#op my heart goes out to you

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not letting people know I'm quitting?

I work in education just finished a really hard school year. I'm chronically ill and ended up at my school because I was life-threatingly sick and had to drop out of my graduate ed program... again. A position that was only a few hours a day came up, so I applied and rolled with it until the end of the year.

It was great; I loved the students and my coworkers. I had tons of fun. The kids are fantastic and are such bright little people but working with young'uns is a kind of energy I cannot sustain.

I'm leaving because it's so hard on my body and I have no support. I let admin know about being ill and I was ignored. I went through the process for ADA accomodations and they pulled my job title to 'justifably' deny me—I do the same work everyone else does, just for a shorter time. The people who assured me I could go to secondary (a much calmer level for my work) told me no chance.

So, I'm just not going to sign my contract when it comes in August. I might be leaving education all together because everything seems to be telling me I just can't be ill and an educator as the same time (which makes me frustrated; no matter how much support we give to kids they're still seeing people like them weeded out before their eyes.) I always said the situation is complicated when asked about returning but I didn't tell anyone outright.

My school, as everyone's, is incredibly understaffed. My team enjoyed having me around and says they really needed me—I was there to handle a lot of really difficult situations with students. We've lost nearly 20 people going into next year already.

What are these acronyms?

[royalarchivist]

Wilbur: Everyone give it up for Alex Quackity! Thank you.

A close-up of one of the TNTduo hugs from the Lovejoy concert :')

[r0semultiverse]

In case you didn’t know or needed to hear it, things do get better after you turn 18. Your life isn’t over even when you hit 21. 💜

This is me at vaguely around my mid-twenties. I’m trans & I’m here & while I don’t have everything figured out, I certainly have figured myself out way more than when I was younger. 💜 Yes it gets better. Yes you can grow older & be trans. There are people out there willing to love & accept you for you. There are partners, friends, family to be found. Don’t give up! 💪 Be proud, be loud, & let your rage out! Down with cis! Let’s rock this joint & keep on living!! 🖤 Things will be less noisy eventually, just please live! ⭐️

💖 You are worth it & it gets better! 💜

[sysig]

One better (Patreon)

[zumicho]

when u say kind things in my rb tags do u ever consider the consequences? are u going to restock my tissues? my eyes are puffy and my cheeks are sore i love u all

[synthshenanigans]

there’s one on here currently and they’re bringing back up old controversy (jashshipping)

Yeaa I saw that. They also seem to post a bunch of CJ related things, so I might make the daily photos one since there isn't one for just CJ screenshots/photos

[firefly-fez]

what no one tells you about autism is that befriending a new autistic person is a process of learning their own unique language of love. are they comfortable with eye contact? physical touch? hugs or no hugs? special interest? what textures do they like? should we converse about the special interest or just spend some time with limited conversation just vibing in each other’s company? for neurotypicals there’s like this boring standardized List of Rules that you Have to Follow Or Else! but for my autistic friends out there the rules don’t apply!! they way they connect is each so unique and personal to them that the discovery of getting to know a new person ceases to be this laborious task of following Social Rules until you get comfortable enough to do away with them, but with autistic ppl you get to throw away the stupid rule book right from the get go and embark on a personal adventure of friendship anew, like there’s a secret language you’re uncovering and evey time you successfully connect you feel that magic of blossoming friendship tenfold. shoutout to all my autistic homies out there, you’re not weird, you’re not a burden, there’s nothing wrong with the way that you specifically connect with others and actually i have decided that it is beautiful ✨ ✨

what no one tells you about being autistic is people just don’t like you. maybe you make friends, but they get tired of you fast. even if you’re not actively bullied, your peers just…. don’t pay attention to you. something about you is offputting and weird to mostly everyone, and you literally cannot stop it no matter how hard you try.

[spectroscopic-gayety]

Heyyyyyyy um, bit of a hot take here, but could we stop telling people to kill themselves if they genuinely didn’t know something???? Or stop cursing out a whole country for 7 idiots who can’t use google???

Thanks.

[dweebpheles]

Louder for the people in the back OP. I SAID LOUDER FOR THE ASSHOLES IN THE BACK OP 💪💪💪

I'm sitting here writing this in a parking lot 15 miles from my house because it's the only place with cell signal, power and gasoline, so bear with me. All I've seen are people downplaying the impact Hurricane Helene had and talking shit about Appalachia in the last 24 hours. Yall want to make this political when I and 200,000 more people in southwestern Virginia and millions across northeast Tennessee, Virginia, western North Carolina and southern West Virginia have no power, their homes are destroyed, people are missing, etc. I've seen comments saying how they're upset because they had plans to visit the area for vacation....

Well fuck the lot of you. I spent the night cutting a tree off my house and throwing tarps on the roof. Today, I'm building a makeshift bridge so I don't have to drive through the field to get out and then its on to help cut more trees off of houses while Asplundh and AEP trucks sit in parking lots because apparently they don't wanna actually be working to help us. Instead we worry about the coast constantly where people on average aren't dirt fucking poor. You overlook Appalachia because we're "backwoods rednecks" and shit, while we buck up and help each other knowing no help comes for us, instead just ridicule.

Well fuck you. Fuck your politics. Fuck your jokes, fuck your ridicule.

This is Appalachia, and we'll dig out cause diggin is what we're good at.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: Simon’s past, PTSD request(s): a first, some hard truths

Simon is a professional at quiet.

It's ingrained in him, a piece of his brain rewired from training to make his mass nearly invisible, depending on silence to stay alive.

