#the same points and the same angles over and over again

[mommyslittlebird]

Long Distance Mommy!Wanda: Punishment

Of course, I could finish my chapter for this week, but I could write 2k words of puppy!reader yesterday and 1k words of this today 😵‍💫😵‍💫

"You've been a very naughty girl today, haven't you?" Wanda clicks her tongue over the phone.

You swallowed. You wanted to argue. The only reason you had gotten distracted in class was because she was sending you naughty things all day. But you held your tongue. You knew better than to argue. "Yes, mommy."

"Mmm," she hummed, pleased you thought better of trying to pin this on her. "And you know mommy has to punish naughty girls, don't you?"

You nodded. "Yes, mommy."

"That's a good girl. Now, I need you to go to the toy drawer and pick out exactly what I tell you to, okay? You'll need a plug- the blue one tonight-, the paddle, and your clamps."

Your eyes went wide. It wasn't uncommon that Wanda would make you put in the plug or wear the nipple clamps, but she very rarely made you use both at the same time. You whined. "Mommy..."

"Aww, what is it baby?" She cooed with faux sympathy.

"It's gonna hurt..." you whimpered quietly.

She nearly laughed. "Of course it's going to hurt, baby. It is a punishment, after all. But you're gonna be a good girl for mommy, aren't you?"

"Yes, mommy," you grumbled reluctantly, grabbing the toys and bringing them to the bed. Since dating Wanda, you'd acquired a good number of new toys, including a nice adjustable stand for your phone that allowed you to film yourself on your bed. You set up your phone, putting Wanda on speaker and hitting the video call button.

Wanda smiled as you appeared on her screen, already naked and preparing yourself for her. "Hey, pretty girl."

You blushed, carefully avoiding the camera as you applied lube to the plug and slowly pushed it into your ass.

She clicked disapprovingly. "Uh uh, sweet girl. You know better than that. Turn over and spread your cheeks. Mommy wants to see your pretty plug."

You did as she asked, glad that at least she couldn't see how red your face was getting from this angle, even though you were sure she already knew.

She hummed. "Mmm, good girl. You're lucky I don't make you take it out and put it back in, since you decided to hide it from me the first time."

You whimpered at the thought. "Thank you, mommy. I'm sorry."

When she finally had her fill, she spoke again. "Okay, sweetheart. You can turn back over now. Show mommy how you put on your clamps."

You turned back over, showing her the clamps first so she could make sure they were adjusted to their most intense setting. You pinched your nipple, crying out as the cruel metal sank into the sensitive bud. You did the same thing on the other side, nearly crying with how sensitive you were.

The plug stung slightly, stretching you just past what was comfortable. But the clamps hurt even worse, burning and stinging your sensitive chest. You were already squirming in front of Wanda. "Mommy, can I touch myself, please? Please mommy. It hurts so bad." The lack of pleasurable stimulation made the pain almost unbearable.

Wanda, who could see how quickly you were already approaching a breaking point, caved. "Yes, baby. Play with yourself for me. Tell mommy how it feels."

The pressure to your clit immediately brought you relief, allowing the stinging pain to take on a slightly pleasurable edge. It was truly amazing how much of a difference it made. You moaned. "Much better, mommy. It still h-hurts. But... not s-so bad."

"Mmm, that's a good girl. Keep touching yourself for me, baby. Get yourself nice and sensitive."

You did as she asked, bucking against your own hand in a desperate attempt to get yourself off. With the stimulation on nearly every sensitive part of your body, you could feel your orgasm steadily approaching. You hoped Wanda would have mercy on you, deciding that the combination of the clamps and plug was enough of a punishment for tonight. "Can I cum, mommy?"

Wanda was slightly taken aback by your question. Sure, she'd been teasing you all day, but you were hardly ever this fast. "So close already, baby?"

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip.

"Stop." She commanded.

You whined but did as she instructed.

"Pick up the paddle. I want you to hold yourself open for me and spank your little clit twenty times. I'll count out loud. If I don't think it was hard enough, it doesn't count. Understand?"

You whined, picking up the paddle in your right hand, using your left hand to spread your lips apart, putting your swollen clit on display for her. Hesitantly, you brought the paddle down with a soft thud. She didn't start counting. You tried again, harder this time. She didn't say "one" until the third time, when the leather made a loud thwack again your glistening folds.

You continue to bring down the paddle again and again, eyes watering and thighs shaking until they uncontrollably snap closed. "No more, mommy. Please."

"Three more." She commands. She takes a small bit of mercy on you. She'd only counted 15.

Shaking, you spread your thighs again, bringing the paddle down again. Your legs snap closed in between each painful strike, but you manage three more.

Her harsh demeanor final fades away after she counts the third strike. She allows you to throw the paddle down and collapse onto the bed with your thighs pressed tightly together in an attempt to relief the pain. "You did so good for me angel. You can take the clamps off and the plug out whenever you're ready, baby. Mommy's got you, sweetheart."

Even from far away, she was always so tender in her aftercare. She directed you through all the steps, carefully talking you through everything from applying ointment to wrapping yourself up in your favorite blanket. She told you leave the toys on the nightstand wrapped in a blanket. They could wait until morning.

You wrapped yourself around the stuffed bear she'd bought you, inhaling the strawberry scent she'd picked out to put inside. You let her soft words of praise and love wrap around you, pretending she was laying right beside you. You peacefully drifted off to the sound of her gentle voice singing to you.

Even from miles away, she would always let you know you are her precious angel, more loved than anything else in the world.

[arc852]

An Unexpected Meeting 1/2

Summary: While waiting for Tango to get back, Impulse suddenly enters the room. Some discoveries are made on both ends and Jimmy finally meets Imp and Skizz for the first time.

Word Count: 5273

AO3 Link

It's finally here!!! The fic you have all been waiting for! Jimmy meets Impulse and Skizz for the very first time! I hope you guys enjoy!

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 “And so then finally Impy opened up to me a bit more and we became friends. To the point where Impulse was willing to room with me again the next year.” Tango finished off his story with a smile. He was currently laid on his bed, sitting slightly up and against his pillows and the wall. Jimmy, the one he was telling the story to, had started off on his chest but had slowly wandered his way down to Tango’s stomach throughout the story.

 It was strange having someone so tiny walk on him but at the same time, he could barely feel it. If he were to let his mind wander and take his focus away from Jimmy, it would be easy to let his small weight slip from his mind. Not that Tango could do that even if he wanted to. He was very aware of Jimmy all the time. “But Impulse still likes to keep the divider up.” Tango pointed his thumb off to the side, where the large divider hid Impulse’s side of the room from view. “Guy likes his privacy I guess. Can’t say I blame him though.”

 Jimmy nodded and looked toward the divider. Though he was used to it now after coming to hang out in Tango’s room multiple times, it was still a bit strange to see, especially in comparison to the open area of Grian and Joel’s dorm. “Well, it works out for us.” Jimmy said, moving his eyes away from the divider and back to Tango. “It means there’s less of a chance Impulse will see me if he suddenly comes in.”

 Tango hummed in agreement but was then quiet for a moment. Jimmy looked over at him at the sudden silence and noticed the slight furrow of his brows that usually signified Tango was in deep thought. Jimmy was just about to question him on what he was thinking when Tango beat him to the punch. “By the way, no pressure or anything of course, but have you thought about…ya know…possibly meeting our other friends? Like Impulse?” Tango asked curiously, watching Jimmy’s face closely for his reaction.

 Jimmy blinked and glanced over at the wall to think for a moment, turning back to meet Tango’s eyes a moment later. “I have and…they honestly sound really great. I would love to but, I mean, I just don’t know if I’m ready yet. Besides, it’s only been, what, a month since I officially met you? I think…I want to give it some more time.” Jimmy paused but then smiled at Tango. “But I do eventually want to meet them all, yeah.”

 Tango smiled back at Jimmy. “That’s perfectly fine. You take all the time you need.” Tango was just happy that Jimmy was willing at all. He knew for sure Jimmy would get along great with the rest of their friends. But for now, he would settle with telling him stories about them and their hangout, in preparation for Jimmy to meet them.

 Tango opened his mouth to say something else, but paused when his stomach grumbled angrily.

 Jimmy let out a small noise of surprise, not quite a full on yelp but close. He sat up straighter, his hands jumping away from where they had rested against Tango’s stomach. He could feel the grumble of Tango’s stomach, the vibration it created moving him ever so slightly. It was…very weird. Jimmy looked down at Tango’s stomach with wide eyes. He’d obviously heard the rumble of human stomachs before, but never when he had been on them. He looked back up at Tango, his eyes still huge.

