#paper 53

[partridgevalley]

I’m going live again tomorrow! I’ll be doing some item icons, UI elements and maybe some sketching. See you there!

Twitch / Itch / Patreon

[assbestos]

remembering how I was one of the ogs on a now defunct drawing community on Paper 53 and how once they put in the text function i hand wrote a text based choose your own adventure game and now it’s fucking gone bc I didn’t save anything from my account

[enos43]

I miei dipinti digitali

www.dropbox.com/sh/rzrqtqxnvxmqqgk/AACZ0XJGia9qCLZyo7xHshvUa

[creativelycomplex]

“You’re not my Louis, you can’t be”.

[bookwyrminspiration]

i love. buying cheap books. but this one $50 book (cheapest I can get it)...looks so rich with information on a subject I really enjoy...but that's so much money for one book can I possibly justify that...oh the decisions...

[jokeanddaggerdept]

[fappellmoan]

watched my grade soar with a quiz grade and then tank with the presentation i submitted. late and awful quality lol.

[dwyane-moggridge-1986]

New Backyard Wedding Tent Diy Paper Lanterns 53 Ideas #wedding #diy #backyard

[kaijuno]

HELP

I have not been able to eat in 2 days. I have hypoglycemia. My blood sugar is currently 53. I could really really really use some help getting food and toilet paper today. Please help I’m so scared I don’t wanna have to go to the hospital for starving again. Anything helps. A few dollars really helps. Please.

Kofi | Cshapp | Vnmo | PyPal

[theonion]

With the struggling newspaper admitting this was the final nail in its coffin, The New York Times announced this week that it would permanently cease publication, saying there was no way it could compete with The Onion’s newly relaunched print edition.

In an internal memo sent to the paper’s 5,800 employees, publisher A.G. Sulzberger said that while he had done everything in his power to keep The New York Times afloat, The Onion’s latest expansion into physical media had forced the company to reevaluate all parts of its business—from its glaringly inaccurate reporting, to its comparatively low circulation numbers, to its deeply unpopular brand, to its completely inept columnists.

“Let me assure you, in the wake of The Onion’s recent decision to relaunch its print product, shutting down The New York Times was not a difficult decision,” said Sulzberger, adding that immediately shuttering all 53 Times bureaus around the world was tantamount to a “mercy killing.” “While we are devastated to see so many employees go, we are happy that we can finally put them out of their misery and no longer force them to work in an environment where The New York Times is out-scooped, out-reported, and outwritten by The Onion at every turn.”

“The truth is, in this modern publishing landscape, The Onion reigns supreme,” Sulzberger added. “There is no amount of time, money, or effort I could invest in this rag to save it from its ultimate, and frankly long overdue, demise.”

Full Story

[probablyasocialecologist]

The New York Times instructed journalists covering Israel’s war on the Gaza Strip to restrict the use of the terms “genocide” and “ethnic cleansing” and to “avoid” using the phrase “occupied territory” when describing Palestinian land, according to a copy of an internal memo obtained by The Intercept. The memo also instructs reporters not to use the word Palestine “except in very rare cases” and to steer clear of the term “refugee camps” to describe areas of Gaza historically settled by displaced Palestinians expelled from other parts of Palestine during previous Israeli–Arab wars. The areas are recognized by the United Nations as refugee camps and house hundreds of thousands of registered refugees. The memo — written by Times standards editor Susan Wessling, international editor Philip Pan, and their deputies — “offers guidance about some terms and other issues we have grappled with since the start of the conflict in October.” While the document is presented as an outline for maintaining objective journalistic principles in reporting on the Gaza war, several Times staffers told The Intercept that some of its contents show evidence of the paper’s deference to Israeli narratives.

[...]

Despite the memo’s framing as an effort to not employ incendiary language to describe killings “on all sides,” in the Times reporting on the Gaza war, such language has been used repeatedly to describe attacks against Israelis by Palestinians and almost never in the case of Israel’s large-scale killing of Palestinians. In January, The Intercept published an analysis of New York Times, Washington Post, and Los Angeles Times coverage of the war from October 7 through November 24 — a period mostly before the new Times guidance was issued. The Intercept analysis showed that the major newspapers reserved terms like “slaughter,” “massacre,” and “horrific” almost exclusively for Israeli civilians killed by Palestinians, rather than for Palestinian civilians killed in Israeli attacks. The analysis found that, as of November 24, the New York Times had described Israeli deaths as a “massacre” on 53 occasions and those of Palestinians just once. The ratio for the use of “slaughter” was 22 to 1, even as the documented number of Palestinians killed climbed to around 15,000.

[sunlilys]

anne vought. gosh i’ve been here before.

