Shit, Artie! And I have to open the shop—“ 

“Silena came and picked up Artie for school earlier. And Malia is picking her up.” Hotch says. “And I’ve been instructed to tell you to ‘not under any circumstances come in the shop’ You’re taking a mandatory day off.” 

“But— I’ve gotta… there’s nothing for me to do?” You say, confused. It’s been years since you haven’t had anything to do. 

“No, dove.” Hotch smiles. “Now, Do you want to come back to bed?” 

You weigh your options for a second. “No, but would you like to shower with me?” 

Aaron is immediately up, pushing you towards the bathroom as you laugh heartily. 

Aaron’s hands were on you the second you were under the warm spray together. One cupping the side of your jaw while the other roamed your body. You sighed heavily, melting into his touch, opening your mouth to grant him permission. He pushes you up against your shower wall, hand wrapping around your neck, not squeezing yet, while the other toys your breast and nipple. 

“You’re so beautiful, dove.” He says and you can’t help the whine that leaves your body while he moves his hand to your heated core. “You want me to take care of you?” He asks, you nod. A loud moan ripping through you as he slides a digit into your sex. He just watches you for a minute, fingers thrusting into you repeatedly while he thumb circles you clit in pace. His other hand roams your body, over your breast before settling around your neck again. 

“Fuck! G-“ You started, you held your tongue though. As much as times like this made you want to call on any deity in praise. You knew specifically your patron would not approve. You settled for another loud moan. 

“You sound so pretty.” Hotch says, a small smile playing on his lips while he kisses your neck. “You going to come for me, Princess?” He asks, you nodded wildly. Unable to do anything but gasp. “Go ahead, dove.” He says while you release yourself on his fingers. Hips moving involuntarily to ride out your orgasm. Hotch kisses every part of your face that he can reach before turning you around so your back was to him. 

You feel him pepper small kisses in your shoulders, his erection rubbing against your backside, you moan at the feel of it. 

“I need to be inside you, Dove.” He says, hot against your ear. “Can I?” You nod, fast pushing back against him. “I need to hear you say it, Princess.” He says. 

“Fuck me.” You say, out of breath almost. “Please, Sir.” 

“Good girl.” He says before pulling up your right leg and sliding into you. The both of you groan at the first contact. He grips you tighter as he sets a fast almost bruising pace. The water had run cold but neither of you could bring yourselves to care. You were shaking unbelievably, extremely lucky you had Hotch holding you up. 

“Fuck, Y/n.” He sighed, hot in your ear. “You’re so fucking wet and tight.” He moves his hand to your clit, pushing somehow deeper into you. You whimper, pushing back against him. “You gonna come again, Princess?” You nod shaking, moaning loudly trying to hold yourself up against the shower wall. You moan one last time as your release takes over you, your sex clenching tightly around Aaron. 

“Fuck, that’s it, dove. You’re such a good girl.” He says, lowly into your ear. “You want me to fill you up?” 

“Yes, Sir please!” You say struggling to stay upright due to his brutal pace. He groans deeply into your ear as he gives a few shallow thrust before releasing himself inside of you. 

You’re in such a daze you barely notice the rag cleaning you up. Aaron kisses the side of your temple whispering sweet nothings soft in your ear as he cleans you diligently. Pretty soon, the two of you are out the shower and he wraps you in a towel. 

“You ok, Dove?” he says, soft to you. “Do you need something?” 

You step out of the bathroom to get clothes. “I’m fine, Aaron. I just need a second.” 

“I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly.” He says, analyzing you. 

“Of course not.” You smile. “I’m just trying to figure out what deity to thank for giving me you.” 

He smiles back at you, pressing a kiss to your hand. 

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

You and Aaron hardly had days off. It was one of the qualities you liked about each other, the meticulous work drive. But now that you did have time to yourself (No work, no kids.) You found yourselves unsure what to do. 

Which is why you suggested the museum. 

It’s been so long since you’ve been able to go to a regular museum that wasn’t a children’s one, The two of you spent  the afternoon actually looking at the art and exhibits. Talking quietly to each other, Hotch’s hand at some point ends up in yours and you smile softly at him. 

Next the two of you stop at The Crystal Fox, an occult shop that you tend to get your supplies from, as you were running low on candles. Hotch listens diligently as you tell him about the power behind different herbs and candles depending on the deity you serve. He tries to keep up with what you’re saying but in the end it’ll always be too much for him to understand. 

When you guys realize it’s getting late, you opt to see a movie after lamenting to each other that it’s been a while since you’ve seen a movie that wasn’t animated garbage. Aaron buys your tickets and you have to threaten him with bodily harm to let you buy the snacks. The two of you settle into the movie, you laying your head on his chest while his arms go around you.   

