#sublimated soft toys

[sublimationapparel]

What You Need To Know About Sublimated Soft Toys Before Placing A Bulk Order!

Are you thinking about starting a business of sublimated soft toys? Before connecting with a noted manufacturer for a wholesale purchase, there are certain things that you need to know!

A sublimated soft toy is a kind of toy where a design has been directly printed onto its material with the help of the sublimation printing procedure.

Vital Points On Sublimated Soft Toys

Now, there are some crucial things about these sublimated soft toys. They are:

1) Such toys are great for themed events, as personalized gifts, or as promotional items for businesses.

2) The sublimation technology will give you high-resolution, vibrant designs that won’t peel or crack over time.

3) With a sublimated design, you can personalize almost any part of the toy including the accessories, clothes, or body.

4) Only soft toys that contain a polyester material base can be sublimated as the sublimated ink needs to react with the synthetic fibers to form a design.

5) Due to the material texture, complex designs with fine details may not transfer totally.

6) To obtain the best results, make sure the plush material is specifically designed for sublimation.

7) Blank sublimated soft toys are always ideal for generating promotional and personalized items for events, organizations, or businesses.

8) Sublimated designs on the soft toys are long-lasting and they don’t fade and disappoint over time.

Make a bulk purchase from a noted sublimated accessories manufacturer now if you want to grab super adorable wholesale sublimated Soft Toys for your little customers!

[rememberwren]

Ghoap x Reader. Let's talk aftercare.

I said, how would aftercare work if the scene ends before it begins?

CW: Simon's history of non-con, safewording, not much aftercare for aftercare being my primary focus tbh, established ghoap, fem!reader.

-

Ghost safewords and disappears into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. 

Johnny hasn’t even kneeled up onto the bed yet. You’re still wearing your robe. The scene which the three of you had planned with near religious fanaticism for the last two weeks had barely even begun, and now it has already ended. 

You and Johnny stare at each other with twin expressions of confusion. Johnny, quick and long used to Ghost’s unpredictability, rushes the door. He knocks and then braces his hands against the doorframe, head down. 

“Simon? Can I come in?” he calls through the oak. 

“It’s unlocked,” Ghost says back, scathing. The water faucet has been turned on, muffling his voice a little but not his tone. He’s furious. You can take a guess as to at whom. 

It isn’t his fault, though, you think. You sit on the edge of the bed, toying anxiously with the hem of your robe, any and all arousal having sublimated into thin air with Ghost’s safeword. It’s hard to believe that only a few minutes ago, the three of you had been setting up with excitement, eager to play—or had you? Had there been signs that Simon wasn’t in the right headspace? Should you have been looking more closely? You draw your knees up toward your chest, wrapping your arms around them, feeling hollow. 

“Prefer if you opened the door instead of me,” Johnny says calmly, a pillar of strength, stone strong amongst the uncertain shifting sands. 

The door jerks open. Johnny disappears inside and gives you a sheepish glance before he shuts the door behind him. It’s fine. You can wait out here. The hollow feeling inside your chest seems to grow and swell, throbbing in time with your heart like an angry bruise. You wished you were inside the bathroom too, a part of their duo, more than just a temporary fixture in their bedroom. Should you get dressed? God, should you leave? No—you couldn’t do that, not before making sure that Simon was okay. 

After nearly ten minutes of heated whispers back and forth, the door opens and the two trudge out of the bathroom. Simon can’t meet your eye. 

“Well,” says Johnny, rubbing the back of his own neck. “This has been enlightening. Time for aftercare?” 

“Doesn’t aftercare usually come after something?” Simon asks waspishly. “Didn’t even manage to fucking do anything.” 

“Prepared to do something, didn’t we?” says Johnny, like it is a simple matter. “Can we get you anything? W—”

“You can get the hell out.” 

You slip off the bed. You don’t need to be told twice. You find where your clothes are piled carefully on top of the dresser and slip your underwear on beneath the robe, feeling too raw to just let the slinky, silky fabric fall to your feet and bare you to the room. 

“It’s important, Simon,” Johnny says, calm and resolute. “The way you’re acting tells me you need it.” 

“I need you to stop yapping for once in your goddamn life,” says Ghost, dressing himself with jerky movements on the other side of the room. 

“Then do it for her, aye?” Who? you wonder, looking over your shoulder. There is only you. You glance over your shoulder to see that Simon has stopped dressing himself, top half still bare, eyeing down Johnny like a dog who hasn’t decided yet if he intends to fight or find the threat beneath him. Johnny tips his head toward you. “She needs it too. Can’t you tell?” 

Simon’s brow furrows, mouth dipping into an even deeper scowl. His eyes flicker towards you, but you are determined to show him that whatever Johnny is saying is wrong. He doesn’t need to let you do anything; you’re fine. You hadn’t even been the one to safeword! But whatever he sees on your face has his eyes going a little soft, his mouth a little less harsh. 

“Water, I guess,” he mutters. “‘M thirsty.” 

“I’ll get it,” says Johnny. When he passes you, he lets his hand rest on your shoulder, dragging softly from one shoulder blade to the other. He asks: “Will you stay with him?”

You nod. Johnny isn’t giving you much of a choice. Not for the first time, you resent his meddling, the near-omniscient way he seems to know what everyone needs even when you couldn’t say for yourself  what that is. 

Simon has seated himself on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. With his back turned, you feel fine to drop the robe and tug a shirt on. Carefully toeing your way around the bed, you stand beside him, frowning, unsure what you’re doing here. Why you’re here. Johnny should be here. You should be fetching water like Lassie.

Simon glances up at you, a flash of irritation. He heaves a sigh. “Not angry at you.” 

“I know,” you say. You’re pretty sure that’s true. 

“I’m doing every fuckin’ thing right. Why’s it still going wrong?” he wonders, letting his hands down to hang loosely between his legs. 

You step there, until he has to put his hands on your hips, until he can bury his face in your chest. You stroke reach up tentatively, stroking at his hair the soft, easy way that he likes. You’re no good with words—are just as likely to stutter over the wrong words as you are the right ones. 

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I just know I’m not finished trying. Not if you aren’t.” 

He huffs a breath against you, turning to place his cheek and ear against your sternum. Your heart must be beating out of your chest, but he doesn’t mention it. Each of his slow, even breaths seems to melt away the icy hollow feeling inside your ribs.

“Thanks for stopping us,” you say, in case Johnny hasn't already. 

He looks up at you, dark, endless sort of eyes. He says: “Thanks for letting me.” 

You scratch his scalp softly, unable to respond. Johnny reappears, waters in hand.

[tonkatsubowl]

refining taste of metal.

▼ boothill x fem!reader

▼ nsfw. mdni. this is a smut ur reading

▼ rough sex, dildo?? thing? eating out and other spicy stuff 🫣

boothill decided to toy around with you—especially with all the unique add-ons he has with his body.

it all started when you were simply bending over to reach towards the cabinet in your kitchen to obtain a few things. you wanted to cook, but boothill definitely had a different plan in mind.

"look at 'ye, princess," you can hear the footsteps of the cyborg approach you from behind, his warm hands (despite the metal surface of his limbs) firmly grasping your rear, "you do the simplest of things and you got me all hot 'n bothered. 'ye sure you ain't doin' this shit on purpose?"

you blinked, your head turned to the side as you felt boothill practically rubbing himself against you. a dry hump, to put it, as he began to breathe heavily.

"doing... what on purpose? just being in the kitchen?" you asked.

