#only the sauciest

[parttimesarah]

[puppy-the-mask]

Today I’ve been imagining The Roommates going to a fancy party. Edge is invited every year and is always stuck talking with the people so he never gets good gossip anymore, so! Cas enters seperately, so she doesn’t get roped in with ‘oh who’s your date?’ Questions and just vibes by the punch bowl snacking away and not drawing attention, she spends the night paying him visits/dragging him away from chatty people who are wearing on his nerves while also finding discreet ways to evesdrop.

But then an anti-harem mini confrontation happens between the protag and antag in the corner and this one she HAS to record- Cas is sure she heard her boys name in all that. Then Antag trips protag as they’re leaving and of course Cas’ gotta day something, she’s all for minding her business but that bitch said some things and went out of her way to do that. Social Anxiety- Forgotten

Which leads to more juicy juicy info, and threats! And guess who’s phone is still on and recording every word~

So she ‘back down’ and leaves the situation- immediately sends Edge the video with an ‘I think this’ll be enough gossip for the rest of the night’ and decides to go get some boba or something. All the party has is champagne and water so she needs some non-alcoholic flavor in her life. Her and Edge work out what she’ll get him while she’s gone, he hands over the keys, and tells her that they’ll be going to an after party the main house holds for their family and friends to cap off the night.

While she was gone they left early so he sent her the adress, and she finally shows up- to the shock and slight panic of Antag (who is trying to either catch or get Edge back)

They have a nice little thing where he asks what flavor she got, which was a new one. She offered him to try and he just, handed her his and kept drinking.

“What No! This ones you’re favorite give mine back!” this point they were sitting down but even still he can hold it far out of her reach. She threatens to do something that will embarrass both of them infront of his family and he relents and switches drinks.

“SHAMELESS HARLOT”

“Saucy Wench”

[idiopath-fic-smile]

more Singin' in the Rain ot3, now on the honeymoon boat

part one

part two

The ship was a grand one. Cosmo, whose nautical knowledge began and ended with that Douglas Fairbanks picture about pirates, could tell that much. There was a majestic dining room and a wide, clean promenade and state-of-the-art engines that would get them to Europe in just a few days. The dining room even featured a four-piece band, who were a little stiff but not half bad.

His room, his island of privacy away from Don and Kathy and their combined magnetic pull, was bigger than he expected, well-appointed. It went a little overboard embracing an Egyptian theme, although the decorators had tastefully stopped short of including an actual mummy in a giant stone sarcophagus. He was grateful for that. The piano, as promised, sat in the place of where a desk might normally be, keys gleaming invitingly.

There was just one problem.

“How,” said Cosmo, dropping onto the bed, “did you manage to accidentally book us two adjoining rooms?”

“I’m sorry,” said Don, crossing his arms. “There must’ve been a mix-up at the offices.”

“Maybe the travel agent heard wrong on the telephone,” said Kathy. She rubbed Don’s back consolingly. Don shot her a grateful look. It was all very sweet, probably.

“How?” said Cosmo again. “Nothing sounds like ‘adjoining.’ It doesn’t even have a rhyme.”

“Are you certain?” said Kathy.

Cosmo nodded; he’d already run through the alphabet, twice. “The closest I can get to is ‘disappointing.’” Don was leaning into Kathy’s back rub like a cat, but his face was full of uncatlike guilt. “Don,” said Cosmo, “look, pal, I appreciate the free ticket, but please tell me you’ll fix this.”

“I already talked to the cruise director and there aren’t other rooms,” said Don. “We’re out in the ocean, what do you want me to do, alert the coast guard?”

“Alert the coast guard,” said Cosmo, “flag down a passing mermaid, strike a bargain with Poseidon himself!” 

“Who?” said Don.

“The Greek god of the sea,” said Kathy, like that was the important part.

“I don’t speak any Greek,” Don replied, “do you?”

“I will swim to shore,” Cosmo said, to nobody in particular.

“We can swap over to a different ship when we get to port if we need to,” said Don, shoulders slumping uncharacteristically. He must’ve felt worse about his screw-up than he let on. “In the meantime, the door locks from both sides, so—”

“I’m not—worried that you’ll barge in at all hours pestering me for a cup of sugar,” Cosmo broke in.

Don blinked. Kathy went very still beside him.

Out loud, it sounded more suggestive than he’d meant. Why had he picked sugar, the sauciest ingredient of the baking world?

“Or flour,” he amended.

“Then what’s the trouble?”

“I.” Cosmo sighed. “Why am I the only person in this room who seems to know what a honeymoon is for?”

“Why,” said Don, wide-eyed, “what’s it for?”

“D’you think, if I jumped in the sea and started paddling now—” said Cosmo.

“Don’t worry,” said Kathy. “Don and I can be very quiet.”

And the trouble was, this was worse. The prospect of hearing them from the other side of a single thin door was one thing, and honestly it was plenty bad—Cosmo had played a role during several key moments of their courtship but at least he could say he didn’t know what they sounded like in the throes of passion—but for reasons that Cosmo did not feel like examining, the thought of them stifling themselves in the act, the thought of them naked in bed together, touching each other, biting down on a giggle or a moan, and whispering, ‘Shh, don’t wake Cosmo,’ made him feel like his whole stomach was a sore tooth.

“Don’t put yourselves out on my account,” he told them. Belatedly, he realized that was maybe the worst thing he could’ve said. He blushed, and then he stood, face still flaming—Damn his Irish complexion—nodded to them both, and fled to the promenade.

.

The ocean stretched in all directions as far as Cosmo could see. It was dizzying, and also strangely calming. He stared out at the waves and reminded himself, hardly for the first time, that it wasn’t Don’s fault how Cosmo felt about him. It wasn’t Don’s fault, and it wasn’t Kathy’s fault that she was maybe the most charming woman he’d ever met. You could certainly blame Don for booking the rooms, for not double-checking over the telephone, but there was no malice to it. They were both, at the end of the day, wonderful people who had decided to open this trip up to him for whatever reason, and besides, his bed was piled with any number of pillows he could jam over his head if they did make noise at night.

He stood there holding onto the railing for a long time. Eventually, he heard footsteps behind him. 

“Feeling better?” said Don quietly, almost lost under the roar of the water. Without really trying to, Cosmo turned to look at him. Under his coat, Don was wearing a nicer suit than before, and the color had returned to his face. He looked—well, he looked like a handsome movie star married to a gorgeous starlet. Don took a few steps and rested his hands next to Cosmo’s on the rail.

“It’s the salt air, I think,” said Cosmo, nodding. “Feels like I could do anything. Why, I might write another musical, wear my trousers baggy, become a pirate.”

“Your trousers are fine as is,” said Don.

Cosmo shrugged. “A little change can be good.”

“Sure, unless it isn’t.” Don sighed. It was an awfully sad sigh to be having about the fit of a guy’s pants, Cosmo thought, but then Don turned to him and added, “You know, we really have missed you.”

“Don,” said Cosmo patiently. “I was at your house this Thursday. I stayed for three hours. I drank all your gin.”

Don didn’t make a crack about the gin, which was probably a bad sign. “And before that?” 

Before that, it had been a while. Cosmo winced inwardly. “I’ve been busy,” he said, “you’ve been busy, Kathy’s been busy—”

“We invited you over, four different times,” Don interjected. “If I’ve done something, if we’ve done something, I wish you would just tell us.”

In front of them, the sea rolled and rolled. Cosmo thought about deflection, about twisting the moment into a joke, a sword duel where cold steel met only an outstretched rubber chicken: squeak.

He let out a long breath. “Why the Hell did you bring me along on your honeymoon?”

“We brought you along because we wanted you along,” said Don. “Whenever you’re not there, we wish you were. It doesn’t need to be any harder than that.”

“So it isn’t…” Cosmo started.