[fridayiminlcve]

i was so fuckign stupid in november

[tteotlma]

Silk and Submission

lingerie - virgin - degradation

(Older Bf!Logan/Reader) 5.1kw

a/n: everyone pretend im posting this on 10/1 and not 10/2 oops sorry i just got carried away.

tw: sexual content (18+ MDNI), age gap (25-53), degradation, virginity, consent dynamics, intense emotional experiences, body image, possible manipulation, emotional intimacy, potential objectification, light BDSM themes, physical intimacy, power dynamics, explicit language, feelings of nervousness or anxiety related to sexual experiences, and exploration of personal insecurities.

See you tonight - xoxo

You bit back a smile, your lips twitching with the effort to maintain composure. The handwriting on the card was unmistakable - a familiar, elegant scrawl that sent a flutter through your chest. You knew exactly who the "anonymous" sender was, despite their playful attempt at secrecy. 

With deliberate care, you tucked the card and its accompanying envelope back under the luxurious red silk ribbon. The ribbon encircled a massive white box, its pristine surface unmarred and tantalizing in its mystery. The cardboard was cool and smooth beneath your fingertips as you accepted it from the mailman's weathered hands.

"Thank you," you murmured, offering him a warm smile. Your voice sounded breathless even to your own ears, betraying your excitement. As you retreated into your home, you kicked the door shut with a gentle nudge of your slipper-clad foot. The soft thud echoed in the entryway, underscoring the sudden privacy of the moment.

Curiosity gnawed at you as you hefted the box, raising it up and down a few times, trying to guess its contents by the shift and rustle within. The movement sent a waft of something tantalizingly familiar - a blend of cardamom and vanilla - curling up from beneath the lid.

Your bare feet padded softly across the carpeted floor as you made your way to the dining room. Sunlight streamed through gauzy curtains, casting a warm glow across the polished surface of your table. You set the box down with reverence, your fingers trailing along its edges before coming to rest on the silky texture of the ribbon.

Just as you considered untying the bow, a vibration from your back pocket startled you. The insistent buzz of your phone against your hip was like a spell broken, pulling you out of the moment. With one hand still resting on the silky ribbon, its texture cool and smooth beneath your fingertips, you pulled out your phone. The screen illuminated, casting a soft glow on your face and revealing a notification that promised to shed light on this intriguing mystery.

Logan H.

Heat bloomed across your cheeks, spreading down your neck like wildfire. Your thumb hesitated for a heartbeat before sliding across the illuminated screen, leaving a faint, fleeting smudge.

"Hi," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you brought the cool device to your ear. The contrast between the phone's chill and your flushed skin sent a small shiver down your spine.

"Have you opened my gift yet?" His deep voice rang through your ears, rich and velvety, like dark chocolate melting on your tongue.

"I was just about to open it now," you respond, your free hand absently toying with the ribbon. You pinched it between your fingers, rolling the smooth silk, feeling its luxurious texture.

"Let me know what you think," he says softly. The low rasp in his voice, like rough silk, sent another shiver cascading down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You make a small sound of agreement, a soft "mhm" that's more breath than voice, and sandwich the phone between your ear and shoulder.

Finally fed up with the mounting anticipation, you unravel the silk ribbon. It slithers off the box like water, pooling on the table beside you. With slightly unsteady hands, you shimmy the snug lid off, the soft scrape of cardboard against cardboard unusually loud in the quiet room. A layer of light blue tissue paper greets you, crinkling softly under your trembling fingers as you gently peel it back. The susurrus of paper fills the air, building the tension until—you let out a small gasp, the sound sharp and sudden in the still room.

"What do you think?" Logan's voice, low and expectant, cuts through your daze.

"L-Logan, I-" Your voice falters and dies, words evaporating like morning dew. You're utterly speechless. If you thought your face was hot earlier, you must be charred to a crisp by now, the heat of your blush practically radiating off your skin.

Atop the baby blue crinkled paper sat a lingerie set that took your breath away. The delicate pink lace caught the light, shimmering softly like the inside of a seashell. Your eyes traced the intricate floral pattern of the fabric, marveling at the artistry woven into every thread. The plunging neckline of the triangle bra promised to flatter, while the scalloped edges looked so soft you could almost feel them against your skin just by looking.

The matching underwear, with its high-cut leg openings, seemed to beckon your touch. As your gaze roamed over the garment, you noticed with a start that a string of tiny pearls, like drops of morning dew, connected the sides. Each pearl gleamed softly, adding a touch of luxury that made your heart skip a beat.

The blush pink color matched the discarded ribbon perfectly, as if Logan had meticulously orchestrated every detail of this moment. It was a color that spoke of romance, of whispered secrets and stolen glances.

Your fingers hovered over the lace, almost afraid to touch something so intricate. The phone nearly slipped from your grasp as you struggled to process what you were seeing, your mind a whirlwind of emotions.

As your eyes traced the delicate string of pearls connecting the sides of the underwear, a sudden wave of realization washed over you. Your stomach dropped, a fluttering nervousness taking root. The reality of tonight - your upcoming date with Logan - came rushing back.

