#not that we ever needed heavy moderating

[aurosoulart]

currently wrangling some other AR artist friends to be regular guest appearances and to help out with streams :))))

we’re at 2% closer now babey

I have officially finally tentatively began designing my new Twitch overlay

we are 1% closer to resuming art streams again 🎉

[stnexus]

a slip of the tongue…!

jason todd x fem!black!reader

MINORS DNI, NSFW, 18+

summary: stressful days and sleepless nights, jason has a remedy for that one. just don’t give him any attitude, that’s all he asks.

cw: minor little heated argument (reader literally just has a lil freak out moment), a few mentions of jason’s scars, reader is stressed, insomnia (?), reader thinks jason’s mad for a second but that gets cleared up quick, nsfw, squeaky bed frame(?), praise kink, overstimulation, dumbification, dacryphillia, oral (f!receiving), squirting, creampie, mating press, missionary, cowgirl, this one kinda sensual you guys (i need this man so bad. tonight…we FEAST.)

names used (?): baby, pretty, pretty girl, beautiful, beautiful girl, good girl, daddy (used in moderation you guys)

word count: 3.5k+ (yet i was struggling to write my 1.2k final essay. THIS IS 12 FUCKING PAGES.)

A slam of the front door was all that rang throughout the house, the pitch black darkness was like a cold greeting. One that you had gotten used to when you would come home from work late in the evening. With Jason on his patrol and the house void of  anyone else, you were left to your own devices. Something that you sometimes wish was not the case. 

Dropping your keys on to the side table of your Gotham apartment, you pushed your heels off and kicked them out of the way of the front door. Flipping the light switch up and to the on position soon after. As your bare feet connected with  the cold wood flooring of the apartment, it seemed to ground you just a bit. 

This week at work had been hell, your boss had been working you so much you felt like if you blinked within his line of sight he would scold you for goofing off. So here you were. Sore feet, skirt and blouse cladded body tired as ever. Stripping yourself of your clothes one by one you held the pile of clothing in your arms until you reached your room, gliding through it to the connected bathroom.

Dropping the clothing in the hamper in the bathroom, you glanced at yourself in the mirror above the sink. Your eyes were glazed over from your tiredness, your pretty brown skin was beginning to lack its glow, and the bags under your eyes were getting heavier by the minute. Stressed wasn’t even the word needed to explain your state of being. 

Another sigh fell from your lips, and a yawn followed soon after as you made your way to the shower. grabbing your pink bonnet off the sink where you had left it, you gathered your braids and tucked them into the bonnet, the band laying snug on your forehead. you hoped that the water that would soon come beating down against your skin could help you become less stressed. 

your shower was therapeutic, but not enough to fully ease your mind. no, what you needed and wanted was jason. you had missed him all day — knowing your home would be empty when you arrived home due to him needing to tend to important matters. as you climbed into bed, dressed in pajamas that consisted of an old shirt and shorts, the squeak of the old bed frame that needed to be replaced welcomed you. 

i need to remind jason to help me pick out another bed frame next weekend. your thoughts rang.

grabbing at his pillow on his side of the bed, you pulled it towards you. his scent seemingly pulls you out of the brain fog you were currently in, just slightly. but it is still not enough. soon you would realize even attempting to fall asleep was futile. even though your eyelids were heavy and begged for rest.

you tossed and turned for hours, huffing out a frustrated sigh many times into the dark bedroom. peeling your eyes open you peered at the alarm clock that read ten minutes to five in the morning. it dawned on you that it had been  almost six hours that you had been fighting to fall asleep.

shaking your head as you grumbled, you stretched your limbs as you pulled yourself from the bed. your bonnet slipped off in the process, but you paid it no attention. trudging out of the room to make way to the kitchen. grabbing a cup from the cupboard, you pulled the fridge open as you grabbed the bottle of juice and opened it. beginning to pour it, that's when you heard it—

it was the sound of familiar heavy boots hitting the wooden floors of your apartment. even though happiness played at the edge of your mind, your face barely portrayed it. you slightly jumped as your eyes met his own as he stood in the entrance of the kitchen. jason’s arrival was quiet, surely because he was confused about who was in your kitchen this time of morning. seeing as you were usually asleep.

“what’re you doing up, baby?” 

his question flowed through the air as he began to close the gap between you two. his helmet was nowhere to be seen, most likely tucked away somewhere in your apartment.

“couldn’t sleep,” your words came out rougher than you had intended. there was a beat of silence but it washed away as jason spoke again. his brows furrowed for a minute then relaxed as he rubbed a hand over his face, fingers running over his scars for a mere second. 

“so, before i forget, bruce wants the whole family to come over for dinner saturday,” he informed as he backed away slowly, sitting at your dinner table as he pulled off his boots. “said he’s not taking no for an answer.”

“jason, i don’t know—” you tried to inject, though he had not seemed to notice.

“i’m sure alfred will probably be cooking almost all day tomorrow, in preparation. everyone eats like they’ve never seen food before—”

“jason, fuck, i already have enough on my plate right now. my boss is up my ass every time i walk into the office. i’m up to my neck in paperwork, all because he decided to spontaneously lay off two of my coworkers. i haven’t been able to sleep one bit, even though i’m tired. on top of that, i have to work on saturday. i don’t have the time to worry about a fucking dinner at bruce’s house.”

the kitchen filled with silence as you stood in front of the fridge. jason’s eyes taking in your current state as he sat still after your outburst. your braids cascaded down your back, but the few that slipped over your shoulder to frame your face made him aware of the bags that began to form. you looked overwhelmed, stressed even. he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize at first — which usually doesn’t happen.

“…you do seem tired, baby. i’m sorry i didn’t notice,” jason broke the silence. “how about we go to the room, i know exactly what you need to get to sleep.” 

“no, jay i’m sorry– ”

“it’s nothing to be sorry for, baby. i’m not angry,” jason ensured as he stood and walked over to you. grabbing at your free hand and pulling you towards him, taking the cup of juice from your hand. your head laid on his chest momentarily. “how about you go to the room? clothes off for me by the time i get in there, pretty girl.”

the weakening bed frame squeaks once again as you drop onto the mattress, jason grabs onto your ankle and dragged you closer to him as he got on the bed soon after. grabbing softly at your face, he slightly squished your cheeks together as he leaned down towards you to plant a peck on your lips that drifted into a heated kiss. without words, he pulled away, placing slow, open-mouth kisses down your neck — one of his hands grabbing at one of your breasts as he tweaked and played at your nipple. 

you felt completely vulnerable with how he was completely dressed; having quickly showered in the guest bathroom to give you some space. jason had dressed in a simple black shirt and gray sweatpants. his scent flooding your senses

“ you feel so soft, baby,” jason complimented,  “ ‘could play with this pretty body all day, every day.”

his words pulled a moan from your lips. reaching out to brush your hand over his hair you let out a small gasp as his lips wrapped around the nipple he had just toyed with. your hand tightened just a little around his hair, a flurry of black and whitened strands peaking through your finger as your acrylics ran over his scalp. his tongue dragging soft circles around the hardened bud at that moment. pulling away after almost two minutes, jason placed a kiss right above your nipple — then repeated his earlier actions with your neglected nipple. 

“pretty fucking tits,” jason grunts, eyes darkening as he looks up at you with your nipple between his lip, “such a beautiful girl.” 

“shit— thank you, daddy,” you let out as his hand snaked between you two. pushing your thighs that parted to accommodate him apart even more. feeling his rough fingertips part your slick folds in a teasing manner, you whined for some sort of friction and lifted your hips at his actions. to which jason listened as he sat his palm right above your cunt, thumb dipping downward to rub tight and heavy-handed little circles over your clit. 

“ ‘s that feel good, pretty girl?” 

“y—yeah,” you stutter out. 

“you know all i wanna do is make you feel good, right?”

“yeah, you make me feel so good, jay”

“so the next time you feel overwhelmed,” jason began as he began to lay kisses down your torso, stopping just below your navel, “don’t bring that attitude to me. just talk to me, ‘ya understand?”

“yes, f—fuck, i’m sorry daddy,”

locking eyes with you, jason licked a long stripe over your cunt. his tongue caressing your attentive clit. he did it a few more times before wrapping his lips around your hardened bud, taking harsh sucks at it as if he were trying to pull an orgasm from you. 

“ ‘taste so fuckin’ good,” jason spoke as his eyelids became heavy with lust, “nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout baby.”

feeling his hands drag over your inner thighs your hips seemed to move on their own as you attempted to grind against him. only for jason to let out a moan around your clit, hands now close enough to feel a thick finger prodding at your slit. sliding in slowly as his eyes trained on your face. the drag of his finger in and out of you was mind numbing as he found your most vulnerable spot within mere seconds — feeling you clench around him in approval of his actions.

“ ‘you gonna cum all over daddy’s face?”

“yes…!”

your dragged-out and whined confession was followed by almost immediate proof. the walls of your cunt clench around jason as he adds a second finger, tongue still dragging over your clit. a sheen of your cream decorating his fingers as you came crashing down.

“that’s it, baby, let it out,” jason spoke as softly as he could. lapping at every bit of your essence he could take in as if he would be ripped away at any second. though, your release did not stop him. his fingers continued to work you open as he pulled his mouth away from your cunt. watching as you clenched around his fingers repeatedly from the lack of a break. adding a third finger, jason listened to the moan you squeaked out in response. 

he was so attentive towards you, so it had not  shocked him when you declared that you were on the verge of cumming yet again. instead, he buried his tongue between your folds once again. his tongue heavy and wide as he parted your cunt. licking and kissing at your clit as if he were making out without it. 

“j—jay don’t stop,” you begged as your hips chased after his tongue. 

“mhm,” he hummed in agreeance, the vibrations from his response knocking you over the edge. the last moan you drew out hitched in your throat and slowly progressed into a slight whine. your thighs closing around his head, to which jason used his free hand to open them once more.

“there you fucking go, good girl,” jason groaned out a praise, laying a single kiss on your clit before he sat up from his position on the bed. bending down towards you to plant a messy kiss on your lips, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. as he pulled back you took in his disheveled look as he took in your somewhat dazed look from reaching your high twice. watching as he pulled his shirt off, you were greeted by the scar that spanned across his chest and abdomen.

“that was just two,” jason spoke, “i want to see you cum until you can’t think.” 

it was something you knew he would follow through with. especially when he laid you back down, spreading your legs once more as he tugged his sweats and boxers off in one go, getting you to wrap around his waist. with his knees digging into the mattress he slid his cock back and forth between your sticky folds, groaning as his tip met your clit and caused you to twitch due to sensitivity. wasting no time, he lined up his tip with your entrance. sliding in gently, he placed a hand between your breast, slightly pushing you into the mattress, while his other hand gripped your hip.

you could feel him filling you inch by inch, stretching you out as he pushed himself into you. your mouth slightly agape as he reached the hilt and left you with a moment to adjust.

“you’re so tight,” he slurred out, “ ‘thought i opened you up enough with my fingers, baby. loosen up for me.”

“i’m trying, jay— fuck, ‘feels like you’re in my stomach,” you replied in shaky voice. which only caused jason to grin in response. 

“you poor thing, you can take it. i know you can.” 

pulling his hips away from your own he swings them downward onto you, repeatedly. drawing — in his own words — the prettiest sound from your lips. his own moans and grunts slipped through at times, his sounds making you feel just as good as his actions. 

“oh shit, you feel so good daddy,” you swore as your fingers found a purchase wrapped around the hand pushing you into the mattress, the scars decorating them lying just beneath your fingertips. his strokes were sensual and deep — like he planned on driving you crazy. if he wanted you to think of nothing else but him he was definitely on the right track.

“yeah…? i want you to show me how good it feels. cum for me,” jason stated as his hand reach up at your cheeks, “you know what i want. let me see you cream all over me again.” 

“jason you’re so nasty,” you forced out as his hip persisted. you were growing a bit embarrassed at how you were squeezing at jason’s cock, his stamina surely helped him wade off his release. 

“i know you ain’t complaining,” he said with a huffed out laugh. a few swears falling from his lips as he pushed the feeling of wanting to cum far down his list of priorities.