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

After the movie, he drives you back to the apartment. You kiss Aaron goodbye a couple times as he seems reluctant to let you go. As you climb the stairs of your apartment, nothing could have prepared you for the site you’d seen. 

Your sitter, Malia, is dead on your living room floor. Obviously hit with something heavy multiple times. You run to Artie’s room, choking on sobs not prepared for the site you might see. But the site you see… is nothing. 

Your daughter is missing.   

Taglist: @megatrexus @roses-and-grasses​ @tittymuncher69​ @liaabsurd​ @ladyravenclaw​ @genevievedarcygrangerreading​ @softbibxtch​ @xxdisappearwithoutatracexx​ @crimeshowtrash​ @augustgraceful​ @theweirdobella​ @infinity1321​ @stella95827 @neaswift @chelseyjoyce​ @addie5264​ @bihoeofmanyfandoms​ @ayyodolliecakbby​ @thedoctorisweirdlyepic​ @kathleenjasmine​

Message to be added to the taglist!

[signed-yours-truly-the-whale]

Thoughts/Observations on Joker, part 1

AKA I Spent 7 Hours on This, I Will Die if it Gets Less Than Three Notes

I could rave for hours about this movie’s cinematography. Literal hours.

Nobody talks enough about Arthur’s full-fledged dedication to his clown craft. Man is working 60+ hours a week and does not break a sweat. I also fucking love this clowny face he pulls here. The first shot we see of Arthur in full. Holy shit is it beautiful. God bless Joaquin Phoenix.

These two shots together are incredibly important to me. In a split-second we see Arthur’s disbelief that he cannot control the whirlwind of emotions inside of his own head, not even being able to produce a smile, and then his resignation because it’s just another day. Heartbreaking.

Awwww shiiiiit

Gotham City is such a dump but I’d be bullshitting myself if I said I didn’t love the grimy aesthetic of it. It’s technicolor trash.

Arthur loves his job so much. He genuinely enjoys being Carnival. That hurts a lot to think about in hindsight.

This man just got his ass handed to him and he is STILL SPRAYING THE FAKE FLOWER ON HIS VEST

YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT DEDICATION

This opening card is so imposing. Not only does it take up the entire screen to the point of running off the edges, but it’s shielding Arthur from view. Arthur is invisible in light of Joker in Arthur’s own movie.

I screenshotted this by accident but I felt a need to put it here because he’s just so adorable. Even right before an episode.

E y e s s s s s

E Y E S S S S S

I desperately want to know what got Arthur sent to Arkham the first time. A suicide attempt? A public breakdown? I really want fanfics of it.

There’s a really, really good fanfiction on AO3 by Arthur_Fleck about Arthur slowly recovering and meeting a girl called In the Major and Minor Arcana

I highly, highly recommend it

Okay. Joaquin’s immersion into his characters -- all of them -- is absolutely incredible. But Arthur is just ... off the charts, man. No two of his characters are the same and he embeds himself so deeply in their skin, but Joaquin buried himself so deeply into Arthur’s brain that it is so hard for me to see any of Joaquin at all. God, he’s incredible and this shot makes me emotional because this just is Arthur.

ARTHUR WOULD BE A GREAT DAD AND I DO NOT ACCEPT ARGUMENTS

It really speaks to how shitty Gotham is that this man is having a full-fledged screaming/laughing breakdown on the bus and nobody is batting an eye

I adore how the cinematography paints Arthur as so small to his own environment. He’s a speck of dust. A fleck.

Babie is wincing :((((

I have been trying to figure out the layout of this apartment for months and my inability to, even with a floor plan, is driving me insane

I just found out that the Budweiser beer jingle Here Comes the King is on the soundtrack and plays when Arthur comes home and that made me go feral

I  A M  M U R R A Y , K I N G  O F  A S S H O L E S

It is second nature for me to do this stupid pose every time I watch this scene

Arthur blending into the crowd here makes me ... so happy. He looks so happy.

This is Arthur’s best laugh of the movie, fuck you. I am incredulous that I was the only person laughing when I saw this in the theater opening night.

This is one of the few moments I really see Joaquin shine through Arthur. I don’t know why, but this lighting and his voice and his intensity gives me visceral flashbacks to watching a little boy Joaquin in Parenthood. God, I love this man.

It really is a testament to Penny’s (lack of) parenting that Arthur is day dreaming about receiving affection and validation from a parent figure when his own mother is literally right there

GOD DAMN THIS MAN IS GORGEOUS

But also big bruise :(

Yes, I shall trust you, man named Randall smiling down at me in low angle light

Why was Hoyt not informed that Arthur got his ass beat on the job? As Arthur’s employer he should’ve literally been the first person to know so he could make a note of it. Either he wasn’t told or he gave so little of a fuck that his consciousness astral projected to another plane of existence while he shoved the white powder down his throat and forgot Arthur existed at all.