Sometimes, he thinks he should make more of an effort to make noise at home. He should drag his heel, just barely, enough for a scuff or imbalance of his weight, to make a floorboard creak or groan. He should open doors in a rush, allowing locks and jams to click and clack, alerting whoever is on the other side to his presence.

But if he did, he wouldn't be able to do this, wouldn't be able to stand just outside Orion's room and watch you play peek-a-boo with him, hiding your face with your hands and then sliding them open, smiling so wide it makes his heart skip a beat.

"Where did he go?" You laugh from behind your palms, and reach down to tickle his belly, giggling. "There he is!" Ry is on a changing pad, on the floor (too big now for the changing table) naked except for a fresh nappy, beaming up at you like you're everything.

He and his son are in love with the same woman, he's afraid.

"Where did he go?" You make a show of looking for him, hiding behind your hands, unable to see the way Orion's eyes widen and dart around, clearly seeking your eye contact, before you squeal "there he is!" again and match him smile for smile.

He leans against the door frame, fully aware you still have no idea he's there, and pulls out his phone, desperate to immortalize as many moments as he can, filling his camera roll with pictures and videos of you and the baby so he'll have something to cling to when he's torn away by the next op.

"Where's my baby? Where did he go?" You feign looking around, turning your head from left to right, finally catching Simon out of the corner of your eye, looking from him to the camera, still smiling, sun shining across your face from the window. He smiles back, he can't help it. Once a foreign feeling on his face, now feels so natural when it comes to you. Orion kicks his feet impatiently, and you turn back with a gasp. "There he is!" You tickle him, again, and this time, when you giggle, he does too.

Your mouth drops open in shock, and you look at Simon wide eyed. "Oh my god. Did you hear that?" He practically drops his phone and goes to his knees at your side as you lean forward and blow a raspberry on the baby's belly, Orion giggling the whole time.

It hits him like a truck. He feels faint. The floor is uneven. His baby is laughing. The world tilts, and for the thousandth time since he ran into you on the sidewalk, everything looks different. He blinks back the burn behind his eyes as you pull Orion to your chest, kissing his cheek, cupping the back of his head.

"Say, daddy did you hear me? Did you hear me laughing?" You use a smaller voice, one trying to imitate a baby's, peals of bells ringing inside his head. He wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to Orion's head, breathing him in, and you lay your head against his chest with a thunk and a sigh. "I can't believe that just happened."

"I know." Orion gazes up at the two of you, eyes flicking back and forth, and you slide your fingers through his wispy hair. The lump in his throat dissipates, and he kisses your forehead. "Thank you." Thank you for this. For everything. For giving him a chance to have a family, for giving him a chance to show his son what a healthy home looks like, what love looks like. For it all.

Your draw back, finding him open and vulnerable, soft parts on display, unguarded. Your free hand cups his cheek, just as he's done countless of times to you. "For what?"

"For giving me everything."

Later, he’s on his back, lazily watching you in the bathroom from your bed as you brush your teeth and talk to your sister.

It’s been a week since you asked him to stay, since he held you through the night, and he’s hardly been back to his short term rental since.

You asked him about it, a few nights ago. Asked how close he lived, since he was back and forth so often, or if he had been making a trek. Wondered how never found him, if he was in the area. The guilt was rife on your face, and anxious to alleviate it, he told you the truth.

“Got a short term flat down the street after I ran into you. Wanted to be close.” You jerk back in his grasp, unbelieving. “My… friend, a bloke I work with, lives in this neighborhood. That’s how I ended up at the bar that night. Sometimes I would crash at his place.”

“You rented a place, to be close to us?”

“Of course I did, mama. Y’really think I was just going to leave you here all alone?”

“I miss her.” You roll into bed from your knee, and he hooks an arm over your waist to tug you into his chest, closing the gap. There’s something soothing about covering the back of your head, your skull, with his palm, fingers splayed in every direction like he’s holding a ball.

He tells himself it’s not because of the dreams. The ones he has where he finds you dead face down in a scarlet red puddle, shot execution style, and Orion missing. Certainly not.

“Who?”

“My little sister.” You snuggle closer, nose to his neck, and he closes his eyes, reveling in each second, counting them slowly.

“Where is she?” You sigh.

“Seville.” Spain? “I used to live there, and she visited once. Fell in love with it. It’s where she goes for school.”

“You lived in Spain?” You nod, sleepily. Feeding Orion always wrings you out, and it was the last thing you did before getting ready for bed.

"Yeah, I used to kind of, float around. Lived in Venezuela briefly too, once. Morocco, Cameroon, Berlin-" Your name is a shredded ribbon from his lips, confused and curious, wrapped up into a jumble of syllables.

“For… fun?”

"I got antsy after uni. Didn't want to just stick around where I grew up, I wanted to do stuff. See stuff. So, I kind of... took off." Of course you did. You might be a kitten, but you're still curious, smart. Bright eyed and enchanted by the world. You probably had a wonderful time running around across the globe. "I'd like to take Orion traveling, you know? Make sure he sees the world, or some of it at least. I'm trying to believe you can still experience life even though you have a baby. Like you can experience life... with your child, right?" His jaw clenches so tight his ears pop. You had big, beautiful wings-

how was he going to clip them?

“Simon?” His name brings him back to earth, to where you're curled up in his arms, warm and soft and safe. He sighs. The conversation looms like a reaper over him, a big, ugly storm brewing on the horizon.

"Let's talk about the travel for when he can at least eat solid food, alright?" The placation burns like acid in his stomach, and you press a kiss to his neck.