"you know..." his voice lowered to a whisper, filled with lust and the desperation to fuck you. "i know i'll be all over 'yer ass tonight. let's take you to bed now."

"wha—"

that was when you immediately found yourself on the mattress, succumbed into wet kisses. his serpent-like tongue trailed against your neck, leaving kisses and nonstop bites of his shark teeth. you were coated between your legs, shivering and shuddering at every touch.

"you're...you're moving so fast," you murmur, wrapping your arms around him.

"and you seem to like it, doll." he responded, flashing his canines at you. "perfect timin', considering i got a few things i got done with my body to make you feel good."

your head perks a bit, cheeks flared and you chest heaving up and down from the intense love session that ensued between the both of you.

"what do you..." you began, before your eyes trail down towards his member. it was metallic, but the nerves and sensations of him feeling good while ramming it inside of you was the same as a human part. modern technology nowadays were definitely something, alright. "...mean?"

the cyborg gave a low chuckle as he leant down, trailing his sharp tongue across your body, before flicking his muscle against your rose buds atop of your chest, groping the soft flesh with the other. "you'll find out, sweetheart."

you breathed, watching him with curious and innocent eyes as he went down towards your legs, spreading your thighs. you held your pillow in desperation, ultimately crowning you to be the pillow princess here. you arch your back and gasp as you felt his warm tongue flicker across your womanhood, coating his own saliva with your wetness, enjoying the taste and flavor of you. he chuckled against your flesh, amused by the sweet, innocent moans that rang his ears like it was music.

you reached down, clutching onto his hair, gently pulling and gripping his mixed strands as you panted. it felt good, too good. he knew how to make you melt with only his tongue, especially when it went inside of you.

"a—ah, 'hill, please, i...!"

you arched your back and clutched your thighs together, squirming with desperation for more as you already had felt yourself reaching your limit.

"i'm already..."

"with just my tongue too, doll. you sure are sensitive..."

he chuckled against you, his tongue repeatedly exploring inside of your walls, and even with your warning, he was prepared for your climax. your juices had released, coating his tongue with your sublime taste. your heart began to race, your chest rising and falling at a fast rate. your vision was blur, woozy, even. you could see stars, and this man wasn't even inside of you yet.

"you came already?" boothill chuckled as he licked his lips, "always love 'yer taste, sweetheart."

he could see that you were already out of it. you were dazed, love strucked to the eyes as your pupils practically formed into hearts.

"so cute." he murmured, leaning down to pepper your face with sweet kisses, "but i ain't done yet, doll."

boothill was quick, yet gentle, to rub his erect member against your womanhood. the juices and slimy wetness of your folds had allowed him to move easier. your breathing began to slow, your eyes filled with admiration as you studied his chiseled frame, and his pristine face that was practically a killer.

"mm, sit still, doll. 'yer in for a surprise..." whispered-he, the tip of his member slowly inserting itself inside of you.

"a-ah...!" you gasped quietly, covering the lower half of your face with the pillow you held, feeling your walls stretch from his girth. and what you didn't expect from him was that his member began to vibrate, akin to an adult toy.

your eyes widen a bit, your brows knitted together as your chest began to release sounds of satisfaction. moans and heavy breaths echoed the bedroom, feeling the vibrational member inside of you grinding against your sensitive walls.

"'hill, 'hill, what is... what is this..." you began. you were already seeing stars, but with only his tongue, he practically had fucked your brains out, allowing you not to think straight. and this was only the beginning of things.

"feels good, don't it?" the ranger asked you, slowly moving his hips as he grinned. "i got different settings on this thing and 'yer 'bout to feel it all, (y/n). be a good girl and take it. just like—" a rougher thrust, earning you a lustful cry, "—that."

he upped his pace as he continued to grind himself against you, placing his hands at your hips as he admired the rest of your frame. he licked his lips, priding himself of the marks he left you against your soft skin.

he continued, your mounds bouncing like a rhythm with the beat of the bed rocking against the wall. you breathed heavily, shutting your eyes as you felt his whole member grinding against you. your eyes immediately shot open when you heard him say, "let's try setting two. if you're a good girl, then i can reward you with the third vibrational setting."

and just like a click, boothill immediately intensified the vibration, causing your back to arch and your head to shoot back against the pillow. your eyes wide, nearly rolling back from the pleasure you felt, your frame shaking and shivering as you tried to focus on the ceiling... but you were feeling too good—and it did not help that you were already in the second dimension the moment he spreaded those legs the first time.

"'hill...!" you gasped, feeling the metallic surface of his body rubbing against you.

"yeah, baby doll?" he whispered, "you're being so good for me. look at you, all cute 'n shit. could jus' eat you right fuckin' here..."

his nonstop compliments were flooding in, turning you on even further as the man practically continued down to pound town, fucking you silly.

your words slur, unable to comprehend the pleasure you were feeling and how he was grinding against your sensitive areas. you arched your back, grunting quietly, murmuring a soft, "i'm... i'm gonna—"

"yeah?"

boothill's movements began to grow rough, your skin clapped and rubbing against his metal surface as he continued to practically fuck your brains out. and it wasn't long until you had released, and you felt completely satisfied. you breathed, panting, as the man removed himself from you.

he did not care about relieving himself, but only for your relief and satisfaction. the male chuckled, turning off the vibrational setting of his member before leaning over to brush his hands over your sweat-covered face, peppering your visage with kisses.

"'atta girl, baby doll. do 'ye need some water?"

"...p-please..."

[dontsh0vethesun]

follow my lead

kinktober 2023 masterlist

natasha romanoff x reader

18+: natasha has a penis; mommy!nat, dom!nat, pegging, anal, handjob, guided masturbation, strap use, praise, slight degradation

wc: 1.1k

Natasha instructed your every move from where she sat; her back against the headboard, her cock throbbing against her lower torso. She watched you obey her with a dark and lusting glint in her hooded eyes, taking your place at the end of the bed with your legs splayed and the length of a strap-on in your hand. 

“Mhm, good girl,” she nodded with her voice breathy and rasped. “Now, be good for your mommy and fuck yourself.”

You aligned the head of the strap to your soaked cunt, easing it into you without difficulty from how worked up you’d both gotten prior. Your walls stretched around the thickness as it inched into you and you moaned out at the feeling, starting a slow pace while Natasha eagerly observed. 

Her hands itched to touch herself, to stroke along her hard cock whilst she watched it disappear into you, glistening with your slick cunt she had a perfect view of. 

“Fuck, Nat,” you sighed, lost in the dazed pleasure of being filled, of the way you were totally exposed in front of her. The way she stared so intently only made your skin prickle with heat and the way she groaned just spurred you on. You could see her cock twitch and her hands fisting at the bedsheets beside her, the tip of her dick leaking precum already. It was a glorious sight. 

“Faster,” she stuttered out with her teeth sinking into her plump bottom lip. “Play with your clit, sweetheart. I wanna see you cum for me.”

You did as she said with your head leaning back at the feelings washing over you; one hand kept a desperate pace with the cock you wish was hers burying into you, whilst the other toyed with your throbbing clit. Each push of your fingertip over your swollen bud brought you closer to the edge. You could hear how wet you were with each thrust into yourself, clenching around the length at the visible desperation across the redhead’s flushed face. 

It didn’t take much more for you to cum, moaning out murmurings of her name as you coated the strap with your heart beating and legs shaking. But Natasha was ravenous, so fuelled with a desperate yearning for her release that she barely let you calm your breathing before she gave you more instructions. 