 Tango chuckled, though he did at least look sheepish, especially as his laughter caused Jimmy to bounce slightly. He forced himself to stop laughing and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I think that’s my body telling me it’s time for lunch.” Despite the awkward angle, Tango reached over toward the nightstand to grab his phone, being wary of Jimmy still sitting on his stomach. He looked at the time and hummed. “Yeah, it’s already one. Probably should go grab something.” He glanced back down at Jimmy. “Feel like staying for lunch?”

 Jimmy nodded, grinning. “Yes, please! Grian and Joel won’t be back from their classes for a couple more hours anyway.”

 “Sounds like a plan then.” Tango shifted slightly, realizing this was not a good position for ordering food. So he reached his hand down and carefully cupped it behind Jimmy before moving to sit up. Jimmy looked behind him at the hand now at his back but otherwise didn’t so much as blink as Tango sat up and caused him to slide fully onto it. “You feel like anything in particular?” Tango asked, already opening his phone up to the many food apps on it now that he was in a better position.

 Jimmy righted himself and settled more comfortably on Tango’s hand as he thought for a moment before shrugging. It was very rare for him to have a preference on what to eat, usually perfectly content to let his humans choose. They knew a lot better than him in this department anyway. “Whatever you want is fine by me.”

 Tango hummed and looked through his food apps. “Honestly, I’ve been craving Mexican food lately. Specifically from this one restaurant. Only problem is they don’t deliver.” Tango put his phone down. “I could run and grab it since it’s only about a ten minute drive from here. Do you want to come with me?” Tango asked but Jimmy shook his head.

 “I’m okay, I can just wait here.” Jimmy replied. The thought of going to a busy place like a restaurant or grocery store always had Jimmy feeling nervous. So far, he had managed to stay behind when any of his humans were going out, and Jimmy still intended to keep it that way.

 Perhaps eventually they’d manage to drag him out to a restaurant and such, but he was more than okay delaying that for as long as possible.

 “Alright, if you’re sure.” Tango lifted the hand holding Jimmy and set it down on the nightstand so Jimmy could get off himself. Jimmy did so, hopping off Tango’s hand and standing up straight, lifting his arms up to stretch once he was back on solid ground. 

 Tango watched him fondly for a moment, a small smile gracing his lips. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe that Jimmy was real. That all of this was real. He was so impossibly tiny and yet despite their size difference, Jimmy had still wanted to be his friend. Jimmy finished stretching and looked over at Tango, who startled at the sudden eye contact and snapped his gaze away from Jimmy. Jimmy blinked but let out a fond huff when he realized what Tango had been doing. 

 With Grian, Joel, and now Tango, Jimmy had gotten used to the long stares and fond looks his humans liked to give him. 

 Tango cleared his throat to try and expel the embarrassment of having been caught staring before standing up. He grabbed his wallet and keys, which were on his nightstand to Jimmy’s right. “I shouldn’t be too long.” Tango said. “You sure you’ll be alright?”

 Jimmy nodded. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.” Jimmy said and Tango hummed in response before heading toward the door. He sent Jimmy one last wave before exiting his room and closing and locking the door behind him.

 Jimmy leaned back against the lamp and let himself relax, knowing it was going to be at least a half hour before Tango came back. He opened up his bag, something he always took with him when visiting with Tango, and pulled out his sewing supplies. He was currently working on his stitching, trying to get as precise as Cleo did on his clothes. He knew he didn’t need to worry about making his own clothes anymore, something he was still very thankful for, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have other ideas he wanted to do. Besides, working on his little project was a good distraction while he waited for Tango to come back.

 It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes later, just as Jimmy had finished up his fourth stitch, that he heard the familiar sound of a key in a lock. He glanced up toward the door, briefly wondering how Tango had been able to get back so fast. But those thoughts quickly disappeared as someone who was certainly not Tango walked in.

 In a panic, Jimmy quickly rose from his spot and rushed behind the lamp to hide, all the while shoving his sewing supplies back into his bag. As his back hit the lamp, he froze, his breathing paused as he waited to see if he had been spotted. Thankfully, there was no sudden gasp or surprised yelling to be heard. The human only closed the door and walked onto the other side of the divider, missing Jimmy entirely. Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief, though his body didn’t relax just yet.

 Jimmy peeked his head out from behind the lamp but, other than a few shadows, he couldn’t see anything past the divider. Still, if this human had a key to the room, this could only be Impulse, the human he had heard so much about. Jimmy decided to continue watching as the shadow of Impulse moved further into his side of the room.

 “Huh, I thought for sure Tango would be here.” The human spoke out loud to himself. Jimmy was taken aback by the sudden voice but quickly recovered and continued to listen.

 There was a moment of pause as Impulse’s shadow showed him setting his bag down by the foot of his bed. “Right, yeah, he probably went out to get something to eat.” Impulse spoke again but Jimmy frowned at the strange wording. It was almost as if he had answered someone else… Jimmy quickly reminded himself that phones were a thing that existed and rolled his eyes. Impulse was probably just talking to someone over the phone, which would make a lot of sense considering Jimmy couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation.

 “Well, I can’t imagine Tango will be out long but gotta get any chance we can right? Wanna come on out?” Impulse said after another brief silence and Jimmy couldn’t help but furrow his eyebrows in confusion. Okay, that was weird. Jimmy might still be unaware of a lot of human sayings and such but he was pretty sure that was a weird thing to say to someone over the phone.

 Impulse’s words were followed by the sound of some faint shuffling and Jimmy found himself stepping away from the lamp and heading more towards the middle of the nightstand in the hopes he could see better. He could still really only make out a blob of shadows, but he definitely wasn’t seeing an added blob of someone else. So just who was Impulse talking to?

 “Finally! I thought I was gonna suffocate in there with how long those classes were.” Another voice suddenly spoke up and Jimmy froze. He knew perfectly well how voices sounded when on the phone, speaker or otherwise. There was always this sort of static to the voice, no matter how good the quality of the call. That being said, the voice did not have that static overlay to it. No, it…it sounded like it was actually in the same room.

 “You say that, and yet, who is the one who always asks to come with me?” Impulse said with a slight teasing tone.

 “Well, okay, maybe your pocket is comfortable. Maybe. But I stand by the fact that those classes were too long!” The other voice exclaimed and despite the fact that his words were exclaimed, his voice was not nearly as loud as Impulse’s. 

 Phone calls were loud, especially when they were put on speaker. The voice mixed with the background and static added by the phone always grated on Jimmy’s nerves because of how loud it was. And though the voice wasn’t undisguisable, obviously since Jimmy could hear him just fine even from the other side of the room, it was so clearly quieter than that of a phone call. 

 And then his actual words hit Jimmy like a train and he felt frozen there on the nightstand as the realization washed over him.

 It couldn’t be. There was no way. It had been so long… too long. And the fact he was also with a human was just too much of a coincidence. It couldn’t be…

 But who else would talk about how comfortable a pocket was?!

 That other voice was a borrower, it had to be. 

 Impulse had a borrower with him.

 He could barely believe it, but here it was right in front of him. After all this time without seeing another borrower, the one he does finally find also seemed to be friends with a human. They had to be friends, a borrower wouldn’t otherwise talk so casually with a human or go to classes with one in their pocket. 

 It was crazy and coincidental and Jimmy didn’t know how to process this information.

 “Where did my charger go?” Impulse’s voice cut through Jimmy’s thoughts and he focused back, realizing he had missed a bit of the conversation. There were some more shuffling noises, most likely caused by Impulse looking around for his charger.

 “Tango might have taken it again.” The borrower said and man, Jimmy was not going to get over that. “Cause I swear it was plugged in and hanging off your nightstand when we left this morning.”

 Impulse hummed. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He sighed. “Tango really needs to find his own charger. Because one of these days he’s gonna lose mine.” Impulse chuckled a bit, his tone full of semi-fake annoyance. The borrower laughed as well, more heartily than Impulse had, and, though he didn’t know why, Jimmy’s heart hurt at the sound.

 Another borrower was right there. So close and yet so far.

 Even though he had tuned back into the conversation, Jimmy was still so shocked that he didn’t realize what the conversation actually meant. Not until it was already too late and Impulse was rounding the divider into Tango’s half of the room. Jimmy’s breath hitched as Impulse came into view but he felt frozen to his spot. Jimmy could only stand there helplessly as he watched Impulse’s eyes scan the room looking for his charger, only for them to suddenly lock onto Jimmy.

 Impulse’s eyes widened.