“Alright.” He takes a very deep breath.

“But… we do need to talk about something, mama.” Your brow furrows.

“Talk about what?” He doesn’t like the way his heart feels in his chest, a rock sinking to his stomach.

“There’s a lot… you don’t know, honey. A lot about me, and my job.” You stay loose, but pull away to get a better look at him in the glow your bedside table.

“Okay…” It’s meant to prompt him, to lead him to the next step, the one where he starts talking, but the words are frozen in his throat. “Hey,” you dip into his line of sight. “Simon. What is it?” The truth starts to burn. It smolders until it becomes a full flame, spilling out of his mouth, scorching everything in his path. You.

“My family was killed because of me.” You jerk away like he’s slapped you, eyes wide.

“W-what?” Your voice shakes, and he doesn’t blame you.

“My mother, my brother, his son and his wife, they… they died. Because of me.”

“I don’t understand.” Of course you don’t. Why would you?

“It… it doesn’t make sense to start from the middle, so I’d like to tell you… about my life, and my… experiences, if you’re open to listening.” He wanted to hold you for this, wanted to feel your pulse beating beneath his thumb, but you’ve created physical distance, and he doesn’t want to push you. He has to believe he won’t lose you. He doesn’t even want to think about what he might do if you tried to leave. “Please.” His voice cracks, and you nod, timidly.

“Okay, Simon.”

At the end of it all, you’re silent. Shell shocked. Sitting up in bed, sheets pooled around your waist, you stare him, your breathing short and staccato. He reaches for you, trying to bring you comfort, trying to pull you into himself where you would be safe, and loved and held, but Orion starts to cry, fussy, hungry sharp wail piercing the silence, and you tumble out of bed for the door-

leaving him alone in the dark.

[jamminvroomvroom]

I absolutely adore your writing,

For the celebration, could you please do virgin reader first time with Oscar?

sunshine.

op x fem!reader - 4k celebration

in which oscar arrives home to an unexpected guest…

hi hi hi! thank you so much anon, i hope this is what you wanted!! trying to get through requests, loving hearing from you guys! this one is so cute i think, let me know ur thoughts 😚😚

songs to set the mood: fall in love with you by montell fish, fade into you by mazzy star, like real people do by hozier

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!!! smut, fluff, friends to lovers, sleepy baby oscar, teeny tiny bit of angst, mutual pining, r’s first time, swearing

2.9k words

oscar’s exhausted, shoulders sagging beneath the thick material of his mclaren hoodie. he’s glad he left it in his carry on, the miserable london weather not even remotely living up to the warm glow of the middle eastern sun.

he craves his bed, dreamless sleep, entering the code to get into his building and slumping against the cool mirrored wall of the elevator. his eyes droop as the lift travels up, and the ding that sounds when he reaches his floor breathes life back into him.

the double header that kickstarted the season has knackered him, and he longs for alone time and silence to recuperate before he has to deal with the noise of going home and racing in front of a familiar crowd.

his key slides into the lock and he pushes the door open, throwing his bags by the door - he’ll deal with them later. the hoodie is shrugged off and dropped haphazardly on the floor next to the shoes he kicks off. his bed is calling. dazed, he trudges down the hallway, but he’s spooked by a faint sound coming from his bedroom.

as he primes himself to investigate, he hears footsteps, light and quiet against the floorboards. he goes to open his bedroom door, breathing heavy, but he just about jumps out of his skin when it swings open before he gets there. he yelps, and so do you, leaping into the air.

“you scared the shit out of me.” you shout, hand over your thumping heart.

“i scared you? what are you doing here?” oscar bites back, running his hand through his brown locks.

“sorry, sorry, i didn’t mean to be here without your permission but… it’s a long story. i didn’t think you’d be home yet.” you smile apologetically.

“sofa.” oscar mumbles, stalking past his bedroom and towards the living room. “what’s goi- are you wearing my shirt?” he splutters, finally looking at you properly.

your face heats up, and you cross your arms awkwardly.

“um, yeah? god, this is all so embarrassing.” you cover your face, falling onto the sofa. he plonks down beside you.

“tell me what happened.” oscar sighs.

“he dumped me.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“why?” oscar asks softly. “ugh, i knew i hated him for a reason.” he wrinkles his nose.

“i don’t know how to explain this without wading into major tmi territory.” your voice is small, quivering slightly.

“you can tell me, love.” he encourages gently.

“he found it weird that i’m, uh, a virgin?” you squeak, your voice raising into a question. oscar goes as red as you are.

“oh. oh.”

“oh god, you’re freaked out too. is there something wrong with me? like, why has this not happened? i thought i was ready with him, but then when it came down to it…” you ramble, trailing off.

“there’s nothing wrong with you.” oscar states, firm and serious. “him, on the other hand.” he shakes his head, disgusted. “he wasn’t good enough for you.” he spits.

“do you mind if i stay here?” you whisper, leaning into his side. “or, keep staying here?” you laugh softly. oscar joins in.

“you know you can always stay here.” he smiles sleepily. you’re just about the only person in the world he can stand right now, and always, actually. “but i need a nap, you coming?”

you nod and follow him to his room. the tv is still on, the one with monica and chandlers wedding playing quietly. oscar smiles. he knows it’s your favourite.

he flops onto his side of the bed, dropping off almost instantly. you watch over him, enamoured and sympathetic, in awe of him and the life he lives. you slip into bed beside him, leaving a respectable distance between you and the aussie.

you pass out right around chandler’s vows.