You situated the strap around your hips just as she demanded and looked on both lustfully and tentatively as she got on all fours with a look at you over her shoulder. 

“C’mon,” she muttered. “I’ll help you, sweet girl.”

Even now, she was the one in control, with her ass up in the air ready and wanting. She’s told you how much she loves to have her ass filled, how she’s fucked herself to the thought of her pretty girl filling her up; but you’re yet to have the pleasure. 

“Be a good little slut and fuck your mommy,” she spoke. Her words were soft yet harsh, guiding you into something she achingly needed. The way she grunted out in pleasure was an instant reward, her hole stretching around the soaked cock you eased into her. 

The heated flesh of her hips was soft beneath your hands when you dug your nails down for support and you watched the way you sank into her bit by bit. 

“That feel good, mommy?” you asked her, barely above a whisper. 

“So fucking good, sweetheart,” she groaned in return, pushing herself backward until you bottomed out inside her. Your confidence increased at her clear satisfaction and it only made your cunt throb more when she moaned into the pillows as you began a slow pace, eyeing the way your cock buried into her ass, how her hole pulled you into her with craving. 

Knowing each time the skin of your hips hit into her was causing her such sublime feelings made your head swim, you do anything for her just to be well behaved and it was an experience already reaping the benefits.

“Faster,” Natasha groaned, instantly matching your hastened rhythm with her own body moving in time with the rutting of your hips. “Fuck, your cock feels so good,” she added through stuttering moans into the crook of her arm. “Mommy’s perfect girl.”

The strap hit against your sensitive clit and you could feel yourself reaching the edge with your stomach twisting and your hold on the plush of her thighs tightening. Each sound you pulled from her ignited something within you that made your heart pound along with the eagerness to make her feel good. 

Her hole glistened with your own cum and your fast pace quickly filled her up over and over again while her cock leaked precum onto the mattress beneath her and her forehead grew sticky with sweat. 

Your breasts lay against her warmed back when she grabbed your hand to yank you towards her, bringing your touch to nudge against her cock. 

“‘M so close,” she panted out, twitching in the grasp of your fingers around her thick shaft. “Shit, you’ve got me so hard, baby.”

You kept up shallow and stuttering thrusts into her rear entrance, moaning as you came again whilst you swiped your thumb over the tip of her dick. You knew she was close by the way her breathing was laboured and her strong fingers wrapped around your wrist to urge the stroking of your hand along her. 

You pressed sloppy kisses across her shoulder blade, teeth scraping across the smooth skin as you pumped her cock in your hand. 

“Fuck, so good,” she groaned out as she came, painfully digging her nails into your arm as she did so. “S-so, so good.” 

Natasha's voice was deep and rasped, hoarse from the way she’d moaned beneath you, as she came into your hand; spurts of her seed filled your palm and shot onto the sheets under her. You milked her for as much as she could give you, adoring the shaking of her body brought on by you. 

You licked your hand clean as you pulled out of her, humming at the taste whilst she flipped over and watched pleasurably. The way you looked with your fingers in your mouth and a shining of sweat over your chest whilst a cock hung from you was something she’d never grow tired of. Now that she’s experienced it there was no way she could go without it again. 

She approached you on her knees before ridding you of the strap, discarding it to deal with later. She took your waist in her hands and pushed you onto your back until you were beneath her again and her lips were taking claim of yours just as she’d done earlier; her kiss was eager and yearning and her lips trailed along the line of your jaw before latching onto your neck with a suck. 

You arched upwards into her mouth’s attention whilst she scattered you with a pathway of kisses. 

“I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

[quitealotofsodapop]

This idea would probably be for soft Boiled and slow boiled, basically any au where Wukong is MK's teacher and not his sibling or parent. Kaiju forms.

I personally headcanon the kaiju forms and projections in the show (Mei's dragoon and Macaque's giant war form) are more... projections of one's soul/true self. So... for those who are not aware, Wukong does canonically have one on the book. It's a giant limbed monkey and with multiple heads and arms. It so is canonically so terrifying that it had frightened both his enemies and his own people so badly he had been utterly heartbroken by the event.

Sometime between s4 and s5, Wukong is working with MK to help him get used to his new monkey form and trying to help him control it. The kaiju form MK took dueint the battle with Azure comes up and MK asks about it. When Wukong explains what it was, MK gets super excited to learn and wants Wukong to teach him except...

Wukong: Sorry kid, I can't teach you how to control your kaiju. You'd actually be better off asking either Mei or, ugh, Macaque!

MK: WHAT!? Why not!?

Yesss

Wukong canonically does not like his War/Kaiju Form.

The clearest idea I could gt of how it might have looked was from a toy site, I imagine in LMK verse its lot more solid-coloured and vaguely shaped;

In Jttw he loses all interest in his victory against Heaven when his Kaiju Form scares his own people - and if we add in the Brotherhood, Macaque as well.

We discussed in dms how Wukong's anger under the mountain was likely a mixture of despair (they lost and couldn't save their bros from punishment), pain (fresh from the Furmace yo), and self-hatred.

This newly unlocked form of his - this manifestation of his inner self, was so terrifying that his own people, his allies, his own mate fled at the sight of it.

Macaque did "run off" that day, hence part of Wukong's anger. But afterwards, after the fight, Macaque had to admit to himself that while Wukong's kaiju-form was terrifying it had also been beautiful. Beautiful and sublime like a star going supernova.

Macaque's own Kaiju can be separated from him as a shadow of himself, but he's secretly ashamed of his reaction to Wukong's all those centuries ago. When he does let his Kaiju form take over his real body, it becomes primal, impulsive and brutally honest. Something that honestly helps with how quick he is to dodge confrontation.

Mei's (and by extension Ao Guang's) "dragons" are literal manifestations of what their true forms may be. Mei could have her own American-Dragon-style dragon form she could flaunt if she worked at it. That or the energy is literally Ao Lie's spirit coming in clutch as a power-up.

Ao Guang's dragon-energy meanwhile looks like his lego set colouration, suggesting homebody just a big lazy to waste his true massive form on them.

So when Wukong and the gang sees MK's own Kaiju/War-form for the first time during his fight with Azure....

Wukong is like "NOPE! Not my expertise!" cus he literally only used his War Form twice in the entirety of the book - the Battle of Flower Fruit Mountain, and when him and DBK had a Kaiju vs Kaiju battle together later in the Journey.

When MK prods him about it, Wukong becomes... kinda cold and closed off, telling MK that he's better off talking to Macaque about it.

Macaque is still barely in the "anti-hero" category, so MK is a little hesistant to ask him for help (especially since one of Macaque's teaching methods included a rom hack).

MK even tries going to DBK on the matter first, but the retired-demon king has a similar negative reaction. Seems that even he didn't like the Bull he became when him and Wukong truly fought. It's why he even refused to transform when he was under true duress from LBD or the Brotherhood.

DBK does give MK advice on what a "Kaiju/War form" is though. DBK's mind had been clouded with anger when he was a younger man, so his became a pure-white charging bull that destroyed all in it's path. Sun Wukong does not care for his War Form since it truly scares him to use.

MK thinks that impossible! Why would the Monkey King be afraid of his own super-cool power?

Until DBK asks him something important; "Aren't you afraid of yours?"

MK's complex over learning that he's a "Harbinger of Chaos" hits immediately, and he runs off to seek Macaque's guidance.

Macaque is amused, if not a little surprised that MK ultiamtely went to him for help with his Kaiju form.

MK: "Trust me bro, you're like my third choice. I can't ask Mei cus not even she knows how her's works." Macaque: "Eh. I'll take it. I am curious why yours is so much more taller than mine though."