Swallowing hard, you gathered your courage and asked, your voice small and uncertain, "Logan... am I supposed to wear this tonight?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then Logan's voice came through, low and gentle but with an undercurrent of anticipation that made your heart race even faster.

"If you'd like to," he murmured, the sound sending a shiver down your spine despite your nervousness. "I chose it especially for you. But only if you're comfortable."

Your breath caught in your throat, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling in your chest. You bit your lip, looking down at the lingerie again, its delicate beauty both alluring and slightly intimidating. 

"Okay," you whispered, as much to yourself as to Logan. 

“Perfect, I’ll be there to pick you up at 7:30.” 

Your fingers skimmed the delicate lace again, the soft pink shimmering in the afternoon light. Logan had always known exactly what you needed—just like tonight. His gift wasn’t just beautiful; it was thoughtful, deliberate. A statement. This wasn’t just about the physical—it was about trust, desire, and the way he had always nurtured your confidence.

You couldn’t help but smile as you thought of how it all started. Logan had entered your life when you least expected it, quiet and steady, offering something more than anyone ever had. He wasn’t just older, he was experienced in ways that made you feel grounded. With him, you didn’t feel like a girl figuring things out. You felt like a woman—his woman. Logan had this way of seeing you, not just for who you were, but for who you could be, and he always encouraged you to embrace that.

From the beginning, there had been a strong undercurrent of attraction. He’d made you feel desired in a way that was undeniable, but it was more than that. He made you feel safe. Not just in the physical sense, but emotionally. He had a way of standing by your side, unwavering and dependable, his strength not just in his body but in the way he treated you. He gave you space to grow into yourself, never rushing, always waiting, allowing you to define your pace.

When it came to intimacy, Logan had been nothing but patient. He never pushed, never crossed a line. Even in the moments when your bodies were close, his touch had been restrained, respectful, always waiting for you to make the call. It only made you want him more.

And now, you were ready. You had been ready for a while, but Logan hadn’t known that until now, hadn’t known until you’d whispered it to him a few nights ago in the soft glow of candlelight. The way his eyes had darkened with a mix of desire and reverence told you everything. He wanted you, but more than that, he wanted it to be on your terms. 

And now that he was aware of how you felt, nothing was going to stop him from making you feel wanted. 

Your fingers traced the tiny pearls on the underwear, the soft blush of the lace catching the light. The thought of wearing it for him, of seeing the way his eyes would roam over your body, made your heart race. You knew Logan. He wouldn’t just look at you like you were beautiful; he’d look at you like you were everything. And that thought alone was enough to send a shiver of anticipation through you.

As you waited outside your apartment building, the evening air kissed your skin, a light breeze tugging at the hem of your sleek black dress. The soft fabric of the dress clung to your figure, every inch tailored to perfection, but beneath it, your thoughts were consumed by what you wore underneath.

The lingerie Logan had gifted you felt like a secret only the two of you shared. The delicate pink lace caressed your skin, and with each step you took, you were acutely aware of the pearls, a luxurious detail pressing softly against you. They rubbed with each subtle movement, sending tiny sparks of sensation through you, teasing your senses. It was an intimate reminder of Logan’s presence, even though he wasn’t there yet.

A heat began to bloom low in your belly, excruciating in its slow build, the weight of your anticipation mounting with every passing minute. You swallow, your throat dry, the ache between your thighs growing with every shift of your hips. The pearls were a constant, maddening pressure, accentuating the warmth that pulsed through you.

The slit in your dress allowed just enough freedom to move, but with the silk brushing against your legs and the sensation of the lingerie beneath, you could hardly focus. The heat in your lower belly coiled tighter, the anticipation making your heart race.

You clenched your thighs together, trying to steady your breath, but the friction only heightened the sensation. Every soft press of the pearls sent a jolt through you, making the wait for Logan feel even more unbearable. You felt flushed despite the cool evening air, your pulse thrumming in your veins. You were ready — more than ready. You felt your phone vibrate inside the black velvet clutch you carried. 

“I’m outside, pretty girl.”  was all that was heard before the line went dead. 

You let out a shaky breath, shoving your phone back inside your bag, snapping the case shut. The sharp echo of your heels against the marble floors of the lobby reverberated with each step, your heart pounding louder in your chest as you neared the exit. With a swing of the door, you were greeted by the sight of Logan leaning casually against his sleek black car.

He wore a dark gray suit that clung perfectly to his broad shoulders, the fabric taut against the muscles of his arms. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned beneath the suit jacket, a hint of casual disarray in an otherwise refined appearance. His beard had grown thicker, streaked with shades of gray, matching the tousled, salt-and-pepper hair framing his weathered face. 

The faintest smirk tugged at his lips as his eyes, hidden behind a pair of slightly scratched glasses, locked onto yours. Your thighs quivered with each step you took down the stairs. You couldn’t tell if it was nerves, excitement, or because your legs were finally tired of the heels you decided to wear. 