-

you stir between two thick arms. pale, warm skin is wrapped around you, oscar’s soft breath fanning your face as he sleeps.

you watch him, scanning each and every mole on his face, trying to ground yourself. you combat the anxiety of being in his arms, choosing to enjoy the moment, while he’s still peaceful. it’s nice to feel wanted, even if he’s unconscious.

for the first time, you’re glad your ex broke up with you, because how does it make sense that you feel safer, more wanted in the arms of your best friend?

“stop staring, ‘m gonna blush.” oscar mumbles, clearing his throat. his eyes are still shut, but he just knows you too well.

oscar opens his eyes slowly, blinking away sleep. you stare at each other, comfortable silence eating away at the palpable tension.

you kiss him.

because why wouldn’t you? it’s oscar, your oscar, and he’s sleepy and cosy and gorgeous, and you’ve waited too fucking long. you can’t resist it any longer, free from the bounds of being someone else’s.

his lips are warm, and he’s startled, but the surprise doesn’t falter him; just as quickly as you kiss him, he’s kissing you back. his large hand finds your face, and the other finds your waist, pulling you closer. you melt into him, impossibly closer than you already were.

he’s gentle with you, tentative but firm and you part your lips, letting him lick into your mouth. his tongue strokes softly over yours and you keen at the sensation. he pushes you onto your back, balancing on his elbow half hovering over you. your hair fans out onto the pillow, his soft fingers running through your strands, pushing them away from your flushed face. oscar pulls away, scanning your face.

“sorry.” you smile up at him, breathless.

“apology very much accepted. i’ve been wondering when that would happen.” he laughs incredulously.

“really?”

“what can i say? i’m irresistible.” he replies dryly, exercising his sense of humour that was a foundation of your friendship.

“yeah. you kinda are.” you giggle bashfully.

and then he’s kissing you again, pressing himself even closer to you. you welcome him in, wrapping your arms around his lean frame, feeling over his shoulders. he’s tense, restrained, groaning into you at the feeling of your hands raking over his back.

“we should stop.” he mumbles, noses bumping. you frown.

“why?”

“because you said earlier, you’re not ready for this and i’m… well, things are gonna get real awkward if we keep going.” he chokes out half a laugh, glancing down at his-

“oh.”

“yeah, i just, i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. we can go slow.”

“osc, i wasn’t ready with him,” you pause, collecting your thoughts. “but you’re not him.”

“i suppose that’s true.” he shrugs.

“then you better do something.”

oscar lays you back, climbing over you completely this time. his trails over your jaw, taking your chin between his fingers.

“are you sure about this? we can stop anytime, just say the words.”

“‘m sure, oscar. i want to do this with you.” you coo, reassuringly.

his lips run over your neck, your collarbone, and he mouths at the collar of the t-shirt that you’re wearing. his t-shirt. his.

“gonna take this off, yeah?” he asks, whispering low, right by your ear.

“yeah, please.” you say, your own hands running under his t-shirt and up his muscular back. he’s relaxed now, no tension between his shoulder blades, and so you push the material up, and he slips it over his head. his warm digits peel your shirt off, too, and you’re warm all over when his eyes trail over your chest.

you’d forgone a bra, ditching it when you’d arrived at his place, and his pupils are blown wide, hazel hues sparkling with desire. his hands slide up your ribcage, thumbing at the underside of your breasts, while he plants open mouthed kisses down your chest. your eyes flutter shut, gasping softly as he skims your nipple.

“oscar.” you breathe, the light whimper sending his blood rushing south.

“does that feel good?” he asks, searching your face for answers.

“more.” you sound strained, desperate, and he aches.

his sucks your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the swollen bud. he toys with the other one, massaging your breast with his skilful fingers, tweaking and pulling until you’re panting beneath him. he pulls away with a pop, licking over to the other side, deciding to test your limits when he nips delicately at the peak. you moan, bucking your hips, hypersensitive to his every move.

you can feel how hard he is, his grey joggers growing tighter with every passing second.

“want all of you, osc.” you plead.

“need to get you ready for me first, okay honey?” he rubs circles into your sides, warm and calloused. you relax fully, lifting your hips.

oscar mouthed over your belly, peppering sunshine-like kisses down your abdomen until he finds the band of your loose shorts. he mumbles something into you navel about taking them off and you nod, enthusiastic and frantic. you can feel his smile branding your sensitive skin. the material glides down your thighs, pooling at your ankles, and you kick them away. he parts your thighs, making himself comfortable on his belly, and thumbs at the crease of your leg, toying with your panties.

he drags his pointer finger over your covered slit, up and down slowly, applying more pressure every time he brushes over your clit. oscar can see where you’re starting to seep through your panties and he stifles a low groan, anxious to peel the cotton off of your body, the final barrier separating him from you, so he does, pulling them slowly down your legs. he studies your face as he does, keeping his eyes firmly on yours. your lip catches between your teeth, aching as you watch, helpless and wet.

oscar kisses your hip bone, sucking gently until he’s stained it purple, and then his warm breath is fanning your cunt. your eyes squeeze shut.

“look at me, baby. gotta keep your eyes on me.” oscar mutters. your pussy clenches around nothing at the tone of his voice. you pry your eyes open, just about managing to prop yourself up on your elbows. “that’s it, honey. has anyone ever done this to you before?”

you shake your head, no. he smiles to himself, like he knows something you don’t, and dives in.

his tongue works in slow strokes, dragging through your slick with intent, eyes locked with yours. you must look like a deer in headlights, pupils blown, shocked with pleasure when you collapse against the mattress. he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking, tasting, and your legs go weak, splayed open all for him. you whimper as he tugs your clit between his teeth, just enough to graze over the sensitive nerves. it sends your hips flying, bucking wildly against his face.

