#sac pride

[mensfrightsactivist]

sacramentans find me at pride tomorrow!!

[someone-always-cares]

chapter 5, page 49

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[image description: an sac webcomic page. the page opens with a panel of the brick dramatically crashing through the window and shards of glass spew everywhere, surrounded by speed lines. lewis reaches through the new hole in the window and grasps the handle, and pulls open the shattered window. "yeah, sure, this works. good job" jade says as lewis helps her through the window, him already inside and kneeling on the counter, holding up the window blind for her. lewis's jacket is also hung over the windowsill jade is climbing through. the kitchen theyre in is oddly clean compared to the outside- aside from the glass everywhere. and brick. the cabinets are a dark wood with black countertops, and a dark blue tile backsplash. there is also a slightly old white oven. there's not much seen lying around side from a knife rack on the wall and a jug with a few utensils. end id]

please appreciate the glass in the first panel i spent so long and it looks so cool

yeah i had zero time to finish last weeks page as i didnt get back home until late monday. but it's here now! going to try and finish next weeks page early so there's no repeat because of this week's con! wish me luck- saturday has rail strikes so i'm going to have to catch a very early bus to get to birmingham. so i'm going to have to leave the house at- just checked google maps, 4:29 at the latest. preferably 4am to have leeway for unreliable google maps schedule, and having to lug a suitcase around for the 20 minute 4am walk to the only bus thats running to town that early. because i didnt walk to pay for 2 nights in a hotel. (hi to anyone who follows me after seeing me at animeleague birmingham in feb because im back again yeehaw)

anyway yeah those files for the last few pages of chapter 1 are a bit buggered, as is everything else on that external drive but thats not going to stop my comic from getting printed! also i did finish those cat pins. they look great

also, had the weirdest interaction with some vlogger the other week in london who walked up to me, asked for free shit, pretended to not know what a flyer was, and proceded to be weird about my pronoun badges. all the while their buddy was filming with an entire video camera. didnt ask or anything just tried to get a rise out of me for internet points i guess? didnt work but people will do anything for content i suppose

[doodle-doodie-doo]

happy pride month

[tarjapearce]

HI!! I LOVE YOUR WORKS,, CAN U DO Pornstar miguel fucking his girlfriends tight pussy infront of the cam 😲😍😍😍 ITS DEF IF NOT BUT PLS🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

breeding, size kink, age dif PLS SHSBJWBW

I did not see this coming omg 😳😳 NSFW undercut

Big and sturdy hands attempted to focus the camera on the frame he actually wanted. Thick, lengthy, lightly curved towards the end, reddish hue tip with a heavy sac cock dangled before the camera as he tried to keep the device still.

"Fuck"

"Love when that happens" sweet voice that appeared in all of his homemade productions, giggled at the comment.

He had a lipstick smear near the base, the shape of your lips around it. Your little laughs could be heard from the back, but then you appeared and kneeled before the camera, lipstick impecable on your lips, Your hands grope your breast as Miguel approached. Another amateur production that would be added to his collection in the company.

A single hand of his, big enough to cover your face, went underneath your chin and cupped your cheeks.

"Open up, sweetie" Your tongue rolled off your mouth at his command. as your eyes stared directly at the camera.

His hand tangled in a fistful of your hair as he turned you in direction of his cock. His free hand guiding himself into your mouth and slowly slid in until your nose rubbed his happy trail. You seemed unbothered. Jaw relaxing as he sloshed in and out of your moist and warm flesh.

"So so good, princesa" He'd purr as his fisted hand kept guiding you on his shaft, to then squeeze your nose shut as he made you deepthroat him first. Redden cheeks turned purple as he fucked your throat between breathless moans and grunts.

He had been training you properly for this video in particular. The reviews from the previous one had that comment that surely busted your ego.

'That mouth can surely do better"

You were settled to shut that critic down. And Miguel was more than happy to comply in your training and now, seeing a cum streak that connected his tip with your meaty mouth and be completely unbothered by it, sliding in your throat once more like none's business, made his chest swell in pride.

"Eso, mi amor " (That's it baby)

He hissed with a lustful grin

He pulled your face before the camera and smeared his cum on your chin and cheeks before kissing you, tasting himself in the process with a satisfied grin. His thumbs splotched the lipstick off your mouth.

You laughed at the fact that finally your gagging reflexes had subsided enough for him to just use your mouth as a toy whenever you felt bratty. A great addition to the videos really.

Miguel would take you by the arm and threw you over his shoulder, rag dolling you. Feet dangling and hovering on the joints of his hip. A firm slap on your butt sent shivers down your thighs. A cue for you to shut your giggling out.

"Sorry, sorry got excited." You mumbled as he plopped some more cushions on the couch. He then threw you in them and you howled in laughter.

"Careful, Miggy"

His hands spreaded you gently like a book. Left thigh close to his chest as the other rested in the couch's armchair. Spreaded, exposed with your hips and legs shaped in an L form.

Puffy outer lips, that he had previously coated with his spit, parted to expose a bit more of your inner folds. He groaned at your awaiting soaked pussy.

"Ready, preciosa?" You nodded as your toes wriggled in anticipation. Teeth biting your lower lip.

"Aquí vamos" (Here we go)

Miguel took the phone, a little rustling as he dragged the tripod closer, making a zoom into your pussy. Pulsating, awaiting to be filled.

"Look at that" His thumb rubbed over your clit, to then place his shaft ontop of your flesh. The tip reached an inch underneath your navel.

You'd giggle at the size comparison.

"The perfect size really"

His hands would rub his tip between your folds, prodding at your clit lazily.

"Love big cocks inside you, princesa?"

"Only yours." He'd kiss you with hunger, tongue teasing before his mouth darted towards your ankle. Hips positioned, the camera focused, your hand hovering onto your lower belly made his cock twitch.

His tip sunk between your awaiting folds that received him with a wet little squish. Mouth gaped as he sheathed in a go, breast bouncing at the choking thrust.

"Yess-" You hissed and sobbed. Pussy stretching at his rock hard girth.

"Ay, Dios mio, muñeca. Mira. Mira, mira." (Oh ny God, doll. Look. take a look)

His voice urged to look at your swollen lower belly, full of him, bulging as he kept sheathing himself inside you.

"Feels good? Yeah?"

Your eyebrows knitted together, eyes drooped, drowning in need. You nodded with your bottom lip still caught in your teeth.

"So so good, Miggy. Just like tha-"

Another core shaking thrust. Your breath shook and toes curled in.

"So so eager." He cooed while dragging his cock out, glistening in your moist, his hand tilted the camera so it could take a better angle of how his cock left your pussy gaping. Your entrance squelching as he retired himself completely off you, only to ram back his hips immediately . Shaft buried balls deep in your tight little hole.

"Miguel!" You whined and his hips rolled, tip drawing tiny circles in your cervix. Your head was thrown back and he reached for your neck, squeezing your flesh on the spot. His hand covered completely your neck, dressing it up with his fingers. Air slowly leaving your mouth.

"You like that don't you?"

His pace quickened, and your hands went to his wrist that only applied more pressure on your neck, enough for you to give small short breaths and not cut the air completely. Your nods weak.

"Fucking slut, always greedy for my cock."

Your whole body shook with every plunge he did. Much to your dismay his other hand took a hold of the front strands of your hair and held you both still by the hair and neck as he moved into a brutal pace.

"Always teasing with this tight pussy..."

Your videos weren't for the vanilla coded. In fact it was the main warning in every little intro of them.

"Fucking make it hurt, Miggy" You had begged in between breathless chokes.

He growled. Oh, how you loved when it hurted so good. The kind of pain that always gave you the most intense orgasms with him.

The slapping on your flogged skin turned rawer and meaner, you growled. Sweat rolled down his chest and back, flesh flushed from the exertion. Your insides trapped him, constricting him in a Singapur Kiss. You just took him, mouth hung open, gaping in an o shape as he rawed you silly.

He'd moan shakily at the intensity of your tightening walls. You squirmed and wheezed underneath him.

"Dámelo, muñeca " (Give it to Me baby)

You shook your head vehemently, your hands still on his wrist, nails prickling his skin, trying to get more air in your lungs

"No?" He squeezed harder on your neck earning a weakened yelp. Your hands flailed and slapped his hand away, or at least tried to. Your hips bounced on his cock uncontrollably. There was no longer grunts or yelps, just little choked and stifled sobs, a vice like grip from your insides on his cock.

"¿Lo quieres dentro?" (You want it inside? )

Again your head shook as the remnants of sanity were ripped out of you.

"The fuck you mean no?" He shook you by the neck, it gave him a little wail from you.

Your small frame wringed with sweat, makeup smeared, and such a debauched face that made his wicked grin widen.

"Adentro será." (Inside shall be)

You whimpered a plea that he ignored. Of course you wanted it inside. His load always sizzled your spasming walls deliciously

He had to take a hold of your hips as you came. Gushing enough to bath his cock and lower abdomen with your cum. You had screamed, althout weakly, at the sensation. Body convulsing violently underneath his hands. Voice scrapped raw as your legs shook like jelly.

He had groaned your name as he kept spilling. Short elaborated breaths fanning your neck.

Itt was too much. Too fucking much and too good for you. You felt so full, that every time he unsheathed himself from you, you felt empty.

His hands grope you tighter as he gave the last few most powerful thrust you had received so far before going limp ontop of you as his seed remodeled your insides white.

"Such a good girl"

He mumbled as you wheezed, panted and giggled. His cock slowly leaving you, he then took the camera and zoomed in at the creampie he just did.

"¿Estás bien, chula?" (You ok?)

You just gave him a two thumbs up and giggled. Too sore to try and speak

"Ready for round two?" You only groaned. A bruise underneath your chin forming as he laughed.

[icepip]

tags: 18+/mdni. toji fushiguro x gn reader. cockwarming. not proofread. <800 words.

thinking about giving toji fushiguro a taste of his own medicine — holding what he wants so desperately in your hands but never quite giving it to him. dangling it in front of him, so close but always just out of reach.

sliding down his cock, your plush thighs caging his as you perch yourself so beautifully on his lap, your tight heat wrapped so deliciously around his length. he thinks you're gonna put on a show for him, thinks you're gonna ride him until your legs give out and you cry for him to help. but you have something else in store for him tonight. something that'll push him the way he always pushes you.

his fingers flex on your hips, digging into your skin and urging you to move. you tut at him, pulling at his wrists until he relents.

"you'll only get what i want to give you, big boy."

that rewards you with a groan from toji, his head falling back and hitting the soft pillows. he looks gorgeous, his defined chest flushed from arousal, muscles twitching slightly as he tries to stay still. your hands follow the path of your eyes, rubbing up his firm stomach and to his pecs. his breath hitches as your fingers graze his hardened nipples, a slow smile creeping on your face.

this is going to be even more fun than you thought.

"don't you — ah, shit — wanna move?" he hisses out from between his teeth, hips instinctively bucking up as you pinch his buds harshly.

you hum, pretending to think it over as you lightly drag your nails down his chest. toji bites his cheek to stay quiet, eyes intently watching everything you do.

"nah, i'm good exactly where i am. and you're gonna stay right where you are, too."

you can feel his body tense, can see his mind weighing his options as you tighten around him. he's fighting his instincts to grab you and fuck you absolutely senseless, his cock throbbing with desire inside you. you suppose his curiosity of what you could be planning is greater than his need to feel the drag of your walls.

a few moments pass, the only sounds the soft praise tumbling from your lips as toji struggles to maintain his composure and his quiet grunts of pleasure as you touch his body. your fingers trail lower, carding through the coarse, dark hair of his navel and sliding past his hips. you reach behind yourself, caressing his thighs and watching his expression closely.

"w-wait," toji mumbles, eyes widening as you begin to fondle his sac. "fuck, baby, wait."

his cock jumps inside you, your hand gently massaging his swollen balls and making him groan.

"hm? what is it, toji?" you tease, rolling them over your fingers. he's always been so responsive e there, always spilling into your mouth when you played with them as you sucked his cock. it only makes sense that the sensation would be more intense now.

his mouth opens and closes, opening again but no words come out. his breathing is faster, lips parting as he pants and tries to focus on you.

"c'mon, big boy, use your words." just like you do to me, you say to yourself, a satisfaction coursing through you as he feels what you experience. toji grits his teeth, your fingers continuously working over the sensitive skin. "tell me what you want."