 Jimmy couldn’t breathe.

 “What the…” Impulse practically breathed out, the words barely loud enough for even Jimmy to hear. He felt stuck by the human’s gaze and it was only after Impulse took a step forward that Jimmy finally managed to unstick himself. He scrambled backwards until his back came into contact with something solid. He jumped, only to realize it was the lamp, which he continued to press back against as his eyes never left Impulse’s.

To Jimmy’s shock, though maybe he really shouldn’t have been considering Impulse’s borrower friend, Impulse seemed to deflate a little seeing how scared Jimmy was. He raised his hands in a placating gesture as his eyes went sad. “Oh, wait, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” Impulse tried to reassure, his voice continuing to be soft, quiet, and steady. And then he did something no other human he met thus far had done. Those same hands he had just raised were quickly placed behind his back, hiding them from sight. Jimmy blinked, realizing what the gesture meant.

 “Dop? What’s going on over there?” The other borrower called out from past the divider, still on Impulse’s side of the room. Both Jimmy and Impulse looked over in that direction at the sudden voice, despite the fact that neither of them could see past the divider. Impulse looked back over at Jimmy, noticing his gaze had also been pointed toward Skizz’s voice.

 Impulse took a step back, keeping his hands behind his back and his eyes on Jimmy as he turned his face slightly in order to reply back. “Skizz, you are never going to believe this.” Impulse said, his voice now only slightly louder than a breath. Due to the lack of anything happening and no longer feeling like he was being backed into a corner, Jimmy felt safe enough to push himself off against the lamp and take a few steps forward. 

 Impulse seemed to notice this and gave a small smile. “That’s my buddy Skizz.” Impulse said, motioning over toward his side of the room with a tilt of his head. “He’s like you. A borrower.”

 Again, Jimmy had gathered as much already but actually hearing Impulse say it? It made it all the more real.

 “Wait…Impulse are you actually saying-?!” Impulse cut Skizz off, though not unkindly.

 “Yeah, Skizz. I’m…I’m looking at another borrower.” Impulse said and it made Jimmy wonder if Skizz was in the same boat as him. That he, too, hadn’t seen another borrower in a very long time. 

 Based on both of their reactions, Jimmy could guess it was more than likely.

 Jimmy met Impulse’s gaze again and, somehow, the human’s gaze softened even more. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Impulse said again, feeling the need to reiterate that. “Skizz could tell you as much.”

 “Y-Yeah! Impulse wouldn’t hurt a fly! I would know, I’m the one who usually ends up killing all the bugs in the place.” Skizz said, ending with a laugh. The way his voice stuttered though, Jimmy could tell he was still reeling from the shock. Much like he still was.

 Slowly but surely, Jimmy felt himself relax. It was clear to see what was going on here and he knew, without a doubt, he could trust Impulse. And not just because he was Grian, Joel, and Tango’s friend. But having the word of a borrower on a human’s side, even if Jimmy didn’t know said borrower, was still not to be taken lightly. And since Skizz was so adamant that Impulse was good, Jimmy felt perfectly safe to drop his guard.

 This whole situation was certainly a sharp contrast from his past experiences meeting humans. But it was far from an unwelcome one.

 “I believe you.” Jimmy said softly, pleased to note his voice didn’t waver. He looked Impulse in the eyes. “I know that you won’t hurt me.” Jimmy said, his lips forming a small smile. 

 Jimmy watched as Impulse relaxed, a look of relief on his face. Though there was also a hint of confusion as well. “Really?” He asked.

 Jimmy nodded and pointed with his thumb in Skizz’s direction past the divider. “I mean, you do have a pretty valid source.”

 “He sure does!” Skizz exclaimed once more. Jimmy couldn’t help but note his voice seemed to have changed though. It was a bit closer and seemed more out of breath. Before Jimmy could ponder on that too long though, Impulse spoke again, gaining back his attention.

 “Right, I guess I do.” Impulse said with a fond chuckle. His hands slowly fell back to his sides and Jimmy didn’t so much as flinch at the movement.

 “And uh…I’m actually pretty familiar with humans anyway.” Jimmy admitted, albeit a bit hesitant. He didn’t know why he felt a bit nervous at revealing that but he was. Jimmy watched as Impulse’s confused look came back.

 “Wait, what do you-” Impulse cut himself off suddenly though, as movement had caught his eye and he looked down. “Whoa, Skizz, what are you doing?”

 “I couldn’t just stay put knowing there’s another borrower over here!” Skizz exclaimed, his voice more clear now that he was past the divider. Jimmy blinked and rushed over to the edge of the nightstand, kneeling down to look over the edge. He only managed to catch a flash of movement though before a hook being thrown up caused him to scramble back and yelp in surprise. 

 The hook caught on the grain of the wood and Jimmy watched with wide eyes as the string tensed with the weight of someone climbing on it. Jimmy waited with bated breath, only for that breath to catch in his throat when a hand shot up and gripped the edge of the nightstand. Jimmy continued to watch as Skizz then used that hand to hoist himself the rest of the way up.

 As Skizz righted himself, his gaze fell on Jimmy and their eyes met. They both froze, looking at each other with barely concealed awe. It had been so long since Jimmy had seen another borrower. He almost couldn’t believe there was another of his kind right in front of him.

 It almost made tears come to Jimmy’s eyes. He’d been around people so much bigger than him for months now, and nobody long before that. And though he loved his humans dearly, it was still never quite the same as having someone his own size there next to him. And Jimmy could see that clearer than ever now that he was meeting Skizz eye to eye.

 He took in his features almost hungrily, noticing the fact that Skizz seemed to be a few centimeters taller than him first. From there, he took note of his black hair and bright blue eyes, a sharp contrast to Jimmy’s own hazel eyes and blond hair. Jimmy also took note of the faded scars that lined his arms and face. That was a little concerning, but then again, even with a human by your side being a borrower could be dangerous.

 His clothes also seemed hand stitched, of course, though not with the same precision that Jimmy’s clothes were made with. Jimmy realized either Skizz was doing it himself, or perhaps Impulse had taken up the task. Either way, neither were as precise as Cleo. He didn’t think anyone could be as precise as Cleo though.

 Jimmy looked back up at Skizz’s face and realized Skizz must have also been looking him up and down. Their eyes met again and Skizz’s face morphed from shock and awe to glee as a large grin overtook his features. He took a step forward, finally breaking the silence that had fallen over the entire room as soon as their eyes had met. “I can’t believe it.” Skizz said, his voice soft, quiet. Though not for long. “You’re real!”

 Jimmy couldn’t help but snort out a laugh at that. “So are you!” Jimmy said, a large grin forming on his own face to match Skizz’s.

 “Man I…I haven’t seen another borrower in ages! It’s just…wow. Heh.” Skizz let out a little laugh, still grinning even as he wiped at his eyes. Impulse couldn’t help but take a step forward, worried for his friend.

 “Skizz?” Impulse asked, his tone very much showing off that worry.

 “Sorry.” Skizz’s laugh was wet this time. “I’m not really sure why I’m crying.” Skizz wiped away some more tears before he looked back up and met Jimmy’s gaze again, grinning even wider. “Looks like I’m not the only one though.”

 Jimmy blinked and reached up, feeling that his cheeks were wet. Oh. He laughed. He supposed meeting another borrower for the first time in 7 years really was getting to him. Jimmy wiped at his eyes and as he opened them again he realized Skizz had stepped closer. “Hey, I know we just met and all but…can I hug you?”

 Jimmy blinked, eyes wide at the request. But he couldn’t find it in himself to deny it. In fact, he wanted that hug too. Just as badly. “Y-Yeah.” Jimmy stuttered out and that was all Skizz needed before he closed the gap between them and surrounded Jimmy in a bear hug.

 And oh.

 Oh.

 Jimmy hadn’t hugged a person his size in so long. Hugs between him and Grian or Joel were nice, don’t get him wrong. He loved the way they had figured out how to hug. But it didn’t beat the way someone's arms would wrap around your body and squeeze you without the risk of it being too much. Jimmy lifted his hands and finally returned the hug, putting just as much force behind his squeeze as Skizz and burying his face into Skizz’s shoulder.

 He’d almost forgotten how this felt.

 He never wanted to forget again.

 It felt like they were standing there forever just holding each other and hugging but really it couldn’t have been more than a minute before they broke off the hug. Though as they separated, Skizz remained close, keeping a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. Jimmy couldn’t help but be thankful for the contact, the feeling grounding him.Their tears had all but dried though Jimmy still felt like he could start up again at any moment. 