Logan extended his hand to you as you reached the last step. You smiled shyly at him, a nervous flutter in your chest as he took your hand. He lifted it slowly, pressing his lips to your fingers in a gesture that sent warmth pooling low in your belly.

“You look… perfect,” he murmured, voice low and gravelly, his breath brushing your knuckles before he let your hand go, the ghost of his touch lingering.

Your heart raced faster, but you didn’t have time to answer before Logan opened the car door for you. You slid inside, the cool leather beneath you doing little to calm the heat rising in your body. He joined you on the driver’s side moments later, his presence filling the enclosed space as the door shut with a soft click.

The car hummed to life, but the buzz between the two of you was louder. His right hand found your bare thigh, thick fingers curling around the softness of your skin. You exhaled shakily, eyes flicking to him as his thumb brushed lightly back and forth, each stroke of his rough skin setting your nerves ablaze.

“You nervous?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it—like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Your breath hitched, the sensation of his thumb squeezing the softness of your thigh, inching just slightly higher, leaving you teetering on the edge of frustration. “No,” you breathed, barely above a whisper.

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “Good.”

The drive continued in thick silence, the tension building with every inch he moved closer, every stroke of his thumb that stayed just a little too long. You clenched your thighs, biting down on your lip to keep yourself from giving in to the temptation of his touch.

By the time the valet took the car, you were barely holding it together. Logan’s hand had left your thigh, but the memory of it remained, lingering like the scent of his cologne. He rounded the car, opening your door again, and you could feel his hand hovering just behind your waist as he guided you into the restaurant. His touch was firm, and there was an unmistakable heat radiating from him, seeping through the fabric of your dress. 

He kept his hand there as the maître d' greeted you, but it wasn't until he pulled you to the side, away from the rest of the guests, that you felt the warmth of his hand slip lower. It rested on the curve of your hip, his fingers pressing into the lace of your lingerie, confirming what he already suspected.

His lips brushed your ear as he leaned in, voice dark and teasing. “You wore it, didn’t you?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you barely managed a nod, feeling a pulse of heat spread through you.

He hummed, satisfied, before pulling away, his fingers still tracing the lace under your dress as he guided you to the table. You tried to focus on the conversation during dinner, but every word, every glance, was tainted with the knowledge of what was to come. Logan’s eyes lingered on you, dark and knowing, while his hand continued its slow, deliberate caress of your thigh beneath the table, making it impossible for you to sit still.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he said, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m just—” You shifted slightly in your seat, his hand giving a gentle squeeze. “Thinking.”

“Hmm.” His gaze sharpened, the edge of desire clear in the way he looked at you. “About what?”

You bit your lip, heat flooding your cheeks. “About later.”

His smile widened, and there was a low, amused hum that left his throat. “Good girl.”

The warmth of his words settled in your chest, amplifying the steady thrum of anticipation. You felt it in every stolen glance, every small touch, and by the time dinner was over, you could barely sit still, the heat between you both undeniable.

As you stood, his hand slipped once again to the small of your back, guiding you out of the restaurant with that same hot, heavy touch. And as you walked side by side, his fingers brushed your hip, dipping slightly lower as he leaned in to whisper, “You ready to head home?”

The answer was already written in the way your body leaned into his, craving the inevitable.

---

The ride back was quieter, the air thick with anticipation. Your heart raced, and the buzz of the night lingered in your veins. Sitting beside Logan, you couldn't stop your mind from wandering to what was waiting for you both at home.

But this time, you made a bold decision. You lifted your hand, your fingers hovering just above his shoulder before they slipped into his hair. The soft, unruly strands felt warm between your fingers, and as you started to gently stroke the nape of his neck, you could feel his breath catch ever so slightly. His hair was a little rougher at the roots, and you couldn’t help but smile as your nails grazed over the sensitive skin behind his ear.

Logan didn’t say anything, but his body reacted to your touch. His posture, always so composed, shifted slightly. His jaw tightened, and you could see the flicker of something primal cross his face in the glow of the streetlights.

Your fingers continued to explore, softly playing with his ear, tracing the curve of it before slipping down to rub the nape of his neck. His skin was warm, and as you gently massaged the base of his hairline, you felt him exhale a slow, controlled breath. He was trying not to react too much, but you could tell he liked it.

"Careful," he muttered, voice low, as if warning you of the line you were crossing. His hand tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles whitening just slightly. But there was no stopping you now.

"I like this," you murmured, your thumb brushing just below his ear. His neck was thick, strong, and your boldness grew as you felt the tension under your fingers.

His eyes stayed on the road, but you could feel the shift in his attention, the way his focus narrowed in on your touch. You continued stroking, teasing him with the gentleness of your fingers, letting them wander through the short strands at the back of his neck. The power of that small, intimate touch sent a thrill down your spine.

And then, Logan made his move.

His hand slid from the steering wheel, down to your thigh, resting there with a heat that matched the fire growing in your belly. There was no hesitation this time as his fingers curled around your flesh, pulling the fabric of your dress higher.