"g'nna cum, shit, lemme— let me fuck you. need to fuck you."

his body is hot underneath yours, a thin layer of sweat glistening on his skin. he looks a bit desperate, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, eyes never leaving you.

"you can cum, but only from this."

it's mean. just like he does to you. so close to what he wants, but still so achingly far.

his balls are heavy in your hand, his cock surely leaking precum with even the slightest touch. you know he's close, his pride the only thing keeping him from letting go. a little bit of cockwarming and fondling and he's cumming like a virgin.

his hips thrust up as his load spills from his tip, aching to be even deeper, aching to fuck you properly. you pull your hand away, letting him come down from his high without risking overstimulation. he's gone through enough of your teasing — for the time being. you'll save milking him dry like that for another day.

"feel good, toji?" you ask as his breathing evens out, his half hard cock still nestled inside you.

"fuck you." he grumbles, throwing one of his arms over his eyes.

you can't help the small laugh that gets pulled from your lips, recognizing the conversation. you say the same thing to him.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

Hearts are wild creatures

Dad!Steve Harrington x Mom!Reader

Halloween, 1999

A simple worn-before couple’s costume and drinks with friends. Kissing like teenagers and hushed voices. You and Steve, a night to make up for lost time before Halloween-morning with your two little girls.

Takes place two years after soft slow, morning glow

Word count: 6.4k

Contents: Parent!Steve & Reader. Explicit (18+) - oral (f!receiving), p-in-v sex (reader is on birth control, but wrap it up, friends!). Breeding kink. Parental domesticity - Steve & Reader have two kids, mention of a difficult pregnancy, sickeningly sweet domestic fluff.

Author’s note: This started as soft Halloween-flavoured domesticity and then I imagined Steve dressed as Johnny Castle… we couldn’t not go there. 

Thank you @specialagentmonkey for proofreading and being wonderful. And for watching ST from the start with me! And thank YOU, dear reader, for being here. I hope you enjoy it!

Tucked away in the Chicago suburbs, your little house matches its companions in the cosy cul de sac; the residents of Elm Crescent had transformed their homes and gardens into a Halloween Wonderland as exciting for the adults as it was for the kids. You knew you had made the right choice buying your first home here. 

The garden has been prepared for a night of costumed trick-or-treaters, the path flanked by two homemade sheet-ghosts and leaves raked in vain leaving the green lawn clear for those that fell since yesterday afternoon. Four carved pumpkins guard the house from their spot on the front steps, arranged from largest to littlest - one for each of you.

Inside, tissue-paper ghosties with wobbly marker-drawn smiles made by tiny hands float on lengths of thread, seasonal art projects take pride of place in the kitchen, and paper bats guard the stairs from their hanging place on the spindles. Nothing too scary to frighten a four and nearly-two-year-old, all brightly childish orange and purple and green, smiling instead of scaring. 

Halloween fell perfectly in ‘99 - a Sunday night for tricks and treats meant that you and Steve could make grown-up plans on Saturday. A simple worn-before couple’s costume, a competent and willing babysitter, and drinks with friends in a too-loud bar that you all left early to get pizza and a cab home. It was later than you had stayed up or out in months, maybe years, and you both felt almost giddy with excitement. Far from the late and boozy Halloween nights of your early years as a couple, it was exactly the night you and Steve had wanted. 

Back home, your Johnny and Baby costumes were barely folded before you crawled into bed together and kissed like off-the-leash teenagers, keeping your voices and giggles low while your babies slumbered peacefully down the hall. 

After paying the babysitter from across the street, making sure she got home safe, neither you nor Steve could resist a peek at the two sleeping girls when you got home, both sentimental (and a little broody again) as you held each other gazing at their little dreaming faces. Beth with her bunny-teddy pillowing her cheek (reminding you to wash it soon with lavender detergent and steaming hot water) and Ava, sweet little Ava, starfishing in her crib. Your tiny girl takes up so much space in your hearts, pulls attention in every room she enters with her big brown eyes and honey-blonde hair; she is your little cherub. 

You had missed them on your night out, tried not to count the minutes since you had left or until you got home to them. Steve had felt the same, but you knew they were safe and (hopefully) sleeping. So, you tried and succeeded in letting yourselves be distracted by your brilliant little group of friends, strong drinks and each other - all of which came easily, with warm cheeks and loud laughter, stolen kisses while your friends pretended to take offence that you loved each other more than them. 

Now, at home in your cosy little bedroom, Steve’s hand skates upward, feeling the dips and curves of your body as your lips lock in a needy kiss. Smiling against your mouth, he greedily swallows the soft noise pulled from your throat. His hand finds its home, cupping your breast through soft shell-pink satin, as the other holds your hand pinned to the sunshine-coloured cotton sheet.

Two kids later and he is still utterly obsessed with you, in love with all of you - especially the bumps and marks of motherhood that came with each perfect girl. You had spent most of the night tucked to his side, pretty pink contrasting his tight black shirt and jeans. Robin had tried to sit between you at one point and you had been hauled onto the warm sturdy throne of Steve’s lap, his chin on your shoulder as he argued with his best friend over whether they should do karaoke or shots next. Except for quests to the bar for more drinks and a few trips to the bathroom, you hadn’t been without his warm touch since you left the house. He would have held your hand while you peed if he could, would have accompanied you to the bar except your friends forced you to be apart ‘for five fuckin’ minutes, dude.’

His lips skate lower, abandoning your kiss-swollen lips to nibble your jaw and seek out that spot on your neck while his thumb presses firmly against your nipple. Your brow creases in pleasure when he finds it; the quiet gasp ‘Steve’ is whispered into his hair, edging toward a whimper. 

“Mmhm? M’here, baby.” Tipsy from a lower alcohol tolerance and drunk on you, Steve’s voice is hot against your neck. 

Your fingers wrap over his own as he presses you into the mattress, his black Calvin Klein’s straining with need, with want. Your own underwear have been damp since his hand settled on your thigh in the cab at the start of the night. 

Your fingers slide into Steve’s hair, directing him back to your lips as his thigh slots snugly into the apex of your spread legs. 

“Yeah? There?” he murmurs, smiling cockily.

It had been far too long since you had time alone like this; too tired after work or parenting, one or both of you needed to dry tears and check for monsters after a bad dream just as hands began to wander beneath the covers. 

Your hips roll, electrified, grinding on the firm bulk of his thigh. “Please, Stevie…” 

You both know you could get off like this and if he thought that was what you really wanted - what you needed - Steve would let you. He would gladly watch you come undone, guide your hips and be whatever you need him to be. But neither had forgotten your hot whisper against his ear as Eddie carried a tray of drinks and shots back to your table earlier; the way your lips grazed Steve’s neck as you so quietly asked him to fuck you into the mattress when you got home. 

You had watched his eyes blow wide and pressed a rose-pink kiss to his cheek (warm and blushing) while your friends placed bets on when Baby Harrington the Third would be coming. 

Steve peels himself back, kneeling on the bed as he palms himself at the sight of you. You feel saliva pool under your tongue as you rake your eyes from his thighs, over that substantial bulge, and up his furry chest. He is nothing short of breathtaking, and Steve thinks just the same of you. 

Your fingers slip over the nude lace of your underwear, biting your lip when you brush over the damp spot visible even in the low light from the bedside lamp. You don’t play long, already too worked up, and push your panties down toward your thighs with a lift of your hips. 

Steve takes over, like a baton-pass, and eases your legs up against his chest with your feet against his shoulder. Your underwear is slipped off and thrown carelessly behind him, somewhere on the floor. He presses kisses to your calf, a curving path up over your ankle and the top of your foot before each leg is laid down gently on either side of his spread knees. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows before pushing yourself up to sit and meet Steve for another kiss; it is smiling and sweet and a little dirty. Your fingers hook into his waistband before taking a greedy handful of his unfairly pert behind, making him laugh against your mouth. 

“You going to give me what I want?” you murmur, kissing his chin. Your other hand slips down the front side, fingers wrapping around to squeeze his hard length as you look up through your lashes. 

“Anything. Everything.” Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he cups your cheek in one huge hand, blindly bringing you back in for another kiss. 

Your voices are just loud enough for each other to hear in the golden glow of your bedroom. You miss the days when you could be loud, but wouldn’t change it - take a day trip to the past perhaps, when you didn’t have to restrain your desire to a quick fuck after dark, or during nap time while the washer and dryer run in the background like white noise,

Maybe in a few weeks, before the craziness of the holidays, you can stow away to a hotel for a night or two and cash in on the babysitting offer from Aunties Robin and Nancy. 

But tonight is perfect nonetheless. It’s perfect when you shove Steve’s briefs down his thighs and when his fingers skate over your back to undo your bra (before it joins your underwear and his on the floor). You lay back, taking Steve with you, and hook your leg over his hip and bring him as close as you can all over again. 

All there is right now is you and Steve. You’re well-practised enough to be quiet. 

Covetous hands palm over hips, fingers thread into hair, pulling each other close and closer still. Steve finds his home between your thighs and leans over, dipping to kiss you as his fingers press and tease, push inside you with care. His fingers stretch just right and curl up to seek out the place that makes you drool. 

“Lemme have a little taste?” he asks against your mouth, smiling when a whine catches in your throat. “Yeah? Can I?” 

“So greedy.” Your cheeks are warm and crease when his smile sets you off. 

“I am. I can’t get enough of you.” His straight white teeth nip your lower lip, a bite he soothes with his tongue. “I think you love it…” 

You gasp as his fingers curl again before he withdraws them, and watch as he licks your wetness from them. 

Steve winks as his lips trail lips lower, over your chest and the softness of your tummy, your hips and the places on your thighs that jiggle a little bit. Steve presses a feathery kiss to your swollen bud before licking out his tongue to part your lips

Steve’s prone to getting sidetracked down there - not that you would ever complain about your husband who loves to go down on you - but you have been thinking of being railed by him since last Wednesday. 

The begged-for ‘little taste’ quickly becomes so much more.

There’s nothing ‘little’ about Steve - not his hands or his thighs, his biceps or his manhood, or his heart. His appetite for you certainly is not little or lacking either. With his hand on your thigh, the other on the cheek of your ass, he makes your thighs tremble with a few skilful licks and the soft suck of his mouth. His nose rests and nudges against the pudge of your mound, darkened eyes fixed on you as he flicks his tongue.

He watches how your jaw drops, the crease in between your brows. You feel dizzy, anchored only by the weight of his hand spreading your thigh higher, wider for him. 

The burning want in your belly flames hot and bright as Steve buries his face between your thighs. His tongue presses firm and flat, encouraged when your fingers slide into his hair to keep him ‘right there, oh!’ 

Silenced by your own hand, you feel that white-hot tight-winding feeling as his fingers slide home again. The sound of his wet mouth on you sounds so loud, the same volume as the throb of your heart, the blood rushing in your ears. A whimper of Steve’s name is stifled, a high choked-up noise in your throat as his scalp burns from tugging fingers. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, amped up and tightly wound after a night of teasing and wanting, and the long groping make-out and grind in the kitchen after the babysitter left.

Steve’s solid weight keeps your hips low to the bed, even when your back arches sharply.  An expert at your pleasure now, seeking it out and making you see stars every time, he keeps up the pace and pressure, with his fingers and tongue. He knows what you need, how you like it - never stale, never disappointing. 

Your body attempts to curl up on itself, feeling too good. Slowly, carefully, Steve drags his mouth to kiss your shaky thigh before making his way back to lie alongside you. His damp fingers, wrap around his diamond-hard length to give some sort of relief. 

Glowing and giggly, you gaze up at him and drag Steve in for a kiss. “Knew you were a greedy boy.” Your voice is quietly breathy, shaking with that post-orgasm wobble as he laughs against your mouth. 

“Got carried away. Sue me.” His voice is a low murmur. 

Cupping his cheek, you skate your thumb along the bone. He’s so gorgeous, gold-toned in the nighttime light. Your fingertips brush the moles on his cheek as Steve kisses you again; beneath the musk of you on his tongue, you can still taste the lingering whiskey notes from your night out.

Pulled right up against him, you feel the hard and soft of Steve’s body, the fur of his chest and thighs. He found two grey hairs on his chest earlier in the year which almost caused an existential crisis - only solved with your tweezers and a tonne of kisses and promises that you would still adore him when every hair on his body was shiny silver. 

“You wanna be on your back or front?” he asks, squeezing your side.