“What?” “You and Kathy aren’t having problems? Hoping for a buffer, or a distraction?” It was a very new theory on Cosmo’s part, and once the words had left his mouth, he realized how badly they fit the facts at hand.

Don smiled a private little smile. “Me and Kathy are doing just marvelously.”

“That’s splendid,” said Cosmo, because he had to say something, apparently. Marvelous didn’t bode well for Cosmo’s sanity at night, but it beat his friends being sad. “Lovely.” He let his cadences drift into a so-so British accent. “Capital show, old sport. Tip-top. Simpy spiffing.” Not his best work. 

Don lay a hand on Cosmo’s coat sleeve, at the elbow. “Do you want to come to dinner with us?” he said. “It’s meant to be a formal affair but you’ve still got time to change.”

Whenever you’re not here, we wish you were. Obviously, Don didn’t mean “whenever” in the strictest sense—Cosmo got the feeling he was not present in Don’s mind, say, when Don was in bed with his beautiful wife—but the thought now made him feel warmer than the gin had. It would be enough. It had to be.

“Sure,” said Cosmo, “why not,” and Don thumped him encouragingly on the back.

“Cosmo,” said Don as they headed back into the body of the boat, “piracy, really?” Cosmo grinned. “Don’t blame me, blame that salt air. Makes a man feel like anything’s possible.”

.

Kathy and Don looked enchanting at dinner, and Cosmo cleaned up alright too, if he didn’t say so himself.

The food was good—salmon with hollandaise sauce and French beans, braised duckling with apple sauce, some fancy beef thing, salad Dumas and ice cream for dessert—and the band had relaxed a smidge and was playing something from this century, which was nice.

Over dessert, Kathy told them about how, one night several months before meeting Don, she’d been at a speakeasy during what turned out to be a police raid.

“What were you doing in a speakeasy?” Cosmo asked before he could stop to think about it.

“Why, drinking milk and reading Austen, of course,” she replied, a picture of guilelessness. Don snickered, and she grinned.

“I walked full-speed into that one,” said Cosmo.

“Buddy, you ran,” said Don.

“I was drinking,” Kathy acknowledged, nodding, “but really that’s where the best dancing is. The best music, too.”

Cosmo, who lately only drank at parties or at home because it was easier and safer, nodded thoughtfully.

“Hot jazz?”

“The hottest, at least in Los Angeles. Once we’re back, we should all go!”

“I could always stand to take in more culture,” said Cosmo.

“Oh no,” said Don, “don’t let her pull you into her sordid past. Did you forget the end of the story is ‘and then the police came?’”

“That’s more the middle,” said Kathy. “Well, middle-end.”

“So how’d you escape the reaching arm of the law?” Cosmo asked.

Kathy swallowed her ice cream. “I saw the police were all rushing in through the front door, and I dashed to the back and through the performers’ dressing room. I’d done makeup for some of my school plays, so I fought my way up to the mirror, grabbed a grease pencil—a few lines here, a few lines there—borrowed an old coat of the back of a chair, ran maybe half a block, and pretended to be an old lady.”

“Really,” said Cosmo.

“It’s mostly in the walk and the posture,” she said. “And it helps that a few of the street lights were out.”

“And the cops were fooled?”

“One of them asked me if I’d seen any young people running that way,” said Kathy.

Cosmo clapped his hands together with glee. “Don, you married a criminal mastermind! Never make her angry.”

Don wrapped an arm around her shoulders and flashed her a besotted look. “I don’t intend to.”

Kathy nestled into the half-embrace. “Tell me more about—was it Coyoteville? With the ventriloquist.”

“Dead Man’s Fang,” said Cosmo. “And your wish is my command, but I don’t know what else there is to say. We came, we saw, we lost our sleeping arrangements to a puppet.”

“He tucked it in that night, remember?” said Don suddenly.

“He did!” said Cosmo, delighted.

Sometimes when Don started in on the official line about how they’d studied at the conservatory and the rest of that baloney, Cosmo worried that some part of Don believed it, that it was Cosmo’s job alone to remember how long they’d traveled that strange, bumpy, often farcical road together towards some measure of success and respectability in Hollywood. But Cosmo had completely forgotten that particular detail. He had burned it from his mind.

“After he fell asleep, one of you might have moved the dummy and claimed that bed,” Kathy pointed out.

“He left it with the head turned facing us, eyes open,” said Don. “Neither of us were touching that thing.”

“So instead, Cosmo had to put up with Don all night,” said Kathy solemnly.

“So instead, I had to put up with Don all night.”

He could still recall the potent mix of resignation, terror, and guilty excitement he’d felt, huddling up on that mattress together. Their act at the time had involved being in close quarters a lot—at one point, the choreography had Cosmo leap onto Don’s back and then immediately continue playing the fiddle—so it wasn’t like touching Don was a novelty, back then. But doing it offstage, out of costume, away from any onlookers except for Esther Quill the ventriloquist dummy, it had felt like an entirely different proposition. 

Don had been a real champ about it, though. When Cosmo had started shaking with withheld hilarity that this was his life, the punchline of all punchlines and nobody to share it with, not just Don’s best friend but his literal bedwarmer, Don had clearly assumed it was a simple case of the shivers, and so he’d bundled Cosmo close, tucked Cosmo’s head under his chin, and wrapped his arms around him, muttering warm in his ear about how if Cosmo dropped dead, Don was out a dance partner “and that whole routine wouldn’t work as a solo number, it’d go over like a brick.”

“Just imagine what barnyard animal they’d have you opening for then,” Cosmo had whispered back, because Oatmeal, Nebraska had already happened to them. “A pig who juggles. A cow acrobat. A chicken magician. Just a little sleight of wing, folks, nothing up my feathers.”

And Don had laughed, and held Cosmo tighter, and the ventriloquist had shushed them, which had made them both crack up again. It had been a long night, and not one Cosmo would forget in a hurry.

“Who runs hot as a Holland furnace, let me tell you,” he added now, in case his tone had shifted a few shades too close to dreamy.

“Oh, I know,” said Kathy, smiling.

Don raised an accusing finger at him. “Well, you were shaking like a leaf! You’re lucky I was there, especially when we didn’t have so much as a sheet of our own!”

“Wait, why didn’t you have any blankets?” asked Kathy.

“The blankets,” said Don airily, “were for the puppet.”

.

And so dinner had been a joy, and after that, Don and Kathy invited him back to their room for a drink or two, because they’d had the common sense to bring alcohol, which was of course not offered by the cruise. The three of them sat on Don and Kathy’s bed (much bigger than Cosmo’s—not that he was jealous, he didn’t need the space, but the sheer expanse of mattress really did rival a small country, and Cosmo was determined not to picture in any detail how the two newlyweds might make use of that) and passed a flask around and had some more laughs and when Cosmo next got a glimpse of his watch, it was three in the morning.

“I should go,” he said.

“You don’t have to,” said Kathy. She’d shucked off her heels at some point and now her stocking feet were in Cosmo’s lap. Don sat on her other side, head on her shoulder. He’d loosened his tie early on, and his suitcoat was draped over one of the bedposts. While they were drinking, it had all felt very natural. Looking at them now, Cosmo had the sense he was intruding on something private, something intimate.

Granted, they weren’t exactly trying to kick him out, but Kathy was drunk, or tired, or else she was both drunk and tired, and it was up to Cosmo not to outstay his welcome. They had a whole two weeks together, after all, and their rooms were barely a wall apart.

“My regrets, Cinderella,” said Cosmo, “but I can feel myself turning back into a pumpkin.” 

He made as if to stand, but her feet were in the way. Very gently, he picked up her ankles, lifted them off his legs, stood, turned her like they were doing some sort of a dance move, and deposited her feet in Don’s lap instead.

“There,” he said to no one. 

