#like are you a fucking cob of corn

[crystalpop]

Just finished The Penguin and holy shit that has got to be one of the best shows i have seen in a long while. While i did cringe at some of the music choices and wish they had gone with some closer to the soundtracks to the show i can say without a doubt that it has to be one of my favourite soundtracks for a tv show. It fits so perfectly with what The Batman had already set up with its score and perfectly matches the genre vibe of Oswald. It reminds me of Gothams Oswald and his soundtracks. I wish the show was longer but i think it did everything it needed to do in its 8 episodes. Everything about it was so beautiful, obviously they didn’t have the same budget at the movie but i can tell they did everything to make it match in its own way. Im glad we got a glimpse of what Arkam is like in this version and how utterly brutal it really is, how a place that is supposed to somehow heal or help people becomes such a horrific and brutal hell for whoever believes they one day may be free of it. Sophia was so well written, every scene she was in was perfect (except for that situationship between her and her therapist, wasn’t a huge fan at all) all of her outfits suited her and what she was currently planning or doing. I hope we get more about her and her now second time in arkam. Now where do i start with Oswald, he is such a horrible person but i really can’t help but absolutely love and adore his character. Like he honestly sucks and deserves everything that happened to him but I can’t help but somewhat route for him (except for what he did in episode 8, fuck him for that). It was really interesting to get a proper background on him and how he grew up to be who is was in the series, it really humanized him and gave a proper reason to why he does what he does. Everything about him on the outside was so pompous and fake and the way he acted outside of is normally somewhat controlled temperament really shone a light on how much of a lying narcissist he is and how much he really doesn’t care what happens as long as he remains on top and in power. He is such a horrible person and i love him for that. Now i was honestly kinda sceptical about Victor at the beginning, I didn’t want the show to become fully focused on him as a sidekick to Os and all the wacky shit they get up to. Im very glad it didn’t do that and instead we got a well written character that is struggling after losing everything he cares about and then trying his best to prove himself to some random guy that threatened him and tried to kill him before taking him under his wing. We got to see a character struggle with the morally grey and most of the time straight up illegal and horrible things he’s been told to do but does them anyways because he either wants to prove himself or just survive. He became so close to Oswald and looked up to him as a guide and as close to family as he could get by the end. So many amazing complex and wonderful characters where created and expanded upon in this show. I hope we get more shows like this and i am very excited to see where this version of Batman goes. Anyways im gonna go cry and see if i can find any good fanfics about it.

[piratewinzer]

another long day of being plagued by fictional gays

[cjauswrites]

AU Clausten fic in which they cuddle underneath the stars

EDIT: I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THISD BEFORE I COULD PROOFREAD JT IMSTEAD OF SAVIG IT TP DRAFTS IDK HOW TO FIX IT IM SORRY IF THIS SUSKCS

The moon hung low in the night sky as it would cast its pale rays upon the grassy outskirts of Tazmily, dancing along the young dewdrops that had just begun to take their shape over the tips of unruly blades. The absence of tall streetlamps allowed the sky to be dotted by stars, one-by-one they came out of hiding to greet the two lovers as they basked in the dwindling light.

Despite not having nearly as much to offer him as the countless light sources that littered the city of Tazmily, Ninten found himself drawn to the moon and stars. They reminded him of home, in a way. Even though stars faded with each passing year as the city grew and expanded, seeking to swallow Mother Nature and cover her beauty with blankets of pavement, Ninten found himself counting the stars every night he could manage.

And he taught Claus the constellations, knowing that he may very well be the only person alive to pass this knowledge down.

"That one," Ninten outstretched an index finger towards a small cluster of stars, "is the little dipper."

Claus's weary eyes narrowed to slits as he attempted to pick out the shape of the constellation; the reflection of the distant stars imitated a twinkle in the redhead's gaze that had long since been lost to time. "Why'd they call it that?"

A lighthearted chuckle arose in the black-haired man's chest. "Because if you connect the dots, it looks like a-..." he traced the shape with his hand, "see, like a little ladle!"

Ninten tilted his head to face the other, his rounded cheek catching a few drops of dew as it graced the unkempt grass; he could practically see the gears turning in his boyfriend's head. The way he gained a slight verticle wrinkle between his eyebrows whenever he found himself deep in thought, paired with the ever-so-subtle pout that formed on his lower lip.

"Damn-- I see it, actually," Claus's low, gravelly voice broke the comfortable silence and jolted Ninten out of his trance. "How d'you know all this stuff, Nint?"

"I read it in a book once." Ninten's round eyes flickered back to the endless sky. Claus simply gave a low hum and crossed his arms behind his head; blades of grass rustled beneath him as it flattened to accomodate for his shifting weight.