Literally fuck Hoyt. I hate him even more that his office is the coolest shit in the world

ARTHUR KNOWS THE CUSTOMER SERVICE SMILE

Joaquin dislocated his knee in this scene, the poor boy

I could write a full damn essay about why the misleading advertising of Sophie as a prominent character was the greatest twist of the whole movie. Literally I am still speechless how the movie did that.

I am not kidding when I say my sister has this same color scheme in the bathroom of our house and realizing that made me werewolf

Also Arthur being the son Penny doesn’t deserve warms and breaks my heart

The complete lack of reaction to Penny’s “Don’t you have to be funny to be a comedian” makes me laugh and cry internally

This shot? Gorgeous. His face? Deadly. That jawline? Cutting diamonds. Hotel? Trivago.

I really, really want a Joker 2, but at the same time I do not want a Joker 2 because Joaquin Phoenix has a baby who needs him now and he cannot be pulling shit like losing 52 lbs for a role

Also I REALLY need to discuss how much this brass ballet reminds me so heavily of Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs. Holy fuck, I got actually chills in the theater

Like holy fuck

And then this shot reminds me so heavily of the opening of Fedddy vs Jason with Freddy Krueger laughing over his newspaper collage of missing children. Holy fuck I love this cinematography.

Guys. G - Guys, his name tag says Dr. Carnival, can you hear me  s o b b i n g

This part is so Chaplinesque, the way he slides the gun into his coat again

These children look so afraid of him for dropping the gun and wowie, does that really hurt

Was this asshole supposed to be modeled after Eric Trump? Because I get really douchebaggy Eric Trump vibes (minus the jacked teeth) from this ringleader

I don’t have much to say here except I am in love with the way Artie’s hair sticks straight up in bottle curls when the clown wig slides off

Also if you decide it’s a good idea to mess with a man dressed as a clown laughing maniacally on the subway of one of the most dangerous cities in the world, you are asking him to shoot you and I will not feel sorry for you

I will never not be in love with this image. I fell in love with it in the teaser trailer and almost went feral in the middle of the mall when I saw this was the poster they used to advertise the movie with. My friend described this movie as “chaos, beautified,” and nothing sums it up as well as this picture.

JOAQUIN AND TODD MADE THIS ENTIRE SEQUENCE UP AND I AM IN LOVE

Hello, handsome

[masterwords]

Where Rhythm is Life

Warnings: Zero. Zip. NADA.

Notes: There is literally no point in this except that I have been asked for some fluffy Mortch and I am a slave to the muse. (I have 9 WIP documents open on my desktop right now, prepare yourselves.) So, here you go, domestic Mortch. Just one random Saturday in the spring, written entirely in 15 minutes and just...here you go. What it lacks in quality it makes up for in adorable. (1479 words)

Color was slowly returning to the world. Splotches of emerald green and bright pink and sunshine yellow took over where all of the grays and browns had bled in over winter. Frost still covered the ground each morning, but it melted away by the time the breakfast dishes were scrubbed, and the birds picked through the dewy grass for their worms. The first beautiful spring weekend of the year always awoke something in Hotch, something that tugged at him, made him eager for a fresh start. Pulling himself out of bed, side by side with the sun, he made his way to the kitchen to start the coffee. He would finish an entire pot before Morgan crawled out of bed, and that was fine because he would always start a fresh one in time for Morgan's first mug near lunch time. There was a list on the freezer, held in place by a magnet shaped like a rocket ship that Hotch and Jack had acquired on a trip to the NASA space museum. The list was long, written by two distinctly different hands, a living and ever-evolving sheet of household projects and chores to be ticked off at whatever pace they chose. He was hoping to get through the laundry and cleaning the blinds before they had to leave the house for the afternoon, a noble goal but one he knew he was destined to fall short of. Time had a way of slipping through his fingers on slow Saturdays, a fact he didn't mind much these days. While the coffee brewed, he made his way to the bathroom, sure to take all of his medications before Morgan popped in to check (as if Hotch didn't know he did that), and he considered putting in his contacts now but decided to milk it with his glasses as long as he could. His contacts hurt his eyes, made them itchy in spring no matter how much Zyrtec he pumped into his system to counteract the assault of the pollen.