The question makes that inferno in your tummy begin to burn hotter again. You think of how good it feels when he’s behind you, thighs slapping against the back of your own, the way he stretches you and hits that place deep inside. And yet, you need to see him tonight - you are so dreamily in love with him that not having his lips on yours might just make you expire. 

“Back. Pass me that cushion?” 

As you get comfy, Steve takes himself in hand again and settles himself between your legs. His non-busy hand runs through his hair - still a glorious mane into his thirties, despite a few shorter cuts over the years - and you are reminded of the pretty-boy you fell for almost a decade ago.

Steve catches you smiling and palms your leg as you settle on either side of his hips. He matches the little grin and dips forward to kiss you, nuzzling your noses together. 

“What’s got you smilin’ like that, huh?” he asks, running the head of his cock through your wetness before tapping it at the top. 

He watches your lashes flutter, the way you bite your lip. 

“Just thinkin’ about you, handsome,” you murmur, “You always make me smile.” 

He grins and kisses you again, both feeling like young loves again despite the aches and pains and the mortgage and the two kids sleeping down the hall. “I fuckin’ love you,” Steve whispers. 

“I love you,” you murmur back, running your fingers into your love’s hair as the other hand grabs his wrist. “Please? Been waiting all night, Stevie…”

His lips melt the put-on pout and together you guide him inside. The stretch of him has got easier over the years, well practised at love-making and fucking like rabbits alike. He’s gentle when he needs to be, rougher when you both want it like that. 

“I’ve got you, baby. Sorry for making my girl wait,” he murmurs as he slides all the way in.

Eyes fluttering closed at the stretch-and-fill, Steve starts off with a slow grind that makes your jaw drop. He murmurs quiet swears at how warm-wet you feel around him, squeezing him tight as his hips draw halfway back before going all the way in again. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, and braces one hand by your head with the other splayed wide on your side. Your hips lift with him, legs propped high to open you up wider for him. 

For a scant second, you want to ask if his back hurts - he pulled something at basketball drills last week and you had massaged on Tiger Balm morning and night for a few days until the twinging stopped. The hard flick of his hips makes the question vanish from your mind, his cock dragging and hitting just right. 

“Oh god,” you whisper-gasp, jaw hanging open.

“I know, baby. M’sorry it’s been so long. M’a bad husband, huh? Leaving my poor wife needy and un-fucked.” His voice is hot and rough against your cheek, breath tickling your ear as he finds his rhythm. “Gonna make it up to you, yeah?” 

You squeeze the back of his neck, giggling. “Make it up to me all you want.” He palms over your hip, hiking it higher before leaning over you again. “Fuck, Steve. Feels so good.”

Your eyes dip to the gold chain hanging around his neck, watching how it sways in rhythm to how he’s fucking you. You bring your hand to where it rests against his neck, guiding Steve’s mouth to yours again. His breath huffs hot against your lips, tongues sliding in a dirty kiss. 

The wet click of parting lips sounds loud in Steve’s ears when you break away, moaning his name against his chin when his thrusts hit deeper, harder. 

“Shhh, I know you wanna be loud, sweetheart. I know you feel good.” His voice is like lava dripping as he kisses your neck. 

You pinch your lips together, the moan caught in your throat comes out as a high hum. 

Steve is so hard. His pants felt too tight all night; half hard since he saw you in your little pink dress. It only got worse, harder not to ask you to meet him in the bathroom, when you sat on his lap and toyed with the back of his hair, whispered in his ear before slipping into conversation with Nancy about something totally different. 

The slick-tight-hot feeling, the way you pulse around his cock, makes that tense coil of pleasure low in his gut wind tighter. His chest feels like 

You can’t help but fall a little more in love with him, hypnotised by the swinging gold chain, the circles he rubs against your hip and the way his styled hair falls over his forehead.

Squeezing your thighs around him, you bring your legs up and tilt your hips higher. Steve adjusts the stance of his knees and slows his thrusts to a deep grind, the tip of him brushing your cervix. You can feel all of him pressed right up against you, inside and out. 

“Oh fuck.. fuck, Steve.” Your voice is thin and strained, like a thread about to snap. 

“Yeah, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispers, biting down on his own lower lip. “God, you’re so pretty. So sexy.” 

The air in your bedroom feels humid and heavy, like a thunderstorm, waiting for lightning to crack and split the sky, waiting for a downpour. 

Steve moves his hand from your hip, gliding over your pelvis to feel how he makes you bulge just a bit before his fingers begin circling your sticky-damp clit. Just quick enough, firm enough, mean enough. 

Your back arches, quiet voice babbling with incoherence at how intense it feels. “I’mgonnacomeohgodstevestevefuck…”

“Come on baby, come for me. Let me feel it,” he pants, hitting deep and hard. He’s so close, barely holding on to himself. 

You hold him tight to you as you come, fingers tugging in his hair as the other hand claws and digs into the meat at the top of his ass. 

Overwhelmed, a sweet shock of release hits you like lightning and opens the floodgates. 

Steve holds you just as close, anchored to each other. Whispering hot words of praise against your mouth, he gazes into your watery eyes sparkling with tears - he makes you feel that good. 

“Oh baby, I’ve got you. You okay?” he asks, so tender. He leans over you, wrapping his arm beneath your lower back as the other braces his weight along his forearm. One huge hand cups your face and wipes your tears. There’s mascara smudged beneath your eyes, and you look beautiful. 

There’s that smile he loves; wobbly and lovely. A giggle-sob bubbles from those sweet kiss-bitten lips. “Fuck, Steve..” 

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Want me to pull out, is it too much?” 

You shake your head against the duvet, your hair a mess. “No, no. Don’t... Wanna feel you.” Your voice is slurred, love drunk. 

That makes him throb. He kisses you again and runs his nose along yours. “M’close,” he whispers, beginning a slow-dragging thrust inside your soaked and still-fluttering body. 

You can see it, how close he is, and feel it in how his rhythm has faltered. His brows pinch, smearing wet kisses to your shoulder as he tucks his face into your neck. 

“I’ve got you, Stevie. You’re so good,” you whisper, stroking the back of his neck. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.” 

A grunting groan is smothered against your shoulder as Steve stills and shudders on top of you. His hips pump slow and hard as he comes inside with your name on his lips, making you shiver too. 

His weight settles, sinking you into the mattress in the best way. This is exactly what you had missed so much. As much as you fervently adore actually having sex with Steve Harrington, there is something so special about lying with him in the afterglow. 

Sweat-sticky and breathless, you stroke through his hair and press your lips into his hair. The hairspray scent lingers, clinging to the scent of shampoo beneath the smoke from cigarettes bummed from his bad-influence-best-friend Eddie. There was something about the smoke-tinged kisses that made you feel extra feral for him on the way home. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” you whisper, laughing softly when his sigh tickles your neck. 

“But you’re so comfortable.” 

Lifting his head, Steve smiles all pink-cheeked and dozy. “So beautiful too,” he murmurs, inching forward to kiss you. 

The wet noise from below makes you both laugh like teenagers and you take your turn to hide your face. 

“You take your birth control today?” he asked, easing himself up and out of you slowly, carefully. His eyes can’t look away from where he drips from you. 

“Mhm. Sorry, big boy.” You grab a tissue from the bedside table, wiping yourself gently before you mess up the duvet cover. You had both agreed, after having Ava, to wait a few years before adding to your nest again - it had been Steve’s idea after your less-than-easy second pregnancy. For a man with a bit of a breeding kink and a dream of a family the size of a field hockey team, he was wonderfully considerate. 

He kisses you again before standing to find his pyjama pants; he leaves out one of his sweaters and a pair of shorts for you too - sleeping naked was a dangerous game with two small kids. 

Clean-faced and exhausted and happy, you curl up together in bed after a few sleepy kisses and a playful argument about who would get up with Ava in the morning. As if Steve would ever miss a chance to let you sleep and steal the morning smiles from your youngest all for himself.

“You won’t even hear me sneak. M’a ninja,” he murmurs tiredly against the back of your neck and you can feel his smile. 

“If you say so, ninja boy,” you mumble back, dragging your joined hands up for one more kiss before slipping into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Sunday. Halloween. The best day of the year for your little girls - since the last best day (their Daddy’s birthday in late July). 

Ever a fan of Halloween, and autumn in general, you always wanted to bring your girls up to be excited for Halloween as soon as September began. Still so little, with Play-Dough minds, they had begun to catch on to your excitement and followed soaked it up. Beth especially, four with an expansive imagination, was excited about dressing up and eating candy and watching “Hogus Pogus” with you after dinner. 

Your parental body clocks ring at seven despite the late night. 

You wake to Steve creeping out, blindly bumping into the dresser with a quiet ‘shit’ as Ava calls out for him. This morning his presence was required to brush fat tears from the little one’s pink cheeks and kiss the damp paths they left behind until she was smiling again. 

You hear the youngest babbling as Steve carries her quietly downstairs, hoping she won’t wake you or Beth. The throb of a minor hangover and post-sex ache drags you back under the covers and into a light doze. 

You have another thirty minutes and some change until Beth wakes and realises she misses you, deciding to sneak in before even letting her Dad know she was awake - she wanted to see you hear about your Halloween party with her uncle and aunties and remind you that the best day had finally arrived.

The creaky hinge on the door alerts you - a reminder to ask Steve to show you how to oil it properly this time - you peek an eye open to watch the four-year-old sneak over to stand by the bed on her Dad’s side. She would be content enough with just seeing you, comforted in the knowledge that you were home to spend the day together; her face lights up when she spies you peeking over Steve’s pillow, your hand raised in a little wave. 

“Hi Mommy,” she whispers, dimples showing her delight. 

“Hi Bethie,” you whisper back, beckoning her into Steve’s vacant spot next to you. 

You open the covers to let your big girl in. She folds herself into you for a hug, her head against your chest. 

“I missed you. I missed you sooooo much,” she says, face turned up to look at you like she is a sunflower and you’re the sun. 

“I missed you too, baby.” Her little face cupped in one hand, you press kisses to her forehead and cheeks, her little nose. 

You make a tent big enough for two beneath the covers, lying on your sides facing each other until your giggling makes it too warm and your tummies rumble for the special Halloween breakfast you promise. (You curse yourself a little for that last glass of wine, trying to remember what exactly you had promised until Beth reminds you about the pumpkin-shaped pancakes). 

Wrapped in your soft dressing gown, you follow Beth down the stairs, hearing Ava’s happy-baby babble in the kitchen as she eats her half-banana breakfast appetizer. The decorations look a little silly and rough around the edges in the morning light, but still, your little home feels like a perfect pocket of happiness.

Beth jumps into the kitchen with an excited-but-not-very-spooky ‘BOO!’ for Steve. 

When she sees him, nursing coffee and Advil with a messy bedhead and tired smile, he quickly becomes Beth’s golden light source as her beaming face turns to him. 

“Woah! You scared me!” he says, clutching his heart before dipping to scoop her up. 

You try not to laugh at his Dad-groan and the cracking crunch of his knees as he stands, instead shuffling in your slippers to Ava in her highchair. 

Her hands bash on the tray, smushing banana with fierce excitement as you peck kisses all over her pretty cherubic face. 

Beth leans her head against Steve, playing with the string of his hastily thrown-on hoodie as she tells him about the dream she had and how he has to take lots of pictures of her costume later to send to your extended family. 

Spotting his bare feet on the kitchen tiles, you slip into the laundry room to find a pair of socks for him to wear. Resistant to ‘old man slippers’, you tuck them into his front pocket as you peck his lips and move him and Beth away from the counter so you can start on breakfast. You steal a sip of his coffee, wrinkling your nose at the lack of sweetness before shooing him and Beth to sit with Ava at the table. 

“What was Uncle Teddy dressed as?” Beth asks, head against Steve’s chest so she looks at him upside down. 

“He was a vampire. But he just wore his normal clothes and some silly teeth.” Steve rolled his eyes dramatically - he had seen vampire Eddie all the way back in high school when he was dealing instead of drinking, and again when you all used to drink and party the night away in your early twenties. Yeah you had dressed as Baby and Johnny before, but you had all boo’ed at Eddie when he showed up in the ultimate low-effort costume. 

“Oh. Okay. Vampires is sca’wry though, Daddy!” Beth reminds him. “You and Mommy didn’t go as scar'wies. What about Bobin?” 

You laugh quietly at the nickname Robin has had since Beth started speaking, and her simple way of humbling Steve about his own costume (and yours). 