"You're smart, you know that?"

"Me, smart? God, the number of people who'd kick your shit in for saying that," Ninten would snort as he tried-- and failed-- to hold back a loud laugh. Arms folded over his stomach as the muscles tensed; though the baseball player's giggling would awkwardly trail off into silence when he took note of his lover's unmoving expression. Oh.

"It's just the truth, hun."

... The truth.

Ninten rolled onto his side and draped his arms around the other male, curling up against his partner's bony frame; he felt a shiver crawl up his spine as another cold gust blew past them and prompted Ninten to bury his face into his partner's threadbare army jacket. He squeezed him close in an attempt to glean any warmth from his body. Though Claus's clothing seemed to retain more heat than the man himself.

"Hmph. Yeah, yeah... and you're a big ol' ginger sweetiepie."

With a raspy exhale from his nostrils, Claus slung an arm around Ninten and pulled him closer to his side. Had this unfolded just a few months ago, Claus would have yelped and pushed him off as if Ninten were a bug that fell on his shirt. But he was doomed to warm up to physical contact eventually. He chose the human blanket to love, after all.

Ninten's eyelids drooped shut as if they'd had weights tied to them; he allowed himself the rare pleasure of simply letting the world fade around him. Of letting everything in his surroundings slip from his awareness. Everything except for Claus.

He focused solely on Claus. His low breathing. The worn fabric of his coat. His makeshift heartbeat. His scent. Claus's uniform almost always carried the faint smell of cheap cologne, liquor, and cigarettes-- a mixture of smells that Ninten had grown to find comfort in through Claus alone, despite his inherent distaste for smoke in particular. He respected the fact that Claus never smoked in front of him, so he refrained from getting on his case about it. For now. His ass was not safe from Ninten's nagging if they ever got married.

Married... oh, to live the carefree married life with Claus. Were they even close to that point yet? Not yet, right? As if Ninten had even the faintest idea what a normal marriage looked like. They were only in their 20s, but he still entertained thoughts of their potential future, letting scenarios run through his mind like a dandelion on the wind.

"Tired?" A familiar voice cut through the thick silence and snapped the smaller man to reality yet again. Shit, he had been dozing off. How late even was it?

"Yeah, I--" Ninten was cut off mid-sentence by a long yawn, to which he finally lifted his head from his lover's clothing and scratched at the short black stubble that lined the curve of his chin. "I woke up kinda early today, heh. So yeah."

Claus placed his palms flat on the grass and slowly pushed himself to his twig-like legs, joints popping into function as he straightened himself out. The commander leaned down and would offer a hand to his stargazing partner. "Let's go."

Ninten felt his heart flutter in his chest like a caged bird; he stared up in doe-eyed adoration, gaze falling to Claus's glove as it was offered to him. Ninten accepted, feeling each scratch and indentation etched into the leather. The taller one pulled his beloved up to stand and instinctively wrapped his free arm around Ninten's waist once he was on his feet. Fingers remained laced together.

Ninten's lips parted to speak, but words eluded him, as he met Claus's heavy-lidded pools of deep blue and crimson. As if it moved without thought, his free hand traveled upwards to tangle in Claus's copper hair. Up went those ginger brows. Curious glances flitted between Ninten's hand and his eyes.

The space between them closed until their lips brushed over each other and the two lovers kissed under the moonlight. Despite the familiarity, Ninten's heart pounded in his chest, as if this kiss was his very first-- as if he hadn't shared a kiss with Claus after nearly every date.

When they pulled away, the two simply embraced each other. Ninten's arms draped around Claus's torso with his weary head rested against his chest, feeling the dull hum of machinery against his forehead. It felt right, in a way.

"Wanna sleep at my place?" Ninten spoke without removing himself from his spot.

"Of course I do."

[6-2-aestheticsofhate]

Ultratober day 15-16 character you hate

Technically, saying I hate M/inos or V/2 would be VERY inaccurate because i do like them but sometimes people use them to put down Sisyphus or V1 and THEN I momentarily dislike them but then I bounce back and enjoy them again not long after.

[eusuchia]

rate my fit for going 10 feet down the hall and downstairs to the mini print show

[knifegremliin]

every time i have corn on the cob i just end up hunched over my plate like

[ehh-is-the-name]

More Cobs shenanigans

The same friend I was talking about in the tags of this post I made a while ago wanted to prove once and for all to me that Cobs wasn't homophobic or transphobic or anything by talking to a bot version of him.

Under the cut, because the screenie is a little long. The following was fucking hilarious to see pan out in real-time, but still funny with the context above.