A long pause followed. Don and Kathy blinked up at him. He sorely regretted moving her. It had seemed like the most elegant solution. Probably he should’ve found one that didn’t involve taking hold of her legs, skin warm through the thin layer of nylon–

Kathy’s brow furrowed. “What makes you the carriage?” she said at last.

“What?” said Cosmo, who really did need to make an exit. 

“Cinderella,” said Don, apparently reading her mind, which was swell for them.

“Better that than the mouse footman,” Cosmo told her. “Or the lizard coachman. Or the horse.” Or—who else? There were a lot of characters in Cinderella, he realized.

“There’s a prince in that story, Cosmo,” said Kathy. “A human prince.”

“Yes,” said Cosmo, patiently, “and you’re married to him, your highness,” He sketched a little bow but Don and Kathy weren’t looking at him. They were having one of those silent couple conversations, with mostly their eyes and eyebrows. A career in movies before the advent of sound had probably given Don a real advantage in that department, Cosmo thought, although Kathy seemed to be holding her own.

“It’s a made-up fairytale,” Kathy said at last. “Why, it can go any way you want it to.”

“The lady’s got a point,” said Don.

Cosmo blinked. He knew how it sounded, knew that to the untrained ear, it certainly—there were overtones, or undertones, or just plain tones that vibrated with suggestion. Cosmo had grown up in Vaudeville and now he lived in Hollywood; these things happened every now and then. These things did not happen to Cosmo. He was good for a dance or a laugh, and nine times out of ten, that was enough for him, but he wasn’t exactly fending off amorous advances—not like Don, and probably not like Kathy, either.

Also, Don liked women. Don only liked women, as far as Cosmo knew, and they had lived out of each other’s pockets for years.

The fact that a late-night ménage à trois rendezvous was increasingly the only explanation that held water in his head—it said more about Cosmo’s fragile mental state than it did about Don and Kathy’s true motives, he decided.

Don and Kathy who were still sitting on the bed, waiting for some sort of response.

“I wouldn’t, uh,” Cosmo started, and then realized with a stab of panic that for once, he didn’t have a joke in the wings, waiting to go. “I wouldn’t know where to start,” he said.

“You said earlier today you might become a pirate,” Don offered. Kathy cuddled up close against his side, watching with bright, intent eyes. He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Enter pirate, stage left.”

“I said I was thinking about it,” said Cosmo, trying not to sound affected and missing by a mile. “A fella can think about all kinds of things he wouldn’t do.”

Case in point: Cosmo was not about to climb back into bed with them, no matter how cozy that bed was, no matter how warm and inviting and beautiful the two of them looked together.

His hands were starting to shake, he realized, and if Don saw that, and past experience was any judge, Cosmo might spend the night being cuddled for warmth again. What was Cosmo’s life? He didn’t go in for horoscopes, but maybe he should’ve, maybe that was the key to understanding the whole puzzle: Cosmo Brown, born under the one constellation that resembled clown shoes. He swallowed back a hysterical laugh and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Why not?” said Kathy quietly.

Because he didn’t want to ruin his oldest friendship and his most promising new one, all in a single go. Because he hated rejection, and the thought of two no’s that close together made his head spin unpleasantly. Because then there would be no more innocent touches and smiles and nightcaps in Don and Kathy’s room. 

That wasn’t what she’d asked, though. Mentally, he shook himself.

“If everyone who thought about being a pirate became one, the whole US of A would fall apart,” Cosmo informed them. “Nobody would work, or pay taxes, or go to see films. Not to mention the national parrot shortage—just try to get ahold of birdseed anymore! There’d be a run on eyepatches and tri-corner hats, and the price of a simple pirate earring would shoot through the roof, in fact—”

“It’d cost a buccaneer,” Don filled in. He sounded almost sad, which was a mystery because that bit was evergreen.

“That’s right,” said Cosmo. He rocked back onto his heels, at a loss for a moment. He’d really been counting on that joke to clear the air.

“Cosmo,” said Kathy. “Do you want to go, or do you want to want to go?”

Cosmo struggled to make sense of that. He struggled to parse it in a way that worked outside his own feverish imagination. His entire mind came up short. That was where it got you, going on the road with only an eighth grade education, he thought. His was a cautionary tale. 

Maybe ninth grade was where they taught you how not to twist a moment in your head to the point where it really did seem like maybe Cosmo could’ve kissed either of them, could’ve kissed both of them, and it would’ve been fine, or even more than fine. Maybe it was that, and Dickens, and Geography; Cosmo still could not locate Siam on a map. Or Paris. Come to think of it, ménage à trois and rendezvous were the only French he knew besides bonjour. This time, he did laugh. It was that or scream.

“I am both too drunk, and not drunk enough for this talk,” he said, turning for the door that led directly back to his room.

“If you’d rather stay—” said Don.

“Of course I’d rather stay, Don,” Cosmo snapped, sharper than he’d meant to. “But leave me enough dignity to fill half a shotglass, at least.” Don and Kathy said nothing. When he got to the door, he sighed. “Sorry, that was—I’m sorry. See you at breakfast.” “Goodnight,” said Kathy.

Alone in his room, Cosmo closed the door and ran his hands through his hair. Pirates in Cinderella, he thought. Offers to stay, with his room not 30 paces away, at three hours past midnight. Maybe it would all make sense in the morning.

[gothycollie]

By the way you can also find me on Bluesky. If you only follow me on Tumblr you're missing my sauciest art. Since the site seems to be picking up it's a good time to mention it here. 18+ ONLY AS WELL!!!!

Da link

[houseofbreadpakoda]

𓂃‧ ࣪.☾⋆‧. ࣪☁︎ ࣪‧𓂃

The world is big. Big and cruel. And it had been overly cruel to these two little girls. Sarika and Sree had grown up in a small village near Kannoor in Kerala. At the age at which children swam in the river and ram around the village eating stolen mangoes, the two girls were married away to horrible beasts, twice and thrice their age. And once they were married they were confined to the houses, sneaking around whenever they could to meet each other.

But even in this big, cruel world there were nooks where the most beautiful feelings and people could be seeked. And that is where Sarika and Sree found each other. And suddenly the world wasn't as cruel.

INTRODUCING

SARIKA

SREE SAVITRI

IN SAUDEBAAZI

MEERA daughter of Sarika & Sree

RADHA

.

.

.

The market for desi sapphic stories is not very large I'd say, and amidst that I've never read a South Indian sapphic love story and it *clutches heart* hurts me. And not only do I want to read sapphic stories representing two girlfriends doing the sauciest and corniest shitt, what I also want to read is two wives just wife-ing each other? You know what I mean?

50 notes on this and I'll get to putting the first chapter out (I'm mainly putting this out cause it has rotted in my drafts for way too long), and hopefully y'all will love it<3<3<3

Thank you!!!!

[theteasetreads]

Here is a list of stuff I love/recommend from writers I think are neat. Please be sure to check out their blogs and their other stuff too! I will be updating this list the more I find stuff I love.

*this list is arranged in alphabetical order

❤���‍🔥 = smut (18+) 💝 = fluff 💔 = angst 👀 = suggestive/implied smut

❧ @collecting-stories ↳ I am not sure if this writer is currently writing for Daryl at the moment, but I ADORE their Daryl content! Be sure to check them out, and maybe you'll find that they write for some other characters you like, too!

❧ @devnmon ↳ Rye is one of my pals, and they just so happen to write some of the best Daryl Dixon fanfiction ever. Like, ever. They write some of the sweetest, sauciest, sexiest smut I've ever read, and their writing style is just amazing. I am so bad at describing this kind of stuff, but trust me when I say that they are essential reading if you like Daryl Dixon x Reader!

❧ @haruhey ↳ So much has been said about Haru, but I truly cannot express how amazing their work is. Not only do they write the most mind-blowing, earth-shattering smut on this planet, but they also put so much care and detail and love into their writing. I love how they put tons of effort into creating a real relationship between Daryl and the reader character. It's truly spectacular. Please check their stuff out if you haven't already.