“Robin dressed up as Elton John. You know the song you like, Benny & the Jets? She dressed up as the guy who sings that song. And Can You Feel The Love Tonight. He sings that too.” Steve is a wee bit distracted, nibbling the chunk of crushed banana offered from Ava’s fist.

“Bobin was Simba?” Beth’s eyes are wide, excited. She doesn’t seem bothered about her lack of scary costume, only yours.

“No babe. Elton John, he’s a singer. She had big glasses on and a sparkly jacket. You know he sings... Um. ‘Rocketmaaan, burning up his fuel out there alone..’ you like that one. I’ll find the tape later.”

Ava squeals in delight when he sings, so Steve indulges her a little more.

As you mix up pancake batter (adding a little food colouring to make them orange like pumpkins), and take two Advil for the dull throb in your head, the soundtrack of Beth and Steve’s conversation makes you smile, interspersed with Ava’s chirpy shouts for attention, her little contributions to the conversation. 

You glance back at the little tableau of Beth on Steve’s lap, his hood pulled over his messy hair (a pair of sunglasses and he would look just the same as your hungover mornings in your first apartment together). His spare hand strokes Ava’s hair, twirling the crushed baby-curls at the back of her head and tickling her chin and neck to make her giggle. 

Beth joins you after a little while, standing on a chair to help mix the batter and supervise your pancake-making with little bits of commentary. 

“That one looks a w’ittle bit squished, Mommy. Daddy can have that one.” 

“Thanks, Beth.” Steve’s voice is muffled behind his second cup of coffee. 

“Welcome Daddy! Mommy, can I has that nice stuff on?” 

“On what, sweets?”

“My pancakes.” You can hear her eye roll, the implied ‘duh, mom’ (thanks Auntie Max). 

“The nice stuff? Syrup?” 

“Yeah! Sir-yup.”

“Yeah okay. A little bit.” You flip another pancake, turning the chocolate chip face down onto the heated pan. “Do you want bacon on the same plate or on the side?”

“Um. Can I dip it?” 

“In the syrup?” 

“Yeah, in that nice stuff.”

“Yeah, you can try dipping it. Who taught you that?”

“Teddy.”

You smirk, “Steve, did you hear that? Betty’s taking after her Uncle’s eating habits.” 

“Which one?” 

“Ed. She’s gonna dip her bacon in syrup.” 

“That’s my girl.”

Beth giggles and turns carefully on the chair to look at him. “No Daddy, you does it all over! You got to dip-dip.” 

“Can you show me how?” Steve asks, he smiles over at her, looking so handsome with the baby standing in his lap now. 

“Magic word?” 

You snort-laugh, tucking your chin to your chest as your shoulders shake; you just about slide the pancake onto a plate without incident. Beth has one hand on her hip, a mini-Steve for sure, giving as good as she gets.

“Are you practising your magic for later?”

“Nooo Daddy. You has to say p’weeeeeeze-uhhh.”

“Okay-uhhhh. Please, pretty princess Bethany, can you show me how to dip my bacon in syrup?”

Bethany considers it and looks at you with a cheeky smile. “Yep! I show you, Daddy!”

You wink at her before helping her pour more batter onto the hot buttered pan, praising her careful steady hand. 

“Beth, can you grab a bib for Ava please?” You’re almost done and know you’ll get it served up quicker if your helper has a special task. 

“Yes! What colour?” her hot cocoa eyes shine with delight to help as you help her down. 

“Surprise me. We have a Halloweeny one for later, so any one you like for breakfast time okay? Dealer’s choice.” You dot a kiss to her head before watching her scurry to check what colour her sister's sleep-suit is. 

“There’s a laundry basket in the living room, babe. The bibs are on top. Do you need help?” Steve asks her, lifting Ava back into her chair before going to get forks and plates and glasses of juice for the table. 

“No tank you.”

You lean back against Steve’s warm chest and tilt your head for a kiss. “Hi. I missed you.” 

“Missed you more,” he murmurs, squeezing the tender spots on your hips as he kisses you slowly and sweetly. A proper kiss for the morning, tasting of coffee and shared banana and sneaked chocolate chips. 

Your fingers brush his jaw, feeling stubble beneath soft fingertips. He won’t shave today, you hope he’ll string it out a couple of days into the work week. 

After another hip-squeeze, he picks out cutlery and you notice how he squints into the drawer. 

“Glasses.”

“Getting them next, chef.”

“No, your glasses Stevie. You’ll get a headache.” 

“I have a headache. I’m blaming Rob for it.”

“It’ll get worse if you don’t put your glasses on, babe.”

You watch him mimicking your correctness with a scrunched nose as he picks out forks and knives. He knows you’re right but he doesn’t have to like it.

Steve gathers everything for breakfast, including Beth’s syrup. 

“I’ll get them in a sec,” he murmurs behind you, waiting for Beth to return with a bib first.��

You smile to yourself and start plating up. 

“Beth, how are we doing on the bib?”

When he looks into the living room, Steve sees Beth with every clean bib around her as she decides. 

“I can’t find one to match!” Beth’s face is a scowl.

“Babe, it doesn’t need to match. Just pick. Please.” Steve tries to be patient. Ava is getting impatient without food or distractions in the kitchen and he hears you chatter to her to try and help. He’s usually good at the diffuse and distract technique, a pro after quasi-parenting more than half a dozen teenagers.

“Can we do a-a spooky one?”

“Um. Sure. This one is kinda autumny?” He holds up the orange and yellow floral one, tiny flowers and green leaves. 

“But Ava’s jammies is pink Daddy! It doesn’t go! It has to be spooky and match!” Beth’s voice turns whiney, a pout on her face. 

Steve pops his head back into the kitchen where Ava is entirely unimpressed with being ignored as you bring over the plates. “Beth would really like it if Ava could have a Halloween bib now, and if it matched her pjs too…”

You watch him suppressing an eye-roll, knowing it would just hurt his head. He looks exactly like Beth. 

“Um, check the laundry room? I left a couple out.” You peek around Steve and see Beth with all of the bibs around her. “Sorry, I should’ve just told her to check in there.” 

“No, it’s fine. Beth, pick those up please and come wash your hands.” 

Steve smooches Ava’s cheek as he passes and palms your side with a squeeze. He picks up a purple bib with bats and a white one with ghosts - he is hopeful that one will suit Beth’s specifications and taste.  He has this Dad thing down to a fine art.

The bigger girl has clean and almost dry hands, pyjama sleeves rolled up her arms by your gentle mom-touch. Her face splits into a grin when Steve presents the choices.

“Yes! The pur-pellll!” she squeaks, bouncing on her feet. 

He dips to pick her up, barely suppressing the dad-groan - but it’s quieter than last time. “My little fashionista, huh? Everything’s gotta match?” He pecks her nose, making it scrunch like a bunny’s. 

When Ava’s got her bib on, distracted by cut-up pumpkin-shaped pancakes and berries (with one slice of bacon), Beth sits in her seat at the table in awe of the jack-o-lantern faces you have created. 

“Spooky enough, babe?” You sip maple-sweetened coffee and smile at her little happy face. 

Her hair is spilling over from her messy bedtime ponytail, which comes more loose as she nods furiously. “So cool! Tank you Mommy!”

“Super cool,” Steve agrees, winking at you across the table. “Thanks, baby.”

You’re just as sexy to him now, as you were last night with your messy hair and the well-loved teddy-print dressing gown. He notices his glasses case by his coffee and you wink back at him over the top of your mug.

With his world more in focus, Steve watches you smile at Ava as she shows you her chunk of pancake. You kiss her cheek, nuzzle into her milk-and-honey scented neck telling her you love her. 

You feel like the littlest one hasn’t had your full attention this morning and you have missed her, feeling mom-guilt to the hilt. Steve will take on dish-duty once the plates are empty and bellies are full, giving you time with your girls. 

There are a few last-minute decorations and chores you want to make time for in between kid-friendly movies, dressing the girls in their costumes - Beth as a tiny cute witch and  Ava as a cosy pumpkin. The girls are your number one priority today, making core memories for them and taking one hundred and one photos for the albums. Ava is still too little to really soak it in but she takes enough notice to nourish her little mind. 

You and Steve will fill out the candy for trick-or-treaters, and hold little hands when the girls go door to door in your own cul de sac. When they’re tucked up in bed, you will pick through the candy leftovers and curl up to watch one scary film followed by a non-scary one as a balm before you sleep. 

For now, you sit back and share a loving smile with Steve, your socked feet brushing beneath the breakfast table. 

What a treat. 

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️ 

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 7. Quickly addicted

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: smut, noncon, dom/sub, dom!Feyd, bondage, nipple play, cockwarming, overstimulation, choking, breathplay, inkpie

— WORDCOUNT: 3k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw @missbingu

Such people have a tendency to become drunk on violence, a condition to which they are quickly addicted.

— Missionara Protectiva

He could feel her breathing heavily, her taut and sweaty back sticking to his chest. He could feel her heartbeat too, thundering away. She was panicking in her own stilted Bene Gesserit way, and in a small amount of pain, and behind the soft veil of her hair a thousand plans of escape were brewing. But Feyd had never been more calm. He let his legs spread as wide as he could and held her weight atop his thighs as his cock sunk even deeper and his fingers toyed without any thought or meaning with her hardened buds. His face was buried in her hair. She couldn’t see him smiling but he purred and she just might’ve felt it.

“Just stay like that,” he whispered, his rough voice breaking at the edges. “You don’t need to do anything…”

She was still frightened. A reasonable enough reaction for a woman being forced against her will, he would admit, not that he cared very much — because he’d just gotten what he wanted. Having her play with him like he was her toy was sweet but there was a delight in having power over her that his concubines could never satisfy. They were after all genetically engineered to want him, just as they were made to hunger for human flesh. This one for better or worse had a mind of her own, and one that he had yet to conquer. He wondered if he ever could…

As he held her in his arms, her core flexing around him, Feyd kept playing with her nipples in an attempt to get her at least a little bit excited. Yes, he wanted her to be still, but he wanted her to not want it, to not be able to control herself around him — just as he hardly could whenever he was around her. There was still a conquest to be had there.

He moved the hair off of her neck to place his lips upon it while his other arm left her chest to circle around her waist. She winced in fear at the change. Feyd smiled and started kissing down her neck but not in an attempt to calm her. He liked her a bit scared. Moving gently, he shifted on the chair a little backwards and moved her with him, forcing her even lower on his cock. He felt her jolt when she realised what his purpose was.

“There you are… Good girl, sit still… Enjoy it…”

She whimpered as he moved her slightly, forcing her to rub her clit over his sac. He had to tilt her hips somewhat but she could feel it, and he could feel it too, that brushing of her hot hard point over his sensitive bulge. Her head tilted back over his shoulder.

“Pacified now, are you?” he chuckled as he brushed his lips across the column of her throat. “Is that all that little hole wants? To be filled and pleasured?”

She moved her head away in protestation and he knew he’d wounded her pride. It surprised him that she had any at all. She was so unlike most people he had ever met… Most slaves, anyway. Arrogant and violent and cunning — she was more like a Harkonnen than she knew.

Feyd held his palm atop her tummy making sure she stayed there and sat mostly still, his cock filling her all the way up, her swollen lips around his root, her still-hot bottom at his lower stomach. He felt as full as she must’ve been… Sated for the first time he remembered. His other hand circled her nipple, pinching it gently every now and then, plucking it away from the softness of her breast before letting it bounce back only to be captured again between the rough tips of his fingers. She whined when it started hurting her and Feyd knew to move on to the other. It made her squirm atop his cock.

“I love you like this,” he whispered. “A little punishment and you’re so sweet for me…”

She grumbled behind the belt that cut into her mouth in an attempt to prove him wrong — or prove it to herself. Feyd chuckled and nibbled at her ear.

“It was a compliment…” he whispered.

His fingers plucked her nipple and teased her with a little slap right after he let it go, giving her a bit of pleasure in turn with every bit of pain. She groaned but no longer made any attempt to pull away. She’d figured out that it was hopeless. Below, his palm rubbed gentle circles on her tummy, keeping her warm and soft for him. All around his cock, her core leaked her sweet and sticky juices, cloying on his manhood and his balls, slathering his skin and hers. He could feel himself twitching inside her, could feel his tip brush against her cervix and her plump lips kiss his sac each time she rubbed herself against him.

Her warmth was all around him, going from her frantic heart through her body, around his shaft, and back up into him. The warmth that now flowed through his blood came from her own up and through the point where they were joined. From her heart, into his. Almost too intimate. He’d never felt more comfortable than in this moment… But perhaps the same couldn’t be said for her.