You could barely breathe as he slowly pushed the fabric up, the cool air from the car’s vents contrasting sharply with the heat rolling off his body. His fingers edged closer to where the pearls rested against your skin, teasing the hem of your panties.

Then, with a flick of his pinky, he stroked the pearls—delicate, deliberate. You jerked in your seat, a soft gasp escaping your lips, the sensation unlike anything you'd felt before. The pearls shifted, rubbing against you in a way that sent shockwaves through your entire body.

Logan didn’t say anything at first, just kept his pinky grazing the soaked pearls, his touch light, torturous. You could feel the slickness coating the small beads, and from the way his thumb tightened against your thigh, you knew he felt it too.

“Well…” His voice was low, gravelly, the edge of amusement unmistakable. “Looks like someone’s enjoying themselves.”

Your face burned, a mix of embarrassment and arousal flooding your system. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but all that came out was a breathless whimper as his pinky continued its slow, teasing strokes over the slick pearls.

Unable to take the teasing without reacting, your hand slipped further into his hair, tugging lightly on the strands, just enough to get his attention. Logan’s lips parted slightly, his eyes briefly glancing in your direction as his grip tightened on your thigh.

The subtle tug on his hair made him groan, deep and guttural, his fingers pressing harder into your thigh as if daring you to pull harder. “Careful with that, sweetheart," he teased, voice dark and thick. "Unless you want to make me stop driving.”

Your fingers curled tighter into his hair, just to see what he would do, feeling the heat of his body radiating even stronger. The smirk that pulled at his lips told you he liked it—maybe more than he was willing to admit.

“Didn’t expect you to get this wet,” he murmured, his tone teasing, dark, as his thumb dug into your thigh a little harder. “But I have to say… I’m not surprised.”

Your legs trembled beneath his touch, every nerve in your body buzzing with a need you could barely contain. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the moan building in your throat, but the sensation of his pinky brushing back and forth, the slick sound of it filling the otherwise silent car, was driving you mad.

“I—” You tried to speak, but the words stuck in your throat, and all you could manage was another soft whimper as his pinky traced the length of the pearls, gliding through the wetness he’d discovered.

“Shh.” Logan’s voice was soft but commanding, his hand shifting slightly so his whole palm cupped your thigh, holding you in place. “I know, sweetheart. I know how bad you want it.”

The teasing lilt in his voice sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, and when his pinky pressed a little harder against the pearls, you swore you felt your entire body shudder in response.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself, fingers still moving with deliberate slowness. “I can feel how ready you are.”

You couldn’t answer, couldn’t even think straight, your focus solely on the pressure building between your legs, the delicious friction of the pearls against you, his fingers toying with you like it was a game only he was in control of.

Logan chuckled darkly, leaning closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Think you can wait till we get home, or should I pull over?”

—

The dim lighting of the bedroom barely illuminated the edges of Logan’s silhouette as he hovered above you, his strong frame pressing into the mattress, overwhelming you with his presence. His dark, hungry eyes roved over your body, the reverence in his gaze sending warmth flooding through you.

You lay beneath him in the delicate lace lingerie, the fabric barely clinging to your skin, framing your breasts that were already exposed. Logan's rough, calloused hands traced the curve of your waist, teasing over the lace of your panties as if savoring the moment before indulging in his desire. His fingers ghosted over the ridge of the pearls, a growl rumbling deep in his chest.

"Fuck," Logan muttered, his voice a deep rasp as his eyes devoured the sight of your trembling form. "Look at you… so fucking beautiful."

The low rumble of his voice made your heart stutter, your body thrumming with anticipation under the weight of his gaze. Every word out of his mouth set you on fire, the heat pooling low in your belly, your thighs already trembling. 

His hands tugged at the waistband of your panties, pulling the lace aside, baring your slick folds to the cool air. He paused for just a moment, the pearls shifting between your legs, soaked through with your arousal. Logan’s eyes darkened with lust, and he couldn’t resist teasing you one last time, brushing his fingers against the pearls, the sensation barely there but enough to make you whimper.

“You wore these for me,” he growled, his thumb pressing against your inner thigh, the roughness of his touch making you squirm. “Fuckin’ soaked already, huh?”

A soft moan slipped from your lips, your fingers instinctively gripping his forearms, trying to steady yourself. Logan’s lips twitched into a smirk, but it was short-lived. His teasing made way for something more primal, more urgent.

Without warning, Logan leaned down, his mouth covering yours in a heated, sloppy kiss. His lips were rough, hungry, devouring yours with a desperation that made your entire body burn. The taste of him overwhelmed you, your head spinning as his tongue slid past your lips, claiming you with every swipe.

Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands as you tugged, pulling him closer. Logan groaned into your mouth, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. His lips broke away for only a second, just long enough for him to catch his breath before he kissed you again, more fiercely this time—his teeth scraping against your bottom lip, his tongue tangling with yours in a messy, filthy dance that left you panting.