 Skizz grinned at him and then turned back toward Impulse. “Dude! Are you seeing this?!” Skizz said and Impulse chuckled. His hands were now crossed in front of him as he looked down at Skizz fondly. Jimmy was reminded of the way Grian, Joel, or even Tango would look at him sometimes and smiled.

 “I am! I can’t believe we’re meeting another borrower.” Impulse said with a large grin and Jimmy could just tell how happy Impulse was for his friend.

 “I know, right!” Skizz said and then his eyes widened a bit, as if he suddenly realized something. He turned back to Jimmy, giving him a sheepish smile. “Geez, where are my manners? Sorry, it's been a while since I’ve met someone new. And by a while, I mean the last new person I met was this guy over here.” Skizz joked, motioning toward the human before continuing. “Anyways, I’m Skizz and that’s Impulse. What’s your name?”

 Jimmy smiled, of course he had already known their names, Impulse’s from his own friends, and Skizz’s from hearing it over the course of the last few minutes. But it was nice to have some proper introductions. “I’m Jimmy.” Jimmy said simply but with excitement still coursing through him. He still couldn’t believe there was another borrower in front of him.

 “Well, it’s nice to meet ya Jimmy! I gotta be honest, you’re taking all of this,” Skizz pointed back and forth between himself and Impulse. “A lot better than I thought another borrower would. I thought you’d at least have some questions.”

 “I mean, I do have some questions.” Jimmy said, looking between the two, almost following Skizz’s movements as he had pointed. Though he hadn’t seen a lot, he could already tell the two were really comfortable with one another. Which told Jimmy that they had to have known each other for quite a while already. “But like I was telling Impulse before, I’m pretty used to humans already.”

 Skizz blinked at that, his head tilting in confusion and his brows furrowed. “Wait, do you mean-” Skizz started but was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the door opening. 

 Everyone froze as their eyes snapped over to the door, watching as Tango opened and closed the door behind him without actually looking into the room first. From what Jimmy could see, he was holding a plastic bag full of food. “Hey, sorry about that, it took a bit longer to get there than I-” Tango cut himself off and froze as he turned around and noticed that Impulse was in the room.

 Impulse very quickly and deliberately moved in front of Jimmy and Skizz in order to block Tango from seeing the two. Tango noticed this immediately since that was where he had left Jimmy before he had gone out. Tango cleared his throat, trying to smile despite his growing worry. “Hey Impy! I didn’t know you’d be back so soon…uh, whatcha doing on my side of the room?” His voice was a bit higher due to his nerves and he prayed Impulse didn’t notice.

 “Oh! Uh, just looking for my charger.” Impulse said, also hoping Tango wouldn’t notice how nervous he was. Both humans were terrible liars but fortunately, they were so worried about how they themselves were appearing, that neither noticed how bad the other was as well.

 Skizz used this opportunity to turn to Jimmy, his eyes determined as his grip on Jimmy’s shoulder shifted down to his wrist. “Come on, Impulse will keep Tango distracted while we hide.” Skizz whispered and then wasted no time in pulling Jimmy over to the edge of the nightstand. Jimmy blinked before pulling back and gently getting his wrist out of Skizz’s grip. Skizz stopped and looked at him, confused. “Jimmy? What are you doing? Impulse can only distract him for so long.”

 “No, it’s okay! Tango…Tango actually knows about me already.” Jimmy explained and watched as Skizz’s eyes went wide with shock. “But you go ahead. I understand if you don’t want another human knowing about you. I’ll wait until you're hidden to get Tango’s attention.”

 Skizz blinked and suddenly looked like he was in deep thought. His eyes went from Jimmy’s to Impulse’s, and then toward the direction he had been pulling Jimmy to, before finally he settled back onto Jimmy himself. He let out a small breath. “You trust Tango?”

 Jimmy’s eyes widened. He thought back toward the entirety of the last month, of him hanging out with Tango when he could and getting to know him better. The beginning might have been a little rough but Tango had saved him. And since then Tango had been nothing but kind and careful. Jimmy didn’t hesitate to nod. “Yeah, I do.”

 Skizz thought for another moment before nodding to himself. “Alright, then I won’t hide either.” He walked back so he was standing at Jimmy’s side once again.

 “Really?” Jimmy was a bit shocked at that. Sure, Skizz was friends with a human already but Jimmy was far too aware of just how nerve wracking it could still be to meet another one.

 “Well, if he’s got your approval then I don’t see why not.” He shrugged. “Besides, Tango has been Impulse’s roommate for, like, two years now. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about wanting to meet the guy.”

 Jimmy smiled. “You won’t regret it.”

 Skizz laughed. “I better not.” He joked and Jimmy chuckled before turning his attention back up toward the humans. 

 The two were still talking though from what Jimmy caught it was still the same nervous back and forth from when they had first started. Jimmy caught Skizz’ gaze once more and with one more nod from Skizz, Jimmy took in a deep breath and cupped his hands over his mouth. “Impulse! It’s okay, Tango is my friend!” Jimmy yelled up at them.

 The two humans froze, their eyes wide at each other as they processed what Jimmy had said. Impulse hesitated for a moment, looking back over his shoulder to see the two borrowers giving him a thumbs up. He was mostly surprised at Skizz also agreeing but he moved out of the way despite that, letting Tango see the two borrowers standing on his nightstand.

  Tango’s eyes widened as he looked back and forth between Jimmy and Skizz, his gaze occasionally going to Impulse as well. Jimmy could just see Tango’s mind racing a mile a minute as he tried to piece together what was going on. “J-Jimmy?”

 Jimmy smiled, though it came out more sheepish than he had intended. “Tango…I’d like you to meet Skizz.” Jimmy introduced and then looked at Skizz again, his eyes going soft. “He’s a borrower…like me.”

[mykingdomforablog]

Sunrise on the Reaping spoilers under the cut (chapter 22, page 299):

This scene pulled together the central themes in such a fantastic way.

Haymitch could’ve killed them then and there. Right in front of them, knife in hand. He could’ve taken out three Capitol Gamemakers, people directly responsible for their suffering (so far as we’re led to believe, at least—I don’t put it past the Capitol to send innocents in). It likely wouldn’t have changed anything in the long run, but he could have done it as an act of defiance all the same, like he’s been working toward practically since he was thrust into this mess. So Plutarch’s question stands. Why didn’t he?

Intimidated, brainwashed, cowardly. There’s truth to the reasons he gives himself. Haymitch, much like the rest of Panem, has been beaten down his whole life to believe that the Capitol is in charge and always will be, and that all acts of rebellion against this notion will result in suffering and ultimately prove fruitless. Even his actions in the arena itself over the past few days have shown him that—he drowned up the brain but the arena didn’t break because the Capitol had a plan B in place, a power generator. The Capitol is perceived as unbeatable. Haymitch has been fed poster after poster touting the Capitol’s strength and every year there’s a reminder that they can squash opposition and resistance with a snap of their fingers.

And then, of course, we’re reminded that there’s no way what we just read was witnessed by Panem. Instead the audience has likely been shown the lone girl hiding away from this fatal encounter with the Gamemakers. It’s all edited out to preserve the image that preserves Panem’s submission. As David Hume said, it is on opinion only that government is founded. In order to keep themselves down, the districts—and the Capitol citizens, too—must uphold this opinion that the Capitol as a governing and militaristic force is unbeatable. That there’s nothing they could even fathom doing to resist because it’s pointless in the end. That’s the same train of thought, however subconscious, that prevented Haymitch from making a move on the Gamemakers, simply because he recognized them as an arm of the Capitol and the Capitol as something higher than his reach. It is through this opinion that the Capitol is able to control the people and gain their submission to tyrannical rule.

He says it himself. “Just programmed to be walked all over, I guess.” Haymitch’s fight or flight response in this moment was to freeze. Don’t fight back, submit. The Gamemakers are untouchable; they’re the Capitol and they’re in charge, not you. It’s generations of programming that let him be walked all over.

Maysilee’s point about fighting back before they’re forced into the arena is poignant. Doing so with those knives in training wouldn’t have actually gotten them anywhere but more trouble, unfortunately, but it speaks to the greater issue. The country needs to fight back. They don’t. They just keep submitting. Why? Opinion again, of the Capitol government as some all-mighty force. They’re programmed, brainwashed, to roll over and stop resisting at the sight of the metaphorical or literal white uniforms.