“Is that too much?” he asked. He was genuinely curious.

She moaned something he couldn’t quite make out, but he could guess. Feyd rested against the back of the chair and pulled her more firmly against him.

“Here,” he whispered. “Let yourself lay on me for a while.”

She only tensed up more which didn’t surprise him but it still made him somewhat angry. She was supposed to obey him, and she never did.

“I said lay down.”

He could tell the exact second when she relented. The tension in the muscles of her back gave way to a genuine softness and he could feel her weight blanket him in a way that was almost delicious.

“Good girl…”

His hand left her sore little nipples and went up to grab her throat. Her breath hitched as his fingers closed around the tender column and squeezed just enough to control her breathing.

“Shhh… Don’t be scared.”

She clenched around his cock, her channel holding onto it as if her whole body was afraid. He smiled at how cute that was… Her womanhood nursed on him, pulling him deeper, hugging him so tightly he couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to. Slowly, Feyd’s other hand went lower down her stomach, pressing gently to feel his cock on the other side. He thrust up into her a couple of times just to feel himself there and he couldn’t help but moan. Above him, she moaned too, and her head leaned over his shoulder.

“Shhh… keep calm,” he whispered. “Try not to move…”

And then his fingers reached their aim — her pudgy little clit. Her thigh clenched nervously.

“What did I say? Be still now,” he murmured in a soothing tone with just a bit of a warning to it as he started to circle her with his middle finger. “That’s it… What a good girl.”

She whimpered but obeyed him, keeping her hips unmoving in spite of the pleasure he forced on her. The pad of his finger, rough from handling more dagger handles than soft flesh, touched just the very tip of her. Her clit peeked out, excited by the attention he gave it, as hard and erect as if it were a little cock. Feyd kissed the side of her neck next to where his fingers held her and squeezed it a bit harder — just on the edges, letting her breathe. He chuckled when he felt her getting wetter, her core clenching around him with unspoken frustration. He moved his hips ever so slightly, enough to let her feel his swollen sac beneath her, to feel the kiss of her soft lips again and feel her drooling on him.

“Good little girl,” he murmured right underneath her pulse.

Her breath hitched when he said that and he couldn’t help but chuckle. It seemed she liked being praised just as much as he did… From teasing her with one finger he then moved on to two, dipping now and then a little lower to gather the slick she kept leaking and bringing it back to lather her clit. Every noise she made resounded in his hand, against his lips, and soon Feyd was moaning too along with her.

She breathed in deeper to offset his light strangling of her and he knew she should start feeling dizzy with less blood going to her head. He delighted in the feeling of her soft hair cascading over his shoulder. Her clit was feeling warmer too and started throbbing and all around his cock he felt the tight hugging of her puffy hole. It clenched around him as if she could swallow him whole and even her cervix was nipping at his tip. She trembled and started to whine and Feyd knew he’d brought her close.

“A bit more,” he whispered encouragingly. “Keep it in a bit longer…”

She whimpered and shook her head and her hips started thrusting, but he wouldn’t let her escape his touch. His fingers followed her, circling her clit, pinching it to punish her before soothing it again with gentle rubs against its rounded little head. He bit his lip but didn’t move his hips, didn’t thrust up into her no matter how much he wanted to, punishing himself as much as he punished her. It was a delightful sort of pain to feel his cock held and hugged by the hungry mouth of her cunt, tugged on and swallowed like her body wanted to suck the cum right out of him. To feel his tip covered in a pool of her own wetness and his own that kept on dripping with nowhere to go, and keep on staying still…

He breathed heavily against her jaw and closed his eyes, swallowing his moans and whimpers. She’d turned quiet in his arms while her heart started beating faster, and finally he let go of her throat. Her head rested heavily against his, cheeks wet with tears and drool, and he couldn’t help but kiss her. He held the back of her head tenderly as he brought her lips to his and gave her loving little pecks, then, with a look into her tired eyes, he relented. Feyd reached toward the table, grabbed the knife, and cut the belt off from around her mouth.

She flexed her jaw and licked her dry chapped lips but he kissed her before she could speak, his finger threading through her hair to hold her. She moaned into his mouth so plaintively as his fingers kept on rubbing her, now up and down along the column of her clit, and when she started following the motion he wasn’t even angry.

“Want to cum?” he asked her between kisses, his blue eyes gazing into hers.

She nodded tearfully. “Please,” she whispered, “I c-can’t take it.”

He kissed her again. “Beg some more.”

“Please,” she whispered as she closed her eyes, “please, na-Baron, let me cum…”

“Say my name when you beg me.”

“Feyd…”

He kissed her again, ravaging her tired and sore mouth that tasted sharp with tears and hints of blood and with trembling hands, he took hold of her hips. She gasped against his lips — she knew just what was going to happen.

Feyd held her still and started thrusting, driving his thick cock into her as if he could become one with her if he tried hard enough. His hips hardly left the seat but he thrust up into her so hard he had to hold her down to make her take it. She almost screamed, her moans loud enough to echo in the highest corners of the room. He wanted her to cum so badly, he knew he had to feel it…

Wrapping one arm around her waist to steady her, he brought the other back down to her nub. She winced at how sensitive she was. Feyd cupped his fingers underneath his balls and rested his thumb on her clit, and let each thrust nudge her against him. He rubbed down the column of her bud and down onto his swollen sac then up again, getting them both wet and filthy, their skin soft and sensitive together, and feverishly hot.

She started breathing heavily and rested her head back, hair falling all around her shoulders and his, sticking to their sweat. Between her panting breaths, she moaned in pleasure and in pain while Feyd kept driving into her, relentless and a little crazed.

“Please, please, please…” she muttered, and then she started shaking.

Her legs tensed up, her back arched forward getting unstuck from his skin. Their sweat dripped down between the bruised cheeks of her ass to pool around the root of his cock. It mingled with the juices that flowed out of her.

“Please, Feyd… Aaah! Feyd!”

“Shhh… I have you,” he whispered, his voice shot and breathless. “You can cum for me, can’t you? You can be good and do that…”

She bit her lip trying to keep quiet but couldn’t hold for long. She trembled in his arms as if the winds of Lankiveil were beating against her, but every part of her was hot. Feyd kept driving his cock into her and rubbing her clit against his sac, and held her tighter when she began to scream. Her core clenched so tightly around him he couldn’t move, he might’ve ripped her open if he did. Her body suckled on his cock as if begging for it, as if her womb was thirsty.

He settled deep inside her and gave in. With a groan, he shot his cum straight into her flexing cervix and let its hard, small mouth kiss his spewing tip. She gasped at the feeling and almost cried, falling limp against his once again. His orgasm seemed to have satisfied her own and, as he kept giving her his cum, she started calming down. Feyd buried his moans in her neck with kisses and felt her whimpers dying out. His fingers stopped teasing her clit but he still held her, supporting her sapless body with his own.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped, his eyes closed, mouth panting open. “Fuck, that was good…”

She winced something in reply, but whatever she meant to say, he loved it. Every part of her was sweet to him right now. Their hearts beat frantically together, he could feel it right against his chest, and through their veins Feyd knew their blood flowed to the same rhythm, carrying on it the same intoxicating pleasure. He’d taken her, she was his now, no matter what happened next.

“You were perfect,” he whispered, his arm relaxing from around her waist to caress her body once again.

He gently pet her hips, her chest, her breasts, then gingerly turned her head to the side so he could kiss her. She seemed half-asleep and yet alert, her eyes on fire as they looked down into his. Feyd pressed loving pecks into her mouth and breathed her in, swallowing all of her in every way he could. He tilted her head back a little and began to kiss her neck, then lower to her chest as he let her lean back. The length of his arm supported her back. She winced at the position, or perhaps it was the stiffness in her arms still tied behind her back, but he would fix that soon. Now, he wanted to explore her.

His kisses travelled messily across her torso until he found the soft swell of a breast and captured her nipple in his mouth. It felt silkier and more messy than before, and when he opened his eyes he realised her hair was veiling her. Her skin peeked through, and somehow it looked even more arousing. Feyd moaned and covered her breast with his lips, tasting her sweet and sweaty skin among the texture of her locks.

She lay limp in his arms like a doll but she was still clenching on his cock. He only needed to flex his hips a little for a puddle of their mix of cum slipped out of her puffy hole. She whimpered and squirmed, ashamed and aroused all over again. Their juices pooled underneath his balls and from there started dripping down onto the floor. She gasped, and when Feyd opened his eyes to see he giggled — she was shocked at the sight.

“It’s… grey, nearly black,” she muttered, her voice so weak and rough he almost didn’t recognise it. She sounded deliciously exhausted.

“Mhmm…”

“Ah… mmm… My arms hurt…”

“Mhmm…”

With a parting kiss, he released her nipple from between his lips and straightened himself in his seat again.

“You’re really beautiful,” said Feyd, admitting it for the first time out loud. “Next time I fuck you, I want to look at you the whole while.”

She held his gaze — not without some difficulty — and swallowed the knot in her throat. However eager she looked to be finally free, she seemed not to relish the prospect of a repeat performance. Feyd tried not to let it bother him too much.

[thatsdemko]

love thy neighbor - t.wolff

masterlist

pairings: Toto Wolff x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of ideas not intended for minors + next door neighbor trope + NO age gap!(for the sake of the fic both reader and Toto are relatively close in age)

a/n: been working on this one for a hot minute! hope you enjoy xx

you never hated your neighbor. to be fair, to hate someone you have to know their name and all you know is he has a extravagant life style to afford vintage Mercedes Benz cars and have shelves full of trophies. call yourself a snooper, but the man across the way was never good at hiding his life from your window.

his lifestyle was far different than anyone in the cul de sac you live in. half of them being retired home owners, plus you two. middle aged adults with paychecks able to afford the expense of a home in Monaco.

you don’t question why he has so many trophies, and you’ll never have the time, but it doesn’t stop your morning coffee imagination at the dinning room table. you have the perfect view inside a part of his space.

yes, whoever created these two houses must’ve been complete creeps or family, because nobody ever has windows that are directly into another persons house. but you never questioned it, you just closed the blinds at night or whenever his light was on too early in the morning for you.

today was a morning he was dressed to the nines. a blazer, white dress shirt(typical fashion of his), and dress pants. he lays two ties out and you watch him decide which one to wear. you feel awfully embarrassed when his eyes catch yours, but he sends a slight wave, and you hold up a finger indicating which option was best.

you can’t hear it, but all you see is him laugh and it makes you wonder what it sounds like. is it husky? more from the belly? is it contagious?

you need sleep, these thoughts about your neighbor are certainly overpowering any senses that coffee can’t seem to help.

—

he’s gone most weekends. his vintage Mercedes sits in the driveway, top on in case of a rainstorm, but his lights in the house are off. he’s got endless amounts of packages piling up outside his doorstep that would have you eager to rip them open if they were yours.

a long day of grocery shopping and dinner at your parents in town took a lot out of you. you shove your key into the lock of your door, hearing the rumble of the infamous neighbors Mercedes speed around the cul de sac until he pulls into his driveway and cuts the engine.

your door is half open, you’re halfway in it, but it’s like you’re watching something out of a movie scene. the way he gets out of the car is like in slow motion. his rolled up white dress shirt sleeves have creases across the arms. his brief case sits on the top of his car as he slams the door shut behind him rudely awakening your little stare.

a blush forms to your cheeks as you quickly slam your door behind you once you’ve shoved yourself inside. your back rests against the door, heart beating against your chest it’s almost as loud as the knock that comes next.

you jolt away from the door, moving yourself onto your tippy toes you see him. he’s holding one of your bags of groceries you left at the door step, he’s got one hand clutching his brief case, the other gripping the plastic bag full of embarrassing items (ie: tampons and other toiletries).

if you could hate one person right now, it’s you. how could you let yourself get so immersed in him that you literally dropped what you were doing and stared like a little girl in a candy shop?

you swallow the little pride left in you and slowly open the door up a bit. you get a peek at the lines across his face, most likely due from stress, and the way his brown eyes find you. you can feel the thudding of your heart against its cavity.

“I believe you dropped these.” he extends the bag outward towards where you stand, you’re sandwiched in the little space you gave yourself. you extend your hand out, skin briefly touching before you pull away.