When he pulled away, both of you breathless, his lips were swollen, his chest rising and falling heavily. The look in his eyes, wild and filled with need, made your core clench with anticipation.

His hand slipped between your legs again, fingers brushing the pearls as he teased your entrance. The slickness of your arousal coated his hand, and Logan groaned, his cock throbbing as he dragged his tip against your wetness. You whimpered, your body arching into him, the overwhelming need to feel him inside of you driving you mad.

“Logan, I—” you gasped, but the words were swallowed by the intensity of his next kiss, sloppier this time, all tongue and teeth as he pressed the tip of his cock inside you, stretching you open.

Immediately, your body tensed, the pressure of his size making your breath hitch. He felt enormous, far bigger than you’d ever imagined, and a flicker of nervousness swept through you. Your hands went to push against his chest, but Logan was quicker, capturing your wrists and pinning them beside your head.

"Don’t fight it," he growled, his voice low, rough, and dark with authority. His lips were at your ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine. "DON’T. Fight it."

You whimpered, your heart racing as you struggled against the urge to tense up, his thick cock slowly pushing deeper into you. His mouth crashed against yours once more, the kiss wet and messy, stealing the very air from your lungs as his hips continued to press forward, stretching you even more.

The feeling of being filled so completely, stretched to your limit, was overwhelming, your body trembling as you fought to adjust. Your hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his chest as Logan buried himself to the hilt inside of you.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice strained, his forehead resting against yours as he stilled for a moment, letting you catch your breath. "You’re so fucking tight… so perfect.”

You whimpered beneath him, your nails biting into his chest as you struggled to breathe, the stretch of him filling you up almost too much. Logan’s eyes softened as he kissed you again, this time slower, gentler—but no less possessive. His hands moved down to your hips, gripping them firmly as he pulled back, dragging his cock out just enough to make you gasp, before sliding back inside with a slow, deliberate thrust.

The friction was electrifying, the sensation of him moving inside you pushing you closer to the edge of pleasure. Your entire body quivered beneath him, your legs wrapping around his waist, desperate to keep him as close as possible.

“Logan…” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper as you arched into him.

“You’re takin’ me so well,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your neck as he began to thrust faster, harder. His teeth grazed your skin, biting down just enough to make you cry out softly, your hips rising to meet each of his powerful thrusts. “Such a good girl… my good girl.”

His hand came down sharply on your ass, the smack resonating in the room, and the sting of it sent a jolt of pleasure through your core. "Logan!" you gasped, your back arching off the bed.

"Fuck, you like that," he growled, his hand coming down again, this time harder, as his pace quickened. "You like bein' fucked like this… takin' my cock like a little slut."

You moaned helplessly, too lost in the pleasure to care about the degradation. Each filthy word out of his mouth only drove you higher, your body trembling as the pressure built in your core, teetering on the edge of release.

Logan’s hand slid down between your bodies, his fingers brushing against your clit in tight, teasing circles that had you writhing beneath him. His other hand gripped your breast, tugging at your nipple as he continued to thrust deep inside you, each movement pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

The kiss that followed was devastating—hot, sloppy, and rough. His lips crushed against yours, tongue sliding messily into your mouth, tasting you with an almost feral hunger. You could barely think, your entire body trembling, clinging to him as the sensation of being filled to your limit overwhelmed you.

“Come for me,” Logan growled, his voice thick and commanding, his lips brushing against your ear. “Come all over my cock, baby.”

And with one final thrust, the coil inside you snapped. Your orgasm ripped through you with a force you’d never felt before, your body convulsing beneath him, your walls clenching tightly around his cock as you screamed his name. 

Logan groaned deeply, his hips stuttering as he pulled out of you, stroking himself a few times before spilling his hot cum across your stomach and breasts, the thick, warm liquid coating your skin. His hands trembled as he held himself above you, chest heaving with heavy breaths.

He collapsed on top of you, his forehead pressing against yours, his body still trembling as he kissed you softly—so softly it almost felt out of place after the raw intensity of what had just happened.

“Fuck…” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re fuckin’ perfect… my perfect girl."

You lay there, your body still tingling from the aftershocks, feeling the weight of him pressing into you, his cum still warm on your skin. You had never felt so cherished, so completely overwhelmed by both pleasure and the connection between you two.

—

a/n: ok now everyone take a deep breath, and lmk what u think.