❧ @normanplusdaryl ↳ Ari is just starting on her writing journey, and boy is she already turning out to be another ICONIC addition to the Daryl Dixon x Reader family. I love the way she writes Daryl, how he's true to his character and does/says things I actually think he would do/say. That is a really hard thing to do! Plus, she writes angst super well, and, once again, that is not an easy feat.

❧ @starlessea ↳ This writer's work pretty much introduced me to the world of Daryl Dixon x Reader. In fact, her series, Here Comes the Sun, is what inspired me to write my own series, and my own fanfiction in general.

❧ @weretheones ↳ Madi is not only one of the sweetest, kindest, smartest, funniest, coolest, most talented people you will ever meet, she is also a stellar writer who truly understands the complexities of Daryl's character and basically everything about him. She is truly the gem of Daryl Dixon x Reader. She is an icon, a star, a revolutionary. She rocks my world. Oh, and she is one of the best angst writers. Ever. I don't even particularly like angst, but Madi? She does it so well that it's not even angst, it's just pure art.

❧ Back to Black by normanplusdaryl | 💔 ↳ Summary: Daryl comes home after many years to face the consequences of his actions. ↳ Word Count: 2.5k

❧ Doctor's Orders by weretheones | 💔 ↳ Summary: When a sprained ankle takes you off run duty, the new girl goes in your place. Which would’ve been fine– if she didn’t have that brilliant wit, gorgeous smile, and effortless skill. But she did. And it was only a matter of time before Daryl noticed too. (Season 4) ↳ Word Count: 7k

❧ Gone For Good | Part 1 & 2 by weretheones | 💔💝 ↳ Summary: It was easy to lose hope when everyone around you started dropping like flies. When the flu hit, Daryl saw your optimism drain alongside your health, but it wasn’t until the brutal attack of the Governor that he lost his.  ↳ Word Count: 9k (total)

❧ Hide Away With Me by haruhey | 💝👀 ↳ Summary: Dancing in the dark, with you between my arms. ↳ Word Count: 3.6k

❧ In Vino Veritas by haruhey | ❤️‍🔥 ↳ Summary: After a particularly rough run, Daryl wants nothing more than to shut himself away from everyone with you. However, he’d agreed days prior to be your ‘date’ to one of Alexandria’s welcoming parties thinking you needed someone to share the pain of new people with. Guilt gnaws at him the whole night and he gets wasted to numb the feeling, resulting in you having to carry him home. The alcohol in his system and the way that dress hugs you makes him particularly… talkative, and as the Romans say, in wine there is truth. ↳ Word Count: 30k

❧ Late To the Party by devnmon | ❤️‍🔥 ↳ Summary: Daryl has a knife kink. ↳ Word Count: 7.1k

❧ No Rush by weretheones | ❤️‍🔥 ↳ Summary: Daryl took his time with you. ↳ Word Count: 950

❧ You Deserve the World by devnmon | 💝💔👀 ↳ Summary: Daryl’s been insecure about his age starting to show, and is worried he’ll lose you. You show him every way he won’t. ↳ Word Count: 3.4k

❧ You, You, You by normanplusdaryl | 💝👀 ↳ Summary: After a long night, Daryl comes home and you decide he needs a little break. ↳ Word Count: 1.2k

❧ All You Got by weretheones | 💝💔 ↳ Summary: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4) 

❧ Georgia by collectingstories | 💝 ↳ Summary: King County, Georgia. In a small town like that, where everyone knows everyone, people can get pigeon-holed into personalities that aren’t their own. Daryl Dixon was a troublemaker, a good-for-nothing, redneck kid who would grow up to be just like his dad. Drinking too much, smoking too much, and cheating his way through life. But Daryl isn’t any of the things people say he is and you’re willing to shoulder the burden of their judgement when you find yourself falling for him.

❧ Here Comes the Sun by starlessea | 💝👀 ↳ Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you’re not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn’t like your singing, or that you can’t use a gun for shit - and don’t get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he’s found a best friend for life, and that he doesn’t actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Updated: 3/13/2023

[beautifulpersonpeach]

BPP, sorry if you've answered this question before but what is your best song from Face?

***

Hi @tabbypuppykitty

I’ve had a rethink. I think Face-off is now my favourite song on the album.

Set Me Free Pt 2 is still top 3, but Jimin’s enunciation on Face-off brings a smile to my face every time I hear it because that man is too damn sassy for his own good lool.

In the latest Suchwita episode, Hobi revealed that Jimin practiced live singing six hours everyday before and during FACE promotions.

Six hours. Every day.

That made me pause. I started thinking about everything that happened during FACE. I don't talk about this at all here because I won't ever share personal pictures and I know I was incredibly lucky and many other people here likely deserved to see him before I did, but I saw Jimin live during his very first shows for FACE.

He was so happy. The joy on his face and the way he worked the crowd... like a fish in water. He gave some of the best performances of the year during FACE promotions. The whole project and the thoughtful way he went about promoting the album, is noteworthy.

(You should watch this if you haven't already)

*

But then I remembered the BS, the way k-pop stans reacted to the album, to the MVs, to the encore stage, the way BTS akgaes indulged in their sociopathy on his account, how BigHit failed (the anger Jimin biases feel is justified but some of y'all are wallowing in it). I remembered a few of Jimin's Wlives, how so much has been going on for him this year, and then tried to fit 6 hours daily practicing into it...

I have to stop myself when I think about Jimin. He has such latent intensity, like a glamour, a force field around him... it's like a black hole that sucks everything, including you, into him and his world. It scares me.

I know I whine about Jimin biases but y'all amaze me ngl. It takes a special fortitude of heart to bias Jimin. This post already sounds incredibly effusive, but I don't believe I'm exaggerating when I say he's a truly beautiful person. It's almost as though the world does not deserve him. It's impossible to not love him, desire him, care for him... want more sooner for him. I see all that, but I also see that man is stubborn as fuck.

He took his time to start work on his solo album. The middle of the Vegas concerts is when he said he suddenly came to his senses, shook himself out of that trance, and earnestly started putting together the FACE project. He'd written songs before, but FACE was its own thing. The personal stories he chose to communicate, the care in lyricism and production, the quality... Jimin created art in FACE and trusted that those who care for nothing but the best, will love it.

That's sexy, but the way he went about it also betrays a conservatism in him. It's a shadow of the edge in him, that thing about him that causes a tinge of anxiety when you watch him too closely.

I'm not sure if I'm making sense, but what I mean to say is you need a special kind of courage to bias and love Jimin. I recognize that. When I write what I do here, I always remember that. I also have very little respect for solos. And those two sentiments aren't mutually exclusive.

But taking it back to Face-off, my favourite thing about it is Jimin's sense of humour and skill coming through in the song, as well as how he enunciates his words. To really hear the switch in his tone, you need to stream in this order:

Like Crazy > Alone > Set Me Free Pt 2 > Face-off

By the time you get to Face-off, Jimin's voice has already gone through every variation possible, but then he brings out a tone I've heard only one other artist do well (Rihanna), and that tone is disgust.

Pure, refined sass. And he's already got the sauciest voice in k-pop.

The melodic and tonal choices Jimin makes at these timestamps fucks with my head:

1:53 - 2:08;

2:16 - 2:25;

2:41 - 2:56....

(lol, at this rate you might as well just listen to the whole song again.) Jimin is fantastic in the whole thing.

Europe is where Jimin belongs, but America would eat Jimin up too. The country already does if we're being real, America already loves Jimin. But given the right concept, Jimin would devour because he always does, and the world should get to see it. I hope I get to see more of it. As I've said before, if you feel inclined to communicate that to BigHit, I strongly suggest you do.

During Suchwita, Hobi showed how he's planned content for fans almost years in advance. It's possible Jimin does this too, planning music and content for fans to see months later... (So we might not learn why he went to London, for months...)