“i—i’m not, shit, i’m cumming…!”

“cumming so good you’re trying to milk me i swear,” jason groaned out as he watched the layer of your sticky orgasm cover his cock, “fuck— not yet though, ‘gotta make sure i take all that stress away.”

it felt like he had already done so, with the way your mind became fuzzy as you surged through your third release. jason’s hips barely skipping a beat as he fucked you through it, prolonging the feeling of ecstasy. your words were starting to fail you as he pulled you down the mattress and stood to his full height at the foot of the bed. he raised one of your legs over his shoulder, the other following soon after as he pulled you into a mating press. 

grabbing at his forearms that he planted firmly on each side of you, you swore you could feel him everywhere as he pushed himself into you again. the feeling starting to become overwhelming as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. kissing at your brown cheeks he stilled for a moment as his eyes softened. 

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” jason spoke as his lips met yours again, “i’m so lucky to have such a hardworking, intelligent girl.”

amidst him praising you, he began to move. feeling as though he was trying to dig you out in the current position. 

“ ‘l—love you,” was all you seemed to let out as your words drifted off into useless babbling. his hips hitting the back of your thighs with each thrust as he planted a kiss on one of your legs.

“you know i love you too, baby.”

the room seemed to grow hotter as the bed frame below you squeaked at jason’s well paced thrusts. the little hair that began to grow in on his happy trail becoming covered in your slick as he rubbed against your clit with each thrust.

this time you were unable to even form the words to warn him of what was to come. you felt a tightness in your lower stomach that seemed to get worse with each movement from him. but this one felt different. the constant rubbing against your sensitive cunt in combination to him stretching you out was like he was trying to break you.

“that’s it, i know. i know, baby,” jason cooes as he reads your face, “all you need is to be fucked out. make a mess for me.”

you swore you saw stars as you gripped at jason’s arms. surely leaving impressions of your acrylics on his skin as you came. spurts of clear fluid bouncing off his abdomen as he continued to push himself in and out. 

“f—fuck, i need you to do that one more time.”

it was not long before you found yourself on top of him, bouncing as good as you could with how tired you were becoming. pushing his cock into your overly spent cunt, he had let you sink down at your own pace. it took everything in him to hold himself back but tonight was not about him. jason wanted to live up to his earlier statements: all he wants to do is make you feel good.

he watched as your bouncing started to become sloppy, your legs weak from the many times you had cum before. reaching his hands out, he intertwined his fingers with your own as he took in your fucked out state. 

“need me to help you, pretty girl?” 

“y—yes please,” 

that was all it took for him to pull you towards him. your head falling onto the white pillows beside his head, your face right next to his. taking a second to place your hands behind your back, he held your wrist together with one hand as he grabbed at your waist with the other. your knees stayed planted onto the mattress as he positioned himself. fucking up into you, his own hips pushing you up and down. the bedframe squealing under his continuous movements seemed to encourage him even more.

“ ‘treat me so good, daddy,” your whines were broken and tired. he was sure you would sleep nice and good when you two were done. but for now a chuckle left his mouth.

“you deserve it,” jason spoke in between his own breathy moans, “you work so hard, fuck—  yeaaa… squeeze me just like that. you are worth everything, baby.” 

the tears that had been playing at your eyes since he had you at the edge of the bed seemed to fall at the ringing of his words in your ears. feeling your heartbeat quicken and your stomach tighten you forced yourself to make sense through your nonsense rambling.

“ ‘wanna kiss, jay.” 

to which he didn’t complain. his hips never faltered as he turned his head towards you, connecting your lips once again. groaning as he felt you gripping around his cock as if he were attempting to leave your soaked cunt.

“want me to fill you up?” he questioned in between the kiss. a question you tried your best to answer but only forced out a mumble of mhm, yea. 

it didn’t take long, as you reached your peak, squirting once more as it dripped down jason’s balls. his lips were still on yours as his hips stuttered, moments later flooding your cunt with ropes of white cum. despite not looking down, you could feel his cum leaking from between your legs as you gushed around him. only for him to fuck back up into you a few more times before slowly pulled himself from your pussy.

“how do you feel, baby?” he questioned as he let your hands go. the hand that was on your waist moving to remove a braid from your vision as it had begun to slip as he adjusted himself under you. he had put his body flat against the mattress and allowed you too just lay on him in your fucked out state. 

“tired,” you replied as much as your worn out body would allow you. 

“how about we go pee, then when we get back we can both sleep all you want? i don’t have to handle patrol tomorrow, Dick’s got it covered.”

“mhm…i’d like that.”

“thought so. and don’t worry, i’ll handle that boss of yours, go ahead and call off for Saturday,” jason smiled fondly as he grabbed at your body. gearing up to pick you up and help you to the bathroom.

[heich0e]

touya should NOT get in bed with you when you have as much as an hint of a cold, that man has the immune system of a wet rag, always heaving and wheezing. one sneeze and he's GONE, just a pile of bones and staples amen

but he DOES. (based on this post)

"thirty eight point three."

your eyelids feel heavy as you peer up at touya, standing over you at the edge of your bed. between his fingers is the thermometer he'd just plucked from your lips once it beeped to signal it was ready to be read, and upon his brow is an unhappy furrow. his bright eyes flicker from the digital screen of the device to you.

"that's a fever," he says solemnly, as though delivering the gravest possible news.

"barely," you rasp, your throat somehow both sticky and dry at the same time, though you're not quite sure how that's possible.

"'s a moderate-grade fever according to Harvard Health," touya replies immediately, holding his phone out towards you. there's a webpage pulled up on the screen, but you're too tired to look at it properly. you recognize the insignia from the famous university in the corner, though, so you take his (and their) word for it.

"i told you: i just need to sleep it off," you mumble, squirming around under your blankets to get comfortable. "if i rest i'm sure i'll be better in a day or two."

you finally allow your leaden eyelids to flutter shut.

"you comfortable?" touya asks after a moment of letting you get settled. it's not the first time he's asked you that in the past hour since you came home from work feeling unwell. he'd helped you strip out of your work clothes, crawl into bed, then gotten you cool water, and some cough and cold tablets and the thermometer from the medicine cabinet. he's asked you if you're comfortable no less than four times in the process.

"yes, touya. this is perfect," you reply, cracking one eye open to peer up at him. he looks a little directionless as he stands at your side, a bit lost. "thank you."

"okay," he breathes out a little sigh, kneeling at the edge of the bed and moving to lift the blanket, just like he does every night as he crawls in beside you.

"wait!" you croak, holding the edge of the blanket down against his efforts to raise it. "you can't be in here! you'll get sick!"

touya looks affronted. mortified even at the suggestion. if he didn't love you so much you might even think he looked mad.

"the hell i can't," he scoffs, tugging the comforter a little bit rougher than before. you know you have no chance in a battle of strength, especially when you're sick, so you let it slip from your grip. instead, you sit up (with considerably more effort than it usually takes) and place your hands on his shoulders.

"touya, no," you insist, pushing with all your might against his frame to keep him out of the bed. "you're gonna get sick!"

"i don't care!" he counters, pressing all his weight against your palms as he endeavours ever forward into your shared queen-size bed.

touya was always sick as a kid, spending time in and out of hospital throughout his preteen and adolescent years. his immune system has never been strong, and though any major risks of compromise are unlikely now, you still don't want him to catch your cold—he'd likely suffer more, and take longer to recover than you will.

"i'm full of—ngh—germs!"

"so what? they're your germs. we're supposed to share everything, aren't we?"

touya's not particularly hulking, but his strength proves no match for your weakened state, and before you know it he's tumbling into the bed right atop you—nose to nose, chest to heaving chest, and one of touya's hands on either side of your head to keep you from a properly calamitous collision.

"you're impossible," you mutter to him sullenly, but you can't help but appreciate how nice it feels to have his warm body in bed with you. you shiver a bit, in spite of your fever, and relish in the relief his warmth brings.

touya wraps you in his arms, slipping easily into place beside you under the cover of your soft cotton sheets. you're not quite side to side nor front to back—you're on your side with one leg thrown over his own, your cheek pressed to his chest, and he lays facing the ceiling with his arm wrapped around your shoulders to keep you exactly where you are. it's familiar. comfortable.

"yeah, yeah," touya replies, his tone easy and lilting smugly with triumph as it rumbles through his chest. his grip tightens a bit more. you don't mind it. "i know."

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Burning Touch ♠︎

Bale!Bruce Wayne x reader

A/N: MORE BALE!BRUCE 🥳 I adore possessive Bruce, especially Christian's! So, have this treat for the weekend <3 Enjoy!

~Fi 🐝

Warnings: NSFW content. proceed with caution. cunnilingus, It's so filthy, and it's literally just Bruce eating pussy, he's a lil insecure in this one, and feral.

Word count: 3.2k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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The chilly November air of Gotham city nipped at your cheeks, turning them a rosy shade. The cold wind was blowing on your face, making a few tears burn in your eyes.

Gotham was its usual grey and gloomy self, but the low temperature made it bearable. This kind of weather wasn't unusual for this time of year, after all. Snowflakes would cascade from the heavy clouds soon, coating the dark city in a powdery blanket. The long-awaited holiday season had yet to come, but snow would always awake that cozy and warm feeling in your chest.

Your arm was hooked into Bruce's as you two walked through the moderately bustling streets of Gotham. The two of you had decided to take a walk, not a regular occasion, but when it did happen it was lovely. Bruce had never been one to go outside for fun, the fact that there always were paparazzi hiding somewhere didn't really contribute to his lacking enthusiasm.

He did it for you, to spend time with you. The way you were all cuddled up in your huge scarf and winter coat always coaxed a smile onto his face. Your excited smile as you went on about whatever came to mind perfectly extenuated your red cheeks, the unforgiving cold stinging on your delicate skin. Little did he know you had similar thoughts about him. His adoring eyes as he listened to your ever on going rambling, and his hair that sat so perfectly, even on a day like this. The long wool coat he wore made him look incredible handsome and put together.

Well, he always looked handsome and put together, but there was something so uniquely different about that damn coat.

You'd told a really bad joke, but he still laughed, his head thrown back as that wonderful symphony reached your ears. Occasionally, a stray strand of hair would fall into his face, but he'd just blow it away without a care in the world. The center of his universe was right in front of him. Why would he care about something as unimportant as that?

"We should head home. I'm about to turn into a popsicle." You laughed, it was airy, your breath forming a little cloud in the cold air.

"Well, Honey, you'd be a very, very delicious popsicle." Bruce smirked, turning his head towards you.

"Oh, stop, you!" You playfully hit his arm as a pout settled on your lips. You really hoped he couldn't see the blush on your cheeks through the redness the cold painted on your face. If he knew he could still fluster you after all this time together, he would use it against you as much as he could. And all of it would be for his amusement and his amusement alone. He'd tease you relentlessly, and maybe you enjoyed it just a little bit more than you should.

"I'm serious! I'm freezing my ass off." You huffed, a slight tremble to your tone from the cold. His arm unhooked itself from yours, and it trailed down your lowerback, all the way to your ass before giving it a squeeze.

"Still there, sweetheart, you don't need to worry." He looked like the cheshire cat with that huge grin on his face. You squealed at the unexpected touch and smacked his hand away. "Bruce Thomas Wayne!" You scolded, your brows scrunching together.

"I'm just keeping you warm, Honey." Bruce snaked his hand around your waist and pulled you against his side before pressing a kiss to your temple. You could feel his smirk against your hairline as he kissed you, and you had to admit it made you smile.

"You're lucky I love you." Grumbling quietly, you let him pull you into his embrace. You were cold, and he was warm. It was a no-brainer, really. Well, you also loved him dearly, which made his embrace twice as warm.

"I'm very lucky indeed." He said with a small smile, littering more kisses along your temple. You giggled as his action, pressing your face closer to his coat covered side. His heart felt full. It never had before, no matter how many new dates he took to galas or how many new cars and expensive watches he bought.