“osc…” you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut.

“‘m gonna give you some more, is that okay?” he asks, nose bumping your clit.

“yes, please.” you don’t know what more is, but you need it like air.

you feel a finger glide over your sodden flesh, rubbing over your entrance. you sigh out, oh, anticipation and bliss sending white heat down your spine. he circles his finger around your opening, coating it in you, and carefully slides it in, feeling out for any sign of tension or discomfort. when you grind your hips onto the single digit, he knows you’re okay.

it feels good, better than anything you’d ever felt on your own, and you writhe against his bedspread. he thrusts a couple of times, experimenting, seeing what makes you squirm for him the right way, and when his finger curls, hooking deliciously, he knows he’s struck gold. you arch off the bed, searching for more, more, anything.

“another one.” you cry, begging, and oscar’s not one to tease. not yet, anyway.

a second finger joins the lonesome first, and he finds some pace, fucking into you faster. he scissors the digits, stretching you out for him, enjoying the pretty view. he’s achingly hard now, rocking discreetly into the mattress, losing his mind as he watches how you drip around his fingers. he wants another taste of you, addicted already to sweet, salty honey, so he has to finish you off, lap your mess off of his long fingers.

“i think- i think-“ you can’t get the words out, they’re lost on your tongue, but oscar knows what you mean.

“that’s it, baby. so good for me, doing so good. cum for me.” he spurs you on, drawing it out of you.

you let go, crashing biblically, the high sending you to heaven and back, two times over. he grinds his fingers, softer, just enough to help you through it and you chant his name like you’re praying at an alter. you know that you’ll never be over this. your oscar.

“holy shit.” you giggle, smiling lazily as you return to the world of the living. he’s licking his fingers clean; you could black out so easily.

“did you enjoy that?” he punctuates with a kiss to your belly, crawling up your body until he’s hovering over you.

“maybe you should do it again, just so that i can really make sure that i did.” you tease. your hand rakes through his hair, pushing it back off of his face. he’s grinning down at you, eyes fluttering shut. “that was amazing.” you whisper. he’s blushing when he kisses you, and then you are too, when you taste yourself on his tongue.

he moans against your lips, making you pull back. your hand leaves his brown strands, joining your other, which is currently voyaging down his back.

“you’re wearing too many clothes.” you whisper, lips bumping his as your hands slide under the waistband of his sweats. something desperate emits from the back of his throat. you push them over his hips, fisting the thick fabric, eager to have him bare on top of you once and for all. oscar helps, kicking them away, boxers too.

you can feel him, thick and wet between your thighs, his breathing uneven. your nails graze his hip and he jolts, collapsing on top of you, his full weight covering your keening body. he kisses into the crook of your neck, frantic; you need him deep, immediately, his urgent change in form leaving you flushed.

“you want me?” he whispers into your ear, leaving you shivering.

“so bad.” you pant.

“i’ll be gentle.” he promises.

he guides himself through your folds, slippery and warm, all for him. he nudges the head inside of you, hips stuttering at the blinding tightness. you gasp, but he catches it in his mouth, softly moulding his lips to yours as he pushes further. you open up for him, pliant, and when he eventually bottoms out, he holds himself there, letting you adjust.

“oh, fuck.” your eyes roll back, nails leaving crescent marks in his shoulders.

“so good for me, so pretty.” oscar grunts. “say when, baby.” he breathes, rubbing soothing circles into your hip.

“move.”

oscar rolls his hips, rocking you into the mattress. he hooks your knee over his waist, driving himself deeper and deeper with every thrust. you’re boneless, lost to the delectable stretch, to the way his cock seems to touch every part of you that makes you quiver.

“tell me how it feels.” oscar murmurs, grip tightening on your thigh.

“fuck, oscar, it’s so good. ‘m so glad it’s you.” your voice shakes, raw with emotion.

“me fucking too.” he mumbles, increasing his pace ever so slightly.

his thrusts lull into more of a grind, reaching your depths and revelling in the way you only get tighter for him. you’re spilling around him, already so close to meeting your end, and all it takes is the calloused pad of his thumb brushing your bundle of nerves to have you convulsing. you’re somewhere else entirely, on a whole other spiritual plane, utterly and completely his as he fucks you through your second orgasm.

when he spills, white hot and sweat slicked, he gushes endless hushed whines of your name. it sounds perfect when he says it like this, rolling off of his tongue with dire urgency.

his dampened hair falls over his darkened eyes, full of stars and total adoration. you’re smiling sleepily up at him like he’s made of sunshine. you always thought he was, and now you know that he most definitely is.

the most beautiful sunshine man.

“hi.” he whispers.

“hi.” you whisper back.

an intimacy, different to the one you’ve just shared, blossoms between you, encapsulating you here with him endlessly.

“i’m gonna clean you up, ‘n then we’re gonna order food.” he gazes fondly, stroking your hair.

“perfect.” you agree.

“put friends back on, i’m gonna run you a bath.” he begrudgingly stands from the bed, trailing towards the en-suite.

“you’re gonna join me in there, right?” you admire his naked frame as he disappears into the bathroom.

“obviously.” he pokes his head out once more to scoff, and you lay there, grinning like the worlds most lovesick idiot, your thoughts dulled by the sound of running water.

when the bath is full of hot water and too many bubbles, he gets in first, and you sink into the revitalising heat. oscar pulls you close, your back to his chest, kissing over your hairline as you mould yourself against him.