Anyway, it's worse than I thought <3

He wouldn't just disrespect your pronouns, he would ruin your life if you dared to be gay in meeple headquarters-

[wishful-seeker]

Man, kinda crazy people go weeks, months, YEARS, without feeling like shit and something going wrong with their body.

Like when i was i kid i threw up once every couple of years and now i go through it multiple times a day. Its so normal for me, being chronically ill.

[heavy-buddy]

I could give him a real child

[unholycourier]

every day I fly too close to the sun

[soupcrouton]

I could go for a corn on the cob

[star-mum]

Finally able to play The Sims 4 again

[bitchesuntitled]

Softer

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s feeling a tad self-conscious

Warnings/Tags: Humor, No outbreak AU, Tommy being an asshole in a brotherly way, fluff, pregnancy, sympathetic pregnancy, blended families, strip tease, nothing bad happens to Sarah ever and Ellie's your kid, and I think that’s it?

A/N: Thank you much @strang3lov3, @whocaresstillthelouvre, @jay-zzle for your eyes and Jai also for the moodboard!!! 😍🥰😘

This is for @beefrobeefcal’s Joel Sat on Me challenge! I hope you laugh at this as much as I did writing it 😅

Masterlist||AO3

Divider by @saradika-graphics

The gender reveal/baby shower was going off without a hitch. Maria was making sure people knew where to put gifts, Tommy was helping Joel at the grill, while your mom was helping you put the Boy or Girl banner around you. You hate this kind of attention but Maria and your parents both wanted to make a show of it. Despite your arguments on tradition being only for the first baby.

“Well, it’s you and Joel’s first baby together,” Maria deadpanned, all while your mom nodded along.

“Can’t beat that logic!” Your dad grinned.

“Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes, “Good thing it’s the last one too.” 

Joel smirked, his palm caressing your thigh, “It’ll be fine,” he whispered in your ear, “Least there will be cake,” he added with a shrug. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can’t beat that logic!” You reply mockingly, sticking your tongue out.

—

“Mom!” Ellie shouts, “Sarah’s trying to sneak into the cake!”

“Quit being such a narc!” Sarah laughs, playfully smacking Ellie’s arm, “You want to know just as much as I do!”

“Girls!” Joel hollers. “Come help your uncle Tommy set up!”

Both girls walk to the grill, helping Tommy carry hamburgers and hotdogs to the table.

“Alright everyone!” Maria announces, raising her voice to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s eat! Parents-to-be first!”

“Hey momma,” Joel grins, meeting you at the food table and placing a soft kiss on your temple, “What ya in the mood for?”

“More like what is the baby in the mood for?” you grumble, trying to adjust the sash around your body. “I hate this fucking thing,” you hiss.

“Just gotta eat, cut the cake and get through presents then I’ll kick everyone out,” Joel reassures.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble, grabbing a plate and staring at the food. The baby decided it wanted corn on the cob, a burger with all the extras, potato salad, and a small salad with more ranch on it than lettuce.

“Jesus Joel,” Tommy laughed when you both got to one of the tables. “Your woman’s the one eatin’ for two not you!”

Everyone looked at Joel with his plate piled high with two burgers, two hotdogs, and plenty of sides to feed a small army. You saw the flush creeping up his neck as he sat next to you. Joel opened his mouth to say something but Maria interrupted.

“Oh hush,” Maria said, smacking Tommy softly on the shoulder.

“Probably going through that sympathetic pregnancy thing,” a guest piped in. “My husband did that too!”

“Sympathetic pregnancy?” Ellie asked with her mouth full of potato salad. Your mom begins to laugh, shaking her head at Ellie.

“Ellie, gross,” you hiss. “Finish eating before you speak.”

Ellie makes a show of swallowing her food before speaking again. “What the hell is sympathetic pregnancy?”

“Ellie,” you groan. “Language! I haven’t spent the past 13 years raising a hellion!”

“And just think, you’re starting over!” your dad laughs.

Joel, meanwhile, keeps pushing the food around on his plate, taking smaller bites of the sides.

“Okay, googled it!” Sarah announces to the table, wagging her phone and clearing her throat. “Google says, c- cou- nevermind, I’m not even gonna try. Sympathetic pregnancy is a proposed condition in which an expectant father experiences some of the same symptoms and behavior as his pregnant partner. These most often include major weight gain, altered hormone levels, morning nausea, and disturbed sleep patterns.”

“That why you were asking for Pepto the other day at the site?” Tommy asks, nudging Joel’s shoulder before sitting down. “Dealing with some morning sickness as well?”

“Damn it Tommy,” Joel growls, balling up his fist. “If you don’t cut it out-“

“Alright, alright,” Maria hisses. “Enough.” She adds pointing at Tommy.