Yeah... I don't have the strength of heart to bias Jimin. Good luck to y'all.

*

...that was kind of a lot lool. So to calm down, Jimin:

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

Anyway, sorry I rambled. Face-off is a really good song and Jimin did an excellent job on it. The whole project is very good so I can't wait for the next songs we get from him. Shit can't get worse than BB deleting D2C sales so on the bright side, we can only go up from here, and for Jimin who already owns the record as the first soloist in history to debut #1 on the Billboard Hot 100, up will be a good spot to be.

Stream Like Crazy, Seven, All Day, and HUH?!

[vanmarkus]

With the number of hetero sex scenes/makeout scenes we see on tv, I think we're entitled to compensation in form of bucktommy because 🔥

But I think with lou not liking those scenes (although his filmography begs to differ) and oliver admitting to being a little insecure about his body (crazy man!), I don't know... I think chances are slim

mm idk it all comes down to tiny things because if you look back on the show, Oliver has done the sauciest bits out of everyone (aside from Aisha in season one, but season 1 was much more rowdy altogether anyway) so I feel like they'd find a way to work around it, if they wanted to put it in there.

and in my mind what would be a realistic expectation is either a morning in the kitchen/waking up in bed together without showing anything — or a few seconds of flirting and starting to get undressed before either cutting away or being interrupted in-universe.

I'm like 99% sure we won't get any sexy times just for the sake of it, especially not with how tight this season is and having only 2 eps left of it too... fat chance. if it doesn't move the story ahead in any way, it's getting cut.

so yeah, if we get anything that'll just be an ~indication~ that this is where their relationship is at. that's all I'm expecting anyway... and then we shall see.

[chaotic-on-main]

Just Friends | ModernAU One-Shot

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x gn!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ best friends to lovers, expletives, implied sexual intimacy

☾ A/N ➼ This is the sauciest thing I've ever written and I haven't stopped blushing since I've finished it. asdl;jalsd anyways. Enjoy? This was proofread once, take it as is lmao. K love y'all bye <3

☾ Word Count ➼ ~2.3k

Levi clutches the seat belt that wraps tightly around his chest with white knuckles. He's flung forward yet again as the truck you both currently sat in took a massive dip in the dirt path, no thanks to your erratic swerving. He looks over to you with a signature scowl and a pointed look. You’re quick to shoot back a toothy grin. He knew better than to let you drive but he suggested it anyways since his knee pains were flaring up again with the oncoming storm.

“Will you keep your eyes on the fucking road?” Levi grumbles through clenched teeth.

“I am! But you won’t stop shooting daggers my way.” You swerve around another hole, almost hitting the wooden fence that separates the road from an open pasture, currently devoid of any farm life.

“I’m only doing that because you’re literally the worst driver I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.” Levi’s grip on the belt tightens. He looks up through the windshield of the threatening dark gray clouds that were rolling in far too fast for his liking. The weatherman had said the storm would be arriving later in the evening, but it seems the weather gods were feeling spiteful today. “Also, why the fuck would you think taking the backroads would be a better option??”

“I just thought they’d be quicker. I know how storms can get for you…” You trail off as you risk a glance over to your friend. He doesn’t give you a reaction so you continue, “I just wanted to get you home faster.”

“More like get me killed faster.”

“Hey! I’m trying my best here!” You hit a bump at full speed. You shriek as you grip the wheel hard to keep it straight. “At least it’s not raining yet!”

Curse you and your damn words. A heavy raindrop hits the windshield with a splat. Then another. And another. And suddenly it’s downpouring. Not enough to blind you fully but it’s loud against the truck’s body. You sense Levi tensing up next to you and you silently curse at yourself. You take a deep breath before glancing over to him with another grin.

 “It’s fine! I know where we’re going. We’ll be there in no time!” You feign a good tone. You only hear more grumbles in response.

.

After another 15 minutes of driving down a now muddy path, it was extremely clear that you had no idea where you were going. Levi hadn’t said anything the whole time, but he was increasingly getting more stressed, and you could feel it. You thought this was the right way, but you were questioning yourself. With the rain now coming down in sheets, it was even harder to see. Maybe you missed a turn?? You spot another divot and turn the wheel so you can drive around it, making sure to slow down. But that smart decision quickly turns into a big mistake. You feel the driver’s side tilt down and the truck abruptly stops.

“What did you do?” Levi glares hard at you.

“I was trying to swerve around a hole but I think there was another one on the other side.” You squeak. You press down on the gas, and you hear the truck rumble but not move. Mud sprays your window as you do so. You do it again, more rumbling, more mud. “I think we’re stuck.”

“You think so?” Levi’s voice is cold, jaw locked and tense.

“Listen man, I can’t control the weather. I was trying to do this for you!” You whip your head over to his icy gaze and give him an equally narrow glare.

“I never asked you to.” Levi digs his fingers into his thighs and looks away, out the window with his back turned to you.

“I know you hate storms but you don’t have to be so mean.” You huff and quickly unbuckle your seat belt before sticking the gear into neutral. Levi glances back over to you at the noise.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to try and push.” You pull up your cloth hood and zip your jacket up to your neck. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing.

“The fuck you will. By yourself?”

“Well, you could help.” You turn to face him. His matching stormy eyes are wide at you, but he says nothing. “Yeah, okay.” You mutter before opening the door and sliding out into the raging wind and rain. You immediately regret it. In mere seconds you’re soaked to the bone. You tuck yourself in to keep in some warmth as you make your way over to the front of the truck, stepping around the massive hole it was currently stuck in. Muddy water went up to the middle of the tire and the way the hole was, there was no way to go forward. But if you could push the vehicle back, then you might be able to get it back on even ground.

You grip the front of the cold, wet metal and start pushing. It barely moves an inch. Of course. You do your best to plant your feet into the squishy mud under you and push again. There’s some movement, but not enough to make a difference. Wiping the rain from your face with an equally wet sleeve, you bend your knees a little and grunt as you push again. You feel it shift and move even more. You’re doing it! You glance into the windshield but notice the truck is empty. Something rustles next to you and you jump as suddenly you notice a figure to the left of you. It’s Levi. His raven-hair is already plastered to his skin from the rain, water dripping down his face as he pushes against the metal.

“What!?” He yells over to the rain to you, his eyes cutting into yours.

“Nothing!” You scream back, giving him a lopsided smile. “Thanks!”

“Whatever, just push!” It takes quite a few more before you’re able to get the wheel mostly out of the hole, the muddy water now just above the bottom of the tire.

“I think we just need one more big push!” You shout over to Levi, giving him a thumbs up. He nods and digs his shoes into the mud, you doing the same on the other side. “On three!”

“One… two… THREE!” You both shove on the hood at the same time and you feel like laughing because it gives easily, rolling back and out of the hole before stopping abruptly on flat land. But the shove was a little too strong and you find yourself falling face first with nothing to lean against and you’re suddenly tasting mud. You’re quick to push yourself up as you splutter out the disgusting water, wiping it from your eyes with a groan. When you look over, Levi is in the exact same predicament. If looks could kill.

“See, this is why I didn’t want to be out here!” You can’t help it, you burst out in laughter at the sight in front of you. Levi is drenched head to toe in dark mud, everything now brown. His face is just as covered save for his eyes and mouth that he just swiped clean. He scowls and says your name with irritation.

“Levi, come on! I know I got us here but everything else wasn’t my fault!” You frown at him. His sour mood was really starting to grate on you. You’re usually used to it but today was different.

You really didn’t mean to get the two of you into this predicament. You knew storms were the reason for his frigid attitude, but you couldn’t help but take it extremely personally. You were just trying to get him home quicker and it’s not like he fought back when you made the initial turn down the road. A distant rumble of thunder rolls through and Levi’s body freezes for a moment. You didn’t have time to sit out in the rain arguing. “C’mon. Let’s just get in. I can get the seats cleaned later.” You sigh and push yourself up from the ground, mud squishing under your fingers as you do.