“thank god you broke in.”

-

oh i’m soft

-

taglist

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lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

[sgt-tombstone]

do you think the recruits make chuck norris type jokes about the 141?

lieutenant riley doesn't go hunting, because hunting implies the possibility of being unsuccessful. lieutenant riley goes killing.

one time sergeant mactavish threw a grenade and killed five enemies. and then it exploded.

sergeant garrick sleeps with a pillow under his gun.

captain price has a bear rug in his room. it's not dead, just scared like the rest of us.

oh my god, 100% yes

Everyone thinks it started with Ghost, but Price was the original hardcore spooky bastard (in a very Chuck Norris kind of way), especially after he got promoted to captain. All of the rookies who made those kind of jokes are gone now, though, so he hasn't heard a Norris joke in a while

Enter Simon Riley.

It starts out kinda small, just an exaggerated rumor every now and then (he wears a skull mask; no matter how terrifying he is, people are going to talk), but then someone brings back Ye Olde Chuck Norris Joke, just one, and the entire mess hall lights up

Everyone is SO CAREFUL not to let Ghost hear about it, especially not the rookie who originally brought it up. By the end of the week, every rookie on base is whispering them and giggling about it. They've gotten more and more outlandish, as jokes do, and because none of the 141 do themselves any favors, especially when they step off the plane from their most recent op covered head to toe in blood, guns little more than mangled pieces of metal, their gear nearly in tatters, but they're all smiling and laughing like they're out for a day at a theme park

Price loves it. It reminds him of his younger days, before he got strapped with so much desk duty, when he really struck fear in the hearts of friends and enemies alike. He's always been the monster in the dark for terrorists, but his years have softened him around allies. Hearing the rookies whisper wild jokes back and forth is incredibly nostalgic and very affirming for him

Gaz and Soap? They're in on it, 100%. They both heard about it almost immediately after it happened and all it took was a shared glance to decide to feed the flames. Whenever they have babysitting rookie training duty, they'll drop little tidbits of "lore", most of it fake but some of it true. They don't have to stretch the truth too much because they know the lunch break gossip the next day will have blown everything out of proportion anyway. Whenever they hear a rookie go, "well, I heard...", they'll always pipe up with, "that's not how it happened, here's what really happened..." and the rookies fall for it every time. They have a shared note where they keep their favorite jokes they hear around base

Ghost hates it. He's used to striking enough fear into the hearts of rookies that they stay approximately forty-seven feet away from him at all times because the very sight of him has them shaking in their boots, but as the jokes grew more bizarre, the fear has been replaced with amusement. It's an awed sort of amusement, but still. Every time he hears a rookie giggle behind his back, he can't help but feel a bit mocked. It's fine when he calls himself nothing but a tool in the army's hand, and he's gotten used to (and comfortable with) being seen as nothing more than a walking weapon, but there are enough true stories about him to garner fear and awe; he doesn't need people making up lies.

It all comes to a head when a rookie starts talking a little too loudly, probably unaware that Ghost is even in the room. It's something stupid, so stupid that it's not even funny, but then Soap butts into the conversation, and Ghost tenses. They meet each other's eyes and Soap keeps direct eye contact as he smirks and says, "In an average living room there are a thousand objects Ghost could use to kill you, including the room itself."

Which is, objectively, true. But there's a glint in Soap's eye, the sort of mischievousness that Ghost loves so much, and he realizes that Soap just gave him the perfect opportunity. Like bait in a perfectly hidden trap. Ghost steps close to the back of the unsuspecting rookie, surrounded by a gaggle of even more unsuspecting rookies, and leans down to whisper in his ear.

"And I'll use every last one of them on you if I ever hear another joke on base, Private."

God, he hopes he isn't a corporal.

Apparently he isn't because the man jumps almost two feet in the air, a choked-off scream escaping his lungs as he whips around to find Ghost standing far too close for comfort, staring him dead in the eyes.

"Me, sir?" He stutters out, and Ghost almost smiles at the fear in his voice. The other rookies shoot to their feet as well, already edging towards the exit but unwilling to take their eyes (or ears) off of the conversation.

"Yes, you," Ghost rumbles, deep and dangerous. "If I hear anyone make a Ghost joke, I will hunt you down and show you why they call me The Ghost."

The poor soldier stammers out an affirmative, or maybe an apology, but he and his friends are out the door before Ghost can really parse out the words, and then it's just him and Soap. Soap, who's grinning like a lottery winner, eyes ablaze.

"That was hot, sir."

"You're fucked up, MacTavish," Ghost grumbles, but he can't keep the smile off his face. Maybe he could have some fun with the 141 jokes after all...