Not even Rachel had made him feel like this. Only you did, only you could. He would cherish you and the way you made his heart beat faster, the smile that would creep onto his face whenever you entered the room and a subtle heat rose to his face, until it all came crashing down. He swore it. He swore himself, and he swore you, and he'd do everything in his power to keep that promise.

You continued your path through the city, getting closer and closer to a much needed hot shower and a hot beverage of your choice. It would probably end up being Alfred's hot chocolate. You don't know what he puts in there, but god, it's good. You were just telling Bruce some gossip from this month's book club, which you attended with Alfred and Selena.

Although the latter of your friends was very hesitant and not at all fond of the idea, she enjoyed the time after discussing the books, which she'd never read anyway. You didn't see each other much, so catching up during a cozy afternoon was always a nice experience. Not to mention Alfred's cookies had your fellow book clubers, who were mostly middle-aged women, absolutely swooning.

"You won't believe which book Carol recommended we read next."

He raised an eyebrow glancing over at you. "And what book is that?"

"The fucking Bible." You replied, slightly shaking your head.

"The.. Bible? I doubt she could finish that in a month." He grinned, making you laugh. You went on about all the gossip about their grown-up children, who quit which job and others, which relationship. It was quite entertaining, actually. It was also the only reason Selena put up with the bookclub idea in the first place.

By this point, she was more excited to go than you and Alfred were. Bruce listened to all the stories that had been exchanged during this months meet. He would gently guide you around street lanterns and people as you were too captivated in your storytelling to notice.

He wondered sometimes, did he make your heart feel as full as you made his? He didn't want to doubt you, or your love, but he couldn't help the dark thoughts that would worm their way into his brain in the late evenings. He couldn't help the deep, dull ache of jealousy and insecurity that pounded in his heart when you would talk to other men. Bruce knew you would never break his trust and love like that, but it just felt so.. wrong. Wrong when you would smile at the barista at your favorite coffee shop and that idiot would smile back, or even worse, start small talk while he was right beside you.

At Galas and charity events, he'd hold you especially close. What if you found someone who was richer? Better looking? Someone who was more charming than he was? Bruce was an expert at hiding his feelings, so events were no different for him.

He'd laugh along and smile as you talked with some handsome billionaire, who was already undressing you with his gaze. He always felt uneasy around men like that. What if you left him? He was shocked at how insecure he really felt when it came to you, but he never had something like this before, something real.

Everyone always left him, what if you weren't any different? What if you would leave, just like everyone else had?

Bruce quickly caught sight of a tall, well built buisness man coming your way. He was on the phone, very entranced in the conversation, as were you. Before Bruce could pull you aside, you collided with the man, making you grunt has the air was knocked from your lungs. "I'm so sorry, Miss," he bent down to pick up his phone, which he had dropped at the impact, "are you alright?"

"I am, don't worry. It happens." You smiled with a little chuckle. The man, who was way too close to you for Bruce's liking, touched your arm and bid you a farewell with a very charming smile.

You went on your way, but Bruce was a little absent from that point. He tried catching everything you told him, but he couldn't stop thinking about how that guy had touched you. He had just touched you, who does he think he is? First, he's careless and bumps into you and then he touches you? He could feel a mix of emotions bubbling in his veins.

First, there was Rage. The hot, red anger of that fool putting his hands on you. Even if it was an objectively nice and innocent gesture, it made his blood boil. And then there was it again, that strange, fizzy feeling of insecurity. Would that small touch and exchange of words be enough for you to leave him? Was he good enough for you? Was he doing this right? He had no answers to any of these questions, and they were bouncing around in the inside of his head, pounding against his skull.

"Bruce, my love, are you alright?" You brows were pulled together in concern. You'd noticed that he was in his head, barely listening to what you were saying. He'd slightly stiffened and sped up his pace as well. "Hm?" He snapped his head towards you. It took him a second to process what you had asked.

"I'm fine, sweetheart." He forced a small smile, but you could see through that immediately. He'd forget that you were in a relationship sometimes, being completely vulnerable around each other. There was no way you'd fall for his little number. He cleared his throat. "Let's get home, shall we?" He hastily pulled you along, resulting in you stumbling behind him.

Once you were back at the Manor, you sighed in relief at the warmth that eveneloped you. You rubbed your hands together, hoping they'd warm up quickly. Bruce was still acting strange, a stoic expression and he hadn't said anything on the way back. You couldn't even get your shoes off before he was dragging you up the marble staircase, quickly finding the way to your shared bedroom.

"Honey? What's going on- mh!" You were interrupted by your lover turning around and smashing his lips to yours, probably to shut you up, cupping your cheeks in the process. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands again and reached the bedroom with a very confused and flustered you in tow.

Locking the door behind him, he was on you immediately. Groping and kneading at your body, although you were still in your full outside attire, pushing you back on the bed. His kiss was hungry and desperate, he was practically devouring you. You fell back onto the bed as Bruce crawled on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"What- what's gotten into you?" You managed to ask between kisses, your breathing already heavy. "Need you." Was all he responded, mumbling the words against your lips. His hands which had previously rested on your waist slid down to your hips, over your thighs and calves until he reached your boots which he quickly made work of, making them hit the floor with a thud.

Your coat was next, being thrown across the room, same with your scarf, which then joined your coat on he floor. Bruce sucked and nibbled on your jaw as he eagerly pushed your top over your head, exposing your bra. He groaned at the sight, the vibration making your lips tingle. It wasn't a rare occurrence to see him like this, but usually, you'd know what caused this behavior. But today, you were clueless.

Not that you weren't enjoying it. It was an absolute sight to see Bruce like this. How this well-mannered, calm, and patient man lost his self-control so quickly when it came to you managed to ruin your panties every single time. He placed one of his hands on your back, making you lean slightly forward before he expertly unhooked your bra with one hand. Your soft tits spilled from their confinement, and you moaned softly as the cool air of the room hit your skin.

Bruce trailed his kisses down your neck and over your chest, but they weren't as slow and precise as usual. They were sloppy and rushed, it was like he was trying to reach as much skin as fast as possible. A few gentle sucks to your hardened nipples had your breath catching in your throat, but before you could say or do anything in response he had already moved on, hooking his fingers in your skirt and tights, quickly pushing them down your hips.

He slid off the bed, sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around your plush thighs to pull you to the edge. "We have all the time in the world, no need to rush things," you breathed heavily, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

"No." He growled, already at work to bite and suck marks into the supple skin of your thighs. Your head fell back at the sensation and you groaned. He looked so fucking good on his knees. Bruce was almost feral, groaning and grunting as his mouth tasted more and more of your skin. Finally, he turned his attention to your soaked pussy.

He stroked over the wet spot on your panties, licking his lips when one of those sweet moans fell from you. Kissing your ruined underwear, he gently caressed your thighs, soothing the bruises he had left. The sound of fabric ripping made your head snap forward, looking at your lover with an alarmed expression. Bruce was in a different world. His pupils were dilated and his chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths as he looked at your glistening cunt. It dawned on you once the cold air it your sopping slit. He had ripped your panties off of you.

"Honey, those were new-" you were cut off, yet again, as he dove in, licking at your folds. A high pitched moan ripped from your throat and you were gripping the sheets so tight there'd surely be holes in them by dawn. Bruce hummed in delight at your taste, his arms tightly wrapped around your thighs whil his hands were splayed out on your tummy, keeping you still as he devoured you.

Goosebumps were rising on your soft skin. The room was cold and you laid bare, making the sensation of his warm mouth on your pussy overwhelming. The scratchy fabric of his wool coat rubbed against your calves, reminding you that he was still fully clothed. A dull ache of arousal shoot into your tummy at the thought of him being so eager to have you, taste you, that he didn't even have the patience to undress himself.

He laped at you, drinking in all you were giving him. The lewd, wet sounds echoed through the quiet room, accompanied by your beautiful moans. All of your nerve endings were on fire, his touch almost burning as he kneaded at your body.

"Oh, Fuck- Bruce, oh my God-!" You whined and moaned once he circled his tongue around your clit. Your blood was boiling, almost as if hot lava was flowing in your veins. He pulled away for air with a gentle kiss to your bundle of nerves. The sight made your cunt squeeze around nothing. His hair was messy, your slick was dripping down his chin, he was heaving, the breaths sitting heavy on his chest.

A light layer of sweat covered his forehead, from both the warmth of his winter clothes and the burning pleasure he got from fucking you with his tongue. His beautiful brown eyes were almost black, his pupils swallowing his irises whole as he looked up at you.

"You're mine, right?" He asked, with such vulnerability and softness that your brows furrowed. That question caught you off guard, frankly. "W-What?" Your mind was hazy, your otherworldly bliss having been ripped from under your nose.

"Tell me you're mine. Please, sweetheart." He continued slowly licking at your cunt again, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Tell me you're mine." This time, it was more a demand, a hard tone to his voice. His cold gaze pierced through you, but there was an underlying look of pleading, like he was begging you to assure him you were his with his eyes alone.

"Tell me." It was a desperate plea, the raw emotion was something you'd seen rarely. You didn't know what to think, the jump between emotions and his demeanor couldn't cut through the thick fog of pleasure hanging over your mind. In a rough manner, his hands settled on your thighs, prying them open.

His tongue was back on your clit with small licks and kisses before wrapping his lips around it and suckling. The sensation made pleasure shoot up your spine, your eyes widening and your mouth was slightly agape, breathy whimpers and moans left your lips while your back arched off the bed.

"Shit- Yes, yes I'm yours! Jus' yours.." it came off your lips as a drawl, a slurry of words as ecstasy gnawed its way into your brain. The grip he had on your thighs tightened, his nails digging into your delicate skin. A delicious feeling of the subtle pain seeping into the pleasure you were experiencing coaxed another string of moans from your lips.

"Good." He said it so lowly, it was unlike anything you'd ever heard come out of his mouth. It vibrated in his chest and throat, and in succession against your sensitive pussy as well. You were so close, the mere touch of a feather could tip you over the edge.

"B-Bruce.." You panted, his name was forced out of your throat as best as you could. Your hands were gripping at his hair by now, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer. He knew you were impossibly close, he hungered for you to fall apart on his tongue and only think of him. Bruce buried his face even deeper between your thighs, finally snapping that thin rope that was keeping you from earth shattering bliss.

You came with a cry of his name, your thighs quivering. Your breathing was fast and uneven and your mouth was dry. The movements of his tongue slowed and became gentler as he helped you through your high. He slowly kissed his way up your body before finally capturing your lips in a soft kiss.

"Did you get all of it out of your system now?" You laughed breathlessly while a small smirk settled on his lips.

"I'm not so sure, actually."

"Oh, give me a break!" You whined as he pulled you close to his chest with a chuckle. It was kind of odd, seeing as you were completely nude, and he looked like he was ready to go out.

"Are you okay? I wasn't too rough, was I?" He inquired gently, pressing kisses to your head.

"No, no, it was really good." You smiled, resting your head against him with a sigh. You were burning up, your skin shinning with sweat.

"At least I'm not cold anymore." You glanced up at him with a smirk and one of those signature Bruce Wayne grins crept onto his face.

"Told you I'd keep you warm, Baby."

🌬●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●🩵●●●●●●●●●●●●●●🌬

There's more of our favorite playboy to come very soon!~ 🐝

[yoursjaeyun]

needy - park sunghoon.

pairing. sunghoon x fem!reader

warnings. smut (minors strictly dni), explicit language, heavy making out, clothed fucking (?), suggestive, dirty talk. please lmk if i need to add more.

a/n. a pretty boring drabble. but yk, sunghoon makes me downbad, so me make drabble. trade for trade. 🤷🏻‍♀️

you’ve never seen your boyfriend so clingy towards you before — when you say clingy, you mean really, really clingy. although, it didn’t really bother you, because you liked it anyway.

it was cute.

you felt a strong pair of hands slithering around your waist, blushing at the way he pulled you closer to him.