Then we arrive back at the propaganda/censorship angle, with Haymitch being unable to speak freely because the cameras are watching. Although he knows this conversation won’t be aired to the whole of Panem, their words are traitorous and rebellious enough to catch the attention of the Gamemakers and President Snow, so he stops himself. Though you have to ask yourself, what does it matter? The Gamemakers and President Snow already know what’s truly happened in the arena. They’re aware of Maritte and Maysilee killing those Gamemakers. They also know what Haymitch and Ampert did to the water tank, nearly breaking the arena in the process and causing a whole lot of trouble. Haymitch and Maysilee are holding out hope one of them might live, but they’re also constantly recognizing the likelihood of their deaths and desiring to go out with a message. It’s smart to keep their mouths shut, definitely, but what truly stops them from discussing this implicit submission to the Capitol’s rule? Is it the cameras or their intimidated, brainwashed, fearful opinion of the government?

The rebellious thoughts are there, but the opinion that prevents them from being spoken doesn’t get squashed for another twenty-five years.

[rimatsu]

Anon with the ask that maybe got ate. Will try recalling.

It doesn't work for me if the show is going to make the Tommy remark that Buck gets upset over to be an Eddie thing in its entirety and certainly not a pure jealousy thing. As has been mentioned, that just hasn't been set up and wasn't in the breakup convo.

Thinking of what I want to see + trying to figure out Buddie telephone game distortion, I theorize the Eddie mention in the argument works like this: Buck and Tommy talk after the hookup and Buck relays all that's happened since they broke up (Eddie, Maddie, dog, Gerrard friend request, etc.) and Tommy makes a crack wondering whether Buck only hooked up with him that night (assuming 8x11 is months after the breakup) because of Eddie leaving and all the shit he's gone through. Tommy would probably already have some level of ex sex doubts anyway and Buck confiding in him would raise red flags about whether Buck was making good decisions. Maybe Buck tries to get them back together and Tommy turns Buck down by saying something about him not being in the right mind at that point. (Or baity way to frame it: he's not in the right place and Tommy waves around at Eddie's house.)

Buck would get upset about this because it'd activate the abandonment issues he's been dealing with for Tommy to pull away from him again and Tommy would be doing the same thing as he did during the breakup - deciding how Buck feels for him/deciding he knows what he's thinking without asking.

Another misinterpretation from both sides, especially if Buck tells Maddie that Tommy won't get back together with him because he thinks Buck's still too fucked up over Eddie and everything else or something like that - some conveniently baity phrasing that maybe does trigger a Maddie line of questioning about Buck and Eddie and the he's straight thing comes up.

unfortunately i think you put too much faith on the show's consistency. if tim wants to introduce a jealousy angle, he absolutely will. precedents or not.

that said i like your speculation much better and it seems more reasonable than either version of the leaks. tommy questioning whether buck wants to rekindle their relationship for the right reasons or simply because he's lonely without eddie around makes a lot more sense than an ill-timed joke or genuine concern over eddie's place in buck's life or heart. and it's something that can easily be twisted to fit a certain narrative...

from your keyboard to our tv screens ☝️

[finalgirlmorgue]

LATE NIGHTS AND EVEN LATER GOODBYES

SUMMARY -༶ ⋆ Losing someone that you love isn't easy, not going back to them is even harder… Leon receives a picture of you late at night that rekindles the flame in his heart that once burned for you. What's another night spent with you?

༶ ⋆ Leon S Kennedy x F! Reader ༶ ⋆ Angst and Smut

༶ ⋆ No warnings ༶ ⋆ Requests Open

TAGS: AFAB reader, ended established relationship, nudes, breakup sex, happy ending, angst, resident evil 4 Leon, hate sex to makeup sex, P in V action.

༶ ⋆ ------------ NSFW UNDER THE CUT -----------༶ ⋆

The tears had already grown stagnant in Leon's eyes. Months of silence and no communication gave him the false sense that he had gotten over you. It had been months since you left. He only thought of you on the rare occasion he would find a piece of you in his haven. A lipgloss in his bathroom drawer, a sock that was too small to be his own in his laundry basket, and a stray hair on his pillow.

It was like you were planting seeds in his mind. They kept growing until they reached the back of his brain. The roots wrapped themselves around nerves and muscles and pulled until everything went numb. The flower bloomed in his mind, and he unblocked you. He hoped that you would reach out. Take his hand and pull him from the ocean and into the sun. Bring his heart through the dark sea as the storm clouds rolled in, threatening to rain more. Bring sunshine onto his skin so he might breathe once again. But it didn't happen that way. The storm came and crashed, the flowers withered away, and the cold, black water took its place once more. It was several more months later when you reached out.

Leon was in bed, blanket resting loosely over his body, when he felt it. The familiar sensation of electricity. His phone vibrated against his nightstand. His body reacted almost immediately, adrenaline flooding into his veins. In seconds he was sitting up, blankets and sheets falling forgotten to the floor. He was woken up like a sleeper agent. Your name, his Instagram dms, one attachment.

He stared at the button. 'photo'.

He would have to make the move to open it. He knew that he had given himself away, It had already notified you that he had seen it. He had once been a patient, stubborn man. But tonight a blue moon must have hung in the sky because after 5 seconds he opened it.

It was you, in the same situation as him, in bed, covers tossed aside, skin taking in the glow of a dim lamp, hair loose. In the light of the phone camera, you looked intangible and angelic. He barely noticed you were naked, barely. One hand held your pajama shirt up, exposing your tits, the other held the phone and pointed at a mirror opposite your bed. You sat there, leaning forward with your knees together, looking directly into the camera, smiling at nothing, posing for him. The angle was perfect, with just enough lighting to highlight the curves of your body, but enough to hide some of them entirely. Leon tried to catch every detail. His gaze swept across the curve of your neck, your shoulders, your arms. His mind reeled with images that he hardly tried to repress.

After 30 seconds, the picture closed on its own. Leon would never get to take in a sight exactly like that again. His thumb moved before he could even think about stopping it. "What the fuck." He texted. He wanted to tell you how beautiful he thought you were. How much he missed you. How long it had been. Tell you to come back to him. That he was sorry, he loved you. He needed you, he still did. But words failed him. So instead, he texted again. "I thought we were done. Is this your way at getting back at me? Huh?"

There was no answer. No movement on his screen. Just the sound of his breathing, fast and heavy. Leon's finger hovered over his keyboard. The urge to press send burned within him. To finally say something meaner, scare you off. Send those messages before he could chicken out.

No. That wouldn’t do. He had said all of it.

Now, he wanted you here. He wanted to talk to you, hear your voice, see you smile at him. He wasn't going to lose another chance at you now. So, instead he said. "Call me." He paused and added a couple of periods just for good measure. "Or I'll call you."

After a moment, his phone rang. He picked up after his ringtone sounded once, he wasn't taking his time tonight. Then he heard your voice, sweet, and low, "Hello?"

"Got bored? Decided you wanted to torture me?" His tone was teasing, but it shared a small indication of hurt underneath. Leon wasn't sure how he managed to keep his composure, but he did manage to.

Your laugh was soft, but it filled the hole Leon felt inside of him in completion. "Sorry," you said, breathy and warm. "Did you not like it?"

He cut you off, as he got out of bed and stared out of his apartment window. "Shut your fucking mouth." He whispered, trying hard to maintain control over his temper.

"Don't you ever fucking apologize. Don't you fucking leave me." Leon's tone turned vicious, his throat tightening, "I miss you." He sounded angry, frustrated, broken. He couldn't stop talking, just like he couldn't stop thinking about how much he wanted you here. It wasn't fair. "Get in your fucking car and drive over here, I know you remember my address."

You hesitated, unsure if you should follow his command or not. "I'm sorry. But can't we just sit tight, talk first? You're gonna need to give me a minute, Leon." Leon shook his head. He couldn't wait any longer. "No. We don't have a minute. Not anymore. Come over. Now."

It was silent for a few moments. Long enough for Leon to grow impatient. Then, "Alright," your voice softened, becoming quieter than usual. Leon could almost feel the guilt radiating from his side of the line.

"But, if you really want to see me, you can't stay mad at me. Can you?"

Leon sighed, shaking his head. "Not forever," he agreed. He wasn't completely confident that the anger he harbored would melt away with time. "I'm hanging up. Get your ass over here."

He hesitated for a moment. "I love you" He added, and quickly ended the call, discerning a sense of excitement and anxiety that he could not name. He walked out of his room, heading toward the stairs, he was nearly at the bottom step when he remembered he was in boxers, not exactly presentable. After a beat of hesitation, he returned to the bedroom, grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the closet, and ran down the stairs to the bathroom. He combed his hair, washed his face, and dressed his lower half hurriedly.