—

Joel stood in front of the mirror, looking at himself. Marriage had been good to him. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline the moment he got you pregnant. He hadn’t thought about it before but Tommy got in his head. Especially when he announced to everyone at the party it made sense now why Joel had to move his tool belt to the next hole for it to fit.

“Whatcha lookin’ at hot stuff?” You smirk, standing in the doorway of the adjoining bathroom with your toothbrush in hand.

“Thinkin’ I need to go on a diet,” Joel huffs out, turning towards you with his hands on his hips.

“The fuck would you do that for?!”

“Tommy’s ri—“

“I swear if the next words out of your mouth are Tommy’s right.” You pout, trying your best to not let the toothpaste escape your mouth as you move back into the bathroom, spitting into the sink, “I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

Going back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching Joel find his pajamas for the night. Sure, he’s gotten thicker in the middle since you got pregnant. His pants fit a bit tighter around his thighs. His chest, oh god his chest, the way your hands grip onto the meaty pecs he has now. You make a small noise at the memory of this morning before the girls woke up, and how you rode him as best you could with your swollen belly in the way, slick pooling in your underwear.

“What?” Joel asks, turning to look at you, noticing that feral glint in your eyes. He’s seen it more and more as the months have gone by. Sarah’s mom was nothing compared to you at this stage in pregnancy. Revved up and ready to go 24/7 these days.

“Tommy’s got it totally wrong,” you grin, “I love the way you look these days Joel.”

“Yeah?” Joel smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to face you, “what.. uh.. what about it?”

“Dad bod through and through,” you hum, adjusting on the bed to sit a little further back. “Was thinking about this morning, how I can hold onto your chest a little better with your pecs being a little softer.”

“Yeah?” Joel grins, watching your eyes track his fingers as they open the first couple buttons of his flannel, his chest barely peeking out through the fabric, “Should I put on a show?”

“I wanna see my man!” you let out a breath nodding your head eagerly.

“Feel like we need some music or something,” Joel says, letting out a shy laugh, trailing his palms down the front of his shirt, popping open more of the buttons. You begin humming 70’s porno music, “No thank you, that’s enough.”

You shrug letting out a giggle as he continues unbuttoning his shirt, his strong chest and thick belly being revealed as he rips the flannel shirt back in a dramatic fashion, spreading his legs wide and tilting his head to sway his curls behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Napoleon Dynamite. Ya gonna take it off or what?”

“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, straightening up, pinning you with a look, pulling his flannel back over his shoulders, “Listen, I’ve never done this for anybody. I’d ‘preciate if ya didn’t make rude comments.”

You clear your throat and lean your arms back against the bedding to prop yourself up, “Sorry, horny goblins took over, proceed.”

With his flannel shirt open, he starts flipping his belt open, stalking towards you, nodding your head at this new development, sliding his belt out quickly from his belt loops causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“Mmmm,” you moan softly, thighs squeezing together, and squirming on the bed “Joel. You look so fucking good like this.”

Joel spins around to show you his backside before slipping one shoulder of the flannel off, turning his head to the side with a smirk as he slowly slides it off his arm, followed by the other. You hear the button and zipper of his jeans sliding down. He begins teasing you with his jeans, dropping them some before pulling them back up and swiveling his hips, he puts one foot on the opposite leg to try and help pull the leg out.

“Fuck!” He yelps, as he falls back sitting on you, “Shit that wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Ow!” You groan, smacking his ass to get him to move. He rolls off you to lay beside you on the bed.

“You good?” Joel asks, laying on his side next to you, placing his palm on your belly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you grin, placing your hand on top of his with a sigh. “No Magic Mike in here, but for your first attempt that was good Miller,” you add with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Joel grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Fuck. Please!” You groan, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

[bouncybongfairy]

Everything & The Kitchen Sink

Butch Wolverine x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Logan promised to come home early from the bar after her shift. You make dinner and get ready only for her to come home late and drunk. This some how leads to the two of you tribbing on the counter.

Word Count: 1.0k+

TW: Fingering, Tribbing, Nipple Play, Squirting

(THIS IS A W|W FANFIC)

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were cleaning up the kitchen after making dinner. Logan was supposed to be home over an hour ago, she was working as a bouncer at a local bar. She promised you she’d come straight from work, you’d spent all day preparing for just that. Cleaning the entire apartment, did all the laundry, made dinner, ect. Took a long shower, exfoliated and moisturized. You already wrapped her plate up and stored it in the microwave. Preoccupying yourself by watching TV until you fall asleep. 