“don’t sleep yet.” he whispered against your ear in a raspy voice. “i’m tired, hoonie.” you turned around to face him, admiring and caressing his face. “but i want to do something.”

your eyebrows furrowed, “can’t we do it tomorrow?” you asked, “so you expect me to be that patient by morning?”

his hands slowly went down to the waistbands of your pants, tugging them straight down — slightly lifting yourself up as you knew what was coming.

you couldn’t bother thinking about anything else but how desperate you’d feel when he shoves his cock into you. “are you that needy?” you giggled. “have you just noticed that now?” sunghoon wasted no time on smashing his lips into yours, pulling down your panties, then sliding his hand across your wet pussy.

“your soaked, darling.” he mumbled, you smirked in between kisses before pushing him down to let yourself up on him, now straddling his lap.

“and you’re hard.” you connected your lips to his once again, he slightly tugged on the corner of your shirt, signalling if he could take it off. you nodded, giving him permission to do so.

he unbuttons your shirt top to bottom, letting it slide off of yourself before wrapping your arms around his neck. he kissed you hard; with way too much tongue, as if you had breath to spare.

you moderately rocked back and forth on his clothed dick to give him a good start. you both moaned in each others mouths as he grips on your waist even tighter.

“i’m going to ruin you, so fucking hard that your pretty little cunt will be just as ruined as you are by tomorrow,” he muttered all in each kiss, almost laughing at how craved he was. “you sound like you haven’t fucked me for years, hoon.”

“don’t think i’d ever get enough of you.” butterflies in your stomach pasted, you kissed him feverishly as saliva ran down your chin.

“fuck me up, that’s what i want.”

YOURSJAEYUN est. 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

taglist: @heeseungrr @excusememissiloveyou @amazzwon @crusheo @jyunillaa @heeryn @gegeetime @enha-cafe @axmdocs @slutmeoutpark

[ectologia]

Okie dokie, hear me out now…

Tomu’ has an incredible pain tolerance, absolutely mind blowing, but his pleasure tolerance?

I bet it’s low when he’s not the one doing the stimulation. He’s too rough with himself, he doesn’t know what moderation or self control even is. He’s also got to be cautious with himself, so when it’s someone else and he relaxes?

Weak as hell. He’s coming in less than a minute. Easily overstimulated but addicted to it just as quickly, all but panting and begging for more even as he’s got tears streaming down his face and his tongue sticking out like a dog. Absolutely pathetic and when you praise him in combination?

He’s so much more than the show lets him be, but he’s still just a 21 year old piece of shit, we forget. He’d be so easy to manipulate in the right hands. Of course, he’s a quick learner, caution needs to be taken because he’s got a ego problem, but you set the temperature just right?

He’d be an adorable submissive.

Hope you’re day is going well♥️ Just throwing out thirsts~ Love seeing your work!

LET IT HAPPEN

TOMURA SHIGARAKI + FEMALE READER

WARNING: OVERSTIMULATION, CHAINS, GENITAL SPANKING, MOMMY FETISH, HANDJOB, FELLATIO, MALE MASTURBATION, SUBBY SHIGGY

He likes it hard and fast, so you give it to him slow.

Slow, soft, feather-light touches, stroking up and down his swollen length while his thin layer of foreskin clicks over his angry, red tip with every rock of your hand.

His toes crease and curl into the sheets below him, his wrists twisting and wringing in the chains strung above his head, nailed to the headboard.

“Fuck sake.. How ‘m I supposed to cum when you’re barely even fuckin’ touching me.”

He growls when this earns him a spank to his big dick, flinching and bobbing against his tensed stomach.

“You have to be patient, Tomura.”

He throws his head back in a fit, huffing and puffing while his hips buck into your palm occasionally. “Can you at least go faster.”

“Who’s in charge right now?”

Crimson-reds narrow at your petite form crouched between his thighs, fisting away at his massive cock.

It’s difficult to be intimated when he’s the one chained up this time.

You decide to up the anti. Your whole arm goes into striding up and down the thick length, stroking and pumping him rapidly. His back straightens and he raises, no longer relaxed.

No longer cocky.

“Ah.. Oh, shit. That’s.. Mmh..”

You raise your head to asses the situation, grinning up at his now frizzy and static locks of Alice blue, lain across his dewy forhead like wispy spider webs. The apples of his cheeks don a pinkish hue, tucked into his shoulder as he attempts to hide his feeble expression.

“Is that good baby boy?”

“Shut the fuck up, you bitch—”

He cries out this time as you slap the chubby head of his dick, sensitive and needy and dribbling with pre-cum.

“It’s mommy.”

He snickers wickedly through grit teeth. “Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen.” He punctuates his sentence with a snide grin, but you can see the hint of hesitance.

Of fear.

His tongue glides over his teeth as he watches a fat wad of saliva stretch from your lips into the tiny, drooling slit placed at the crest of his cock. The sticky bubbling fluid is smeared all the way down to the plump set of tightened balls hanging by his ass. The moment you hunch to flick at his head with the velvety flat of your tongue, he’s mewling.

“Oh god..”

You hollow your cheeks as you suckle on his tip, suctioning the heavy bulb against the roof of your mouth as he curses and snarls like a beast. His thighs begin to shiver either side of you, quivering and shaking against the stimulation. Your hand slips down to the crease of his ass to mould and massage at his twitching sack, closing your eyes in favour of nursing on his cock and fondling his balls with no distractions, rolling and pinching at the delicate flesh.

“Fuck! Oh my fucking god I’m gonna cum so fucking hard— shit!”

He’s caught off guard by the sudden release of his genitals, snapping his head down to stare wide eyed and frantic. His prick throbs in your palm eagerly as you press a kiss to the stiffened spine.

“What the fuck!” He squirms in his restraints, attacking at the silver links.

He hisses and jolts away after his fat, swollen balls earn a curt spank.

“You have to say please.”

“Are you kidding me?” He shifts against the mattress, his full sack and horny dick bouncing against his taint “Fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Please.”

“Please what?”

He gapes, his brows furrowing in disbelief. “I don’t fucki— I don’t know.”

“What’s my name?”

“Seriously.”

You shrug your shoulders, a giddy smile present on your face. “If you want to cum.”

He scowls, sighing. “... Mommy.” His chin hangs low against his chest as he mumbles.

“Good boy.”

You resume your sucking, milking his cock with your tongue while your warm hands jerk his sensitive ballsack side to side. His wails increase the longer you draw it out, nowhere to go and nothing to cling to in his confines. His feet kick out and shuffle, planting his heels into the dough of your mattress as he thumps his pubic bone up into your nose.

“Mommy! Mommy! Fuck!”

“Mmh?” Your mocking hums vibrate throughout his body, tingling and prickling against his member. You rise, swiping at your slicked up chin with your knuckles. “You wanna cum baby boy?.. Yeah? You wanna cum for mommy?”

He nods, distraught and yearning. His nails chip at the pudgy flesh of his palm as he balls them into fists, hitting and tapping against the wall behind him as he attempts to suppress the watery, bubbling tears collecting above his eye-line from seeping out.

“What do you say?” Your fingers pinch and flick at his fat mushroom-tip, scrubbing the puckered slit against your palm as he whimpers.

“Mommy— Please, Mommy..”

“That’s better..”

The slippery wet muscle of his tongue rolls out of his mouth like a plush carpet, lolling against the harsh cracks of his lips. His noises are barely coherent, reduced to guttural howls and whines.

He’s panting. Up until the moment his dick finally explodes, spurting and spraying sticky white ropes over your hand. He squeals like a pig, flinching as you continue to pump his massive, rock hard cock even after his orgasm. He thrashes about in his restraints, his whole body tense and rigid as you continue to jerk him off, forcing him to cum and cum and cum.

“Mommy! Mommy please! Fuck— enough!” He pleads and begs for you to stop, but the evident rock of his hips tells you he only wants more.

“Fuck! I’m shooting blanks here baby, please!”

Your hand retracts, slowly easing away.

He pants, gasping and heaving as he blinks up at the ceiling. While he catches his breath, you admire the drooping stripes of jizz seeping down his tight balls, throbbing and squeezing and pulsing next to his taught little asshole.

His chin angles forward, carnal eyes squinting at you from between tresses of white locks.

“Are you okay?” You cock your head, spidering a comforting hand up to rub his thigh.

“Let’s do that again.”

[batboyblog]

Do you think there is any benefit to the idea that Biden should just not bother with these TV debates anymore? With how the media is so strongly stacked against him, that it might be more beneficial to focus on things where he excels at like town halls and meeting people in person?

I think he agreed to do it, so backing out would look worse and be more damaging than any benefits from sticking to events that play to his strengths. Indeed the media attacked him pretty heavily for being over choreographed in events and interviews (sounds like Hillary being "over prepared") I do think Biden should, and if you look at the last few weeks he has, do more events with the people, and if he can wrangle a televised town hall that'd be great.

but on debate, we shouldn't think Biden is some historically bad debater. In 2012 Obama BOMBED his first debate with Romney, people were writing the death notices for his re-election (much closer to E-Day then July!) and it was Biden who swung into action at the Vice-Presidential debate, laughing in Paul Ryan's face and mocking him easily showing Ryan up as unlikeable and trying to destroy social security. Biden is good at being the every man reacting to "Malarkey!"

I think what went wrong in the first debate is two fold. First of all when you're President and you care to do the job, there's never ever gonna be enough time, there will always be one more call, one more meeting, one more thing that needs your attention. Biden mentioned aids adding things to the schedule. If you're a President like Biden who is good at the job and likes it, I can see how it becomes hard to say "no" because we're talking huge things. So Biden had been working too much, too hard, for too long. That week he went to Europe, did the G7 meetings lots of meetings lots of work, flew back to the US to California to do a fundraiser with Obama and George Clooney, flew back to Atlanta to do the debate. Along the way the guy gets a cold, so what we all saw was a guy who was tired from months of working too hard, jet-lagged, and sick. Trump did nothing that week, he golfed and hung out with friends showed up rested and not having a head cold.

The other thing is the prepped for the wrong debate. One team Biden pushed for rules that ultimately helped Trump. The rule of mics being off when the other is speaking, people hate when Trump interrupts, he's at his worse when he does that, you made sure he couldn't do that. Second no crowd, all politicians feed off crowds, read their energy. crowds cause Trump to lean into his worst instincts always reaching for the next big reaction, but also Biden feeds off people's reactions, in a way that is much better for him than it is for Trump.

outside the rules, clearly Biden and his team gamed out the debate assuming the moderators would do the heavy lifting of fact checking Trump and calling him on his lies and Biden's job was to look like the smart normal politician and spit out facts and figures. As a life long stutterer being able to recall and recite exact numbers and data points in just the way they were written down is not and never been a strength of Biden's, he's NOT dumb, but I can say you carry the baggage of people thinking you're an idiot from when you were a disabled kid your whole life, and I've read a lot of stories that some times in a room full of Harvard and Yale people he can get rattled. And I think that happened they pushed him to try to memorize their talking points their data sets and he got in his head. And when the debate turned out to not at all be what he planned for, when the moderators showed no interest in pushing back on Trump, Biden was caught off guard, a not sick, not jet-lagged, not tired Biden would have turned it around more quickly. We saw later in the debate Biden figure out what debate he was in and how to act and start to ditch trying to remember data sets and just throw out quips and lines "morals of an ally cat!", had he been feeling better, he'd have gotten there much faster.

So I think if Biden takes better care of himself, is strict about not adding more to his work load, takes time off to relax and rest before a debate (work on his tan like JFK did before the Nixon Kennedy debate) and also focuses on being himself, he's not Obama or Bill Clinton who are great masters of explaining complex issues with facts and figures that makes you feel like you're in school with a favorite teacher. That's not Joe, he knows the stuff, he does, but his skill his being everyone's favorite uncle telling it like it is, let him do that and he'll be fine.

[jewishbarbies]

https://www.tumblr.com/jewishbarbies/760054305305788416?source=share

growing up, the one thing my English and history teachers always said to us was to NEVER use Wikipedia as a source for our essays and projects. In fact, all of my teachers would say that, but history and English were the ones with the most essays and large pieces of writing and we would have to source all of our information and it was literally a rule in our classes that Wikipedia was not to be used. They said it was because anyone can edit Wikipedia, but I’ve never really grasped that until now.