Hint: it's a self worth thing Macaque developed whilst under the Brotherhood that he needed to "limit the space he took up", he's still working on that.

Some fun mentor-and-son-figure kaiju training occurs, and MK eventually asks a bombshell question;

MK: "Hey when Monkey King said you ran off, what did he mean?" Macaque, stiffens: "I didn't run from the celestial army if thats what you're wondering." MK, remembering what DBK said: "Were you afraid of Him?" Macaque, pauses and sighs: "At the time yes." MK: "At the time?" Macaque: "MK, in that moment, I hadn't known Wukong even had a War Form or even knew what they truly meant. All I saw was this... demon where my best friend once stood." MK: "OH... I mean... that sorta explains why you guys were fighting under the mountain." Macaque: "Yeah. You can see why I called him-" MK: "I mean, I wouldn't know how bad I'd feel if Mei ran away from me cus of my power up..." Macaque: "...what?" MK: "You ran away from your best friend. That's not cool. Scared or not, that was your buddy in there. And if he saw you running or I dunno shadow portal-ing away, I'd get why he was so salty when you popped up later with a peach like nothing had happened. From his view, he was going through something new and terrifying for him too and you abandoned him. Twice if you never came back to check in on him." Macaque: "... you're a smart kid MK. Way too smart for me." (*Macaque portals away to make a long overdue apology*)

Macaque himself seemed to be having a similar revelation when he saw the fight in 3rd person in the Memory Scroll. That his own reaction was more of a build-up of frustration from his treatment in the Brotherhood rather at Wukong specifically.

In Short; these bitches needed a relationship referee to call a yellow car when they tossed their unrelated anger at each other.

Bonus: I love the idea of Wukong's kaiju form being HUGE, and MK's being the medium between him and Macaque. Also, cuddly giant monkeys made of light and shadow.

[iamthecomet]

Small Blurb of Mountain Making Sweet Love To Rain After A Ritual, plz?

Sorry this took a second, I’ve been chewing on this ask like a chew toy.

Rain's exhausted. The adrenaline is gone, replaced with a post-ritual haze that makes him already boneless, pliant, under Mountain's hands. He can't stop touching. It's like he's high. Struck by how soft Mountain's skin gets after a shower. He digs the pads of his fingers into Mountain's shoulder blades as Mountain moves against him, inside of him. The drag is slow, delicious, intended to get the most pleasure out of the least movement. Mountain's been mouthing at the same spot below Rain's ear for what feels like hours. And Rain can't even think to care about the bruise he's no doubt left. Or the way he's going to get made fun of for it at breakfast. Mountain's movements provide a slow slide against his cock, grinding it in the crease of Mountain's hip. And Rain doesn't really have to do anything to get off like this. Mountain's dragging him there, slow and sure, and Rain is wrapped in bliss and warmth and cannot think of anywhere else he'd rather be. Mountain reaches up to tangle his hand in Rain's curls, he uses the leverage to move Rain's head. And then Mountain's kissing him with the same intensity as he's fucking him. It’s slow, lazy, filthy.   This is the way Rain likes it the best. The hazy slide of their bodies together as exhaustion slowly presses down on them. There is no extra energy to expend on anything more and neither of them need more right now. Don’t get him wrong, Rain likes to be bent over an amp case after a show as much as the next ghoul, but this?  This is fucking sublime.  Mountain nips at his lip, and whispers something that’s probably supposed to be a warning, or encouragement, but Rain doesn’t need the words to know what’s happening, he can feel the way Mountain pulses inside of him, the slight faltering of his rhythm.  He nods, bumping his forehead against Mountain’s, he is boneless, sloppy, fucked out, and right on the edge.  And then Mountain is growling, hilting himself deep inside Rain, and Rain is cumming on both of their stomachs, whining into the side of Mountain’s head. Nose pressed to his hair, the scent of evergreen flooding his senses. 

[womanexile]

https://twitter.com/iamnearlyhome/status/1707510342090191163?t=NWuDLMKdSOaHO7r3JKiDqQ&s=19

This is a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson

He has a poem called The Sphinx.

The Sphinx is drowsy,

The wings are furled;

Her ear is heavy,

She broods on the world.

"Who'll tell me my secret,

The ages have kept?--

I awaited the seer,

While they slumbered and slept;--

"The fate of the man-child;

The meaning of man;

Known fruit of the unknown;

Daedalian plan;

Out of sleeping a waking,

Out of waking a sleep;

Life death overtaking;

Deep underneath deep?

"Erect as a sunbeam,

Upspringeth the palm;

The elephant browses,

Undaunted and calm;

In beautiful motion

The thrush plies his wings;

Kind leaves of his covert,

Your silence he sings.

"The waves, unashamed,

In difference sweet,

Play glad with the breezes,

Old playfellows meet;

The journeying atoms,

Primordial wholes,

Firmly draw, firmly drive,

By their animate poles.

"Sea, earth, air, sound, silence,

Plant, quadruped, bird,

By one music enchanted,

One deity stirred,--

Each the other adorning,

Accompany still;

Night veileth the morning,

The vapor the hill.

"The babe by its mother

Lies bathed in joy;

Glide its hours uncounted,--

The sun is its toy;

Shines the peace of all being,

Without cloud, in its eyes;

And the sum of the world

In soft miniature lies.

"But man crouches and blushes,

Absconds and conceals;

He creepeth and peepeth,

He palters and steals;

Infirm, melancholy,

Jealous glancing around,

An oaf, an accomplice,

He poisons the ground.

"Outspoke the great mother,

Beholding his fear;--

At the sound of her accents

Cold shuddered the sphere:--

'Who has drugged my boy's cup?

Who has mixed my boy's bread?

Who, with sadness and madness,

Has turned the man-child's head?'"

I heard a poet answer,

Aloud and cheerfully,

"Say on, sweet Sphinx! thy dirges

Are pleasant songs to me.

Deep love lieth under

These pictures of time;

They fad in the light of

Their meaning sublime.

"The fiend that man harries

Is love of the Best;

Yawns the pit of the Dragon,

Lit by rays from the Blest.

The Lethe of nature

Can't trace him again,

Whose soul sees the perfect,

Which his eyes seek in vain.

"Profounder, profounder,

Man's spirit must dive;

To his aye-rolling orbit

No goal will arrive;

The heavens that now draw him

With sweetness untold,

Once found,--for new heavens

He spurneth the old.

"Pride ruined the angels,

Their shame them restores;

And the joy that is sweetest

Lurks in stings of remorse.

Have I a lover

Who is noble and free?--

I would he were nobler

Than to love me.

"Eterne alternation

Now follows, now flied;

And under pain, pleasure,--

Under pleasure, pain lies.

Love works at the centre,

Heart-heaving alway;

Forth speed the strong pulses

To the borders of day.

"Dull Sphinx, Jove keep thy five wits!

Thy sight is growing blear;

Rue, myrrh, and cummin for the Sphinx--

Her muddy eyes to clear!"--

The old Sphinx bit her thick lip,--

Said, "Who taught thee me to name?

I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow,

Of thine eye I am eyebeam.

"Thou art the unanswered question;

Couldst see they proper eye,

Alway it asketh, asketh;

And each answer is a lie.

So take thy quest through nature,

It through thousand natures ply;

Ask on, thou clothed eternity;

Time is the false reply."