When Leon reached the living room he sat on the couch, arm on the armrest, palm on his cheek, other hand on his thigh. "Come on," he mumbled to himself, waiting. His fingers tapped the leather of the couch lightly, his foot tapped in anticipation. Then he texted. "Don't knock. Just come in."

He wouldn't greet you at the door like a gentleman. That wouldn't be appropriate for a man who hadn't been your man for a year. He didn't want to act like he had been waiting for you this whole time. Leon wanted to show you, without saying anything, that he'd made progress. He would show you just how serious he was, how over you he was. If not then maybe you could show him. Show him the way back into your arms. That was the more realistic option.

The doorbell rang, but Leon remained seated on the couch, staring at the door. You stepped inside, looking at him on the couch. Much to his disappointment you were clothed.

"Um.. hi.." you smiled at him nervously, your hands fumbling with the buttons of your coat. Your eyes flicked towards the window, then back at Leon. The tension between the both of you is discernible. Neither of you wanted to look the other person in the eyes, but you found yourself unable to break contact. Your lips parted slightly, but the words died as he spoke in your place.

"Come here."

Slowly, you approached the couch, placing your feet carefully on the ground. Leon watched you with a passion that you were not used to seeing. And then, slowly, hesitantly, you crawled onto his lap. His legs tensed under your body, as he assessed you into an acceptable position, making no move to embrace you. When you finally settled, Leon spoke again. "Tell me what you want." He whispered. You bit your lip, nervousness overtaking your features, as well as your thoughts. You didn't know what to tell him.

He unbuttoned your jacket, then gently pushed it to the floor where it landed on the carpet. Once your coat was off, he wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling your shirt over your chest. "This is what you want, huh?" His voice was rough, and he leaned closer, capturing your lips with his. He kissed you softly at first, allowing you to relax and enjoy the moment before deepening the kiss. Leon pulled away, holding you firmly against him, kissing along your jawline as he held you in place by your neck, his thumbs massaging your soft skin, watching as your skin moved and formed around his fingers. As much as he might want to continue, he knew better than to push too far.

"Tell me, tell me this is what you need."

"Yes- Leon just- keep"

He put a hand over your mouth. "That's all I needed." And he kissed you again. Pulling you apart nerve by nerve, relaxing you, he lifted your chin with his index finger and kissed your cheeks gently one last time. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too." You replied, smiling shyly.

Leon took his hand from your shoulder, placing it on your neck. "shh." He whispered, pressing his fingers to your lips, "We can talk later." He gave a gentle push. "Bedroom. Wait there for me."

Your eyes fell shut at his touch. For a split second, you wondered why he was being so generous. Why he was taking such good care of you when he knew everything was over now? You wanted to say, "why?", but then realized that you wouldn't get any reply. So, you stayed quiet, nodded, and left to walk upstairs.

His room was bare, aside from a bed, a closet, and bottles of alchol. The rest looked like a guest bedroom. Leon's gaze lingered on you before he entered his room. A small smile came to his lips.

"You know," you began, your eyes fixated on the floor, hands clasped behind you, swaying slightly as you continued your story. "For someone who was always so eager to talk to me, you sure are quiet tonight."

Leon chuckled lowly. "Yeah, guess I am," he admitted, running his hands through his messy, swarthy locks as he leaned against the wall by the entrance, arms crossed against his chest. "What brought this sudden interest in me anyway? Wasn't expecting this, but I wouldn't say I mind it. It's been, so long.." he trailed off, not wanting to bring up anything unpleasant that went on before.

"I've thought about you every day for the past three months," you confessed, glancing sideways at Leon with a playful smile on your lips, hoping it would ease some of the stress in the air between them. "And I want to make things right."

"How are you gonna do that, hmm?" Leon inquired, moving towards you. "By sitting naked in my bed for me?" He hooked his thumb under your panties and tugged them down a little, exposing the sensitive skin underneath. He smirked, licking his lips at the sight of your flushed puffy, beautiful skin. He pulled his gaze upwards, looking directly at rosey, swollen lips. He lowered his eyes, looking straight at your soaking clit. "Fuck, you're beautiful." Leon breathed, "How do I make you scream my name?" He teased, running his fingers gently across your slit, teasing it slightly. "I hardly remember.."

You blinked furiously. "You don't even need to try." Your voice cracked slightly, and you cleared your throat, "Please, Leon. Make it easy for me." His hands slid up beneath your thighs, lifting you until you straddled his knees, pressing against him. "You sure?" He asked, running his tongue over his bottom lip, licking away a bead of sweat that had appeared on your brow. "Cause it doesn't seem that easy to me, babe." His fingers glided into your pussy, massaging your clit slowly as he ran his tongue across your neck. "Just let go, be a good girl." He suggested, pulling his fingers away and dropping his weight on top of you.

All 6.7 inches, pulsing against your navel, he pushed you down on your back as he lay atop you. Your hips automatically rose and sunk into the mattress, feeling his length glide up your thighs. He positioned himself between your legs, resting his upper body against yours. He kneaded the skin on your hips and waist as he situated you so you were ready for him. He paused momentarily, looking at you intently, before dipping his head down low and letting spit dribble over your folds, covering your flower with spit.

As you felt his saliva enter your body alongside his fingers, your eyes closed tightly and you cried out at the intense sensations. He kept working the moisture in between your legs, spreading it around lazily, as he waited for you to adjust.

You moaned, arching your back, your back hitting the mattress as Leon pushed his fingers deeper into you and then out, causing you to whine. "Shhh, it's okay," Leon whispered, leaning forward, pressing his forehead against yours. With his fingers spread wide over your opening, he slowly pushed himself inside of you, his head hanging loosely over your shoulders. You gasped at the feeling of Leon entering your middle. "There we go, yeah?" Leon whispered, still holding you close, his mouth brushing against the shell of your earlobe. His tip squished against your walls. You squeezed your legs together on either side of him, feeling yourself getting wetter. "Relax," Leon instructed. Slowly, you relaxed your muscles. It was only after several seconds that he seated himself completely, stretching you. You whimpered at the sensation of Leon filling you up, almost overwhelming. Leon's face contorted into a smile as he watched you writhe helplessly under him. He started thrusting into you hard, making you gasp and moan loudly as your hands searched wildly for stability as you both rocked against each other. "Oh god.." You murmured breathlessly, wrapping your legs tightly around Leon's waist, holding his hips tight.

"That's it, baby, take it." He encouraged, increasing his pace. He reached up and grabbed the headboard, pulling his hips back and snapping into you as his entire length filled you once more. Plushy walls encircled his cock. "God.. Little slut's… so tight." He muttered, throwing his head back as he thrust harder, faster, harder. The both of you were panting now, and he threw his head forward, almost slamming against your cheek. "So close. Fuck, so fucking close." He growled. He pressed the back of your head harder into the pillow in order to hold you in place. "You're so fucking- mean.. Leaving me all alone for a goddamn year" He panted. "You don't get to leave. Not this time-" he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse while his dick pumped lazily inside of you. You clenched your fist tightly around his hair, his name slipping from your lips involuntarily.

"Shit!" He cried, snapping back up, sensitive and overstimulated. He captured your nipple in his mouth as he thrusts into you again, and again, and again, faster and harder, your cries muffled by his hand as they vibrated in your neck, his breathing labored. "Come on.. baby." He begged. "Cum for me." He groaned against your neck. His words were slurred and his movements were slow, but he was still moving so vigorously inside of you that it sent shocks of pleasure through your whole body. Leon's grip on your waist tightened as he grunted, pulling you tightly against him. He was so sensitive that he could barely stand it. When he felt you tighten and cum all over his dick he pulled out. Looking down at your wet folds and his soaked, shiny shaft, Leon swallowed dryly, closing his eyes briefly. He stood up, bending over to the nightstand. He grabbed a half-drunken bottle of whiskey, uncapped it with a shaky hand, and drank from it. He barely felt the burn. He came back to rest and forced you to sit up. You reached for the bottle but he pushed your hand away.

"Open your mouth."

You opened your mouth wide enough for him, watching as he poured some of the alcohol into his mouth, and then he kissed you, lips moving against your mouth as fire trickled down your throat and warmed your insides. He tasted of liquor and mint.. and Leon.

You flopped against his pillow, still leaking and exhausted from your orgasm. You lay there quietly, waiting for Leon to finish drinking, but instead, his body tensed and he quickly got off you. "I'll be back." He took the bottle with him downstairs. You sat in his room, cold and beginning to feel a small bit of regret for what happened between you two. Leon returned moments later, carrying a towel and a glass of water. "Oh..' You smiled, laughing to yourself. Still so fucked out and intoxicated by him. You hadn't even noticed that Leon began cleaning you up. He dabbed at your lips and chin with the towel, wiping away any remaining evidence of his presence. You gasped and whined. "shh baby.. I'm here."