Logan carefully unlocked the door and saw you laying so still and statuesque. In comparison to what she sees at the bar all day you truly looked like an angel. The light of the television casting on you like you were glowing. She was past tipsy but not staggering or anything, she liked seeing how peaceful you were; knowing that once you woke up it’d be a completely different story. She opened the microwave and started salivating, it was her favorite. Baked potato with sour cream and chives, corn on the cob, two slabs of steak cooked medium rare, grilled shrimps and roasted carrots. 

It looked so amazing she didn’t bother heating it back up. Stuffing her face, only using utensils when she had too. She hadn’t eaten anything before or during work and drank on an empty stomach. It was like the plate was fucking glowing. Lighting the cigar she had tucked behind her ear. Too drunk to care that she was sparking up inside. She came over to you and ran her finger along your bare thigh. Wearing her tee shirt and the band of your panties peeking out. 

“Mmhm, you’re so soft,” she grumbled to herself, letting her calloused hand run up and down your skin. Stirring you awake and gently letting her body fall on top of yours. You were starting to stir awake, remembering how late Logan was. You push against her shoulders but she doesn’t care. Continuing to kiss your neck and grope your chest. The liquor and burnt smell of the cigar coming from her breath only reminded you of her loyalty to the bar. 

“You’re late,” you huffed, sitting up and trying to get out of her grip.

“Was a late night baby,” she mumbled.

“And you're drunk,” you said, successfully wiggling out of her grip. Picking up the coat she let drop on the floor when coming home. Logan took this opportunity to grip your hips and thrust herself against you. 

“So?” she laughed, pulling at the waistband of your panties and letting them snap against your skin. Entertained by how you jumped and squealed when the elastic hit you.

“I waited for a long time… I was all excited and you left me waiting..” you trail off. It sober her up a bit, knowing that you had waited for her while she lollygagged at the bar. Logan didn’t realize how much her company meant to you. Probably due to her own insecurity but she missed seeing the way she undervalued herself was affecting you. She wrapped her arms around you and pulled you to her chest. 

“I should have come right home. I’m sorry,” she said, kissing the top of your head. 

“It’s okay, I know you have a lot going on. Just promise for next time,” you said, wrapping your arms around her waist, “I’m glad you ate,” you said, noticing her dishes on the counter. 

Logan wasn’t paying attention anymore, now completely focused on running her hands down your body. She couldn’t get your smell out of her nose and it was starting to affect her self control. You were oblivious to how worked up she was becoming, Instead being off in your own little world. As much as you hated her cigar habit, the smell was somewhat comforting now as much as you complained about it. Sometimes you’d avoid washing the smoke smell off hoodies and pillow cases. You moved your hands up to her hair, brushing the loose stands out of her face. Eventually running your nails down her arms, you could feel the goosebumps form; her body hair standing somewhat making you giggle. 

She was breathing hard, especially when you looked up at her. Big doe-eyes staring up at her, eyelashes fluttering and hair messy from your nap. Logan smashed her mouth against yours, bringing her hands up to cup your face. Pressing herself against you, pinning your body to the kitchen island. Her thumbs rubbing your face as you work your tongues together. It was sloppy and getting more heated by the minute. She grabs you by the waist and sets you on the counter. Her eyes damn near boggling while watching the recoil of your breast from being sat down so hard. 

She grabbed the hem of the shirt and pulled it over your head, exposing your chest. Seeing her so animalistic and feral was making your stomach feel inflamed. A deep blush covering your face and neck while wetness starts to drip down your folds; Logan herself felt a heartbeat in her jeans. Your noses were pressed together and you could smell the whiskey on her breath. Normally it would bother you but it was undeniable that when Logan was drunk she didn’t hold back during sex. Normally she was more gentle, enjoying giving you pleasure. The liquor made her more brutish and unfiltered and it was so fucking hot. 

Hearing all the filth that slipped past her lips that normally went unheard due to her shyness. Using her strength against you, biting down on your soft skin with brutal force. Logan pecked your lips before moving down to your chest. Taking one of your nipples into her mouth and starts sucking and flicking her tongue. You ran your fingers through her hair and moaned loudly. Arching your back and balling your fists up in her hair. Your legs immediately begin to tremble from the pleasure. So sensitive from the anticipation that has been building in your belly all day. Resting your lips on the top of her head while groaning and whimpering into her hair. She pulled your panties to the side and used her middle finger to feel around your folds. 

Smearing your wetness all over your lips before pushing two fingers into your entrance. She was completely zoned out, having your tit in her mouth while curling and pumping her fingers in and out of you. Any time she nips at the senstative bud you tighten yourself around her fingers; only encouraging her to do it more. Your walls felt so velvety against her digits. She broke out of her daze and pulled away from you slightly to see your face and God what a sight it was. You were completely red in the face, practically panting trying to catch your breath. 