[fujillamaparadise]

what the heck are my tags

People are uncomfortable with fan content where bad characters are humanized and shown to have thoughts and feelings that don't involve hurting someone because those people are fundamentally unwilling to acknowledge that bad people are still people. To humanize someone "evil", instead of seeing them as just a mindless monster that's only capable of cruelty, would mean having to acknowledge that all people have the potential to do horrific things, including their loved ones and themselves. In this essay I will—

[local-diavolo-anon]

i'm back!

ok so 2/3 days ago i found this youtube video where op turned Springtrap (or well, William Afton) into a fully build DnD character, and if i say so myself: things got out of hand fast

so here is my take on DnD Springtrap and specifically on that build (adding more infos under the cut for who is interested, i suggest to watch the video first)

starting with saying that unless you're playing in a scifi setting, this build is either not for you or to be modified, since in later levels spells are heavily centered around technomagic and electronic devices; personally when i will play him i will probably tinker around with the chosen spells and cantrips to make him less violently niche and/or more versatile

which kinda saddens me because it takes away not little of the characterization but, given most dnd stories take place in a medieval fantasy or high fantasy setting, a cantrip like On/Off or a spell like Remote Access are NOT particularly useful; so i will go for more psychic damage or necromancy oriented abilities, maybe i might take more than just 4 levels in artificier as well (especially given that again, all of those warlock spells at later levels are all technology oriented) but i need to see what those offer

however it is a kinda tank-y build given that with a shield on you can get up to a 27 of Ac, so even with low damage and not much hp you would not struggle too much to stay alive, and i like that!

as for the character himself, i put too much effort into my interpretation not to share it, so if anyone wants to play this guy as well, i fabricated a possible backstory that might come useful:

The character goes by the name "Dave Miller" (or whatever variant you want to use), and was originally a human artificier who created constructs for a living, mainly with the goal of offering aid to who needed it for whatever reason.

After losing part of his family to some kind of accident he became terrified of death, so with age he started replacing his own body parts with machinery to delay his last days (which made him a cyborg), until the point where he was very very close to become just a robot.

There however he ran into an issue, that being that a robot need a power source, and his own heart and lungs could not sustain a whole robot by themselves.

Through particular and very much not illegal experiments tied to necromancy he discovered that the life force of a living being could be shared, and used as a form of fuel. (possibly: age lived of the creature used= amount of extra months you get)

Here comes the second problem: this only worked with intelligent creatures, and more specifically, it worked best with creatures of your own race, which meant that he either went around murdering people or he found another solution. Non same-race creatures worked as well but not as good and there were not easy to find in the middle of a city and with a shop tied to your name.

And here is where and WHY he'd join a party of adventurers: after some time, his reserves or fuel were running VERY thin, and running into a group of adventurers was a god sent because by joining their party he essentially got a free pass to kill whoever he wanted, and reduce them to a dried raisin after sucking some life force out of them. Doing so you learn that the mowe powerful the creature is, the more energy it produces as well.

Your goal, that you as the player are following, when role-ing your character? essentially slay whatever powerful BBEG your Dm throws at you and suck all of that juicy fuel out of them, so that you can return to your little shop in the middle of the capital and return to create and sell whatever weird construct, doll, or robot comes to your mind for another few decades undisturbed.

And this is it. I think this might be a good backstory that could fit pretty much any setting you want to play this guy into, be it classic dnd or some scifi futuristic thing.

of course you don't NEED to use this one line per line, make up your own without looking back if you don't like it lol, dnd is the "make up shit and have fun" game after all!

Edit: also no his outfit makes no sense, i just went with vibes and decided a tanktop dress shirt, a twin tailed gilet and suspenders OVER said gilet was a good choice.

[byuntrash101]

realistic sex with seonghwa

seonghwa x f!reader fluff | smut | mdni a/n: welcome to this series. where i'll try to imagine how each member would actually fuck, as ✨realistically✨ as possible. u voted for our shinestar to be the first one but tell me in the comments/asks who u want to see next. enjoy ♡ disclaimer: i say realistic but lets be honest this is pure delulu behaviour and total fiction. everything is solely based on the vibes the boys give off.

in the relationship he's very loving and attentive. seonghwa is a romantic at heart. he loves big gestures. like expensive gifts and fancy dinner dates. he's a passionate man

(an aries ♈)

although he's not into pda (doesn't dread it as much as hongjoong though who he utterly despise it). he likes to hold you and kiss you but he would rather do it privately

but oh boy when he gets you alone. you will drown in the love. you will suffer the wrath of his aggressive hugs and kisses

he will literally kiss your cheeks so hard that it will scrunch up your face or hold you so thigh that you can't breathe. for him there's no other way of showing his love for him. it's ardent and burning.

(did I say an aries?)

talking of getting you alone *wink wonk*

a ✨neat boi✨

he will always prepare a towel to you clean up before you even truly starts

I feel like you guys are kissing and things get a little heated he would straight up ask if you tryna fuck 

slkslskdlsdkdk

as soon as you say yes he hops off the bed/couch and goes to get the kit™ which includes towels, lube and toys

he might be prepared to clean up afterwards but thats only because he fully intends on getting n-a-s-t-y with you. before he cleans this man is going to make a mess

seonghwa is freaky (member of freak line with woo mingi and joong even if I think he's the less freaky out of the four). he plays coy but i feel like the demon takes possession of him when he’s on stage or in bed. 

he lives for the applause that's why he gives me the vibe of a service top. he usually doms but he will occasionally sub if his partner is into it.

if he subs that would mean he truly trusts his partner and he's ready to give up control. which I feel is something that is difficult for him to do

he will like to be on the bottom and seeing you ride him. 

he's more into praises than degradation but I feel like he would enjoy a healthy blend of both

"my good fuck toy", "you're being so good to me", "what a good little slut"

nothing too mean. he will surely enjoy being bossed around. (cfr that fancall where he literally folds because op tells him not to make her wait). he will enjoy when you give directions. command him to get in his knees for you, or tell him to open his mouth

but wether he subs or doms he will always enjoy some biting. he loves loves loves when you're close to him and you sink your teeth in the crook of his slender neck. he enjoys the slight pain

but most of the times he will top/dom. that's his comfort zone and it shows.