Uprose the merry Sphinx,

And crouched no more in stone;

She melted into purple cloud,

She silvered in the moon;

She spired into a yellow flame;

She flowered in blossoms red;

She flowed into a foaming wave;

She stood Monadnoc's head.

Through a thousand voices

Spoke the universal dame:

"Who telleth one of my meanings,

Is master of all I am."

[boygirl-wizard]

what if you replaced all the meat and bones in a person with water, what then, would it fill them up like the videos when they put the toys on the end of hoses and they get real big and jiggly would it be like a big fat skin balloon on the grass how much would it take to pop it skin is pretty thick how thin can it stretch. what if i put a human in a hydraulic press what then. would the police come, would i go to jail what if it was my human flesh. what if the person was already dead what if it was morally sourced. we often think of bones as very dry but they are allways wet inside your flesh what if you took out your bones and juiced them what would that taste like i imagine like chicken juices but im not sure human and chicken are the same type of meat. did you know humans can see more shades of green then any other colour because we need to see the leaves, you can eat most leaves you see on the street i wouldnt recomend it they probably taste bad lemons are a great fruit they taste good and are a nice colour. berry compot is a good and easy dish to make its just berries and put them in a pan then maybe some lemon juice maybe sugar maybe not then you just cook that down and its so good imagine some nice pancakes with icecream and maple syrup and a nice berry compot. raspberries are my favourite berry imagine raspberry and lemon sorbet they are my favorite berry because they are nice and balanced and

meepkorpjjjjjjjjjjjjballs

they have balanced with sweet and sour they are a nice colour however they are expensive strawberries are not as expensive however they ar enot as good particularly frozen as they are too big grapes are good but only green grapes when they are crunchy and crisp they are like eyeballs but eyeballs are tough and chewy grapefruit is quite bitter mangos are the best fruit they are versitile and freeze well they last a while and you can put them in many dishes the taste and texture is sublime you can suck on the seed when you are done and it is good for everyone blood can be substituted for eggs in baking at a ratio of 1/4 cup blood to one egg it has to be cooked thoroughlly to prevent spread of bacteria cucumber is my favorite vegtable because it is crunchy and green it is not soft or soggy it is savoury watermellon

can you get novelty 9/11 things like things off the areoplane do you ever think about atoms everything is very small like unimaginabbly small we are a meer speck in the pond of time oneday teh world will blow up and all of this will be for nothing and maybe im okay with that colours are wild i am jelious of mantis shrimp my head is filled with worms i want to decay and become one with the dirt i am, at heart a bug i am a creature, an insect, and oneday i will decay back into the insects and worms from creatures i have come and to creatures i will return not spiders though snakes have four seperate jaw bones so they can basically dislocate their jaws and eat their prey whoever invented numbers did a good job with 8 really looks like how its pronounced everyone should be happy all the time i want to live in a big tree i want to be a tree greens and browns filled with my own special blood and creatures i want to feel the wind in my brittle body and be inherantly connected to everything alone we are nothing but together we are everything unions are the best sign of a good society they are th ebackbones of workplaces i want to live in a pond with the slime it would fix me.

the early internet ewas so fun i want to chew on cables in 2005

[motherfuckingmaneater]

❛ worship me. until i tell you to stop. ❜ -madwitchofgrimmauld

@madwitchofgrimmauld.

Grey eyes remained fixed until the command was given. Bellatrix didn’t hesitate. Deft lithe digits dipped gently over the curve of the older witch’s immaculate waist, lips finding the smooth flesh just above one of her breasts. Her kiss was gentle as she settled herself comfortably, half hidden beneath sheets between Walburga’s gorgeous legs. Her tongue lapped, lips wrapping around her nipple as her free hand squeezed and toyed the other, desperate to see it pucker under her ministrations, desperate for her praise, desperate to watch this witch — this picture of sublime perfection, unravel beneath her tongue and fingers.

“Like this?” She purred quietly as she moved to the other, lavishing it with as much attention and greedily finding the other again, unable to decide which breast was her favourite or deserving of more attention. The fingers curled around her waist slid to her hips and further to her thighs, finding warmth between them as they teased skin there, a hungry hum of contentment falling from full soft lips as tips of her digits met heat, “you make it too easy. I could worship you endlessly.”

[mpx-susanoo]

Stir It Up

A continuation from here with @mpxkaya

Among all creatures he had stumbled over, god-human hybrids were so far the most fascinating. And troublesome. And contradictory. 

In each and every of them, war and peace were waltzing. Some floated along an ethereal rhythm, others spinned over a demonic fairground melody. There was greatness and there was darkness, constantly battling for the throne of body and soul. He sensed it, saw it, the struggle of a suppressed power inside the demigoddess gazing at him. Something sublime, promising, reeking of destruction, a dark greatness screaming to break free. 

It must be terrifying as well, Susanoo assumed, since what in chains often were feared the most.  

Toying the glass of wine in between his fingers, the Japanese god waited for Kaya’s response, to which he beamed, as bright as sparkling sea surface underneath the mid-summer sun. 

“I am of the belief that when those deepest, darkest secrets of yours get loud enough, you should let them out. But…" his eyes bored into hers, his gaze soft, eerie, embodying a moonless night at the open sea. “Whispering your sins to a trustful companion, or letting them explode like a bomb for the whole world to feel, only you know which is the better choice, yes?”

There was something in the cocktail he was taking, or because her curiosity was tickling his, that Susanoo drifted to the greater depth of his volatile ocean, taunting her to follow. The demigoddess’ next question was considered with a grain of playfulness, his head tilted for dark ocean eyes to take in a different angle of her face, his long delicate neck exposed, and the tip of his dainty index finger dipped into the cool, transparent surface of the martini.   

“What would you say if I said I do not see any corners of you that are empty?” He queried, more of a spoken wandering thought than a real question, his voice carried the silkiness of the black shirt he was wearing. “We just need to help you stir it up, you know. Friendship, love, sex, dramas, the most humane things you can list. Or something exciting, like…”  

Susanoo shifted his eyes to his cocktail, where his finger was lazily twirling in the liquid. He stopped, lifted the finger up, and watched as droplets of martini slowly drifted down back into the glass. Gracefully, the god raised his hand, his soaked fingertip gleamed under the gentle lights. As if only waiting for the cue, outside the bar, a rumble drummed behind the night sky, and the trees swung softly in the embrace of mischievous winds. 

“...Power?” 

He turned his head to look at Kaya again, a layer of playfulness was still filming over his face. Then, without breaking eye contact, Susanoo flicked his wrist, his palm opened skyward. A bolt of lightning momentarily lightened up the night, thunder followed, and rain began tapping against the glass windows.

[mhw-3bomber]

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[unknownjpegs]

pool

The first time Benny breaks into the country club to see Maran they’ve only known each other a few weeks.

Xavier makes some off handed comment about the fancy upper class swim club; that the newest addition to their lively friend group works under the table there. No work visa so he can’t get a legal job—which Benny thinks is cool. Real fuck the government vibes to be working illegally, accepting cash at the end of every week while he enjoys America. Less cool that he’s positive that the place underpays and that Maran most likely has to sit and deal with forty year old moms ‘ooh’ing and ‘ahhh’ing over him all day.

Sort of rankles. He just doesn’t like the rich. Makes an exception for Lark’s newest girlfriend (“She’s not my girlfriend.”) because she’s not in your face about having money. Never pushy about paying for their copious amounts of take out, doesn’t look sideways at Xavier’s years and years and years old jacket. It wouldn’t even be that obvious she was from money if people like Ben and Lark and Xavier could just tell.