Before the 7th of Oct, you could find relatively unbiased information about Jewish history on there. But now after the 7th of October, I’m seeing literal historical events such as massacres being considered “acts of rebellion against Zionists” on fucking Wikipedia.

And it’s confusing for people like me, who aren’t Jewish or Israeli, but are genuinely trying to understand Jewish history and Israeli history and how modern Israel came to be in the place it is today, but we’re faced with such blatantly biased information, and if you call it out, you’re told you’re “pro genocide”.

Like I’m not looking for an Israel dick sucking page, but I’m just genuinely trying to learn about the history of this shit from a relatively unbiased perspective. Anyways, everything after 7th of October really showed me the importance of physical written media and archives because even history can be edited online to make you look like the most cartoonish villains ever lol.

Physical media like newspapers, magazines, CDs, DVDs, tapes, etc>>>>>>>

we’ve been dealing with nazis editing jewish pages and fucking with wwii pages to be nazi sympathetic for a long time now, so the concept of what they’re doing at least isn’t new, but this feels like such an escalation. wikipedia NEEDS much more heavy moderation and further limit who can edit and create pages. idk how they’ve lasted as some kind of amazing info source for this long while having almost NO protections against misinformation and deliberate tampering.

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

omg HEAR ME OUT kappa being gentle and whiny as he eats out reader and he’s kissing and biting at their thighs and being soooo needy and desperate :((

Y'all...I'm about to start with the ovulation horny, have mercy!

Hedonistic Tendencies

Summary: Neither Kappa nor you have the slightest grip around consuming things in moderation.

Pairing: Kappa x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Content Warnings: Smut Bomb 18+!, Oral (F Receiving), Consumption Of Substances (Pot and Alcohol Because Everyone's Getting Crossfaded In Here), Gooning (Here I Go With My Slightly Obscure Kinks), Orgasming While Tripping (IFYKYK)

A/N: Okay, y'all hear me out. So, Gooning apparently is something in between a tantric sex practice (don't nail me down on that!) and, simply put, prolonged, predominantly male, masturbation. Like, a constant state of edging for hours until your brain shuts down because you are so consumed by keeping that state of sexual arousal intact. Reading about it had me going from "Hmm, interesting! 🤔" to "Oh, yeeeeeahhh, that's very Kappa coded!" in 0.6 seconds.

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @alalalaaallaaalaaa @star-milk-tea @milsthouqhts @roryculkinsbf @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @b4sementgrl

More power, more pace

More money, more taste

More sex, more pills

More skin, more shills

More wants, more needs

More hits, morphine

- We Love You By Avenged Sevenfold

There were days when you had your act together, where you knew when to keep a sober and sharp mind but today was clearly not one of those.

Taking another deep hit from the joint between your fingers before putting it to rest in the ashtray next to you, you let your drowsy head loll back against the wall, reveling in how the tingling sensations of your buzz ebbed through your body like a lazy tide.

It washed down from your head, through your torso and clashed with equally fuzzy warm pangs of arousal emitting from amidst your thighs. Everything felt slowed down and yet amplified as you looked down between your legs with heavy, half-lidded eyes.

It's been hours since Kappa propped you up on his desk, eagerly burying his face into your throbbing pussy that was screaming for his attention all around the clock, even more so in your increasingly intoxicated state.

By now you had lost count on how many orgasms his tongue and nimble fingers had pulled from your body. All of it was but a wash of time, space and sensations mixed into one massively hedonistic trip of pure indulgence.

"Fuck the world, am I right?" It trickled out of your somewhat dry mouth in a dragged out groan.

To help with that you reached for an already half-way empty bottle of wine right next to the ashtray. The potent mixture of THC and alcohol in your blood made you feel like your body was nothing but a random array of colors slowly leaking out of their confines, like a rainbowy smear of oil spreading over water.

"Good fucking god, this feels so good." You exhaled into the room after taking a large swig from the bottle.

Kappa beneath you answered with a low hum into your oozing cunt, his tongue flat against your clit, lapping at it like a man parched.

He was even further gone than you were with his face against your thoroughly slik-coated folds and his hand fisting his cock in a slow pace, seemingly endless spurts of pre-cum leaking and pooling around his fingers. His brain lost any touch with reality hours ago as he had edged himself up to the brink of spilling his cum all over your thighs for the first time and keeping himself right there on the thin line of overstimulation and ecstasy ever since. In that very instance he had only two things on his substance and sex-corrupted mind: To get you to cum all over his face once again and to shoot his load right at the same time.

As if in trance, Kappa worked his tongue over your swollen clit over and over, the tip of it nudging softly, hitting that spot he knew you were the most sensitive.

At that you allowed your eyes to flutter back shut completely while your mind got lost in some place that was much closer to a colorful astral plane than planet earth. Images of softly flowing prisms fogged your mind as gravitation seemed to double down on your body. You were glued to the wooden desk underneath your bare ass and yet you felt like levitating off the ground by your power of will and imagination alone. With the last hit of the joint truly hitting your system it got harder to pinpoint what your body was experiencing exactly, all you knew was pleasure and exquisite numbness to anything else.

Was Kappa finger-fucking you or was it his tongue pushing into you? You couldn't differentiate anymore and, honestly, you didn't care too much. All that mattered was the rising feeling in your lower abdomen. A spark of arousal growing into a wildfire with every touch of his against your throbbing cunt. For a moment you were convinced that you were burning from the inside out, your body filling with warmth, spiked blood rushing through your veins like magma.

"Shit…oh, fuck!.." You felt your pussy clenching in the first contractions of an oncoming orgasm.

The sensation shot right to your head and your upper body slumped against the wall behind you as jolts of white-hot bliss had your muscles trembling and twitching.

You were so lost in the experience, seeing stars behind closed eyes, that you barely took notice of Kappa moaning and mewling beneath you, increasing the pace of stroking his cock, eventually pushing himself over his own threshold as thick, sticky ropes of his seed splattered against your quivering thighs.

"Fuck.." He groaned into the thick air that was heavy with the pungent scent of weed, bodily fluids and sweat as he pulled his soaked face from your cunt to lean back into the creaking, old chair.

"Fucking hell…" He exhaled, his cock still in hand and pupils blown out wide.

Both of you were panting heavily, filling your lungs with much needed oxygen before you couldn’t hold back an almost maniacal avalanche of giggles falling from smiling lips, dopamine and oxytocin clearly putting in their work.

"Happy, huh?", Kappa chuckled, his chest still heaving up and down strongly, "How about I roll us another one and we give it another go? You think you can take that, sugar?"

[phillippadgettwrites]

The First Time, Every Time: Fire

Rated X / 3377 Words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Scully’s suggestion that he take her to lunch wasn’t a serious one, but he takes her anyway. He’s too distracted in the wake of Phoebe’s surprise visit to get any work done at this point, and he figures he owes her one after she single handedly solved the case while he was busy being mindfucked by Scotland Yard’s finest. He takes her somewhere just a little bit dingy with a full bar, the kind of place they aren’t likely to run into any of their cohorts from the Bureau. While they’ve never directly discussed it, he’s sure she’s aware there’s some gossip circulating about them, and though it’s entirely baseless, it’s best not to feed the beast in his experience.

He’s a little embarrassed that Scully bore witness to the power Phoebe clearly still has over him. He’s a little embarrassed to learn that, even ten years later, when she says jump he still asks how high, and then tries to double it. The moment she kissed him he felt like that naive college boy again, so starved for affection that he’d take it from the teeth of a snarling dog and then thank it for biting him.

He suspects that Scully only orders a drink so he’ll feel comfortable doing the same, though she reasons that she doesn’t really have anything else that needs finishing today, so it’s not an issue if her afternoon is a total loss. She’s actually a really good friend, now that he’s thinking about it. He’s only ever thought of her as his partner, but she shows up for him outside of work, too. And while he might have expected her to bristle at his moderately unprofessional behavior during the investigation, she’d only rolled her eyes and gently teased him, much like a friend would.

“So,” she says halfway through their second round of drinks. He can tell by the wry smile on her mouth that she’s wading into uncharted territory. “Would I be correct if I guessed that Phoebe ripped your heart to pieces and then told you to clean up the mess?”

Mulder cringes a little, but he’s smiling too. Not because it’s funny, but because she’s right.

“Something like that,” he says, then takes a sip of his drink. “Though I wish I could say it only happened once.”

“Ah,” Scully says knowingly, sitting back in her seat and resting the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other.

They both removed their suit jackets the moment they sat down, and Mulder has since loosened his tie and cuffed his shirtsleeves. Scully is wearing one of those ruffled blouses she seems to have in every color, the ones that have a rather deep V in the neck that’s made modest by all the excess material surrounding it. Sometimes he looks at her in her boxy suits and shoulder pads and thinks about what she looked like in nothing but her bra and panties under candlelight, but he’s careful never to let her see him looking at her that way. The fact that she’s beautiful is filed away in his mind behind more pertinent traits like intelligent, brave, determined, funny, and loyal.

“Pathetic, I know,” he says, looking down at his glass to hide the chagrin on his face. “And she just about looped me in for another round, if I’m being honest.”

“The sex was that good, huh?” she says, and he snaps his head up to be sure that it’s still his consummately professional partner sitting across the table from him.

She’s still there, the skin on her chest flushed pink with booze. She smirks behind her glass, perhaps a bit proud of her locker room talk.

“Depends on your definition of good, I guess,” he answers honestly. “It was pretty wild, and at the tender age of twenty-one, wild was as good as it got.”

Scully’s eyebrows raise curiously and he feels his groin grow just a bit heavy. He’s not sure how explicit of a discussion she’d be open to, but he’s interested in finding out.

“Are we talking ‘group sex’ wild, or ‘masochism’ wild?” she asks, just as casually as if she were asking him what classes he and Phoebe had together at Oxford. Mulder clears his throat.

“I think there was undeniably some masochism involved on my part, but more like high-risk or transgressive.”

“Transgressive,” Scully repeats with interest, her head tilting thoughtfully to the side. She doesn’t ask, but he tells her anyway.

“She, uh���she gave me a blow job on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s grave once, as an example,” he says, hiding his pride behind sheepishness.

A slow grin breaks out over Scully’s face, and Mulder feels a warm flush all over his body.

“Agent Mulder,” she admonishes him lightly, picking up her nearly empty glass and sucking the last bits of liquid off the bottom. “How disrespectful.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking between her smiling face and the table top. “I think that was kind of the point. It was hardly worth it, though. She broke up with me the next day with no explanation and she was sleeping with one of my friends by the end of the week.”

Scully’s smile fades and she holds her glass up, making eye contact with their waiter and gesturing that they’d like another round.

“Mulder, I’ve known plenty of women like her,” she says, her tone shifting as she uncrosses her legs and leans in. “She hates herself so much that the only thing that brings her any pleasure is to be pursued. She showers men with affection and attention, and then withdraws it as soon as she knows they’re hooked.” She pauses while the waiter drops off fresh drinks and takes away their empty glasses, as well as the remains of their lunch. “Men chasing after her, asking what they did wrong and how they can win her back, is the entire objective. Let me guess, if you ever call her out on it she acts offended that you’d define her character based on a couple little mistakes?”

Now Mulder sits back in his chair, disturbed by such an accurate description of his tumultuous relationship with Phoebe.

“Were you secretly attending Oxford in 1983, Scully?” he asks uncomfortably, then takes a gulp of his drink that burns all the way down his throat.

She smiles, pleased with herself.

“Phoebe isn’t nearly as unique as she’d like you to think, Mulder,” she says, resting her elbows on the table and then her chin on her joined hands.

“Well, she sure pulled one over on me,” he says, feeling embarrassed again. “More times than I care to admit.”

He drags his middle finger through the ring of water left by his glass, drawing slow, contemplative circles on the table top. Scully’s hand appears from his periphery and settles over his own, and she waits until he looks up at her.

“It’s not your fault, Mulder,” she says tenderly. “She saw a vulnerability in you and she took advantage of it. Having been on the receiving end of that myself, I can empathize with the fact that it’s difficult to see it for what it is when you’re in the middle of it.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” he says lightly, trying to reclaim the playful banter he’d been enjoying a few minutes ago.