Luckily, you kept an emergency kit in the back compartments in case you were stranded during the winter. The season change had come so quickly that you hadn’t had time to pull it out. In it were a couple towels, a reflective heat blanket, water and snacks, as well as a little first aid kit. Both doors shut at the same time and the quick change in volume is deafening. The rain is muffled as it hits the window and another rumble rolls through the sky, closer but still quiet in the safe haven you both found in the truck.

You throw him a towel before using the other to work on cleaning your face and hair. Before you both settled in, you made sure to shut the truck off so as to not waste gas. But because of that, it was now getting colder. Your clothes now feel icy against your skin as the wetness weighs it down. Once you were able to get as much mud off as you could, you quickly pull out the thermal blanket and unfold it. It’s big enough that you and Levi could share if you huddled close. Speaking of…

Levi’s already wiped off any traces of mud on his skin. He looks over to you as he’s cleaning behind his ears, his eyes softened considerably. However, a scowl is still ever-present.

“Are you going to be mad at me forever?” You mumble.

“Depends, are you going to attempt to kill me again?” He snaps back.

“I didn’t know this would happen.” You huff at him again.

“Tch.”

“Well, if you’re going to be that way then I’m not sharing the thermal blanket.” You wrap the thin aluminum plastic over your body and pull yourself into a ball before facing away from him with a pout. You can’t help but think about today as a whole. Sure, the situation you were both in was not favorable, especially with his past and storms. But it felt like there was something else going on with him. He’s been snarkier and ruder than he usually is with you. Ans a lot more serious.

“Levi?” You whisper after a few beats.

“What?”

“Did I do something wrong?” You pull your knees closer to you and hug them to your chest. There’s no response, but he does shift in his seat, it squeaks under him as he does. There’s a resounding silence before he sighs.

“No.” You flip your head to the other side so that you can see him. His gaze flicks over to the window quickly, failing to hide his obvious staring. You smirk at that.

“Then why are you so angry at me?”

“I’m not angry… at you.”

“But you’re angry.”

“…I guess.”

“Why?”

His eyes land on you and there’s pain in them. His typical brick walls are up and it’s infuriating to you because you thought 15-something years of friendship would have broken those down by now. His eyebrows pinch in the middle like they always do when he’s thinking hard about what to say next. And it stays like that for a moment. The rain is lightening up a bit and you can tell because of how much softer it is against the glass. It makes the silence all the more louder.

“What am I to you?” He leans back into the seat as he stares hard into your eyes, searching. The question takes you off guard and you release your legs, making them tumble to the floor so you’re sitting straight up.

“What are you to me? What kind of question is that?” You laugh nervously.

“What… am I… to you?” He whispers slowly. There’s that pain in his eyes again, shining like a lighthouse in the night. Begging for someone to notice it, to take caution.

“I- what do-” He snaps your name, and it makes you jump at his sudden aggression.

“Just answer the question, goddamn it!” Heat flushes to your cheeks as you swallow hard.

“Levi, what do you want to be to me?” Your voice now back to a whisper. He stares incredulously at you for a moment before doing something you never even imagined in a thousand years. He leans forward and closes the distance faster than you can blink. Then his lips are on yours, soft and hot. When he pulls away, it feels as if your entire body has erupted into flames. You pull your fingers to your mouth, still feeling the pressure of his against it. His wide eyes must reflect your own because you both gawk at each other in silence.

“Fuck, I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thi-” He stutters before he’s silenced by you throwing yourself in his direction and pushing your lips back on to him. Eyes closed this time, you wrap your arms around his neck to hold him closer. Levi doesn’t hesitate to dig his fingers into your hips to pull you into him as he meets your rhythm, heaving chests pressed against each other as you both struggle for air. You both push away at the same time and take a deep breath, gazing hard at each other.

Levi’s face is flushed the most beautiful red you've ever seen and his damp hair was tousled every which way from your wandering hands. He doesn’t say anything, but you don’t mind. You don’t mind because you’re already pulling his shirt up and he’s tugging at your pants, cloth gripped tight under clenched fists. Whatever he is to you, it’s obvious that it’s more than just friends. And you were okay with that.

☾ shout-out to @humanitys-strongest-bamf for being my cheerleader last night. 💕 Also please join my taglist for future content!

[the-kr8tor]

I've been writing so much tonight that my finger's are cramping up in the double jointed way and I'm listening to the sauciest, most diabolical jaw-dropping, toe-curling, the father the son and the holy spirit amen-needing songs but WE PERSIST. Daily Hobie HC! I love the art of Hobie you get for your fics- they're crunchy and tasty and I love them. Hobie was always mesmerized by the way your art seemed to be so captivating, yet you were always able to find things you don't like about it. Whenever you tried to even nitpick ever so slightly about your art, Hobie would hold a hand over your mouth, whispering playfully about how you shouldn't talk badly about something that you spent hours on in case the government finds out, and that's where he knows he loses you due to the absurdity of it all. But, despite you rolling your eyes multiple times at him , he's aware it works wonders as you're no longer hyper-focusing on every little detail of your art and instead just laughing at his creatively worded ramble about government schemes. He always loves to nick (or buy, depending) art supplies and sketchbooks for you, adoring the way your eyes light up at whatever he brings you, whether it be a mechanical pencil which you always gush over what led it is (Hobie is clueless but he likes listening to you), or a new sketchbook with one of those textures on the hardcover which feel nice to run your fingers along. Any time you're doing art, you can't help but use Hobie as a muse. He could be doing anything, and yet you can't help but sketch him out, including his texture and border. Hobie teases you on how he is the perfect remedy for art block, and yet he really is. His textures, borders and colours always make you try something different with how far you can stretch with your style, as if he was perfectly made to be the cure to one of the most frustrating things you have to go through. One thing that usually happens as you're sketching out a picture, this time, a polaroid picture, Hobie will come over and drape himself across your back, burying his face into the back of your neck while his arms tightened around your middle, snuggling into you from behind. Occasionally, he'll look over your shoulder and rest his chin against it, his eyes roaming over your work. He'll sometimes point out things that you might've forgotten, like an extra stud on his choker or the dripping mascara design on his Spider-Man mask. Or, when you ask, he'll suggest things for the background. Certain flowers to frame, or a pattern or just even funny icons. However, you noticed that sometimes, Hobie will toss some crumpled up papers aside with a frustrated sigh, as if he had no idea what to do and was trying to think of something. Once, your curiosity got the better of you, and you took one of these crumpled pieces of paper while Hobie was patrolling. Your heart melted when you saw the chibi drawings that Hobie had doodled representing the two of you. You could see that in corners he was planning out your design, before one being a coloured final. This one, you two were holding hands and smiling at each other, with little scribbly hearts surrounding it. Unravelling the other pieces of paper, you noticed that Hobie had spent a while in figuring out what design best suited you, not wanting to simplify your appearance too much, yet not wanting to complicate it.

He figured that he wanted to leave a bigger gift this time, so why not leave a piece of art? Yet, he was having some trouble over the past few days figuring out a doable design for you. When Hobie came back, he barely noticed that one crumpled paper was missing, while you had already cut the doodle out and hid it in your little memory box, out of Hobie's grasp. Only was it on the anniversary of you two when Hobie finally gifted you the little drawings that he did was when you revealed the one you took. Although he was slightly surprised you paid that much attention, he was happy that you at least enjoyed it much more than he did. For Hobie, that made it all the more worth it. -🐦‍⬛

I'm so jelly rn I wanna write a lot today too! I'm happy that you are writing so much today tho!! ❤️

Daily Hobie HC ‼️‼️‼️

I have such talented and amazing lovelies! I'm not worthy of their talents

HHAHHAHAHAHHAHA he starts to spill out conspiracy theories just to stop u from bringing yourself down

Oh Hobie would have the time of his life (nicking) in one of those bougie art supply stores with the world class stationary!