“I’m Toto, I don’t think we’ve properly met. and you are?”

his accent. it’s so unfamiliar to your ears. you never would’ve expected his voice to be as deep but light as it was. it was smooth like butter on toast to your ears, it made the hairs on your arm stand up, your back straighten.

“y/n.”

a sparkle shines in his eyes. it’s one you notice once you’ve said your name. he repeats it softly back to you in a question, like it’s not what he was expecting, and he likes it. he always pictured you with a unique name, or maybe one that was a bit basic, but yours fits you perfectly.

“well I better get going. it’s nice to meet you.” he waves you off before he slips into his own house and both of your doors slam in sync.

now that he had a name, there was no stopping your imagination.

—

mornings were the same. they always were.

freshly brewed coffee in front of you, as you watch Toto dance around his kitchen balance a smoothie, a laptop, and a muffin. the man was always busy once the sun shined through his blinds. you wonder if he ever truly gets sleep.

like usual, your mind shifts to him. does he drink coffee in the morning? how many of those white dress shirts does he own? what does his house smell like? does he make a good smoothie?

these questions, once again, couldn’t be drowned with a cup of caffeine, but when he glances over his shoulder and flashes you a wave, the questions silent themselves.

he’s handsome.

you knew this, your heart knew this, your mind knew this, and certainly your body knew this. the hum between your legs was never going to stop when he looked your way.

you lift your coffee cup into the air before taking a sip from the hot contents. it soothes your brains rambles down and puts the energy you need right back into you. the work day was just beginning, and Toto was just heading out the door.

what a shame, you wished he could’ve stayed. oh the things he missed when he’s gone.

—

the evenings are a bit lonely when the sun goes away and the stars crawl in, you watch the rest of Monaco get ready for lavish celebrations while you stick to a movie and a snack.

he’s just arrived home. you hear the rumble of his car in your quiet cul de sac. he kills the engine and before you know it there’s a knock at your front door. it’s rare, you never get visitors, unless for the elder neighbors begging to help you with your garden, but even then they knew to never knock and just help themselves. so this knock was awfully unusual.

unlocking the door to see Toto was a surprise. he stands there, brief case in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, with a goofy grin.

“I don’t really drink wine, did you want this?” he asks, extending the expensive bottle of red outward towards you. he’d noticed in your bag of toiletries the bottle of cheap red wine, and when he’d been gifted the rather expensive one from George for his birthday, he knew someone who might enjoy it more.

“you didn’t poison this, did you?” you take the bottle, and push open your door further to invite him inside.

“it was a gift from work, he would know better to not poison me.” he steps inside your house and allows you to close the door behind him. he gets a good look inside your place, the endless amount of candles, minimal paintings hung on the walls, and your infamous kitchen. the one he’s stolen many glances across at.

“and who is this he we should be blaming if we die?”

“George Russell.”

you chuckle at the name, “he sounds very posh.”

you quickly pull out two wine glasses while he begins to undo the cork; once opened, he pours the liquid into the glasses for the both of you.

“with the money he gets, darling he makes posh look silly.”

you feel the butterflies rumble around your stomach, a blush creep across your cheeks as you take the glass from his hands, skin once again touching for the briefest moment.

“and how much is he making exactly?” you ask leading him to your deck where two Adirondack chairs are placed looking out at the sky. you don’t tend to come out here often, as the chairs were a gift from a friend, but the stars were shining just bright enough to enjoy.

“six million euros.”

you spit out the wine in your mouth, luckily it landed back into the glass, but it wasn’t a very classy move to make. not around the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d moved in. this was the most he’d ever spoke to you, and at this rate, he might not again.

“he could buy Monaco.”

“I could buy Monaco.” he corrects you with a mischievous smile that makes your heart pick up, and your stomach do a back flip. he looks good like that.

“alright what are you mr. Forbes?”

he laughs. it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. it answers your own question, the laugh sounds like it comes from his heart and his belly. it’s a genuine emotion.

“well I have been on Forbes, but is money really a concern to you?”

you shake your head violently at the question. you lean closer to the edge of your seat, legs crossed to try and tune out the hum in between your thighs, “no, never.”

“but I must say, you have to make a lot to afford those vintage Mercedes Benz’s that you drive.” you add to your statement. watching him nod, he takes a look up at the stars, it gives you a chance to take in his side profile. the stress creases across his forehead, the smile lines around his mouth, the dimple in his cheek. every part of him is jaw dropping.

“you don’t come out here very often, why’s that?” he turns to you, it’s his turn to take in your beauty as you stare up into the stars. they were much brighter away from the city, you always liked that the most.

“I didn’t notice you watched me that closely.” you joke, a smile forming to your lips that reaches your eyes. he’s never seen you smile much, you’re usually grumpy in the morning or lost into your thoughts while drinking your morning coffee. he enjoys this much more than the toiletry run in where you both were a bit on the edge of anxiety.

“I’m not home very often. I try to get out when I can, and you should too. I grill, I know how much you enjoy looking at me.” he says, and hesitantly places a hand against yours. his palm is warm, but nothing like clammy, just the kind that heats up your skin in the middle of winter. the skin to skin contact ignites the flame in you to burn like a warning signal, one that he notices. this man did many things to your brain.

“I’ve never seen you in anything but this shirt.” you remove your hand from underneath his and reach over across your chair to the plastic buttons holding the dress shirt together.

your fingers carefully undo the second button, the top one had already been undone since he doesn’t like to wear it that neat anyway. you can feel his breath hitch, his heart beat is pounding against your knuckles that gently glide against his skin.

“do you wear this all the time?” you pull away, resting back against the chair and watch him fix himself.

“it’s work attire.” he finally breathes. you both can hear him exhale all the pent up emotions. he turns to you, fingers reaching towards your collarbone where the charm of your necklace sits. it’s his turn for payback.

“and who bought you this lovely charm?”

“my mother.” it comes out a bit snippy. his knuckles against your collarbone slip away and for a moment you curse yourself for being so hostile to such an inviting man. one you’ve wanted for so long to get to know.

“who taught you how to talk to your neighbors like that?”

“my father. he was an ass.”

he barks out a laugh taking the last sip of his wine. you don’t want this to be over, and you’re thankful it’s not when he offers to pour refills for you both.

you watch him walk inside your house leaving you alone with the beautiful stars of the sky and your tempting thoughts. having him this close wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t any good. you’d want him as much as he was making the efforts to show, and the buzz in between your legs was loud enough for him to hear. he wanted you too. but what would this do for your friendship? truthfully, nothing. Toto Wolff wasn’t a friend, just a neighbor who sometimes gets your mail instead of his. you could live looking across the window knowing he fucked you senseless.

what drama this cul de sac would have, and it seems they haven’t experienced this much since you two came around and played ding dong fuck every other night.

I guess you both took loving thy neighbor a little too seriously, but you’re sure Jesus wouldn’t mind the kind of love you were making.

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa

want to be apart of my taglist? let me know here!

[quillpokebiology]

Talonflame Facts

(Art by @the-upper-shelf )

-The scientific name for Talonflame is "Falco cinialus" which translates to "Ash falcon"

-Talonflame are birds of prey and are close relatives of Pidgeot and Fearow

-Talonflame'a habitat includes woodlands, deserts, and cities. The ones that live in woodlands and cities make their nests on high trees or tall buildings, while the ones in deserts will often make their nests on top of large bolders

-Talonflame are one of the fastest flying types that aren't legendaries or mythicals, being able to fly at 310 mph

-Talonflame hunt many small bird pokemon like Pikipek and Wingull

-While fletchling crossbreeds or pokemon crossed with fletchling aren't rare, the Talonflame rarely mate pokemon that aren't Talonflame due to them being very prideful

-Unlike Fletchling and Fletchinder, who need to heat up their flames, Talonflame's flame sac is always burning hot. To prevent overheating, Talonflame will fly at top speeds to let their flames loose

( Art by SATOSHI NAKAI)

-To protect their eyes when flying, Talonflame have developed third eyelids

-Along with that, Talonflame have indented eyes and black markings around their eyes to protect them from the glare of the sun and the wind

-While fletchling migrate to warmer climates during the winter, Fletchinder and Talonflame stay since they can create enough heat to keep them warm. During the winter, parents of young fletchling will guard stay in their nests to keep their young warm, while their partner goes and brings them food. They switch rolls every couple of hours(they get really fat in the winter as well and it's adorable)

-In the winter, Talonflame will puff their feathers out to keep warmth in, which also makes them fluffier

-Female Talonflame tend to be larger than the males

-In Kalos, Talonflame are one of the main natural causes of wildfires

-Talonflame has also been known as "The Sun Bird" throughout Kalosian myths due to their flames and flying type

-Throughout many Kalosian, Paldean, and Armorian myths, Talonflame's feathers are said to give the ability to regenerate limbs

-Talonflame feathers are very hot and very popular with collectors. But most researchers suggest that you shouldn't pick them up without proper protection because they can and will spontaneously combust

[a-box-of-stupid-ideas]

Some fop University au thing (because i'm a uni student and i need an outlet to project my pains)

Peri

he does a double degree in godparenting/dentistry

He signed himself up cause he's an overachiever and thought he could do it (he could not) but he's too prideful to drop it and he didn't want to disappoint his aunt (toothfairy)

Gifted kid burnout

he's best buddies with Goldie and Goldie teaches him how to actually study

In this au of mine he finished spellementary school then went to highschool for a year but he felt extremely isolated and switched to homeschooling with private tutors

University is humbling man

The earring was from a dare from Irep

moved into a dorm at the uni

he's very anxious about keeping up his grades

whenever he's stressed he goes to his maternal family side the most for advice while cosmo and wanda are on holiday

the sauve persona is at its strongest here, its basically always on unless he's at home or irep is bothering him and struggles with dropping it with Goldie

Goldie

hybrid: Gnome (mummy) and Fairy (daddy, godparent)

special loophole, after Peri was wished up the baby ban was added into Da Rules but it didn't include hybrids

something something godkid wished for his godparent who was in a relationship with a gnome to have kid with said gnome

After she was born jorgen added that in the Da Rules

Headcanon-y biology thing: she had both the fagiggly gland and the magic sac but she relies on the magic sac more and eventually her fagiggly gland failed on her in highschool and was removed permanently

like it exploded in class like an appendix but more painful

the fagiggly was small and made only enough to keep her body running (though theoretically could've been used to make excess but that depends on the hybrid)

When it was removed (she doesn't have anti fairy counterpart to replace the organ because she never produced enough energy to make one) she needed to be on a special magic respiratory device that assists her respiratory system to distribute the magic throughout her body as her respiratory system never learnt to do it relying on the fagiggly gland to provide the magic for her body

She no longer needs to wear her device 24/7 only when she's sleeping and she has like a asthma puffer in case of any flare ups

Double Degree too Art/Science (specialising in theatre and maths)

she really likes geometry, because she loves triangles

in anw time she would be working on her masters/phd

Went to a multi species highschool (she was more similar to gnomes then fairies to warrant homeschooling like Peri and Irep)

big big Lesbian, only dated peri as a baby cause he looked like a girl back then

her parents did divorce :C but they left on good terms, she currently lives at her dad's place but spends her uni breaks with her mum

where's irep? well he's not in uni cause he dropped out :] and i didn't design anything for him

[mtftm-bustyboy]

Amber's Addiction CW//: Detransition Kink MtFtM, Accidental Exhibitionism, Gooning, Identity Death, Corruption

Amber was in shock. As she scrolled through her feed, she had come across something that was like a slap to the face. Among all of her mutuals reblogs and posts, that were broadly speaking celebrating trans pride or sharing cute art, amber could simply not believe what she was seeing. A video of her trans friend, Stephanie, being roughly fucked by an ambiguous stud. Amber's face contorted with horror and disgust, as she heard the pleas and deep grunts for "more" escaping Stephanie's agape mouth with every thrust. Stephanie looked very different between now and her last post she made 7 months ago, but was still recognizable. She was once a petite, effeminate figure, that had an enviable transition. But now, it was as if she had stopped taking her hormones all together. Her body, although still slender, was much more masculine and boyish. Were her breasts once lay, thick pecks of lean muscle took their place. Her cherub facial features had been chiseled away, into a handsome visage. But most notable of all, was their cock. So long and hard. Twitching away with pleasure, as the stud powerfully hammered into their backside.

Amber wanted to look away, she wanted to look away so badly, but something was stopping her.