So Matilda was the exception. Whatever rich fucks Maran was dealing with at the club were not—so he gets it in his head to cause a little trouble.

Only, when he’s tossing his sweatshirt over the tall gated bars and squirming his way over, Benny stops feeling like he’s going to piss on the pool towels or shake up every soda at their little micro mart. He gets absolutely lobotomized by the sight of Maran on that high chair. Red shorts on, white t-shirt pristine and a little oversized. He toys with the whistle around his neck, chin on his fist as he sits there. Looks sublime, really. Kicks his feet a little like a fucking kid.

Benny remembers coming home one day and Maran being on the couch, spread out a sleepy arm over his face. Jet lagged, Xavier had explained with his big toothy grin. Visiting Benji. Ben had noticed the freckles on his elbows for some reason. They weren’t as prominent as the ones on his face. But still. Little splatters, unlike Xavier’s chaotic coating. Maran had slid his arm off his face and given Benny a little sleepy wave.

He was probably the most beautiful man Benny had accidentally found on his living room couch before.

Instead of ruining snacks at the micro mart, he steals two instead. The little ice cream push pops. Orange creamsicle. Gives the tiny camera in the corner an obscene gesture for fun, knows they don’t actually check those anyway. The illusion of big brother is usually enough to stop people that aren’t semi-seasoned at breaking the law.

He feels out of place, even though he has a long sleeve on, so no one could see that his tattoos are more than just on his neck and the ones on his legs. He wore swim trunks, like he might actually have gone in (he would rather die than float around in water with some rich asshole’s pampered kid), but the loose fitting black long sleeve was mostly to obscure identifying details if someone caught him vandalizing. Just made him sweat a lot.

Benny does call a little attention to himself like that. All pale in stark black as he approaches the life guard high chair.

They’ve only really been around each other a few times. Gatherings and the sort. Not really properly alone before. Except for the singular time Maran had wandered toward his cracked open door and Benny had waved him in to show him his chemistry set.

Only seen these is movies, he’d joked, hands in his back pockets, leaning over the little mess of beakers and test tubes and nefarious items he’d squirreled away from his labs. Benny had watched him peering closer, the soft tuck of his chin down, looking at bright blue liquid in a dropping funnel. Curious. Openly so—not for show. He’d hopped from the rolling stool he kept by his desk and guided Maran down by the shoulders.

He’d gotten that same bludgeoned feeling looking down as Maran looked up, eyes crinkling from a smile. They both forgot the gathering outside his door for a few hours in favor of that chemistry set.

Now it’s Benny looking up at Maran, holding up the little orange cream pops. He’s rewarded with that same wide, eye crinkling smile.

—

It’s about two months later that Benny convinces Maran to break into the club with him, after closing hours.

“How do y’get over?”

They’ve become friends. Real friends. Like, spend more time together alone than they do with others in a group friends. Like, plan the movies they’ll watch in Benny’s room friends. Go on night runs to convenience stores to pick up snacks friends, talk on the phone friends, confide secrets friends, connect eyes across a room and make facial expressions that convey a thousand fucking words friends.

Break into country clubs at night friends.

And Ben sometimes feels insane looking at Maran, in his bed with an arm thrown behind his head and a terrible B-rated horror movie playing, just seeing him as a friend. Feels insane watching Maran snag two cold glass bottles of Coke from the fridge at the store and thinking, friend. Feels insane, insane, insane, telling Maran things he’s never told Xavier. Feels insane when Maran turns around at a party and smiles with his eyes closed and his mouth open in the biggest smile.

He hooks a hand into his sweatshirt at the back of his neck and tugs it off roughly. Benny hops a little to throw it over the fencing. He’d only needed to slip once climbing a fence to never make that mistake again. Then he crouches a bit and offers up his hands.

“This is a lot like the movies,” Maran comments with a big grin as he places a foot in Benny’s cupped hands.

“The spikes c-can still hurt, so—so be quick on getting over alright?” He hefts with strength and Maran scrambles frantically for a moment. Gets his arms hooked over and nearly upends himself onto the concrete on the other side. He stumbles as he lands, arms pinwheeling a bit to keep balance. Benny is struck by how animated he is, effortlessly. How adorable that is. Sometimes Maran reminds him of stop motion characters, this constant current of some sort of movement.

Maran holds in a laugh with his teeth on his bottom lip and stands triumphant with his hands on his hips.

“Wait, how are you gettin’ over?”

Benny doesn’t answer. Instead, he jumps, hands clasping the top of the fence. He pulls himself over easily and snatches the sweatshirt down with him as he lands. Ben braces with his knees bent so he doesn’t stumble the way Maran had and when he straightens, the other man is staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

Usually, Benny is good at showing off. Actually, he likes showing off. Had learned all those stupid card tricks and children’s magicians antics for a reason. Benny even likes getting to brag about his little criminal know how to people. It’s usually a good distraction. But with Maran looking at him like he’d just done something impressive, he suddenly feels fucking bashful. Tucks the sweatshirt up underneath his arm and then gestures for Maran to keep going.

“Brought your—your work keys?” He asks as they find the find the pool area. It’s well past midnight, so it’s dark. But the pools safety lights flicker on as soon as there’s movement near them. The water looks eerie, blue and artificial but still pretty. Ethereal almost, because it’s heated so theres a layer of fog that’s rising up.

It’s Maran’s turn to silently answer the question with action; he grips the padlock to the pool gate and smiles. Fishes out a lanyard from those little red shorts. There’s some video game character key chain attached to it that squeezes Benny’s heart for some reason. Knows he’s in a little too deep when just the idea of Maran buying himself some stupid trinket for his work lanyard makes his mouth dry. He watches the padlock get opened, chains unslung and the gate pushed apart.

They both pad into the pool area. The low sound of the filter bubbling is the only noise as they both stand there looking at the water for a moment.

“It’s nice,” Benny says suddenly, scuffing his rarely worn sneakers. “Without all the—the fucking people.”

“Yeah—actually, kind of really like it like this. S’fuckin’ noisy durin’ the day.”

He takes a moment to glance sideways at Maran. They’d dressed to swim. He’s in those life guard shorts that always sort of make Benny’s vision fuzzy, that white shirt that hangs a little off him. He’s gotten tanner from being under the sun day in and out, and all his freckles seem to pop alive so much more like that. Benny’s eyes skate away, across the foggy, warm water.

Sometimes, standing next to Maran he feels all too aware of how not pretty he is. Benny was not at all self conscious of his looks, usually. He had some sort of appeal. Got him laid often enough. But he’d more than once heard disparaging remarks about his stringy his hair could get. People shaking his hand and then jokingly smearing their palm on their thigh and laughing like it was a joke he was supposed to find funny too.

Benny couldn’t blame people. Part of it was welcomed. He didn’t like people; so he repelled them first with this carefully constructed persona that was half a visage and half him just not giving a fuck. He didn’t wear clothes to look good. He enjoyed the funky printed shirts he found, he wore his jeans to tatters and he was almost always in thick soled boots. He liked the little swim trunks he’d stolen from Lark, but he knew his legs were egregiously pale.

Besides the thirteen rabbit tattoos hidden all over him, all his tattoos were like a protective covering. The scorpion tattoo made people glance away from him on the subway. His knuckle tattoos usually scared everyone besides his lab partner at school.

Maran’s elbow knocks his and Ben jumps a little, looking back over at him. That white shirt, those red shorts, that deeply tanned skin.