You are so right! Hobie is the best muse there is! (Stares at my 100+ fics of him)

Lol he's backseat drawing 😂

Aisbwjbswhjs He makes art of you!!! 😍😍😍 Ooh what if he paints like a little chibi version of your face on his guitar! That would be so sweet I'd cry fr 🥹

[iamthecomet]

Hey Comet! ❤️‍🔥

I'm humbly here to ask you for the sauciest, most delectable, wlw fic for Femslash February. (ASK #27, BABEY)

Here's some prompt ideas to get that brain a turnin'!

How do you feel about dirty dancing, cumming in pants, choking, dirty talk, sprinkle of degradation, commenting about how wet someone is, forced orgasms and, uhhh, that good good aftercare? Any of the above? Please?

Dealer's choice for pairing (or just all ghoulettes let's be real). OkAY, LOVE YA BYE ❤️‍🔥

Cirrus has lost count of how many times she's cum on Cumulus' thigh. She knows she's supposed to know, she was supposed to keep track. But thoughts are slipping through her brain like water, and she barely remembers her own name. They're all still clothed, and she's already gone, fucked out, floating. She can only focus on the insistent pleasure climbing up her spine, coiling in her gut. Unbearable and unrelenting and irresistible in equal measure. Cumulus drags Cirrus' hips forward and back, controlling each shaking movement of the taller ghoulette's body. Cirrus would be limp, useless, if not for Sunshine pressed right up against her back, letting Cirrus rest her torso against Sunshine's as Cumulus controls the rhythm. "How many is that, Lus?" Sunshine asks, like she knows Cirrus doesn't, and it's ok. Cirrus is glad for it, can't imagine trying to come up with a number, or deal with the punishment for not knowing. Cirrus stopped talking a while ago anyway, the only noises that leave her now are choked moans. The burn of overstimulation rises and falls, she shakes uncontrollably, legs turned to jelly. Her body twitches with each pass, she thinks she can feel her organs vibrating. She tries to breathe, to focus on anything except the building pleasure in her gut. Cumulus runs her hands up Cirrus' sides, dragging her shirt up as she goes to ghost cool fingers over her overheated skin. Goosebumps break out over Cirrus' body. She shudders under the touch. "Twelve." Cirrus licks her lips, her mouth is dry. Her head is resting on Sunshine's collarbone, she rolls it to the side to press her lips to Sunshine's pulse. She smells like peaches, perpetually sun-warmed skin, and the bite of Sunshine's arousal. She wants to take a bite, but can't seem to move her jaw enough to do it. "What's the record?" Silence follows. It takes Cirrus too long to realize that Sunshine is talking to her. It takes a sharp tug on her hair, and the curl of Cumulus' fingers around her throat in a gentle squeeze before she realizes she's meant to answer.

"Fifteen," she croaks out. Her voice weak, flagging, it breaks on the last syllable. She's not sure where the number comes from, but she's sure it's right. As if it's branded

Cumulus and Sunshine entwine their fingers on her hips. They work out a push and pull that has Cirrus bowing forward, her body collapsing in on itself, dark sweaty hair falling into her eyes. As the pleasure builds and builds. After the last one she thought she'd probably never cum again, but now she thinks it might actually be possible. Cumulus' pants are wet where Cirrus has been grinding her thigh. Her own sleep shorts are soaked through. There's slick on her thighs. She can't even think enough to be embarrassed about it. The only thing she can think about is the way each pass drags her clit over Cumulus' plush thigh and sends sparks up her spine digging into her brain.

She wants something to hold onto, but her fingers shake in Cumulus' shirt. They're not strong enough to ground her anymore. Her body is unreliable, sending her a litany of mixed signals that she doesn't know how to translate.

It all happens so fast. One minute she's being leisurely shifted over Cumulus' thigh and the next she's cumming with a soundless cry, her body going taught and shuddering, clenching around nothing. She feels herself get impossibly wetter.

Sunshine has to catch her when it fades so she doesn't fall forward and impale herself on Cumulus' horns. Cumulus chuckles at her, reaching up to drag her fingers along Cirrus' cheek her jaw, it's reverent. But the movement of her hips never ceases. They're insistent, unwavering. The overstimulation this time is more painful than pleasurable. She keens with it. Digging her fingers into Cumulus' shirt, and then deeper, into her skin until she knows it hurts.

Cumulus only moans in response.

Cirrus feels like she's going to catch on fire. "Thirteen," Cumulus says.

Cirrus shakes her head. "I can't."

Sunshine laughs as she pulls the taller Ghoulette back to lie against her again. "You can."

"Not like this," Cirrus shakes her head.

She wants out of these soaked clothes. She wants less. She wants more. She wants to bury her face between Cumulus' thighs and exact her revenge for this. She wants Sunshine to pin her to the bed and--

She's being moved. She registers it like it's happening to someone else. Sunshine is shifting her off of Cumulus' lap and over into a nest of pillows. Cumulus brushes dark hair off of her brow.

"Look at the mess you made," Cumulus breathes, lips ghosting over Cirrus'.

The spot on her jeans isn't just damp, it's soaked. Cirrus feels heat rush to her cheeks. But she doesn't get a chance to settle into it before Sunshine is dragging her shorts down her thighs and tossing Cirrus' legs over her shoulders. She latches onto Cirrus' swollen clit, flicking her tongue over it and sucking until Cirrus bows off the bed, digging her claws into the bed beneath her. "You'd think you were a water ghoul with how wet you get for us, Cir." Cumulus lays down against her side, pressing her body against Cirrus'. Cirrus turns her head to look at her. She tries to keep her eyes focused, but Sunshine does something with her tongue that has her eyes rolling up.

Cumulus smiles at her, it's fond, easy. And then Cumulus is kissing her, licking into her mouth, holding her in place with a firm hand in her hair. "You can give us three more," Sunshine whispers, dragging her tongue through Cirrus' folds. "Can't you? Gotta break the record."

"Four," Cirrus says when Cumulus releases her mouth. "I can do four."

Cumulus kisses her on the nose, her face breaking into a giddy grin. "That's our good girl."

[dairy-farmer]

You know how fixing someone’s plate during communal eating times are considered to be very intimate? Tim fixing the plate of the current guy he’s sleeping with, essentially pampering and being all wife-like. This is how the rest of the heroes figure out who Red Robin’s flavor of the month is. Suddenly, having you plate fixed by Tim is an achievement that everyone is envious of. Everything is going well until Red Robin started fixing the plate of Batman in a JL event and everyone loses their minds. Only to find out that Timothy Drake have been fixing the plate of Bruce Wayne for years whenever they would attend galas. Just Tim being wifey material, preparing the meals with love for the special men in his life ♥️

tim is wife shaped 😩😩😩😩!!!!!!!!!!!!! there's something so intimate so strangely....possessive over having someone fix you a plate. during ma and pa's yearly barbeque where they invite all of the league and capes to stop by- it's the first time that people take note of it. where tim is carefully and methodically examining and selecting different pieces of meat and sides onto a paper plate. he picks the juiciest cuts of steak, the sauciest wings and ribs, the cheesiest bits of the macaroni. he does it with the intensity that one has while disarming a bomb. he finishes with a satisfied air a carefully piled plate all separated into neat piles with the fork sticking up like a white flag in the mashed potatoes (carefully scooped to avoid the lumps of unmashed potato). a few of the capes are shaking their head and rolling their eyes only to quirk their brows when tim practically skips to superboy's side and hand him the plate. superboy is nursing a cup of kool aid and talking with wondergirl who smiles at tim.

it's hard not to notice after that. the way superboy keeps a possesive hand over tim's little waist, tim only darting away to top off superboy's emptying cup or to fetch him another plate of food. superboy pushes bites of food into tim's mouth, offering bits of cornbread and peas white staring at tim's mouth with a heat that seems to be more than hunger.