[iamjapanese]

Waqas Khan（Pakistani, b.1982）

1 Detonate 2022 Ink on paper 53 x 68 cm 2. Marine Algae 2022 Ink on canvas 240 x 240 cm 3. The Gibbous Moon 2019 Acrylic and ink on canvas, unique 244 x 244 cm via instagram

[prokopetz]

Your long and arduous journey has led you to this, the final confrontation. You thought you knew what to expect, but just as you struck the final blow, your ultimate foe's eyes gleamed with unnatural light as they proclaimed…

THIS ISN'T EVEN MY FINAL FORM

A game for 4–6 players

Introduction

This Isn't Even My Final Form is a GMless tactical minigame for 4–6 players. You'll take on the roles of a party of heroic adventurers nearing the end of a world-spanning quest to defeat a great evil, the Final Boss. Unfortunately for them, each time they think they've won, the Final Boss assumes a new, even more horrifying form, and the struggle begins anew. Is there any end to this conflict? There's only one way to find out!

What You'll Need

This Isn't Even My Final Form requires a dozen six-sided dice, as well as a way of keeping track of a few important numbers – a shared text document or some scrap paper will suffice.

Update 2023-10-30: Print-and-play card decks are available here:

http://penguinking.com/this-isnt-even-my-final-form/

Character Creation

Choose two of the following actions to be your Party Member's Class Actions: Strike, Heal, Buff, Debuff. If you'd rather determine this randomly, roll on the following table.

1. Strike, Heal 2. Strike, Buff 3. Strike, Debuff 4. Heal, Buff 5. Heal, Debuff 6. Buff, Debuff

Give your Party Member's Class a name which suits your Class Actions. Also give your Party Member a name; it is traditional but not obligatory for your Party Member's name to have exactly five letters.

Playing the Game

Play is divided into a series of Phases. During each Phase, one player takes on the role of the Final Boss. That player's Party Member does not participate in this Phase; they're trapped, lost, incapacitated, or otherwise separated from the party or unable to act for the duration of the Phase. All other players take on the roles of their Party Members.

The Final Boss player's first order of business is to describe what the current Phase looks like. The Final Boss player can roll 1–3 times on the following table (re-rolling duplicates) to decide on a theme, or use it as inspiration for their own theme. To use this table, roll a six-sided die twice, treating the first roll as the "tens" place and the second roll as the "ones" place, yielding a number in the range from 11 to 66.

11. Beasts 12. Bells 13. Blood 14. Bones 15. Chains 16. Chaos 21. Cubes 22. Eyes 23. Fire 24. Flowers 25. Food 26. Games 31. Gears 32. Glass 33. Gold 34. Hands 35. Holes 36. Ice 41. Iron 42. Light 43. Mazes 44. Meat 45. Mirrors 46. Music 51. Orbs 52. Order 53. Plague 54. Shadow 55. Slime 56. Space 61. Spikes 62. Teeth 63. Time 64. Trees 65. Weapons 66. Wings

Once the Phase has been defined, set the party's Momentum to zero. Momentum is a value which will increase or decrease over the course of the Phase; it has a minimum value of zero, and no particular upper limit.

Play proceeds in a series of rounds, as follows.

The Final Boss Attacks

The Final Boss always goes first in each round. Roll one die:

1–3: The Final Boss chooses one of the following actions. 4–5: The Final Boss chooses two of the following actions. You may not target the same Party Member twice; however, you may use the same action on two different Party Members if you wish. 6: The Final Boss does nothing this round. On its turn next round, it does not roll and instead uses its Ultimate Attack.

Wound: Inflict the Critical Condition on a single Party Member. If the chosen Party Member already has the Critical Condition, it's replaced with the Down Condition and the party loses one Momentum.

Imprecate: Inflict the Cursed Condition on a single Party Member.

Envenom: Inflict the Poisoned Condition on a single Party Member.

Bewilder: Inflict the Confused Condition on a single Party Member.

Counter: If you're targeted by the Strike or Debuff actions this round, after resolving that action, perform the Wound action on the Party Member who targeted you. You may counter any number of actions in this way.

Dispel: Remove the Buffed and Protected Conditions from any number of Party Members.

Enrage: The Final Boss rolls two dice and takes the better result on its next action. The party may cancel this benefit with a successful Debuff action; doing so removes the extra die instead of forcing the Final Boss to roll twice and take the lower result.

Ultimate Attack: This action can only be chosen by rolling a 6 during the previous round. When the Final Boss uses this action, choose Cursed, Poisoned, or Confused: you may perform the Wound action AND inflict the chosen Condition upon any number of Party Members, in that order. (i.e., Wound each targeted Party Member, THEN Curse/Confuse/Poison any who remain standing.)

The Final Boss player describes the outcome of the chosen action(s) in as much or as little detail as they like; control then passes to the other players.

The Party Acts

After the Final Boss has attacked, each Party Member who doesn't have the Down condition chooses one of the following actions, in any order the players wish. After choosing any action other than Defend, the player rolls their dice pool, which is a handful of six-sided dice constructed as follows:

Start with a number of dice equal to the party's current Momentum (initially zero, though it will grow over the course of the Phase)

Add one die if you're performing one of your Party Member's Class Actions

Add one die if your Party Member currently has the Buffed Condition

Add one die if your Party Member currently has the Critical Condition

Roll all of the dice together, and find the highest result. Ties for the highest result have no special significance; for example, if you rolled four dice and got 1, 3, 5 and 5, your result is 5. If you'd ever end up with zero or fewer dice for any reason – either because your dice pool was empty to begin with, or because some effect obliged you to discard every die you rolled – you receive an automatic result of 1.