Her eyes slowly lingered over to the text that accompanied the video. Trying her best not to sneak glances at the vulgar display, she read that Stephanie had "given up on being a fakegirl" and was "now his daddy's boytoy, called Stephan". It closed on a statement: "You fakegirls should really detransition too, I know most of you don't really want to be girls away~".

Amber felt a weird shiver run down her body, not discernible between disgust or arousal. She couldn't believe Stephani-, Stephan would do something like this. Sh-, the-, he was such a shy and kind person before. Why wouldn't he just announce his detransition and move on? Why all the degenerate, transphobic theatrics? As the questions accumulated in her mind, her eyes drifted back to the video of Stephan. He had this dumb, happy smile on his face that would occasionally shift to an O of deep pleasure. His cock somehow seemed to be even harder, with dripping precum beginning to soil his bed sheets. The shiver began to lean towards arousal.

With a sudden need to distract herself, Amber turned to the comments. A small handful of her mutuals shared a similar feeling, showing their disgust. But to her surprise, as she turned over to the likes, their number completely overshadowed the small amount of protest. Hundreds of likes, quickly becoming thousands, as the same accounts and mutuals that were posting trans pride posts merely moments ago showed a silent support among a tide of others.

Amber finally found the willpower to close the tab. She quickly got up from her desk and decided it was time for a quick walk outside to clear her head.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Amber slowly sauntered around her street, she couldn't help but see small glimpses of Stephan's video replaying in her mind. As she tried to distract herself, looking at the empty cul-de-sac scenery, something within her stirred - lingering on just how, happy he looked. Deeply pleasured, yes, but the way he smiled? It was like nothing she had seen from Stephan before. Even if he had become this, depraved pervert, he seemed so genuinely euphoric... She began to linger on that word, as she slipped into the creeping thoughts and memories of Stephan. Taking in his chiseled physique, his handsome face - his big, fat, juicy cock. Amber halted her pace, as she took in every forbidden detail in her minds eye. As the thoughts began to enshroud Amber's mind, she was suddenly caught off guard as she found herself imagining what she would look like, bouncing on such a masculine stud like an eager boyt-...

No. No. No. She wasn't like him. She isn't a debased "fakegirl". She wasn't faking anything. And she isn't fantasizing about this. She's just feeling, confused. That's the word for all this. Confusion. She was simply curious and perplexed at the whole ordeal, and nothing more.

She tried to maintain her composure as she walked into a backstreet path to clear her head.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Amber huffed as she closed her front door. Slowly taking off her coat, her eyes drifted to the mirror that flanks her homes corridor. She looked like a complete mess, far sweatier than when she normally comes back from a walk. And most importantly of all, was the massive bulge of an erection that proudly stretched the fabric of her sweatpants. She looks down sheepishly. It had been months since her coc-, penis had been this engorged. She couldn't believe she hadn't even noticed it. Especially with how tight it felt.

She wondered, in horror, at how long it had been like this. Did she, walk past other people looking like this? The question began to rake at her mind, as thoughts back to passersby flickered in her head. Some of them certainly tried their best to look the other way. But a few smiled back, eagerly.

Ambers mind began to race at the idea. As did her cock begin to twitch, begging for her attention. She then, made the connection that she had so pleasantly ignored all this time. As she was lingering on Stephan's video... she was walking around the street with a massive erection...

The shame of it all washed over her, crashing into another tide of sudden, inescapable pleasure. There was no denying it now. The video. The shame. The, dysphoria and confusion of it all. It made Amber horny.

She squirmed, as a last attempt to step away from the feeling. But was quickly swept back as she felt her member wobble up against her sweatpants. A small moan escaped her lips, as she staggered her way into her bedroom and opened up her PC. As it booted up, she practically tore off her clothes until she was just in her pretty, satin, panties; that now barely contained her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Immediately, she opened up her socials, and furiously clicked through to find Stephan's account. As she scrolled, she came upon fresh content to indulge her feral gaze. Whilst she had gone for a walk, Stephan had clearly been busy. Showing off his new, lean, twink body; with accompanying captions, like "Im such a good boy for Daddy 😵‍💫", and "my fakegirl self died on my Daddy's dick lmao".

Her other hand slithered its way to her cock, pulling furiously at her tight panties.

Deep waves of pleasure swarmed her mind, as her petite, manicured hand tugged away. She felt so wrong doing this. Amber never liked masturbating before, it always made her feel so shameful and dysphoric.

She couldn't help but stare longingly at every post. Among all of the arousal, confusion, and dysphoria, she began to feel a burning envy creep up from her stomach. Stephan looked so hot in every picture, every video; and he looked so, happy and dazed. Amber began tugging at her cock with a mix of hatred and jealousy. Why doesn't being a girl make her feel as good as him? Shes felt cute in dresses before, sure, but never so - blissful.

As she scrolled, her envy boiled away as the confusion swept away at her own confidence and identity. Soon, she was becoming completely lost in the pleasure of pumping her cock up and down to care. She hadn't felt this good in ages. She never knew her cock could make her feel this, fucking, good.

As one hand pumped, and the other scrolled, Amber began to come across various reblogs of other mutuals announcing their detransition - the same as Stephan. Each and every one, sharing the rhetoric, that they were so much happier as " femboys" or "himbos", or just "guys". All of them mocking their past "fakegirl" selves.

Amber's eyes were locked onto her screen in a hypnotic trance, as every pulse of pleasure from her cock echoed throughout her body. Her mind, a complete and utter haze, it was as if she began to think with her cock.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours had passed, whether Amber recognized it so or not. And the shame of it all had been pumped away into an addicting sensation. "She could get used to this", she muttered to herself.

Her body was completely drenched and hot, her arm now rhythmically taking its time to pump her shaft. Although she was exhausted, she just couldn't stop herself from scrolling and searching for more posts. For more 'fakegirls' that have tossed aside their identities for the pleasures of their natural body.

Her light moans had become deeper huffs and grunts, her voice training slowly crumbling away, returning her to a more boyish tone.

As she took notice to her change of tone, she found herself overcome with the urge to moan aloud "I'm a dirty fakegirl~". Where shame would of once overtook her, her expression lit up into a dumb smile. "Nnnghh, I'm a confused fakegirl who loves his cooock~"

Amber slowly contemplated what she just said. It was one thing to admit she was a fakegirl, but to so eagerly use his as a pronoun? It just made his cock twitch in his hand... "Fuck... my cock feels so good." The thought quickly took him away from any ounce of shame, and the dumb smile split across his face once more.

Suddenly, the sharp sound of a notification pulled his attention away to a DM. It was Stephan...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

FakegirlFemboy (Stephan): Soooo cutie - its been a while :P . I noticed you've been scrolling and liking my blog. You seem to be really taking a liking to all my fakegirl correction posts~ In fact, you've liked so many I couldn't help but get a feeling you were crying for my attention... How about I help you out, just like my Daddy did? I know a quick way to fix you.

Amber's heart raced, as he found himself responding with hesitation.

HRT-Is-Praxis (Amber): Yes please. Stephan replied in haste.

FakegirlFemboy: Good boy~ I always knew you were a faker. Those selfies of you smiling never looked right lol. But we're going to fix that now, don't worry honey~ Now,you're going to do a few things for me - but most importantly before we do anything else, we need to change your name to something more manly ;P I was thinking... Ambrose. Does that sound good to you? Amber deliberated for a moment, and thought back onto how good he would look bouncing on top of a handsome stud. HRT-Is-Praxis: Ambrose sounds good. FakegirlFemboy: I thought you'd like it~ Good boy, Ambrose. So, I'm going to send you a couple links. The first one is to a detransition kink discord server; you're gonna find lots of familiar names in there, so you're gonna fit in just fine. The second one is a google drive that has detransition kink goon captions, MtFtM hypno videos, and even simple mantras for you to edge your cock to; once you're settled, you can feel free to add your own content~ And lastly, I'm gonna hook you up with Daddy~ He's gonna break that fakegirl brain of yours, until you're just another one of his eager femboy sluts. Oh and of course you'll have to change up your blog lmao. "HRT-Is-Praxis" just isn't going to work anymore sweetie. Ambrose found himself pumping away again zealously, as the reality of the situation was hitting him. HRT-Is-Praxis: Thank you, sir, I can't wait to stop being a stupid fakegirl. FakegirlFemboy: Why wait silly? How about we get you setup with some detransition porn and hypno~ You can pump the fakegirl out of your cock tonight to get yourself ready for daddy. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ambrose was edged out of his mind. With every pulse, his firm grip sliding up and down his cock, he was compelled to mutter some denouncement of his fakegirl self. As the soft tones of a baritone voices hummed away in his headphones, swarming his mind with thoughts of giving into his detransition. His brain fog turned into a thick haze. Ambrose wasn't capable of thinking with his head anymore. All he could mutter and moan about, was whatever his cock yearned for. As he pumped and pumped and pumped and pumped~ It was as if his 'fakegirl' self, where ever it was currently locked away in his mind, was slowly shrinking away into nothingness.

One by one, Ambroses memories began to fade away as the hypnosis drowned out his mind. He felt his urges erupt into a blazing fire, as his moans turned into animalistic groans. His hand, dripping in sweat and pre cum, tugged and fondled his dripping, twitching cock. A sudden rush of orgasm slowly crept on the horizon, as the memories of being a fakegirl has all but escaped him, and his current task of repeating allowed "I'm a good boy" set his mind into pinpoint focus.

And as the hypnotic voice commanded: "Good boy, now cum for me - slut" Ambrose released rope after rope in a stream of ecstacy, the same dumb, euphoric expression contorting across his face.

With heavy breaths, he lay back in his chair, still slowly pumping away at his cock. Ambrose began to contemplate, briefly, about what he was, or what he was doing. Not long before his attention was caught back to the hypnotic voice and porn.

Even his morning alarm could not seperate him from his new fate. Bound to indulging in his cock, until Amber would never be heard from again - and only Ambrose would remain.

[someone-always-cares]

chapter 5, page 43

first - previous - next

[image description: an sac webcomic page. "fine" jade scowls. "fine!" lewis replies off panel. jade starts walking away, lewis slowly following. a long panel shows them still walking, then switching to lewis looking at his phone, while jade in the foreground still looks annoyed. lewis taps her on the shoulder with the back of his hand to get her attention. she turns to him, still annoyed. "hey" he says. end id]

i dont have any witty comments or insights for this page. i am however looking into making keychains and pins. i have limited ideas for pins, my usual manufacturer makes wooden pins up to 4cm in size which is too small for what designs i have already but i did get a couple cat designs for fun.

keychains i have the opposite problem where i have too many ideas for my budget. some are just my usual lgbt stuff and some are fanart because i have 2 anime/gaming cons in august. (also a couple other cons in late september!) but keychains are more expensive than stickers so i can't do them all (specifically i was going to do some spiderverse stuff but also the owl house and mha). one day ill probably do some sac merch but thats like, for future me with a bigger budget since oc stuff doesnt sell as well sadly.

anyway thats how my life's going. also i'm 25 now too i guess. i lied about no commentary for this page i got a new tablet from my parents and at first i was hesitant because my old one worked fine but then i tried my new one and was like holy shit this is what a good tablet feels like? because my old was a hand crampingly small cheap wacom with terrible pen pressure but i didnt like, realise that since all ive ever used were small cheap tablets. i feel like that naruto guy (rock lee i think) dropping his training weights. still adjusting though

[ntls-24722]

OKAY SO HERE WAS THE THING I WAS EXCITED ABOUT FOR DEBU

I got some inspiration from RTTS's centaurs and parasaurolophus and wondered if Debu could talk through their noses as well as their mouths. I may abandon speaking with their mouths altogether and have their double tongues be like the Uniima where they're manipulatory (though not HALF as dexterous) but It was really appealing to me because their heads are so rectangular and weird and big - It's a DJMM trait but I wanted a reason for it, and with the fact they sing for mates this was something cool i could flesh out!

They have a seperate vocal sac specifically for their nose-speak in their throats, and their nostrils are as flexible as human lips. Which gave me the opprotunity.... to expand on their expressions!

Flaring the nostrils was always a form of expression, but I decided to take a step further and add a dark rim around it, and although it is not shown, the visible area of "inside" the nose isn't pigmented at all - instead of two toned lips, Debu have two toned nostrils.

Flaring the nostrils is generally just an intensifier, and a generally positive one since it implies that you're going to speak loudly, either with pride, excitement, or anger. Closing your eyes and flaring your nostrils is a sign of contentment, but flaring your nostrils with your mouth agape is a sign of excitement. Opening your mouth can be a threat but that's only when the lips are flipped inside out, which means that you are trying to make yourself look bigger by expanding your mouth-glow. Otherwise, you're either shocked or so very excited when your mouth is wide open.