Eyebrows furrowed and nipples puffy and swollen; a light from above the kitchen island shining down on you. Making your chest glisten from the saliva covering your breast. You pulled her onto the counter to join you and started tugging at her jeans, which she quickly took off. Laying her back against the cold tile of the island. Before climbing on top of her, you sink your tongue between her folds. Spitting and flicking your tongue around, looking up to see Logan on her elbows. Cursing and sputtering while pushing herself against your mouth. Getting a little too excited you reach up and try grabbing at her chest. She snatches your wrists and pulls you towards her; now straddling her, you knees on either side of her hips.

 “I’m not that drunk,” she huffs and starts gripping your hips, prompting you to start grinding your hips. 

Now rubbing each other's sexes together, your wet folds sliding between one another. The tile was hurting your knees a bit but it didn’t stop you from quickening your pace. Finding the perfect rhythm, your clits continuously brushing against each other. Logan was arching her hips up, positioning herself so she could watch you ride her. Sitting up on her elbows and watching your tits bounce, saliva dripping onto her stomach. Too pussy-drunk to care if you were drooling or not.

“I’m cumming…” you groan out, taking her off guard.

Grabbing two handfuls of Logan's hair and pinning her fisting to the counter below you two. Your fists on either side of her head while riding out your orgasm. Squirting without stopping grinding your hips, causing the wetness to spread and spalsh all over Logan’s stomach. She immediately cums from watching you unraveling into a squirting fucked out mess. Digging her nails into your hips while thrusting her hips up, trying to get closer to you. Crying out, so overstimulated and jerking your hips forward. You collapsed on her chest, not giving a fuck about sleeping in your own wetness. Logan was too drunk to care, using the tee shirt to cover you like a blanket and falling asleep with you on her chest.

[writella]

More Negan x reader pllsss😔😔😔

pls the emojis are sending me hahahah! let me know how you like it!

Thinking of Negan who daydreams about the reader who always has the cutest outfits when she comes to visit— ♡

cw: negan x fem!reader, smut— masturbation (m) and descriptive allusions to sexual situations, very desperate and depraved Negan because he is in jail, and reader being cute and nice and just too irresistible :) + I wrote this with a little bit of Negan’s crude humor in mind. wc: 2.1k. slightly proofread.

Negan never thought he would stoop so low.

Not like some 20 year old guy living in his mom’s basement; the type he’d talk shit to then completely demolish on a game; one who drinks monsters and watches porn on the daily back in the old B.W. (Before Walkers— for those of you who are uncultured) era.

That was beneath him.

If he needed it, there was his wife of course, or some chic he could hook up with at the bar, but— let’s not remind him of that. That is a wound that needs no further reopening. He was ashamed of it and everything else he’s done enough as it is. Not to mention, it sure doesn’t help that he was reminded of every single heinous act he has ever committed in the A.W. years by the grand total 5 patrons that have visited his cell every- single-god-damn- day.

But now, there was a new thing to cause him great shame.

A girl.

You.

You who gives him his meals on Fridays—Gabriel’s day off. You who just can’t help but stay 5, 10, sometimes even 30 minutes after you give him his food because he always makes you laugh. You, one of the town’s gardeners, who throws in fresh strawberries during breakfast and an extra cob of corn during dinner when you know you shouldn’t. You who didn’t eat your cookie from Carol’s monthly batch she brought from the Kingdom because you gave it to him instead. You with your three sets of overalls and far too many sundresses, yet you only had one sunhat, one pair of gardening gloves, and one pair of waterproof boots.

You were way too generous with him and a little too passionate about your clothing to the point he thinks you must forget you’re living in the zombie apocalypse, but you were skilled, kind-hearted, and you liked to smile; you actually had conversations with him instead of that kumbaya shit Gabriel’s always on; and he’d be damned say you weren’t really pretty. Because you are. You’re real fuckin’ pretty.

And Negan was obsessed.

He thought about you constantly.

Like how he knew you must have always picked off the strawberries stems for him before you put them on his plate. And how he definitely knew you must have offered to give him his lunch and dinners on Fridays: He remembers that Gabriel told him that this would only be a morning thing, that the council advised him to have one day off because he was a new father. But, as dutiful as he is (and as weary as he was to bring someone else around Negan), he agreed only to breakfast. That way, he could sleep in, eat with Rosita and the kids, and not feel like he completely burdened someone else with a responsibility that was only meant to be his. Negan figured you were just that kind, that you must have been the one to offer up your Friday mornings to Gabriel. How you must have been the one to ask to come back two more times throughout the day, you must have. For Gabriel, of course, to help. But maybe you just liked him. He liked imagining that. In fact, he believed it.