If an action requires you to target a specific Party Member or make other choices, you can wait and see the result of your roll before making those decisions.

Strike: You attack the Final Boss. Roll your dice pool:

1–3: Nothing happens – either the attack misses, or the Final Boss turns out to be immune to whatever you just did. 4–5: The attack strikes true. The party gains one Momentum. 6: Critical hit! The party gains two Momentum.

Special: If you roll triples or better (i.e., at least three of the same number) on a Strike action, the Final Boss' current Phase is defeated, and you move on to the next Phase. It doesn't matter what number comes up triples.

Heal: You attempt to restore the party's strength. Roll your dice pool:

1–3: You may remove the Critical Condition from a single Party Member. If no Party Member has the Critical Condition, nothing happens. 4–5: You may remove the Critical Condition from any number of party members OR you may remove the Down Condition from a single Party Member. 6: You may remove the Critical and Down Conditions from any number of party members.

Buff: You attempt to bolster a party member. Roll your dice pool:

1–3: You may grant the Buffed Condition to a single Party Member OR remove a Condition of your choice other than Critical or Down from a single Party Member. 4–5: You may grant the Buffed Condition to a single Party Member AND remove a Condition of your choice other than Critical or Down from that Party Member, if they have one. 6: You may grant the Buffed Condition OR remove a Condition of your choice other than Critical or Down to any number of Party Members. You may choose a different option for each targeted Party Member.

Debuff: You attempt to weaken the Final Boss. Roll your dice pool:

1-3: Nothing happens – it turns out the Final Boss was immune to that effect. 4–5: The Final Boss rolls two dice and takes the lower result on its next action. 6: The Final Boss rolls two dice and takes the lower result on its next action AND the party gains one Momentum.

Defend: You may grant the Protected condition to a Party Member of your choice. Do not roll.

Based on the outcome of your roll (if applicable), describe the outcome of your action in as much or as little detail as you wish.

Once each Party Member has acted, return to "The Final Boss Attacks" to begin the next round.

Ending the Phase

As noted above, rolling triples or better on a Strike action results in the immediate defeat of the current Phase. Alternatively, if all Party Members simultaneously have the Down Condition, the Final Boss player's Party Member suddenly breaks free or arrives on the scene and rescues everyone in a stunning deus ex machina; this also ends the Phase, but does not count as defeating it.

In either case, reset the party's momentum to zero, remove all Conditions, and move on to the next Phase. The role of the Final Boss passes to a different player, with preference given to those who haven't yet had a chance to be the Final Boss; the previous Final Boss player resumes playing their Party Member.

Continue until the party has defeated a number of Phases at least equal to the number of players, or until mutual agreement has been reached that all this has gone on quite long enough.

Conditions

Some actions can impose Conditions upon the individual Party Members. Conditions can be positive or negative, and last until specific conditions for their removal are met.

Buffed: Your strength has been boosted. When rolling your dice pool, you roll one extra die.

Confused: You've lost your wits. When the party acts, your action is determined by rolling a d6 – 1: Strike; 2: Heal; 3: Buff; 4: Debuff; 5: Defend; 6: do nothing this round AND remove this Condition. This Condition is also removed if you gain the Critical Condition while under its effects. You may choose targets normally if the rolled action requires them. Confused Party Members always act before their un-Confused peers; if there are multiple Confused Party Members, the Final Boss decides the order in which they act.

Critical: You are badly wounded. Desperation lends strength, and so this Condition adds one extra die to your dice pools; however, if you suffer the Critical Condition a second time, it becomes the Down Condition instead.

Cursed: You've been afflicted with misfortune. Discard your highest result after rolling your dice pool, but before applying your chosen action's effects. If there's a tie for the highest result, discard all of them; for example, if you roll four dice while Cursed and get 1, 3, 5 and 5, your result is 3. If the Condition causes you to discard your only set of triples of better on a Strike action, the Phase does not end.

Down: You are incapacitated by injury or foul enchantment. When the party acts, you may not choose an action; your action remains lost even if this Condition is removed before the end of the round. When you gain this Condition, remove all other Conditions, and the party loses one Momentum. (This is not in addition to the Momentum loss noted by effects which inflict this Condition – those are just reminders.) You may not gain other Conditions while this one persists.

Poisoned: You're afflicted by a poison, plague, or death-curse. If you have the Poisoned Condition after resolving your action for the round, you gain the Critical Condition. If you already have the Critical Condition, you instead gain the Down Condition, and the party loses one Momentum.

Protected: The next time you would gain any Condition other than Buffed, remove this Condition instead. You also remove this Condition if you take any action other than Defend on your turn.