"always will be."

[obitez]

Hit the Floor

For @bucktommyangstweek Day 6: Bedside Vigil

wc: 2,649 | Rating: T | Warnings: Hospitals

~~~~~~~~

It was a Tuesday in mid January when they ran into each other again. (Well, ran into might not be the correct phrase.)

Almost two and a half months had passed since Tommy had broken up with Buck, and after all of the holiday season, Buck was finally starting to grow past it. 

It didn’t help that his parents had brought it up when they had come over during Christmas, or that Albert had also come after spending almost three years in Korea, bringing his new fiance to visit the US as well. 

But it was all fine, Buck kept telling himself. Sure, his breakup with Tommy was almost as bad as his breakup with Abby, maybe even worse depending on which angle he thought about it from, but he was finally starting to grow past it. 

That was until he had run into two of Tommy’s crewmates as he and Chimney were dropping someone off at the ER. 

“Hey Buck, you mind waiting a couple minutes while I go to the bathroom real quick?” Chimney asked as he finished handing off the patient to the hospital staff. 

“No,” Buck said. “We got time, go ahead,” After the other guys finished up on the last scene they had headed back to the fire house and hadn’t gotten called back out yet. They didn’t really need to be anywhere right now. 

As Chimney headed down the hall, Buck leant against one of the walls, and pulled out his phone, scrolling through it. 

“Is that you Buckley?” he heard a voice asked from a couple yards away from him. 

Buck’s head nearly popped up, totally not expecting someone to call out to him and he looked towards the voice. It took a second to place the man’s face, but he recognized the man as Ian Thompson, and standing next to him was Brian Colby, two of the guys at Harbor Station he had met while visiting Tommy there a couple times. 

“Ian?” Buck asked. “Um, yeah… What’s up?” 

“Oh, we were just dropping a patient off,” Ian said. “Figured we’d pay Tommy a visit before we leave. You doing the same?” 

“Visit Tommy?” Buck repeated. He was visiting Tommy as in… “Tommy’s in the hospital?” Buck asked. 

Ian blinked, looking slightly surprised. “Yeah,” he said. “I take it you haven’t heard?” 

“Heard… Heard what?” Buck asked, almost scared to hear their answer. If Tommy was in the hospital for what seemed like an extended time, then… 

“Last week,” Ian started. “We were called out to a structure fire. It started getting bad really fast. The place started collapsing while Tommy and two others were still inside. We were able to get them out pretty quickly, but Tommy took some bumps to the head. He’s still upstairs.” 

Buck had heard about that call last week. But he seemed to have missed out on two key details about that story: that it was the 217 responding to the call, and that it was Tommy who had been hurt. 

Tommy who had been hurt and was apparently still in the hospital. He had been in the hospital for a week at this point. That only happened when someone was really, really hurt. 

Like after he had gotten crushed by a fire truck and struck by lightning, hurt. 

It was then that Chimney walked back from the bathroom and down the hallway they were standing in. Seeing his brother-in-law knocked Buck out of the short trance he had fallen into. 

“Chimney, did you know Tommy was in the hospital?” Buck said, turning to look at the man. 

Chimney had been entirely caught off guard by that question. “What?” he asked. 

Buck turned back to look at the other two firefighters he had been talking to. “Where did you say he was?” he quickly asked. 

“Oh, he’s upstairs,” Ian said. “Third floor, ICU.” 

Full Fic on AO3

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

So when I was in college, I initially began with my lifelong dream to become an artist. I was in fine arts, trying to get a degree, with 15 credits my 1st semester of almost entirely art courses, save a single college introduction class I was required to complete.

And yet I lasted 1 semester before switching majors.

It was one professor in particular who completely burned me the fuck out by being a relentless motherfucking piece of shit. I'd actually written to the dean half way through that semester about the professor, and he was never seen again at the college after said semester ended. Whether he was fired or left, I'm not sure.

But nobody liked this man.

Said professor on the very first day saw a student who bought the correct size sketch pad but the slightly wrong type (it was an incorrect paper weight), and he straight up flipped the pages lazily and, in front of the entire class, loudly declared, "You will never get an A in my class." Not once, not twice, but three times he said this in the span of one minute to the girl.

He told students repeatedly throughout the semester that they would never make it as artists.

However, it was obvious that I was his primary target.

No matter how incredible and accurate my works were, even when other professors I had repeatedly and deeply commended me for the things I drew or modeled or crafted, this one professor continuously told me, more than anyone else, that I was a terrible artist. Word for word he said, "You are a terrible artist." Or alternatively, after every class, he'd see my assigned drawing and inevitably say to me, "Your drawing is terrible."

At one point, everyone in the class sat in an arc and did the exact same drawing of shaded rectangular objects in a still life from different angles, and at the end, each student put their works on display in the fine arts building so it was the first thing anyone saw when entering. A huge honor!!

But the professor saw mine, no different from anyone else's, and said, "This is unacceptable. It's all wrong. You cannot hang this up." And he made me redo the piece overall to even consider it for a grade, then still never let me hang it because, somehow, it was still unacceptable.

Not a single artwork I completed in his course received above a C+ grade.

And at the end of the semester, my professor told me word for word, "You have no business being an artist. Why are you taking art classes?"

I looked at him and replied with something to the effect of, "I was going to be an artist, but I don't want to anymore because of you." I then took my fucking sketchbook and walked out without another word.

I switched majors after this.

My spirit was broken. For years I did not draw at all. I hardly made any art whatsoever for a good 6 years, in truth. I used to come home and draw every single day for over a decade!!! I took my sketchbook to the beach and drew on the beach!! I took it with me when I went traveling with my family to any place at all!! My middle and high school teachers knew me for my art, and I even entered into competitions sometimes, and had pieces I'd drawn put in college galleries on several occasions!!! I literally sat there making art every single day religiously!!!! It was all I ever did growing up!!!

And yet for 6 years it actually mentally hurt me like a knife ripping a fissure in my brain if I even so much as lifted a pencil or tablet pen. I couldn't even begin to fathom drawing anything. Ever. Not to any extent.

My professor had told me so many cruel things, said such terrible stuff about my skills and ability as an artist.

So why would I want to make art after all that??

What reason did I have to be an artist when I was so awful at art as a whole???

And I genuinely believed this for so many years. I dreaded art, I'll even admit I feared it!

But all the same... I missed it terribly. I'd do small things here and there, minor pixel sprites for like an RPG Maker character, but nothing akin to the full cityscapes I'd draw, or the large 4ft x 2ft fantasy still life pieces, let alone realism portraits. And truthfully, I was lucky to so much as complete the very rough sketch layout of anything at all. I actually fully completed maybe 4 things from start to finish in that time frame of 6 years.

I'd gone from hundreds of pieces per year to 4 pieces in 6 years.

It felt like a failure of all that I stood for, and everything I was and worked to achieve my entire life.

Yet the yearning for art, the freedom of creation, it never eluded me regardless of what I tried to do. It felt like a desperate, innocent soul bound in chains and tortured endlessly without a way to be free from his binds unless he could make art once more.

And finally, early last year, I said fuck it.

I could be the world's worst artist, and still make art. It didn't have to be good or acceptable to anybody, myself included, in order for it to be worthy of being called art.

I didn't have to be incredible at art to be deemed worth of the title of artist.

So long as I made things, entirely regardless of what anyone said about them, I was free. Neither approval nor disapproval had any right to determine my validity or my permission to create in any capacity.

Last year, I picked up art again. Not entirely drawing, but instead other forms. 3D models of my characters put in custom scenery photoshopped and edited by myself. Pixel drawings done by keyboard and mouse. Physical pixel pieces with Perler beads melted together. Sewing plushies and various blankets both by hand and machine.

I wanted to liberate myself from the shackles of judgment and stop equating the approval of my art to the right to make art at all.

And it was a fucking grueling, long 6 years. Truly, it was fucking hard.

Yet I did it because not a damn soul has the right to tell me I can't. Not even myself. I'm not going to let others bar me from creativity anymore.

These 3 pieces are pixel drawings I did in the last year. Fully and entirely digital pixel art done by hand.

These are 2 physical pixel pieces I have done in the last year. That 1st one used over 12,000 beads placed by hand.

Those are 2 Photoshop pieces I made using various assets I edited by hand to fit the overall scene.

And these two pieces I made in Photoshop just this week with various assets, as well as my own modeled characters. I had them professionally printed, then put them in frames, and I'm proud to say that both will be on display at a local queer center for their transgender art show on Transgender Day of Visibility next Friday. :)