at a Christmas party a few months later red robin is cheerfully selecting different cookies, cupcakes, and slices of cheesecake from the dessert table spread before presenting them to zachary zatara who is bitching at someone on his phone. he keeps a hand on tim's thigh the whole night.

the same thing happens at a potluck with hal jordan.

a picnic hosted by WE and an accountant from sales.

the thanksgiving banquet at the watchtower with a starry eyes robin whose eyes never left red robin the entire night.

the thing is- it's just food. but there's something about the thoughtfulness of the act, the love that imbued into every bite of food knowing it was picked special for you. it's the company that comes with it, a sweet smile and a warm body next to you. it's not something you do for your friends. if your friends asks you to get them a plate you dunk on them and ask them if their legs are broken. if its your girlfriend you can't ask them to do it because that just leads to an argument in the car because acts of service are to be done willingly and a girlfriend wouldn't do it themselves because that's just too familiar and intimate an act if you've only been dating for a short time. tim changes who he does it for literally every month. it's one of the few tells he has for letting the world know who is pumping his guts. and it...inspires soft waves of jealousy because who wouldn't want that. a plate of foot lovingly created by your lover who is doing things with the devotion and love of a spouse.

anybody would crave that kind of attention. so people are playing closer than normal attention when tim walks into a place with food spread on a table, eager to see who the latest lucky bastard is (good food and good pussy too? it's absolutely unfair.)

this time double takes are all around the room when tim builds a pretty little plate and hands it off to batman who is brooding in a corner. everyone knows on some level that tim makes plates for people he's sleeping with and he just made one for batman....

superman is the only one brave enough to prod and is met with batman's lips quirking the slightest bit and informing the red-cheeked kryptonian that tim has been doing this for bruce since he was a kid. when he was just a toddler his parents used to make him feel included in adult events by having him fetch little plates of cakes or treats from waiters and bringing it to them to split. when tim got older and went to company events the habit didn't change and he'd get cooed over by his parent's coworkers for being a little darling and bringing them glasses of juice and plates of grapes. when bruce brought tim to galas tim fell into the same habit and carefully brought bruce plates of cheeses, figs, crackers. he'd bring bruce the sparkling juice he'd pretend was alcohol and stand dutifully by his side, occasionally nibbling on bits of bruce's plate but mostly watching with sweet eyes to see if bruce was eating it. bruce wasn't the best at keeping himself fed when tim met him so tim would do the same during dinners and other meal times to make sure bruce ate. now it was habit. if bruce and tim were somewhere and there was food- tim would fix him a plate.

superman stared and the rest of the room, out of the corner of their eyes, watched as batman bit into a juicy slice of a clementine, the amused pull of his lips never once faltering.

[befemininenow]

Legacy feminization blogs: miscellaneous part 3

To view part 1 of this post, click on the link here: https://www.tumblr.com/befemininenow/720493209689702400/legacy-feminization-blogs-miscellaneous

For part 2: https://befemininenow.tumblr.com/post/720495542974791680/legacy-feminization-blogs-miscellaneous-part-2

Here it is: the last and sauciest part of these extra caption blogs. Like the others, these captions are from different blog creators that are no longer around. Rather than continue with reblogs, I prefer to compile a few faves into one post. Feel free to use or reblog as they aren’t mines. If the previous ones didn’t motivate you to be yourself, then maybe these captions will dissolve and crack you to become the feminine girl inside you. But of course, these are just fun and entertaining feminization captions. Remember, only you can decide and accept yourself as trans, genderfluid, non-binary, or even feminine. Don’t let some random like these or me determine your sexuality. Oh, and I am not the owner of these captions either. I am just the uploader or reposter. Hope you like them!

[mercymaker]

if only I wasn't already drowning in all the WIPs rn I'd be writing the sauciest most decadent and juicy malsin smut you don't even understand

like sure these two had a lot of going on for them in that year they lived together, lots of pain and sadness and trauma, especially after thoriel was born and even halsin having to deal with the fact that he basically watched mal die alongside her child

BUT that doesn't mean they didn't have plenty of happier moments!!! times where they laughed and they kissed and they found moments to enjoy each other's bodies

how, once maleane felt stronger, more stable both physically and mentally, she'd coax halsin to take a walk with her, into the forest. to pick berries. or herbs. to forage for mushrooms. to go for a swim. and then, once they'd be deep in the woods, away from any unsuspecting wanderers, mal would kiss him. and touch him. and whisper such things into his ear that it would drive the druid crazy with lust. how she'd tease him, provoke him and then... reward him. she'd let him taste the honey inside her hive. she'd let him take her, the way the beasts of the forest do, until they're both melting into one another...

[the-devil-less-known]

@ducktastic-dad @radioiaci @circus-frog

Lucifer gives himself a moment to take a deep breath and remind himself that this wasn't his Hell and that it would be alright of him to cut loose a little. There wasn't any true stakes involved, if he didn't let it bother him. Just like water off a duck's back!

With his best little strut onto the stage in time with the music provided, the devil dramatically turns his back to the crowd, peering over one shoulder with a smirk and a hand on his visor. Tapping his hoof in place, and swishing his emblazoned behind to keep in time with the music, only whirling around once the saxophone kicked in. Fingers slide down his hawaiian shirt in the sauciest manner possible, as he rolls a shoulder, leaning down to one side and then the other, shirt being pulled down his arms to reveal his holographic life vest and water wings.

Using the shed shirt as a flashy prop to pull attention, he breaks into a samba, hoofs tapping on the stage in time with the rhythmic claps in both the song and the audience. It's silly, it's ridiculous, and he knows the build up, what's going to happen once the music stops for that one notable lyric, what was expected, and when that moment comes:

Lucifer turns about face and drops the shirt, grinning like a fool with his arms up to show his guns, flexing, and saying in the same deep tone as the singer... but with the growled words, "Safety first!"

Then the music resumes, and he's dancing again, not giving people a moment's grace to take it in before he continues. He's a bit more showy this time with his footwork, twirling here and leaping high there to clack his hoofs together. When the moment comes again for the music to pause, he stares sternly out at the crowd, and growls, "Sunscreen!"

It's so difficult not to laugh, and he spends the last portion of the song opening up his watermelon fanny pack to pull out tiny bottles of sunscreen to toss out into the crowd along with the occasional glowstick or colorful beaded bracket. He came to this event prepared. One of the quickest way to make friends was to offer little surprise gifts, and this came in handy. It certainly made it all memorable!

At the last 'tequila' pause, Lucifer did a large flourishing bow, shouting out, "Hydrate!" before bursting into laughter. It was utterly ridiculous, and regardless of any scores he was going to get, he felt like a winner.

Source.

[blueiscoool]

Pestle or Dildo? 

A six-inch wooden implement may be a Roman sex toy!

Artifact may “be the first known sex object from the Roman Empire” according to new research.

Archaeologists at Newcastle University and University College Dublin have conducted new research into the sauciest relic ever—a 6.2in-long wooden phallus which may have been used a sex toy by the Romans. The eye-popping piece was discovered in 1992 at the Vindolanda Roman fort in Northumbria, England, just south of Hadrian’s Wall. But further investigation has revealed the more salacious side to the ancient piece which could have doubled up a dildo.

“This is the first known carved wooden phallus of this size, not only from Roman Britain, but the entire Roman world, as far as we are aware,” Dr Rob Collins, senior lecturer in Archaeology at Newcastle University, told The Telegraph. “If the phallus is a sex object, then it would also be the first known sex object from the Roman Empire.”

The intriguing object, made of young ash roundwood, may have been used as a pestle before becoming a sex toy, or vice versa, add experts. Phalli were indeed commonplace in the Roman Empire as they were believed to offer protection against bad luck.