Scully withdraws her hand and picks up her glass.

“I wish that I were,” she says wistfully. “Though I can’t say that my own youthful hijinks included oral sex on the gravesites of famed authors. I’m disturbed to learn the origin of your private joke, by the way.”

Mulder laughs, but he also entertains a mental image of Scully spread-eagle on the trampled grass in front of Doyle’s cement headstone, a dark-haired man’s head between her legs.

“Glad to hear you don’t think I’m a total schmuck,” he says.

“No, not a schmuck,” she assures him with a shake of her head. “I will admit to being a bit surprised by how submissive you were towards her, though.”

The comment was clearly offhand, based on her demeanor, but it hits him like an insult.

“Submissive?” he repeats, sitting up a little taller. “What makes you say that?”

She considers him for a moment before answering.

“You deferred to her in every respect,” she explains. “It was quite clear that she was in charge.”

“It was her case,” he shoots back. “Of course she was in charge.”

Scully holds up both her hands, palms facing him, in surrender.

“Forget I said anything,” she says. “We should probably get back to work soon.”

“I’m not submissive, Scully,” he says emphatically, ignoring her previous statement.

“I didn’t mean it pejoratively, Mulder; it’s not a bad thing to be. I was simply saying that I was surprised by it.”

“Well whatever you think you saw, you’re wrong,” he says sternly, trying to catch her eye.

Reluctantly, she makes eye contact and holds it for a beat.

“Whatever you say,” she says, acquiescent but characteristically skeptical.

Mulder clenches his jaw, holding back a tawdry remark. He waves their waiter over and asks for the check, as well as a cab, and then drains his glass. Fifteen minutes later they pile into the back seat of a taxi, buzzed to the point of uselessness as far as work is concerned.

“Where to?” the cabbie asks, meeting Mulder’s eye in the rear-view mirror.

“Alexandria,” he says, and Scully looks over at him.

“No, the J. Edgar Hoover building,” she corrects, and Mulder levels her with a steely stare.

“No, Alexandria,” he says again, and her eyebrows furrow.

“What are you doing?” she asks quietly.

“Where to, folks? Meter’s running,” the cabbie says, annoyed.

“Alexandria,” Mulder repeats, turning to look out the window as the cab pulls away from the curb.

He feels Scully’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t look at her right away. He makes her wait nearly two full blocks before he slowly turns his head and takes in the thoroughly confused expression on her face. Even then, he doesn’t proactively justify his actions like he typically would. He just looks at her, letting his eyes fall to the exposed skin on her chest and then dragging them slowly back up to her face. She opens her mouth and closes it, swallows, then finally turns to look out the window, and he finds himself fighting off a smile. He’s already rendered her speechless and he’s just barely getting started.

The cab deposits them in the parking lot of his apartment building, and after paying the driver he wordlessly heads inside, relying on his reflection in the glass doors to confirm that Scully is following behind him. In the elevator, he again feels her staring him down but does not reward her with eye contact. He behaves as though she isn’t there until the doors open on the fourth floor, at which point he gives her another once-over glance and then says, “After you,” in a tone that tells her it’s a directive, not an offer.

He follows her too-closely down the hall. Not so close that she could rightfully question it, but closer than is socially acceptable. When she arrives in front of apartment forty-two he reaches past her, key in hand, to unlock it, effectively trapping her between his body and the door. She stiffens but doesn’t speak, and when the door swings open he has to touch her back to encourage her inside. She stands in his foyer while he deposits his wallet, keys, and cellphone in their designated places, seemingly waiting to find out what will happen next.

He slips her suit jacket off her shoulders and she lifts her arms out of it, watching him curiously as he hangs it on the billiard ball coat rack near the door. He can feel that her tolerance to continue waiting for the punchline is waning, so he nods toward the dining room table behind her and says, “Have a seat.”

Scully turns to look at each of the three chairs set around the table. One is hosting a stack of books, one a pile of unfolded laundry, and the other a banker’s box full of junk he was planning to donate.

“Where?” she asks flatly, one eyebrow raised.

Mulder steps forward and grabs her by the waist, hoisting her up onto the tabletop. She makes a startled little gasping sound and wraps her hands around his forearms, regarding him with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asks, alarmed.

He pushes even closer, so close that he’s occupying the space between her open legs, his hands still on her waist, and leans down as though he’s going to kiss her. She stays stock still, her eyes open, and at the last second he shifts his head to the side and brushes his lips lightly across her ear.

“Who’s submissive now?” he whispers, and he feels her shiver at the tickle of his breath.

He leans away from her, grinning victoriously and expecting to see something along the lines of embarrassment or irritation on her face, but she looks awestruck. Her lips are slightly parted, her eyes unfocused, and she’s breathing heavily.

“Scully?” he asks hesitantly. Did he take it too far? Did he scare her?

Her hazy eyes take a meandering path up his chest to his face, then narrow a little. Her jaw sets, the corner of her mouth quirks, and she reaches up with one hand to grab hold of the loosened tie still hanging from his neck. He opens his mouth in preparation to apologize, but she tugs hard and his mouth crashes into hers. Suddenly he’s tasting whisky and lipstick, and the heels of her shoes are digging into his ass.

Something he should have guessed about Dana Scully is that she takes no prisoners. The one time he attempts to come up for air with the intention of making sure she’s thought this through, she silences him with her hot little hand down the front of his dockers, and he decides that they’ll just have to learn to lie in the bed they’re making. She pops half the buttons off his shirt when she artlessly tears it open, then rips his undershirt off over his head so violently she just about takes one of his ears with it. She gets him down to his boxers while she’s still perched on the edge of his dining room table, fully dressed, and he realizes that he’s completely ceded control to her.

Her hands are just slipping under the waist of his boxers, preparing to divest him of the last scrap of clothing on his body, when he grabs them and pins them to the table beside her hips on either side. She looks up at him, panting, and smiles.

“Point taken, agent,” he says, his face inches from hers.

“You do realize that brute force isn’t dominance, right?” she playfully chides him, looking at one of her restrained hands and then the other.

She’s so sassy, a trait she normally doles out in bite size pieces, and he’d be a damn liar if he tried to claim he didn’t like it.

“What was your plan here?” he asks, grateful that the bend in his waist necessary to hold her hands against the table is obscuring the fact that he’s half-hard.

“I might ask you the same question,” she retorts haughtily.

A beat passes, and she runs her tongue across her bottom lip nervously. It occurs to him that maybe this isn’t just a prank that’s gone too far.

“Are you drunk, Scully?”

She sighs, her head lolling to the side thoughtfully.

“Maybe a little bit,” she confesses. “Are you?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he agrees. “Am I taking advantage of you?”

She shakes her head slowly. “Not yet,” she says, and something in the tenor of her voice sends blood rushing to his lap.

“Would you like me to?” The words leave his mouth before he’s given them even a split second of consideration, and the resulting flash of adrenaline makes him dizzy.

“Maybe a little bit,” she answers, her chest heaving.

The second he lets go of her hands so he can simultaneously kiss her and get to work unbuttoning her blouse, she pushes his boxers off his hips, leaving him nude. She doesn’t touch him right away, though she makes no attempt to hide her appreciative leering, and the combined pride and desperation bolster his confidence to the point that they quiet the little voice in his head that’s telling him this is a bad idea.

In short order, he fills in the details of her body that were previously hidden beneath white cotton. Her breasts are small but perfectly proportioned, and when she lifts her hips and allows him to divest her of her slacks and panties, he finds a full patch of ginger curls between her legs.

For a moment they just look at each other, her hands on his waist and his resting on the tops of her thighs. When he looks at her face and she meets his eye, he at once realizes the gravity of what’s happening and also that it’s already too late to avoid whatever the consequences will be. Nonetheless, he’s afraid.

Scully smiles demurely and tosses her head to get her hair out of her face.

“You’re not getting submissive on me, are you?” she asks playfully, though he senses that she’s a little afraid too.

He allows himself to get lost in living up to her expectations, almost like he’s playing a role. He’s the man who carries her to his couch and tells her to watch while he tastes the slickness between her legs. He’s the man who holds her hands above her head while he makes her come with his fingers. He’s the man who hands her a—miraculously—unexpired condom and instructs her to put it on him, and then he is the man who bends her over the arm of his couch and tries not to seem too proud when she gasps at the size of him and comes again within a minute.

She moves to sit on the couch, her legs wobbling, and looks skeptically at the condom still snuggly covering his erection, which isn’t waning in the least.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you weren’t finished,” she says breathlessly as she pulls a blanket off the back of his couch to cover her nudity.

He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice. Diana never did. Or she didn’t care enough to say anything about it, anyway.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, tugging the condom off and retrieving his boxers from the floor near the table.

“Are you that drunk?” she asks, mildly alarmed.

“No,” he answers quickly. “It just…doesn’t always happen for me.”

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully, and he wishes she’d stop looking at him like that. Like she might actually listen if he told her about the other ways Phoebe took advantage of his vulnerability. About how difficult it is for him to let go in front of someone else now. About how lonely it makes him feel.

He sits beside her and they talk for a long time. About nothing. About everything. About what they just did and what it means for them. Eventually, he does tell her about Phoebe. She doesn’t make him feel weak or silly, or express surprise that a man could experience that kind of issue. She’s empathetic, and angry on his behalf, and she doesn’t take it personally or claim to know how to fix him like most women do. The booze wears away and a new kind of trust is forged, and he gets the feeling that she might turn out to be the best friend he’s ever had.

When she kisses his cheek and slips her hand under the waist of his boxers, he knows that it’s not out of pity. She doesn’t touch him like he’s broken or treat him like a project, and he doesn’t feel any pressure to perform. She coaxes him to the edge and he trusts that she’ll be there to catch him when he falls.

He lets go.

[noacfapologyst]

telltale heart — matty healy. part 2

´part 1´

summary: you and matty have a pending meeting at some awards where you promised to go as a couple. but something goes wrong.

wc: 2,5k

a/n: hey! i'm so sorry for the lateness. a lot has just happened these days but here is the second part. thanks for the love, x.

The weeks between the awards and the proposal to take Matty as your date have been from the moment he left the studio, the only thing you've ever seen going on in your mind.

You haven't been able to sit down and compose peacefully, or be able to just have a conversation without mentioning him without you slipping through your cheeks. Or that he appears in stains on your writing, the references may be exhaustive at some point, but your brain is about to explode just to think that he'll be there for you, and just for you. You wish his hand would occasionally slip into the waist of the dress you will wear and you would use that touch to keep it forever in your memory.

Even in your best dreams you wouldn't have had the courage to ask him to accompany you to prizes like your date, you can actually stand near him without trembling about it by mere chance.

Two weeks before, you go back to the conversation that tortured you several days ago with your team.

"Matty Healy, are you really sure?" Your manager inquires again, you cross your legs again. It's a sequence you've been living since Friday. "It dissolves your image too much in front of his. I don't know if it fits."

"Really, I don't care." You shrug your shoulders with heaviness. Your image is ruined anyway, but you're not going to let them take this off your hands. "Whether i go with someone or not, there is a stir. I was cheated, remember." You point again and you look at your fingernails, you need to finish defining everything now. "I don't care if it ruins my reputation. Matty is my friend, end of discussion, Helen."

Maybe it's the tone of voice or maybe you've just fed everyone up with it but Helen, your manager for years, sighs and nods with discontent. A winning smile sits on your face. You understand the worry in that office really, but you have one more card to play. You don't really care what his image is from doors to the outside because with everyone around him he's never been more than a gentleman and that's the only thing you really stick with when you have to talk about him.

"Plus, we give the media what they want. The antithesis of Sam." Helen decides it's time to let the argument go and even though her face is a weak grin they decide to move on to the other agenda items.

"Have you decided the dress, at least?" Your innocent smile betrays you and you're nowhere near getting a blow to your head.

You run into a bubble of teenage foolishness, she should understand that. But you won't discuss that either because deep down you've let him look distracted.

"I'll see the dress later, I'll let you know which one I choose." You inform her at the end by taking a sip in the cup of coffee. Helen doesn't make any sound anymore, and you know you've officially won.