like I said earlier that man lives for your approval and your recognition so he will do anything to satisfy you.

and he will take 👏 his 👏 sweet 👏 time.

quickies aren't for him. he's a perfectionist. when he does something he does it 100%. he gives his all or he doesn't see the point in even starting… he'd rather wait until you have more time.

seonghwa loves and I means loves to give oral. he's oral giver line with mingi.  

he's ready to spend hours on knees head buried in your pussy ignoring his sore jaw and painfully hard cock just to make sure that when he stops your legs and trembling and you've soaked the bed all the way to the matress.

and the worst (best) part is that he's far from done

it's only the beginning of the fun

there's no point in changing the rhythm so once again when he finally slides into you he takes his time. he will coat himself with your juices grazing his tip along your folds and extra sensitive clit before pushing it in very slowly.

all the while being very quiet. barely exhaling a small sigh of pleasure because one big thing about hwa… he loves sounds. he has a huge auralism kink. so he will stay quiet just to get even hornier on the way you sound.

he wants to heart it all in great detail. (the perfectionism kicks in once more)

he wants to hear your pussy gushing out more nectar for him as he slowly fills you up

he wants to hear how you hold your breath while he gives that first slow stroke that you've been begging him for what feels like hours.

then sighs in pleasure as he reaches the bottom of you.

there he will bend down to kiss you.

sloppy kisses. very sloppy. with lots of tongue. he wants to share your taste (and realust of his hard work) with you

that's why I think hwa's favourite position is missionary. he can hear better and he can kiss you while fucks you.

he loves to make you moan into his mouth. he wants to swallow your every sound of pleasure he wants it all.

and he won't be satisfied until he makes you cum at least twice (and i insist thats the bare minimum). because hwa is an over achiever and also a good guy and as goes the famous saying: nice guys finish last.

it's only when you're satisfied (read: exhausted and worn out to the bone) that he will finaly cum too.

he doesn't have favourite spot he likes to cum anywhere on or in you. well at least that's what he says because I feel like he loves to finish inside or all over your pussy.

he loves to see how good he ruined you and messy your cute little cunt got for him. pulsing, weeping, creaming. all swollen and red.

he loves to know he's the one that made you like this. 

hwa is possessive it's less on the nose then joong but still

also you remember when I said freaky?

he's def the type that goes down on you for sloppy seconds after he's finished. if he's feeling extra generous (sadistic) he will drag out yet an other final orgasm out of your exhausted little cunt. just to have the pleasure of hearing you whine louder and squirm under him. pining your thighs open while he tastes himself on your folds.

with hwa it's not over until it's over

and finally he will share the delicious blend of your burning love for one an other with you in a passionate kiss. this time around the passion is more controlled less carnal and more romantic. he wants to show you again how much he loves you and this kiss is the prefect way

right after of course he's running around the place to bring you water and clean you up

maybe even washing you up in the shower if you aren't too tired and you can still stand (9 times out of 10 you can't) if you are too tired then he'll simply let you sleep in his arms (and never in the wet spot. if only there's one. chances are he prepared well enough and there's none)

like I said a neat boi <33

who should i post next?

IF U WANNA HELP ME PLEASE REBLOG WITHOUT USING THE COMMUNITY LABELS 🖤

realistic sex with mingi, with yunho, with wooyoung, with san | ateez masterlist | navigation

[daisies-daydreams]

OP Men When You Moan “Daddy” Into Their Ear and Run Away (Ft. Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, and Trafalgar Law x GN!Reader)

Warnings: Suggestive Content 🌶️

Monkey D. Luffy

Instantly freezes whatever he’s doing, his heart skipping a beat as his cheeks burn.

“What’d you say?” he asks as a playful smirk crosses his features.

Loves the sound of you laughing and squealing when he (literally) stretches his arms out to catch you.

Honestly, Luffy relishes when you squirm around still giggling…picturing you squirming in a much different way.

He bombards your face with wet kisses as he squeezes you tightly.

“Can’t get away from me that easily!” he chuckles.

Roronoa Zoro

Gives you a blank stare before suddenly pushing you against the wall.

“Wanna run that by me again, doll?” he husked as he kept his arms pinned on either side of your head.

Loves the way your throat bobs when you swallow as your cheeks heat up, embarrassment written all over your sweet face as he stares into your eyes.

“Think it’s funny to moan into my ear like that, huh? Fuckin’ tease,” Zoro calmly chastises before pressing his hips against yours.

Now you’re really in for it. 🫡

Sanji Vinsmoke

Sanji.exe has stopped working.

His eyes bulge out as his jaw goes slack. He only utters out a few sounds as he feels his cock instantly strain against his pants.

If you’ve already run away, he excuses whatever he’s doing to take care of his “little problem”. But if you’re still in his line of sight, he’ll quickly regain composure and stroll over to you, prepared to give you a taste of your own medicine.

“Pourqoui tu me taquines autant…mommy?” Sanji rumbles right into your ear [Why do you tease me so much…mommy?].

Let’s just say dinner was served a little later than usual that night.

Trafalgar Law

Similar to Zoro, he’ll give you a thousand yard stare. Unlike Zoro…Law will ignore you for the rest of the day.

He’ll smirk internally when you pout and do everything in your power to make him slip up.

Eventually he’ll yield when you wear a skimpy outfit and walk past him, making sure to graze your ass over his crotch.

He’ll throw you over his shoulder before carrying you to his quarters.

“Better use that name you called me earlier while I’m making you scream into the sheets, sweetheart,” he grunts before slapping your ass.

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️