He also liked to imagine that maybe you were dressing up for him. He sure loved your little outfits. Your overalls were your work clothes but still, you always looked so darn cute, always finding small ways to accessorize or make it feel more like your personality. It was all so innocent really, but he couldn’t help but find it incredibly sexy— how pretty and oblivious you were to how you looked, how your clothes fit you. He often daydreamed of fucking you in every single one.

The first, the overalls you wore most often for work, was full length and completely baggy on you— he figured it must have been for a man. It was old, the hem was fraying in some areas, and it did nothing for your figure really but it was soft, durable, had many pockets and you typically put scraps of ribbon or lace you found on the straps, right on the shoulder. And his favorite part, you were often wearing a crop top with it. He could always see the side of your breast, your waist, sometimes even a tiny bit more depending on how you turned. Sometimes he thought of you in that tight little floral tank of yours. How one day maybe he’d tell you to, “take it off,” and you’d obediently drop the overalls to the floor; or maybe it would be you, while you’re on your way out: you turn around, gathering up enough courage after all this time to look him in the eye as you take off your boots and unclip the straps and let the denim fall, leaving you in only that tank and your panties. He imagines how you’d push yourself into the corner where the door was, look out the small window to see if anyone was coming, and then you’d face him again, keeping eye contact as you slipped your fingers inside your underwear and started to rub your clit, fast. Wordlessly, his jumpsuit would come off too and his hand would go straight to pumping his cock. Mesmerized by the sight of you being so unlike yourself because you wanted him just that bad, so bad neither you, nor he, could speak. Only pants and moans and grunts and “fucks,” to be heard in the room.

The second and the third was an overall dress and one with shorts. The first time you wore the dress, he remembers it was a Friday that a lot of people had left town. Unfortunately a kid got lost so many people went out to search with the family. Thankfully for Negan though, this included Gabriel, Michonne, and the two other people who tended towards Negan. Gabriel had assigned you to keep a closer watch on him that day, that the days like this where the regular schedule is thrown off is the time he might try something— Gabriel is still angry at himself for the time Negan escaped— so you took it upon yourself to bring an activity: cards. After you won a second time, Negan had playfully thrown his cards on the floor, two of them slipping past the bars and past you. You had turned to see where they went and reached forward on your knees, arm extending to get them. You weren’t directly turned but Negan sure did take the small chance he got to move more towards his right and catch a closer glimpse of your exposed thighs and color of your underwear. After you left that day he imagined that right at that moment he grabs you by the hips, pushed your ass up against the bars and pushed your panties down so he could slide into you, fucking you through the bars as much as he could, probably giving the bottom of your ass red marks every time he bangs into you against the steel.

With the shorts, he thought of scenarios more or less the same as with your full length ones. The difference is that your ass looked great in those shorts and sometimes he imagined you pushing your back against the cell bars so he could push his front against it, giving him some friction. Him telling you that it’s been years, but you’re shy and scared and you don’t want to get caught so you just do that, allow him to rub against you as you look out the window to make sure no one is coming. He imagines that you can't help but start sighing, squeezing your thighs together, moaning when he wraps his arms around your waist through the bars. One hand snaking up to grope your breast while the other cups your mound over your overalls and you rock into his hand as he presses in on you hard. You almost lose your breath, taking a sharp inhale that freezes to a halt. Finally, you'd whisper, “That feels so good,” followed by a whine. And he’d respond to you in your ear, “I know, baby.” A big wet spot is slowly appearing on your jeans and you’re not even looking out the window, your eyes are rolling back until they closed and you’re just making these tiny pathetic sounds because you can’t believe how incredible his touch is, even when you’re given so little, and how bad you’ve wanted him even though you’ve tried to deny it. “No one else makes me feel like this,” you’d tell him, to which he repeats, deep, dark, and sultry as he kisses the back of your head, “I know, baby. I know.”

Lastly, there were those sundresses. Sometimes he’d see you in them when you brought him dinner. If you could, you would freshen up before your own dinner because you got off from work early and didn’t want to be in your work clothes anymore or maybe you were having dinner with friends or Gabriel and Rosita— he often treated you because of your care for Negan on Fridays. Most people liked to pretend Negan doesn't exist, or unsolicitedly proclaimed to you and Gabriel with disgust how they would never dare go anywhere near the jailhouse, that you two must be saints, so he finds what you’re doing to be a big sacrifice. Therefore, he often invites you for meals and he and Rosita are either on the look out or ask savangers to bring back any dresses in your size. But it was a time that Negan least expected to see you that he saw you in what became his favorite dress.