--

Stylists really only want to kill you now or throw some fabric over your head. But they are right in their anger, you shouldn't have waited until the last week to choose the dress or gather too many designers in one place without having a very clear idea of fabrics, cuts and necklines. All you know is it has to be red, it can't be any other color under any forecast.

But it's not that you didn't want to choose it, you just couldn't find the right one. Which is kind of a lie.

No one can deny that there is an attraction in you posturally just by seeing you from afar, there is some light in you that stands out without you trying. You know that you're actually beautiful and that you're lucky enough to fit in dresses and that anything would be fine to show off on you. Your face has small freckles and you have good proportions between your nose, your eyes moderately green and almond, and your round lips. Your hips and abdomen are fine although you've never paid too much attention to them, or at least lately. But you know that your figure is imposing and immutable when the line is drawn between your low back and your high back and everything stands out there.

But this is different, it's a dress for and by Matty. It has to be perfect, not close to it. It may be one of the few opportunities you have in your life to receive his look on your body and make you tremble even just by looking at your cheeks. And that's also why the red dress has to be camouflaged on your cheeks.

In the end you find it and you couldn't be happier with the result. Red satin, straps around the back and neckline. When you test it automatically your body functions like a teenager and you start spinning around it without even finishing tying your high heels properly. But as you see yourself spinning in the mirror a smile sits on your face from ear to ear.

"It honestly feels like it was designed for you." After everyone in the room approves it by nodding as they take the measurements for the final adjustments, your image advisor shows up at the door and his confirmation lets you see that you're going to be relevant at the awards and with several glances on it overshadowing several more artists. "You look like the fucking winner."

And that confirms that you've finally found it. And it's perfect.

---

"Hey." Matty's face appears on your computer screen when he calls you on FaceTime. They haven't seen each other in person since the night at the studio, but their contact has been maintained anyway. "How do you feel about the awards?"

"Why the question?" You better place the device on the table and rest the guitar on your legs. You take the opportunity to spend some time watching how the hair on his front move each time he accommodates the camera.

"I wanted to make sure you remembered that we will be the best couple at the awards." Your heart stops for a second. "Believe me when I tell you that Sam is going to vomit with resentment when he sees us." The archness in his voice, the change of tone, the punctuation of the latter. The silly smile and the wink he makes. Too much for three o'clock in the afternoon.

That's when you realize something else. Ever since Matty became your supposed date, you haven't spent a second thinking about your breakup or your ex or who she's going to take. Just now you're rethinking it.

"You still there?" Matty claps his palms and looks at you from the screen with a frown. He doesn't mean it in a blunt way, but he knows how your brain works and he knows you've frozen to yourself.

"Yes, I don't know, I had forgotten he was going to be there." In fact it's a confession would be because it's realistic. You've been in your pink bubble about Matty that you forgot your ex would be there. "I don't wanna see him. I would like he stop exists sometimes." You laugh silly and he gives it back to you with a supportive look.

"It won't bother you, darling. I'll protect you." You feel like you're gonna throw up rainbows for the next five minutes and you don't know exactly what the trigger is. But luckily you can hear George's voice in the background and you know Matty's going to say goodbye. "See you on Friday. I'll get a red bow for the suit."

"That would be fantastic." You wink at him revealing the color of your dress and he smiles waving his hand around the camera as if he were a small child. "Bye bye, Matty."

When you cut off the call you have your head burning up from the amount of information you're processing right now, and then you go back to the first point you noticed today, the initial cause you owe to being able to go with Matty to the awards has stopped crossing your mind the moment this whole plan happened. It's also when you realize how self-destructive it is to have portal notifications on your computer just to keep abreast of public opinion about you.

You shouldn't let it get to you so much, but it actually does. Sam and her, the girl the rumors of your infidelity fed on and then confirmed, holding hands in front of the last bar you and he went to as a couple, two days before the breakup. His hands on his waist, he looks happier than he ever was with you. Smile more, he has a genuine expression in it. She's cute and it hurts you because you thought you were her ideal type and she, ironically, is completely different from you.

Your breath is cut short and you force yourself not to blink so fast and control the splash in your eyes. Yeah, maybe it's been a few months, but you're back in front of that studio and you're back in front of the words that stuck like a dagger in you when he said he didn't really love you and you just bored him. That feeling makes you get carried away and after weeks of holding back you get carried away and you just cry liberating yourself. At some point you let go of a drowned cry when you think about how you imagined a life full of it or at least imagined it would last more than a few months.

In the epitome of your catharsis you stretch between the guitar and the notebook and reveal that not letting yourself feel in its totality is what has not allowed you to put words in a line. And that is now broken from the moment your fingers prick the guitar in a melancholy and sad way, your thoughts fly and stay on the page when you denote the betrayal in your story, the lie and the reality of the facts. As your facet of strength and pretending smile and well-being collapse and leave you reduced to your tear-filled role, your knees on your head and the floor next to the gray armchair.

Maybe one of the best songs of your career. How you died waiting for a sign that never came even if they had sworn you everlasting love. Like you would actually have given up everything to keep it.

Suddenly you calm down just as quickly as you have acquired the previous state, when you manage to breathe properly thinking that Matty said he would be there and accompany you in front of Sam. That he has used the word protect gushes warmth within you, and you know that you can rejoice in the feeling of affection that he inevitably gives you. Therein lies the essence and effect Matty has on you and how important his friendship is to every aspect of your life. He's been there in every stage of your life and he's never stopped accompanying you even when he wasn't at his best.

Then you relax thinking about how lucky you are to be able to take him to those awards regardless of the terms agreed between the two and what the media put on. At the end of the day you'll be going to the awards that you and him have been talked about for thousands of nights being the best choice of both because understanding was never faked and that chemistry is always instantaneous.

When you realize you're tapping the guitar without a predetermined note, it's glimpsed between scratches of melancholy and a pink bubble. But now you're back to your usual thoughts and now you can't stop thinking about Matty dressed in a suit (and looking awesome, by the way) with him basically matching you in his tie.

--

Since you open your eyes on Friday, the day becomes chaos. Dress test, hair test and make-up test. The walk in heels, the review of the speech. Thinking about what to say about the breakup, that your figure remains dazzling no matter if the person able to disarm you is the one standing next to you. Both for your ex-partner and your date. Then they'll come and tell you about your nomination and how some song will be better than yours. The vicious circle of being an artist.

You wish it was a quick day, but it becomes extremely heavy. You hardly have time to stop for a drink of water and when you realize you are already changed for the event.

You look in the mirror with your stylist and then he starts to take shots while he changes between different angles to have the best pictures. Your hair is semi collected in a braid from behind and only a few waves break off on the wind but it gives the feeling that you have a princess collection and is not in danger of collapse.

Your dress gets all the attention, you look taken off the cover of a magazine. The red satin falls on you adjusting your curves and marking your figure in a rather attractive way to see, the cut on the leg does not take out the dainty of the dress. Your neckline falls on a beak held by a very thin thick straps that connect the dress with the neckline at the back, leaving your back open only with a few straps crossing to your low back.

You're perfect but you can't help but want to bite your nails because you feel there's something still missing even though you're being manic checking your makeup all the time. And if it wasn't because you don't have a second for your stylist to talk to you about important things, you'd have tried to touch up your makeup many more times.

When you get in the limo, you breathe until you calm down, and then you have a millisecond to talk to Matty.

see you, x

hey

we're coming for you soon

You turn off the phone and leave it on the seat when you feel your manager's gaze pointing at you.

"Where's Matty?" You ask after a while starting to listen to your senses that tells you something is wrong. They should have passed Matty's house a few miles ago, and your heart speeds up when you know you are entering the freeway.

Your phone vibrates and lets you see the Brit's messages making you form a thick grimace between your lips. Your brow automatically frowns and you feel your makeup heavy as you read each word carefully and feel like someone is playing a heavy joke on you.

only a thing

if you promise someone a date you have to keep it or at least warn that it's a fucking joke

Your vision becomes blurry for a few moments and you feel your world just stop in front of a polarized window and the body of the seat. You don't want to believe that what your head is thinking is actually what's going on, you can't just go overboard like that. The chances were very slim.

And then, come the words that confirm how you dug your own grave without it being your fault. You feel like someone's slapping you right where it hurts the most.

"Oh yes, about that. Matty isn't a good look for you, so we just got you someone else. You'll thank me later."

actually i think it sucks but will be rewarded in the next part? anyway let me know what you think <333

[froggiebi-moved]

i swear nothing has been so validating and helpful to hear than other intersex people with pcos explaining that they had an alternate puberty than what we were taught to expect - because i did, too.

the first sign i had that i was entering puberty was the development of acne at age 8. even as a kid i knew how weird that was, as everyone around me still had nice, smooth skin, while i was the kid in the photographs covered in red bumps. it was humiliating.

as i travelled further into puberty, my boobs and body hair developed as expected, though the boobs got way too big too fast, and the body hair was patchy (but at least easier to maintain). my hips developed, too, but i always felt more top heavy due to the growth of my boobs, as well as the fact that my body type already had a longer torso and big tummy, the latter being a very common pcos thing. i had also been tall until i suddenly stopped growing at 14, giving me a squarely average height and dooming my legs to be forever short. i'm not kidding; at 11, i was about an inch shorter than i am now. i grew a measly 3cm in as many years, and that was it for me. i am now 164cm (5'4") despite my parents and all my siblings being taller.

as a teen, i tried to focus on how i was just like the girls now, how we shared this commonality (even if i had extreme dysmorphia from my body developing somewhat differently), but i couldnt help but be preoccupied with the state of my skin. i noticed the boys were not only more likely to have acne or to develop it early, they were more likely to have severe acne than the girls. my acne began to spread over my chest, shoulders, and back, and some zits were particularly painful and/or itchy. i didn't have cystic acne, but it was mild to moderate on almost every inch of skin down to my armpits. i thought of myself as a monster, fated to be the ugly, overlooked friend, the weirdo who couldn't get a boyfriend as they kept having crushes who didn't like them back - fairly typical teenage concerns to be sure, and one that i couldn't even express as different to my peers' as we were all hormonally haywire. even my irregular periods and heavy cramping seemed normal, because it was hard to find a teenage girl without a single experience of irregular periods and heavy cramping.

all the girls talked about using proactiv, clearasil and neutrogena to battle their pimples, and i tried what my mother was willing to buy for me, even dicey balms she found on ebay, but nothing helped; not until i went on the combination pill at 16. until then, i understood the boys who straight up pretended they didn't have it because either nothing worked, or there was nothing socially acceptable they could do about it - what millennial teenage boy would ever wash their face with specialised soap? don't worry boys, because i tried it, and it didn't do shit; the pill, however, was like a miracle cure. it didn't clear my acne up 100%, but it got better by at least half, and the redness calmed down. my face now seemed just as pimply as most other 16 year old girls, and i couldn't be happier.

i wasn't diagnosed with pcos until i was 19, after a decade of suffering and hating myself and questioning what was wrong with me and begging my mother to take me to a specialist. she even told me that as a teenager she only got pimples when she was due for her period, but didn't make that same hormonal link for me because i had pimples all the time. the constant dismissals and blaming, the shit like "you just need to be more hygienic! here, put toothpaste on your skin!" - it was all infuriating, and only succeeded in bringing my self-esteem down further.

the diagnosis helped a lot with helping me let go of a lot of the self-blame and shame i developed alongside my symptoms, but as an adult i have had other associated issues. since giving birth to my son, i have been growing facial hair that steadily became more and more noticeable, and it now has to be removed every week or so - just like my body hair, it's patchy, so i can get away with leaving it for a few days, despite it growing at the same rate as a typical beard. pregnancy changed my body and made that "topsy turvy" feeling even greater, as my bust is now far larger than my hips, despite women's clothing accommodating for the opposite. (though to be fair, this is also genetic, as my mother was more top heavy than i am; it's just another factor in the struggle of accepting my body.)

on top of all that, i have been struggling to understand my gender for the last decade, coming to the realisation i am nonbinary but itching to know what "flavour", trying on a bunch of different labels (mostly multigender ones that hover around agender), knowing i had dysphoria but not really understanding how as it differed to most accounts told by afab people. due to how my hormones work, as well as my nebulous dissatisfaction with my body, i figured i had to be a transmasc, or at least equally masc to fem. however, the more i heard trans women's stories pre-transition, the more i realised i could relate to them, and that i was doing the same thing - trying to conform to what i felt i had to be, though for me it was more that i didn't feel "womanly" enough to deserve being called one, despite wanting to be involved in the collective of women. trying to pigeon hole myself as transmasc or even completely agender wasn't realistic for me, and the reason my dysphoria was so great was because i wanted to be fem and to feel that i fit in - with women.

this whole confusing journey has been aided by my making the connection between dysphoria and pcos, finding out pcos is considered an intersex condition by the intersex community, being acceped into the community, and growing to understand just how complicated gender can be for us; i'm far from the only intersex person in this boat, despite sailing in it alone for quite some time. i've been calling myself a nonbinary woman / agender woman for a while now, and it feels right, even if it seems counterintuitive to perisex people. but i'm done trying to make myself palatable for perisex people, especially perisex cis people. i am intersex, and nonbinary, and a woman, and the "nonbinary" part modifies the "woman" part, and the way in which i am nonbinary and a woman is further influenced by my intersex status and bisexuality. and all of that is okay.

we are who we are, and when you have a community behind you, it'll quickly absorb the limitations you've put on yourself all your life. i see that now.