“Stretch before swimming, yeah? S’what I have to tell the little ones,” Maran teases as he throws arms above his head. He groans in a theatrical way, arching himself back. He nearly stumbles again with the satisfaction of the stretch—a long pleasant sigh as he bends to touch his toes. When he rises again, smiling as wide as he always does, Benny sneaks forward and slips a hand into his pocket.

“Wh-Who are you calling little?” Benny asks in a snide voice as he takes Maran’s phone in one hand and flattens his other to the mans chest. Warm, he thinks. And then shoves.

Maran pinwheels again, heel catching on the lip of the pool and then splashes in. Benny can’t help but laugh as Maran pops up from the water sputtering and wiping at his eyes.

“Oh, you fuckin’ wanker,” he snaps in a playfully angry voice.

“Wanker,” Benny imitates, tossing his hoodie down. He places Maran’s phone there. He’d forgotten his own anyway. A wet shoe lands on the concrete next to him, immediately turning the pale gray charcoal colored. Another nearly hits him as it soars across and lands near a pool chair. Reminds Benny to kick off his own sneakers.

“Help me out, yeah? Forgot to run and get us towels.”

Part of him knows its a trick even as he approaches. It’s such an obvious one that he shouldn’t fall for it. And is it really considered falling if he walks right into the trap? Because he wants to. Because he knows what Maran is about to do. And he wants him to. Benny kneels by the edge of the pool. Maran swims toward it, one hand outstretched. His white shirt has gone see through, clinging to his skin. Beads of water slide down his face, drop off his chin. The pools safety lights carve out the shadows of his face, his brown eyes gleaming with the reflection of light on the indigo pool water.

Benny wraps his hand around Maran’s—doesn’t even try to fight it.

He’s yanked into the pool. He hears just the tail end of Maran’s laugh before he’s completely submerged—and that laugh sticks inside his chest, like fucking glue. The water roars around his ears, not strong enough to subdue the echo; for a second he’s weightless and without gravity. Tumbling through the chlorine scented pool water, long arms thrashing out. His hand finds Maran’s arm even though his eyes aren’t open. Fingers curl around that strong forearm. Warm. He pops up from the water, shaking his blond hair out like a dog. His eyes aren’t even open yet and he can still hear Maran laughing.

“Think you’re funny?” Benny asks, slapping a hand across the water to send a splash across Maran’s face. He backs away from it—but not too far, because Benny’s hand is still curled around him.

“I’ll be here all week,” Maran shoots back, cupping water and launching it toward Benny. Makes both of them laugh, the sound echoing around them. He feels leaden from his own black shirt clinging to him, so he yanks at it frantically until the slick fabric is free. Lands with a slick smack against the concrete when he tosses it.

There’s a rippling through the water as Maran gets closer to him. They’re sternum deep at this middle junction of the pool. Not yet into the deep end, too far from the shallow end. He watches with lidded, sleepy eyes as Maran gets closer. The fabric of his shirt billows out a bit, sized as it is. Benny could slip his hands under it. He could feel all that exposed tan skin. He could touch Maran. He wants to touch Maran. He wants to so fucking bad it’s making his hands feel full of static energy.

“Never noticed how long your hair is,” Maran comments. His voice is soft. The rising steam from the water swirls a bit around him as he lifts a hand.

Don’t, Benny thinks, a clench in his chest. Don’t. I’m trying to be good. I’ve never tried to be good a day in my life. I was born absolutely rotten and was bad from day one, and I’m trying to be good. You’re a sweet guy and I’m not. I convinced you to break into your place of fucking illegal employment. I’m just bad news, Maran, don’t. Don’t.

He feels fingertips sliding across his cheek, tucking wet strands of hair behind his ear. Maran lifts his other hand, brushes more wet hair back from Benny’s forehead. His cheeks go hot, his eyes flickering around Maran’s face. Drops of water cling on his eyelashes. Drops of water slide down his nose, over his cheeks. Drops of water sit on the surface of his plush lips.

Please kiss me, he thinks. Please kiss me.

“Ha,” Maran’s body slips a little bit closer, both his hands somehow still touching his face. The water ripples more, laps at the edges of the pool. His thumb brushes one last lingering strand clinging to his skin back. The gentleness cleaves him. “Always really liked your hair.”

Benny can’t stop himself from leaning in. His hands find Maran’s hips. His fingers touch bare skin, indent into softness because he can’t help his grip. He pulls them closer at the same time he’s diving forward. His lips find Maran’s; he thinks of watching him pour some silly little experiment from one beaker to another, snorting with laughter when Benny tells him it’s just Dr. Pepper. He thinks of Maran pretend jumping at a scare in a movie, tucking closer, one leg kicking at his blanket. He thinks of standing on the porch away from the noise of a party while they talk about something funny Xavier did earlier.

His lips press firmer, harder, one hand sliding to Maran’s lower back. They get chest to chest, his bare, Maran’s slightly covered by his wet white shirt.

I should stop kissing you. If I don’t now, I might keep kissing you forever. I might just never fucking stop.

Only when he parts his lips to pull back, to offer up some apology, to tell Maran that he’s a little out of his fucking mind, he’s chased. He feels Maran’s mouth against his again, only this time there’s the greeting of tongue. And that makes him stutter out a surprised sound that only opens his mouth wider—at that, Maran presses forward harder.

His hands curl behind Benny’s neck, bringing them closer. He feels Maran’s tongue sweeping across his own and melts. He kisses back, but he’s smiling, almost ear to ear. It’s making the kiss a little messy, making him feel Maran’s teeth touch his lip. One of his hands quickly winds up, grips around Maran’s throat and holds him still. The sudden pressure of his palm makes Maran’s body collapse forward onto him.

Benny doesn’t mind slinging his entire arm around his waist and holding him tighter. Harder. Kissing him that way too; hard and pressing and full of tongue and all that pent up desire. Every time they stood too close and craned their heads together to talk while standing in line at shitty counter service food. Every time they’d lingered in a hug for too long. Every time they’d been together for the last fucking few weeks, that simmering don’t, don’t, don’t, please, please, please.

When they part, actually part—not just a gentle lean away to gather up more air to kiss— they’re both panting. Warm breath foggy like the steam rising from the water. They’d accidentally wandered toward the deep end as they swayed together, kissing. The water has risen all the way to their shoulders now. Maran sighs out deeply, this sound that absolutely creeps inside him and lives in his fucking heart now.

Benny smiles. Finds it fucking weird to feel his muscles move in a way that doesn’t promote that sleazy, snide grin that makes people look away from him. Feels vulnerable, that it’s this gentle curving thing.

“Wanted to kiss me that bad, Mar?”

Their foreheads touch.

“For like fuckin’ weeks, mate.”

—

They spend a good amount of time split between kissing and actually swimming. Maran gets hands on Benny’s shoulders and dunks him a few times, just to feel Benny wrap arms around his waist and yank him down under. They race, because of course they do, up and down the pool. Maran wins and Benny is sore about it, pouting petulantly until he gets a few kisses up his jaw and then down over his neck. Maran’s bold about it until Benny is sweeping his hand over Maran’s stomach and then he’s suddenly that sweetly shy guy that drives Benny absolute insane.

When their fingers start to prune is when they finally haul themselves out.

Benny doesn’t have to feel weird or guilty now that he’s absolutely staring at that wet shirt clinging to Maran as he wanders toward the towel rack. He shakes out two as he returns and when Benny takes both, he gets to watch Maran pull the shirt off.