Sadness and the expression of submission are one and the same! When you've already gone low enough to submit, you may as well try to garner pity. The face scrunches up and the nostrils are held a little tighter which implies your voice will be quieter, it is a visual indicator of your soon to be stuffy, squeaky noise. The lips tighten to make the mouth-glow smaller to signify defeat and when in emotional distress, Debu drool. This gives off the look that something is very wrong, because it makes them appear sick.

Then there's disgust. The nostrils just completely close, very helpful to block out smell, and the top lip tries to hide the nostrils too. The eyes are scrunched in the attempt to shield them from what they saw. Disgust.

[t-allyitup]

hc that EEEEEEVERYONE on the cul de sac knows sockhead and skipper have a thing for each other before they know they have a thing for each other/get together and when they finally do and tell everyone kevin owes jimmy 30 bucks because they bet on how long it would take and kevin wayyy underestimated, ed prophecized everything with alarming accuracy and finally got to sleep for the first time in weeks, and nazz got everyone target pride merch and when edd could explain that commercial companies largely exploit the concept of pride and use it as cash bait to catch marginalized people in a marketing net that is inherently damaging to the community, eddy was already half drowning in plastic rainbow bead necklaces and blinged-out cowboy hats and nazz looked at sockhead after looking at eddy and said "the fish are biting"

[aquagirl1978]

Disarm - Gilbert von Obsidian x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

A/N: Part of Visions of Temptations 2023 hosted by @xxsycamore

Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian x Reader

Prompt: Day 16 - Pegging and “You let out such beautiful sounds when I touch you here.” and “Feel it. You did this to me.”

Word Count: 1268

Tags: NSFW; Minors - DNI; femdom; anal fingering; pegging; begging; guided touching; female-bodied reader (no pronouns used)

Gilbert cupped your cheeks and kissed you, sucking every ounce of your being into his kiss.

“You satisfied my curiosity earlier. What can I do to repay the favor?”

Heat rose to your cheeks; a part of you thought you would never understand this man’s concept of kindness. It's now or never, you told yourself. Taking a deep gulp, you looked him straight in the eye. 

“Well, there is one thing I had always wanted to try.”

****

“How does it feel?” he asked, his voice softer and lower than usual, almost unrecognizable to your ears.

Staring at the reflection in the mirror, your body warmed at what you saw. Gilbert was standing behind you, your body completely bare save for the realistic cock strapped between your legs. He had one hand covering one of your breasts, squeezing it roughly; his other hand cupped the ball sac that dangled between your legs. 

You had to admit, you'd never looked hotter. Seeing yourself wearing a strapon, its shaft firm and erect, nearly reaching your belly button, filled you with such a sense of power and excitement. 

When you had told him earlier that you wanted to fuck him, the last thing you had expected him to say was that he had a strapon – one made especially  for you and that he was waiting for this very day when you would ask him this precise question. When you unwrapped the box he presented to you and discovered a series of black leather straps, your core dripped with arousal as you pulled the item from the box.

"It's huge.." you whispered, your eyes wide in awe of its size.

"I molded it after my own," he whispered back, his voice filled with pride. He wasted no time stripping you; once bare, he carefully strapped the cock between your legs, gently tightening each strap. 

"Close your eyes," he asked. Doing as he said, he took your hand in his as he guided you to a full length mirror. 

Standing behind you, he whispered for you to now open your eyes. "You've never looked more beautiful," he admired, his voice soft, his smile tender.

You couldn't stop staring at your reflection in the mirror, or rather the cock strapped between your legs. Heat flooded your core just by looking at it, your heart racing with anticipation. 

Gilbert wrapped his fingers in your hair and pulled you into a deep kiss. "Are you ready to fuck me?"

You nodded; you had never been more ready for anything in your life.

He broke away from you, disrobing in a subtle striptease as he approached the bed. Bare naked, his back to you, he climbed onto the bed and positioned himself on his hands and knees, ass high in the air.

He tilted his pretty face towards you. “I'm ready,” he teased, disarming you with his smile.

Your legs turned weak as you made your way to him, your fake cock bouncing against your stomach with each step. Climbing onto the bed, you positioned yourself behind him, your hands gravitating towards his ass. 

Cupping each cheek in your palms, you massaged his skin gently, allowing the reality of this moment to fully sink in. Power surged through your body as you spread his cheeks, his puckered hole visible. 

“Use this,” he said, passing you a small, glass bottle. “Be generous. Better too much than too little.”

Holding the bottle for a moment, you opened it and spread some of the cool, thick contents onto your fingers.  Sliding the liquid liberally along his crack, you spread some more on your fingers before sliding one finger into his hole.

“How's that feel?” you asked, your voice shaky, when you noticed him flinch slightly when you first inserted your finger.

“It's cool, but it feels good.” He pushed his hips back against your hand signaling he was comfortable with you continuing. With his consent, you began to thrust your finger inside his hole, keeping your pace slow to ease him to your movements.

“Slide another one in,” he begged, his voice ragged, pathetic like a wet dog.

Now more confident, you slid another one in, feeling his walls clench you slightly. Increasing your pace, you enjoyed the soft noises he made as you scissored your fingers, preparing him for the size of your cock. 

When two fingers slid in easily, you increased it to three; Gilbert’s groans and grunts filled the air, soft sounds falling from his lips each time you plunged your fingers deep inside him. 

“That's enough,” he barely breathed out, his upper body collapsing onto the bed, his head falling onto the pillow he placed there earlier. You pulled your fingers out with a loud plop. Spreading more liquid around his hole, you pushed some inside him with your fingers, before coating your cock until it glistened in the moonlight.

Slick and shiny with lube, you positioned the tip of your cock at his entrance and began to push. You slid in slowly, allowing him time to adjust to the cock inside his hold; once you pushed through the tight ring of muscle, it was easy to slide all the way inside. Pleased you prepared him so well, it took just a few hard thrusts until your balls smacked his ass, the slapping sound against his skin satisfying.

Intoxicated with an overwhelming sense of excitement mixed with love, you gripped his hips, your fingers digging into his sweet skin, ready to pound your way through his tight little ass. Wanting to make this last, you exerted every ounce of control, ensuring that your initial thrusts were slow and deliberate. 

You dragged your cock out until only the tip remained inside, and then slowly – painfully slowly – you pushed back in. And with each push inside came a soft and delicious groan from Gilbert.

You waited until those beautiful groans grew into begs – begging for you to go harder, to go faster, to go rougher. 

Tugging on his hair, you were ready to make him yours.

You pulled your hips slowly back, withdrawing the cock until only the tip remained, and then forcefully snapped your hips back, ramming your cock inside, burying yourself balls deep inside his ass. 

Not waiting for him to recover from the force, you pulled out again, impaling him again on your cock, setting a brutal pace. As your pace increased, Gilbert’s groans grew louder.

Your hips jerked as he shifted his body, his hand reaching for yours. He wrapped your fingers around his cock, his shaft stiff and erect.

“Feel it. You did this to me.”

You gave his shaft a few quick squeezes before moving your hand to cup his balls, enjoying the strangled sound he made.

“You let out such beautiful sounds when I touch you here.” You continued to play with his balls as you resumed your thrusts. When his body began to tense and tremble, you held his cock, your hand coaxing his climax. Gilbert moaned your name as waves of white spilled onto the sheet, onto your hand, and onto his stomach. 

Waiting until his body relaxed, you removed your cock from his hole, your hand gently stroking his back, inviting him to roll over onto the bed. After you removed your harness and the soiled sheets, you returned to the bed, your body crawling into Gilbert’s opened arms.

“I love you, little rabbit.” He pulled you tight against his chest, close to his heart, where he liked you best.

You pressed your face against his chest, pecking a gentle kiss above his heart. “I love you, too, babygirl.”

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @nightghoul381 @itsjudesfault @maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu @gilbertvonobsidian @scummy-writes

[yenasmatik]

Re- French Elections stuff

Yo, les gens qui désespèrent de la dernière fils de puterie de l'ignoble banquier.

SAMEDI, PARTOUT EN FRANCE S'ORGANISENT DES MANIFS ANTI RN.

Alors allez googler le nom de votre ville et les horaires de la manif de votre coin, et par pitié déplacez-vous. J'ose espérer qu'ils auront la cervelle de ne pas mettre ça aux mêmes horaires que la Pride. Touchons du bois.

Je n'ai malheureusement trouvé nulle part une liste pré-faite de tous les rendez-vous. Le site de la LFI a une section "créer/rejoindre un événement" avec une carte, où une partie des événements sont indiqués. Si la grande ville proche de chez vous n'est pas indiquée, googlez [nom de votre ville] manifestation 15 juin. UPDATE: LE SITE DE LA CGT A UNE CARTE DES RENDEZ-VOUS

Rameutez les darons les daronnes les frères les sœurs les potes les collègues les mutuals tout ce que vous pouvez traîner avec vous ! Beaucoup de gens (moi la première je juge pas, ok?) n'osent pas aller en manif seuls ! Lancer le sujet en demandant qui se sent d'y aller en groupe peut leur permettre de venir ! Si vous avez un véhicule, vous pourriez être la personne qui permet à d'autres de participer ! Et comme ça vous pouvez faire un déjeuner / un café / thé / etc de célébration/réconfort en fin de manif !

CONSEILS POUR CEUX QUI NE VONT PAS SOUVENT EN MANIF SOUS LE CUT

- chaussures confortables, vous allez piétiner au départ et puis marcher entre 30 minutes et 1h - Vérifiez la météo. Pensez à un chapeau ou un vêtement de pluie. Dans le doute vaut mieux l'avoir pour rien. - On est en été prenez une bouteille d'eau ! même si vous avez jamais soif vous pourriez vraiment aider un pote

- Au cas où prenez un truc sucré, genre barre chocolatée ou petit paquet de gateaux. Si quelqu'un commence à faire un malaise autour, ça peut être important. - En premiers soins : des pansements à cloques, du doliprane, si vous avez une articulation fragile pensez à une bande de support (chevillère, genouillère) dans le sac au cas où. C'est de la parano jusqu'au jour où vous en avez besoin.

HANDICAP - Vous pouvez TOTALEMENT venir avec des bouchons d'oreilles et un casque anti-bruit !! (Les orgas de manifs sont des boulets sur l'inclusion niveau bruit, mais c'est pas l'école personne va vous les confisquer !) - Les manifs marchent sur la route et je n'en ai jamais vu emprunter d'escaliers. Pour nos amis en fauteuil roulant. N'hésitez pas à contacter une asso/ un collectif d'orgas pour demander le parcours de la manif. - Vous pouvez venir, marcher ce que vous pouvez et quitter le cortège quand vous êtes fatigués. Ca aide de venir même si vous ne pouvez pas être là jusqu'à la fin. Personne ne vous jugera, ni même ne vous remarquera. Pensez à prévenir le groupe avec qui vous venez que c'est une possibilité et discutez à l'avance de ce qui sera fait dans ce cas, pour vous éviter le stress ou la gêne qui empêche de dire "j'ai besoin de m'arrêter". - évitez les panneaux fatigants à porter. Vous pouvez écrire vos slogans au marqueur indélébile sur un vieux T-shirt blanc ou clair, ça marche très bien et c'est plus confortable ! Et si vous ne savez pas quoi écrire, ne vous prenez pas la tête, votre présence aide même sans panneau.

LIMITER LES RISQUES D'EMBROUILLES - Les manifs qui rassemblent des syndicats mainstream et autres institutions nombreuses et blanches sont rarement attaquées par la police, en tout cas hors Paris. Ca n'empêche pas de suivre quelques conseils de bon sens. - Niveau sécurité, évitez la tête de cortège (tout devant) et la queue de cortège (tout tout derrière). - Quand la marche est terminée, si la foule se disperse, ne restez pas sur place. - SI UN GROUPE D’EXCITÉS SE METTENT A CRIER DES INCITATIONS A CASSER DES TRUCS ET/OU BIFURQUENT HORS DU TRAJET DE LA MANIF PRINCIPALE, NE LES SUIVEZ PAS. Les pseudo-casseurs infiltrés ou aux affiliations douteuses ça existe. Restez dans le cortège principal, ne cassez rien, ne taguez pas, c'est plus sûr quand on ne connaît pas les groupes locaux.