*terfs do not fucking interact*

[bainofjustice]

Welcome to Crime.net, a 18+ Payday fan server with a focus on Payday's interesting Lore! We have channels to discuss the games, to share fan creations and for discussing the gameplay, under the cut is the full rules list, which is also in the server

**The Rules**

1. Be kind, ultimately this is the most important, do not be rude/cruel to people and respect people's boundaries

2. No bigotry, this fits above and includes queerphobia, racism, ableism/sanism (towards physical & mental disabilities), etc

3. This server is friendly to all systems, if you are anti endo please leave

4. This server is 18+ ONLY due to the dark subject matter of Payday as a franchise & because currently the admin do not feel responsible enough to be watching out for minors as well as adults

5. No works with incestuous or pedophilaic content is allowed here, alongside on-screen/noncon being banned. I ask if one makes this sort of content they do not stay in this server

5¹. The above also mean no sharing dubcon or similar work as it creates too much of a grey area in regards to the ban on 'noncon' and what that means

6. Do not share any AI made content or sites, this includes art, memes or any text (including character AIs), we support artists & writers in this server

7. NSFW content is only allowed in the NSFW area, this includes content with the following: any nudity, suggestive content & sexual content

7¹. We do not allow NSFW content with real people, cosplaying or otherwise, suggestive content that does not include genitalia or sex acts are still allowed within the nsfw channels though.

7². I hope this would be obvious, but if you post anything sexual/suggestive with characters or people you are getting banned without any appeal or anything, this server has zero tolerance for pedos

8. Please keep the following content to the Blacklist area only: irl death, suicide, any discussion of SA/rape, gore & major injuries, body horror, heavy IRL news

9. No character bashing, like developers for Pokémon say for their creations "Every one is someone's favorite" and I feel it feeds into a negative fandom experience

10. Please do not use this server as a venting space, at the moment the admins are unable ensure that it would a safe environment for those venting and others in the server

11. Please try and remain on the topic of discussion in a channel, but ultimately this a looser rule as conversation tends to wonder naturally

**Moderation**

- If there is ever a issue going on please @ the admin role, and dm a admin, this also goes for if there have been issues with a member in dms (though we will ask to see screenshots in the case of dms as there are no other ways for us to check these things)

- New rules are added as needed, when that happens there will be a update everyone is @'d in

**What Happens When A Rule Is Broken**

- If it is something that could be a honest mistake such as taking a joke too far, posting something for the blacklisted area outside of it or other small errors in judgment they will get a warning and on their 3rd warning they will be kicked

- If it is actively harmful such as posting nsfw of minors or other abusive content they will be banned without any warnings as soon as possible

[officialclangen]

I hope this is ok to ask but I’ve been meaning to join the discord but I’ve never really used it before so I was wondering what exactly to expect? If that makes sense? I know there’s tech support but I don’t really know anything else

Hi! Of course it's okay to ask, I'd be happy to try and describe it for you :) Throwing this under a readmore since it's image heavy!

I've made an alt account to give the best explanation I can - when you join the server, you'll be dropped right into the rules channel. You'll see two other channels, the FAQ and the old bug reporting channel, which has a link to a Google Form for any bugs you encounter and want to report.

You'll need to agree to follow our rules next. Discord I believe only allows us to list 6 rules - you'll need to read through the rules channel for the full list!

After that, you'll need to wait a few minutes before you can interact with Silverpelt to gain access to the rest of the server. Use this time to read through the rules channel to make sure you understand how we expect our members to act!

Once the countdown is up, you'll be able to click the verify button! If it doesn't work straight away, wait a bit and try again. Sometimes the silly bot is taking a nap and forgets to let newcomers in!

This will open up a ton of new channels, which may be a bit overwhelming at first. Don't stress too much - you can click Browse Channels at the top of the channel list to choose exactly what you'd like to see!

Anything you don't want to see, you can untick. This way, you can have the exact experience that suits you best.

Some important channels:

staff-help is where you go to open a ticket. If you ever have a concern about the server, such as another member making you upset or uncomfortable, you can open a private ticket to chat with the moderators. Nobody can see these but you and the team, so they're a great way to express how you're feeling about things without fear of being judged by others!

Everything in the Clan Gen category is where you'd go to chat about the game! We have a general channel for regular chatter, a screenshots channel for sharing your in-game pictures, a challenges forum for mixing up your gameplay, and a clan-sharing forum for sharing your Clans!

The Creative Corner category hosts channels like art, alongside the modding channels. This is where you'd go to get user-created mods (such as the ever-popular LifeGen!), or to talk about making your own!

The Tech and Game Support category is where you want to be if you need help. The official-tech-help forum accepts threads asking for help with the ItchIo version of the game, while the players-helping-players channel is where you'd go for help with the GitHub developmental version. There is also a save-file-editing channel for help with editing your files, such as bringing a dead cat back to life or causing a cat to become pregnant!

I hope this explanation made sense, and wasn't too overwhelming. I hope to see you in the server!

☆ Fable ☆

[clovermarigold]

How TF2 Reacting to a Touchy Reader

SFW- touchy as in hugs people randomly/ always making physical contact

Feel free to make a request!

Spy

Simple, he won't. You're not touching him, end of story. In all seriousness if you somehow manage to catch him off guard and get him into a bear hug, he's neck chopping you out of reflex. Don't worry though, it's not you specifically, he just dislikes people in general.

Medic

"Curious!" He jumps a little initially, but he doesn't push you off or insult you. He understands you're just naturally a physical person. While he prefers to not be touched, claiming 'don't you know a doctor's materials must be sterile' (we both know he doesn't give a shit). He will let you hold and pet Archimedes to get it out of your system.

Scout

No thought, head empty. Do you know how touch starved this man is. He's caught off guard at first, but he relaxes into it quick. He doesn't hug back, pretending to be too stoic and manly to need to hug someone else, but out of the entire squad, he's your biggest return customer. Eager to stand next to you at the ends of missions, knowing you'll jump on and squeeze the closest person to you.

Demoman

Eeeeehhh, this one's iffy. It really depends on how drunk he is. If he's absolutely plastered, then it's a no, he's yammering, barely conscious and willing to shank anyone that gets between him and the restroom. If he's moderately drunk, also no... but yes? This is his self-reflecting drunk stage. So, if you're willing to put up with his mild moral and existential crisis then yes, all the hugs you could ever want. If he's lightly buzzed, then he's all for it, hooking an arm around your neck as the two of you walk and he talks. Loudly at that. If he's sober (IF) then he's probably nursing a hangover and would like to be left alone.

Heavy

Bear hug? You call that a bear hug? He'll show you a bear hug. Heavy grew up with all women in his life, his mom and sisters, so he's much more in touch with his feelings and isn't ashamed of showing emotions and pda, platonic or otherwise. He loves how expressive you are and how much you value physical touch. He himself had physical touch as his biggest love language. One hug is all it takes and the two of you are immediate besties. Him taking you on shoulder rides around the base and eating sandwiches while leaned against each other.

Sniper

He was the first to catch on to your touchy nature, watching how in conversations you would always gesture and make small touches with your hands, and how even in casual fun conversations you would have your arm thrown over the others shoulder. He honestly kind of likes it, you remind him of his mum in that way. Besides, he's been through worse, what's a bear hug every now and again.

Engineer

Another case of being caught off guard at first but easing into it. He finds your clingy nature to be endearing and a breath of fresh air. He laughs before patting you on the back and giving you a few head pats (ok dad). After the first time, he makes a habit of acting a bit more casual with you concerning touch; resting his elbow on your shoulder, slapping your back when you make him laugh, ruffling your hair when you do a good job, overall, a lot of dad stuff.

Pyro

Loves it! The second you turn to wrap your arms around them you hear muffled cheers as you're hoisted into the air, spun around like a carousel, the two of you annoying the others with how loud you are. Out of all the team, Pyro is easily the most eager to reciprocate, only slightly challenged by Heavy.

Ms. Pauling

She's pretty uncomfortable the first few times you do it. Stiff and awkwardly still as you attempt to clack her ribs. Over time though she realizes it's just your nature to be touchy. Eventually she starts to either stand far away from you when she knows the team is going to get good news, or initiating first so she can set the bar for how hard and how energetic the hug gets to be. She does still try her best to encourage you in smaller physical ways, shoulder pats and soft arm punches.

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

Hello! Could I request a toby Brian and Tim in a zombie apocalypse where they find the reader just wondering the woods

Hello! I apologize for taking so long on this request, I was taking a much needed break but I'm back now and I hope you like this!

Thank you so much for requesting!!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Surviving an apocalypse

.

.

.

.

You were currently panicking more than you ever had in your entire life. While going out for some more supplies, food, first aid, etc, you had a nasty encounter with one of the undead. You had managed to escape with a moderately sized scrape on your arm- which you are pretty sure is now infected with at least a little bit of the creature's saliva. You're basically fucked.

You wander the woods, quickly becoming delirious. Your breathing becomes heavy and uneven, and you trip over every stray stick or branch. Eventually, your vision becomes too blurry to see anything and you fall to the forest floor, the cold soil feeling like heaven against your hot skin. The last thing you see as your eyes give out is a pair of boots in front of you, and another set nudging your head.

When you awake, you are tied down to a makeshift plank on a floor with three people looking at you curiously. "Is it.....dead?" One of them asks, he is the shortest one of the group and the youngest by the looks of it. "God, I hope not. Even death these days isn't really the end." The tallest one says, his voice gruff. There is a stinging sensation in your wound and you make a noise of discomfort, only to realize that you have a rag in your mouth, likely to stop you from biting if you had been infected.

You look to your arm to see that another man wearing a dirty yellow hoodie is cleaning your arm. He glances up at you before going back to cleaning and bandaging your wound. "Sorry, the restraints are only a precaution." He mumbles. After you are all cleaned up, they then test your health to make sure you haven't become one of the undead. Once you are cleared, you are untied and given food, water and fresh clothes. You scarf down your dinner as the three men watch you, seeming as if they are on edge and not fully convinced you won't attack. "So what were you doing in the woods?" The short one asks, who you've learned is Toby. "Looking for help" you reply.

The tallest, who is named Tim speaks next. "....In the woods? An area of the world that probably has the least amount of people?" You stop eating for a moment and look at him. "You found me." He grunts in response.

"You're lucky that we did, too. If we hadn't found you when we did you would've been toast." Brian points out. "It would do you good not to go out until it's fully healed" he adds, motioning to your bandage. You look at it and nod.

Once your wound has healed, it's simply become convenient staying with them. And so you do. You've become a nice addition to their means of survival, as they have to you.

We'll just have to hope that zombies stay your biggest concern....