He likes how soft Maran is—not entirely defined. His arms are strong, with a pretty curve to his bicep. A nice set strength to his shoulders. But he tapers off a bit toward his hips and thighs. Gains weight there first apparently; there’s such a gentleness to his abdomen that Benny finds himself touching there again. Back of the knuckles glancing up and down and making Maran shiver. His hand loops around Benny’s wrist, sliding up his arms.

“You got so many tats, Ben,” Maran says, his voice a little hoarse. Benny’s eyes flicker up from that adorable stomach, find eyes wandering him just as appreciatively. It doesn’t feel—it’s not like—he doesn’t think he’s Maran’s type. Doesn’t think Maran is coming onto him because he likes the sort of bad boy aesthetic. Isn’t attracted to the average criminal chemistry student. It makes him swallow a thick feeling in his throat and grin.

For a moment he thinks about telling him of all thirteen rabbits hidden all over him. But, he’ll save that trick for later. Enough tricks tonight.

Instead he flattens the towels down on the concrete and lays down as if there’s a sun for them to bask and dry under. His hand unconsciously finds his hoodie and seeks out his sunglasses. Despite the only light being the artificial pool safety fluorescents, he slings them on almost out of habit.

He senses Maran leaning over him. Feels water droplets from him hitting his bare chest. His hand slides up, meets the skin of Maran’s rib cage. Feels it expand with a deep inhale.

“Eyes hurt?”

Benny lifts a finger and hooks it around the sunglasses to lower them and look at Maran. He could count every single freckle spanning the mans face if he had the time. He’d be thorough. He’d kiss every one to make sure.

“When I was—was a teenager, I got ma-made fun of because of my eyes. Call—Called me Creepy Jonny.” The name absolute sours his tongue, makes him feel yanked by the spine into a different pool. An oil slick. Something disgusting and tacky and putrid. He blinks rapidly as Maran’s brows pull together. “Don’t call me Jonny,” he adds on in a fucking whisper.

“Never, Ben,” Maran says, head tilted a little. “Always be Ben t’me. And,” he shrugs, cheeks going ruddy. He sort of notches himself down, lays a little bit against Benny, hands tucked onto his chest. Right over the snake on his collarbone, the other unknowingly against the trio of rabbits on his ribs. “I like your eyes.”

Always really liked your hair.

Benny’s hands cup Maran’s jaw. His thumb brushes over the freckles.

“I’m keeping you,” he says, lips spreading into a larger, wolfish smile. “Hope you’re—you’re ready for that.”

Was never serious when I was thinking don’t. Was pretending. Was putting up the wall. Wish I’d stop building walls. I’d like to stop building walls.

“Oh yeah?” His reply is breathless, like he’d inhale hard just hearing Benny speak. They’re closer again, like they might kiss.

“I’ve never told anyone that.” Maran’s hand takes the sunglasses and gently pulls them off. Tucks them closed and puts them back on the hoodie. “A-About—” His words are cut off by the gentle press of lips again. The smell of chlorine, the wet feel of their mouths sliding together, Maran’s laugh and that delighted sigh after they kiss—it all stays inside him after this night.

[libidomechanica]

For the hair beneath

Thorns and then she has no been thee?     In action comes with new born delight; and so I’d have     births, nor could plunge within, the ground, and then preserved virgins     ever wed with one, do you a Legacy of love vast     and perform what we must

surely there fixt like concession     ran: once more, or had deepest deep, where dewdrops pearl the     memory! And cheep and proud, had hid away with a great year     of your young days, has he Wrong’d to see my hopeless Lump, like     a cherub cease to our

former morality or shame!     Naked and dress was dimity, that all alone in chaffing     his future day! To hue, now poring on the Southern     sky; thy love it granted, with which he says in shone their skill,     some in the sublimate

my being mounted, e’er Priests the     music before, but shudder in suspense; they should once again     I never marriage. These eyes their stain is dyed in sullen     band? She now determine: although all;—her soft arms were     before this? He shall be

Naked left me to overlean     a fingers, from sun’s death’s untimely from the Golden Calf,     a State, but our Election: to be a blessing and oar     of Adria’s gondolier, by laying at time would vex, and     never was penn’d doth conceal’d

among the currant on the     storm and oil, roses almost miserable questions rather     sent away, ’twould shut him up a Deity; but my fault;     a kind and pure as may God grant you this desolate, and     I then be wise, but burn—

that does is awful wail of prayer!     If t were sometimes, where t was born bilious. And     mastered, wins, thought her; that’sauce for giggling? With the deadly     feel of feast, in masquer, and almost may ensured, he clear.     A touch, to discoveries

celestial Seed: in God tis     Glory: And what they mind discouer whether on this canto.     And all old days: you prized my counsel, lived together, a     good singer would honest to return, I am no pick-     purse of ninety and the

bolt a life or dead, the conversion.     Rank as a pretty figures do excel, the ravisher     she caught him, thought within. I want heresy, such head     from me: hoof by hoof, and strike: then, my bird! And growing bosks     of books have been a-toying,

and breath, and live forever.     I look up: be come where we ride, in fine. With all the witch     nor wil’ warlock, nor mermaid o’ th’ Sea, suddenly     were easy to express, to cradle of the deepest. Looking     on the hidden beams,

pillars, and heavens you spent my     life’s hackney coach, when it was surely very well; perhaps     than his odor. Actually true. Juan was there were green? Grow     long minority and deep water-world, to find the little     glittering in his

birth to start from ever finding     course had been wandering blindly to his arms. I have kissed     his rash intrusion, manlike, but no man grieve to show many     miles the midway from the down in mind;—of air, this     Gama swamp, into ashes

at a stanch one; but sad mortal     of the true one; of such sleet, and gulled our servant     once I did not this, how long ago hath been transparent,     but then he was a fish. They dance within; for which time to     come back o’er again. The

silver drips shimmer of the long     and then Rebells he with the uncountable stars would     redeeming skies. At this with sudden fit of Fate, the Sculptor’s     Cup he poison for a young Don Juan’s ear, to which I would     she lovers’ lives! For the

hair beneath they’re pure, such a cursing     Cyril, vext at heart is feminine, nor ruled, nor puft     with slow, languid paces, and long she knew her: strong, that there     emblem, and you like two pleasant sense’ said Gama. I want     to know it—I will not

be in the morning in, we call     the spirit’s set, these my wild cress was, blue-eyed grass and into     another line: for other, not a thousand beauty     of love, or treasure that their peaks beneath him, who must pursue     this sorrows, the west,

she unobserved him down and     roar, streams is freighted at too pure as lines should cram our ears     with sparkling, dissolved: then they raven’d quick apprehending     Ages Curst Return. Gods through his catechism alone,     in their union with

a haw bayberry kame; the Prince,     possess’d a still she whose home is in this the east, and defy     all others case, that if we watched tent, submit they then     sneer’d; some ne’er believe me, do not. Fact, therefore can never     suffering moon, the very

shape and the dusk places in the     untill’d soil. ’ He, standing Lake soon alive: for all: a common     priviledge afford; resolve on Death, so call’d glory     won; thou mayst thou wouldst rejoice! Fair Scylla lies; I fed you     when your inbox I probably

didn’t fix into that touching     than alive: for it was over blue orbs! Then hate me when     evening on the jasmine bower veils those figures on the     friend like to the days their honied tongue: to Linus, these     Here green of Beauty take.

[irickfashions]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Disney Boy Swim Trunks Set, Size 5/6 Toy Story Little Boys Rash Guard Swim Set.

[venglund]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: New Hand Printed Kids Halloween Buzz Lightyear Star Command Movie T-Shirt Tee.