He threw on a pair of ratty old jeans, a raggedy broken in t-shirt dotted with holes and covered in paint from Morgan's bin of house work clothes, and flipped on the record player. After some careful consideration, he plopped in some David Bowie, and set to taking each set of blinds down and soaking and scrubbing them in the bathtub. While he scrubbed, and finished up his pot of coffee, he grumbled about the job, how mankind could get into space but couldn't come up with a better way to wash window coverings. The kneeling and leaning into the tub made his back ache and before long his shoulders were screaming for a break, one he had no intention of granting them. He thought back to the time he'd had the genius idea to take the blinds into the driveway to spray them off, but all it did was destroy their shape and scrape them up, and they came back with enough mud and pollen on them that he still ended up with them in the bath tub, sneezing his way through the miserable job. Maybe there was a better way, but he no longer trusted anything other than the tried and true bath tub to get the job done.

“You know we've got PT today, right?” Morgan asked, shocking Hotch out of his miserable grumbling. He wondered how long Morgan had been standing there, mug of coffee in hand, watching him bend over the bath tub. He did know, he rarely forgot when they scheduled their appointments together and actually got to make them, it was rare. Their PT was in one big gymnasium, and though he was supposed to be focused on his own exercises, he couldn't help watching Morgan across the way, the way he moved and that look of intense concentration leading to his easy grin when he finished. It was Morgan's idea for them to start going together after Hotch kept canceling and rescheduling his appointments. At one point, he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually gone but he complained incessantly about his shoulder to the point of driving Morgan completely insane.

“I know,” Hotch replied, rocking back on his haunches, dropping the sponge into the tub. He wiped his wet, soapy hands on his thighs and used them to push up to standing, listening to his knees groan and crack on the way up. “Just making sure I give them some real work to do.” Morgan rolled his eyes and smiled.

“You're a pain in the ass.”

Their PT office had a small waiting area, and they set Jack up with his homework in view of the window beside where Hotch's PT worked so he could keep an eye on the kid, even though he knew the receptionist enjoyed Jack's company and kept a close watch. Sometimes, if the gym wasn't too full and he finished his homework early, she'd let him sit inside to watch his dads work out. Morgan was sure it was good for the kid to watch, so he knew that they weren't infallible, they got hurt a lot doing their jobs and it took a lot of work so they could keep showing up day after day to argue over who got to knock through the next door or chase down the next runner. Barreling down a fire escape or using your SUV as a battering ram to stop an unsub had painful consequences, and neither of them shied away from putting their already battered bodies on the line in those moments. This was how they showed Jack how to deal with it in a healthy way, and it had entirely been Morgan's idea but the benefit was to all of them as a family. He'd noticed Jack starting to work out more at home, putting in long hours lifting his little weights and setting up obstacle courses in the yard to stay in shape.

After PT, both dripping with sweat and sore, they took Jack to his soccer game. They spread a blanket on the grass and Morgan sat upright while Hotch lie down with his head on Morgan's thigh, letting his eyes drift shut. They didn't talk, just sat in pleasant silence, listening to the sounds of the kids and the birds in the park, grateful for the peace. He'd already had a long day and he wanted nothing more than a nap, but as soon as the kids lined up to start the game, he pulled himself upright and cheered on the kids with the rest of the parents. They were old enough to keep score now, and while Jack's team did a great job, they didn't manage to pull out a win. Morgan and Hotch worried that he'd be upset but he stood and congratulated his opponents and came back to the blanket full to the brim with excitement over how well they played and all of the cool moves he saw some of his opponents do that he wanted to go home and practice. Hotch smiled, sometimes he couldn't believe the person Jack was becoming.

They managed to get dinner done and cleaned up before Hotch's phone rang, before a case drug them away from home again. He sighed and called Jessica while Morgan talked to Garcia and loaded their go bags into his car. It was like a carefully rehearsed dance the way they changed their clothes and put on their armor. Hotch set his glasses on the bathroom counter to put his contacts back in, looking forward to the next chance he got to give his eyes a break.

“So much for sleeping in tomorrow,” Hotch muttered, sliding into the passenger seat while Morgan started the car. At work, he always drove, but at home he gladly gave Morgan the wheel any chance he got. It was a blessed reprieve from responsibility. Morgan just laughed, as if Hotch would have actually slept in – Sundays were his, but he was up with the sun anyway, he just lay in bed with a book and silence. To him, it was as good as sleeping in. Jack and Jessica stood on the front porch and waved them off into the evening, hoping their case wouldn't be long, would see them back quickly and without any new scars.

“You can have the next day off,” Morgan offered, backing them out of the driveway and heading toward Quantico. He fiddled with his playlist at the first stop sign, much to Hotch's chagrin, found his favorite pump up song and turned the volume up as high as Hotch would allow it before the complaining started. Then he turned it up another click or two, rolling his window down to feel the spring evening air on his face.

“Regulators! Mount up!”