It was on a Wednesday. Certainly after 12am or close to it. People were asleep, but you were sneaking towards his cell. Apparently someone from work had ground some chocolate from her wife that worked as a savager. She gave you a few pieces but you never ate them and forgot about them until you were doing some late night cleaning on your day off, so you came to treat Negan. The dress you were wearing was the tiniest thing he’d seen you in. As in, it could have been a mid-length dress on Judith. It was a deep pink color, almost purple, with small flowers in a different shade of the same family all around it. It had these very short, very slightly puffed sleeves. He could tell that it was a dress that flowed out, but that didn’t stop the material from showing your curves. He knew for a fact that if you bent over you would be giving anyone behind you a show, but honestly with how much your legs were exposed, you walking around in that must have been enough to make anyone’s head turn. Immediately he started thinking about him outside of this cell, as your man, seeing you strut around town in it, how he’d push you to the side behind a house, ask you if you wore it for him, if you were trying to make him jealous, and then fuck you hard. Then he remembers that you’re offering him chocolate, and saying that you know you shouldn’t be here, so he saves those thoughts for after you leave. You start tugging on your dress, trying to make it longer and he thanks you. Truly, that was your house dress. It was always a little snug on the top so you could never wear a bra with it regardless and you had accidently washed in your sink with hot water— you had a knack for not reading clothing labels— and it shrank. You only remember how short it is now after not wearing it outside for so long and seeing how Negan’s eyes widened at you as you came in. Did you do it on purpose? you both now question. You decide it doesn’t matter, telling yourself you were just doing something nice and you run off to bed quickly. As for him, he cares as much as he doesn’t: of course he wants you to like him and he still has a big ego enough to assume you do, especially after tonight, but most importantly you just gave him more fuel for his imagination while he’s stuck here which is enough for now.

After fucking himself when you left, he still woke up rock hard the next morning. Waking up late, he had to act quick before Gabriel came with his breakfast. He used one of his favorite methods of pushing his bed to the side, and placing himself in the darkest corner of his cell, his figure facing the wall. He’d take himself out and as always, start to pump. He places his hand on the wall for leverage and he pretends he’s fucking you against the wall. He imagines that one night you say you can’t sleep and ask if you can sleep with him in his bed. How he would be such a gentleman and say that a lady wasn’t good enough to sleep in his crappy cell, but that instead he knew another way to tire you out. One the two of you could do fast so you wouldn’t get caught. That one always got him to his climax so fast— the thought of you needing him so much that you would come inside his cell, stay on his bed until morning, get in trouble for him. It would make him come like a bullet, hard and fast.

Safe to say, Negan loves Fridays.

[huunni]

SQUIRTING WITH UR FAV <3

who dis? whoever u want it ta be!! 😻 x BLACK!FEM!reader

huunni drops → cussin, pwop (corn without plot.. corn without cob? no that's stupid) WHAT ELSE I MISS?

smut ↓

"take that shit bitch...fuck you thought this was?" his voice is so mean and punishing, it makes you squeeze his dick harder and your legs twitch in his hold. "look at'chu... not so fuckin- shit, tough now, is you?"

your head turns to the side as he bullies your g-spot, the tears falling from your cheeks as you babble out broken sorries, barely audible over the music playing in the background. you are definitely not tough now. he grabs your throat and u turn to face him. "i asked you a fuckin question."

you shake your head, your silent submission being enough for him to keep fucking your weeping cunt. every vein sliding through your walls felt like someone was adding fuel to the fire of your orgasm. all you could do was sit there and moan, rolling your eyes so high that you closed them shut.

you feel the fire twisting, it's a feeling you've never felt before and as much as it scares you, you can't run away from it, you don't want to run away from it. your back arches further away from the bed, your stomach and his almost touching. he won't let up, telling you over and over again that you aren't in charge of shit, that you love this dick, and that you better cum all ova his shit, or he won't let you cum till he does.

and that's when the fire turns into a full in hellbent inferno. your legs are shaking in spasms around his waist, the moans coming out of your mouth are those out of a porno. you can't feel anything and yet feel too much at the same time. he keeps fucking you as you squirt all over his abdomen and legs, groaning deeply at the sensation. his own nut isn't far behind, holding your side as he roughly finishes inside you and falls to your side.

"fuck, baby... that was so hot...shit." he catches his breath while rubbing your wet stomach, unbothered by the uncomfortable amount of liquid that surrounds the two of you in the bed.

onyankopon, eren, aizawa, bakugo, connie, namjoon, hoseok, nanami, toji, minho, ur fav <3