I've hauled ASS to make this happen. The countless late nights I've spent just creating until I lost track of time are... astounding. There were times I buried myself in creativity so much that I would start at 8pm and suddenly it was 5am and I had no idea of which day. I have to begin physical therapy because I've aggravated an old injury by doing so much art lately.

But you know what?

It brings me immense joy to make the things I do.

I could have the whole world up my ass yelling and screaming from the mountaintops that my art is shit and I'm terrible at what I do, and I wouldn't give a goddamn fuck about it. I'll sit in my little corner making the things I do, having fun, and enjoying myself.

Because approval has no bearing on my right to create anything.

So let this show anyone, no matter who you are or what you feel about your skill, that you're allowed to create regardless of opinions and approval. The fact that you make anything at all is incredible, and you yourself are doing amazing just for the mere fact that you're creating art of any sort.

Don't stop making art. Even if the world is against you, keep making it. Even if everyone says it's terrible, keep making stuff. Even if the top of the top tells you you'll never make it, tell yourself it doesn't matter, and keep creating art.

Because your freedom to create is more important than the approval of what you create.

The freedom of creativity is more important than your level of skill at creating what you do.

Terrible art is better than no art. And truly you'll find the more you make, the less you'll feel bad about what you make because the joy of creating outshines the fear of doubt.

Fuck the haters. You are worthy of creativity regardless.

[avcnturine]

HE HAD TO HAND IT TO THE GENTLEMAN:　♤　he's made of stronger stuff than he'd expected, holding so tight to getting him to leave like that. those stone-gold eyes are enough to pin anyone in place, and it's been a while since he's been lectured like this. the aventurine remains in place, tall-backed and rooted, neither swaying nor bending where gold lapis steps nearer, nearer ; where the other walks, head turns to allow vivid eyes to trail half-smiling, never straying from the bearing of the man who pronounces caution like edict and dresses him in a vision of horrors with, no doubt, the expectation they'd make him think twice.

looks like he wasn't the only one here to whom there was more than met the eye. just what kind of person had he stumbled on in that innocuous souvenir store in liyue harbor's downtown? there are a few scattered clues to that in what he says, but more than that, there's a few things he's missing, too.

head shakes, undaunted and a little regretful, as arms fold comfortably with a nonchalant slant of hips, hand to either elbow. "it sounds like you're really adamant about this. no doubt you have a strong sense of responsibility to others. i can admire that. and i also don't doubt that's exactly what this heliobus is looking to take advantage of." in sharp contrast to the leaden gravity of zhongli's warning, aventurine's voice stays airy——as though they were two associates meeting to discuss future plans, and he were gesturing to nothing more pressing than an errant data point on a graph. "like i said earlier: rather than wasting time debating me over this, shouldn't we be focusing on how to save the people here? our challenger might be forced to wait for you, but that doesn't mean everyone else in this garden won't suffer for it."

of course, he's not so ungracious to the man as to imply ' unless you don't care very much about that '.

but a heavy, acquiescent sigh in the next moment uncrosses his arms and straightens his posture again before he can earn more of wherever zhongli's steely ire had sprouted from——he's not so stubborn to keep circling the same drains, it seems to say, and is more than happy to accommodate the other's requests in the spirit of collaboration towards what really matters. his next words yield, steady but submitting willingly to the other's unmoving terms ; he hadn't come here to keep secrets, and there wouldn't be much point in doing so when it'd only hurt their endgame. "i already said it earlier, but dangerous situations aren't exactly new to me. possession, dismemberment, death——i wouldn't say it's run of the mill, but to some extent, ' risk ' is part of the ten stonehearts' job description."

feet turn, angling him toward the deeper annals of fyxestrolls' winding labyrinths, and he casts his gaze out comfortably across the murky, curated landscape with a mild appreciation. a marriage of human handiwork and nature's growth, the perpetually gloomy fyxestroll had a kind of isolated promise about it that attracted everyday visitors in spite of its ambiance. "as for protection, you probably aren't aware that each of the strategic investment department's stonehearts boasts something a little extra from the average person. don't worry——this is isn't leaking company secrets. it's called a cornerstone. think of it as a fraction of godly power. each one is unique to the person it comes from."

" ' the blessing of Preservation ' . . . that's what it's called. the ipc has always walked in the footsteps of our benefactor. though we don't have time to get into the details, i hope that's enough to put you a little more at ease. i can promise you——you don't have to prioritize my safety." with that, he starts walking: heading down the sloping walkway, deeper into fyxestroll, closer to the shrouded, seldom-trod paths of the garden where the heliobus undoubtedly waits. vibrant eyes pinch ever so slightly on the next smile——a touch ophidian, though not unfriendly. "on the contrary, now that i've told you all this, it's only fair to explain why you're just as sure you can walk out unscathed."

| like calls to like |

Gnostic Hymns, Fyxestroll Garden Commission

[mask131]

I am re-reading the Silmarillion, and something strikes me. The women of Tolkien's world have been talked about TO DEATH especially with all the recurring debates surrounding the Rings of Power series.

As we all know, Tolkien was not a "feminist" in the modern sense of the word. He had a very male-centric point of view and appreciation of the world, he had male-driven and male-centered stories, and actual women characters were sparse and rare. There are only five really big female characters in "The Lord of the Rings" - the quintet of Galadriel, Eowyn, Goldberry, Lobelia and Shelob. [No, don't talk to me about Arwen, she only really was a character in the movies, in the book she's just there in the appendix and she was literaly an afterthought of Tolkien to act as Eowyn's romantic double...]

Consider this. Galadriel, Eowyn, Goldberry, Lobelia and Shelob. This tells you everything you need to know about Tolkien's women, in good and bad.

The Silmarillion has the same motif of having a lot of female characters, only for most of them to be just footnotes, secondary characters with no lines, under-developped one-liners... with in a contrast a handful of super-cool, super-badass, complex and developed heroines at the center of the plot.

Aka, on the bad side, when listing the Valar, while Tolkien gives an interesting personality, great domains and cool attributes to all the male ones, half of the female ones are just... there. And do one stuff. And never appear again. I mean come on... Vana and Nessa? Estë and Vairë were done dirty... That's the actual type of "non-feminism" Tolkien has. It isn't about him hating women or trying to be offensive in his depictions - it is about him just, not putting as much thought, effort and care into his female characters as his male ones, a bit the same way he creates the vast expanses of the East and South of Middle-Earth and then never bothers actually developing more of it or seeking to tell tales of it - but that's for another discussion about Tolkien's "racism". Here we talk about women.

But here's the thing, aka the good side... When Tolkien does find the time and care to develop and flesh out a female character, by Iluvatar he goes all out! Again, we are back on what I said earlier: the women of Lord of the Rings can be counted on one hand... but these fingers are Galadriel, Eowyn and Shelob, so you can't claim he isnt writing powerful, important or uninterestng female characters. Which leads me to my original remark - as usual I get driven away in digressions of all sorts and kinds.

Have you ever noticed that Melkor's greatest enemies, the ones he fears the most, and his most effective foes... are women? Tolkien might not like to put them front and center of his tales, and he might have been a man of the early 20th century England in culture and mind, but boy does he has something to say about how women are actually the first enemies of the literal embodiment of evil and destruction! I mean think about it. Varda of the Stars, and Yavanna of the trees. Nienna has her ambiguous relationship to him - her tears work against him, and yet without her plea for him he likely would not have been released from the dungeons of Mandos. You have Melian with her Girdle, and Luthien with her Hound. And of course most of all Arien, guardian of the Sun, not only one of the rare fire spirits that Melkor couldn't corrupt (despite him basically ruling over all fire), but that frightens him so much he keeps hiding away and doesn't even dare to attack her... [I also reblogged some times ago a post praising the brilliance of Tolkien keeping the old European sun-moon motifs but switching the genders. The weaker, inconsistant, lustful, whimsical, disorderly, untrustworthy Moon is now a male principle, while the steady, dangerous, strong, powerful and beautiful Sun is a woman.]

It is actually REALLY easy to do a feminist retelling of Tolkien's work. Melkor doesn't fear Manwë as much as Varda. Aulë's works and servants get corrupted by Melkor, while Yavanna's do not. Melian and Luthien actively works against him. He friggin' pisses himself when the Woman of the Sun shows up. Sure, there are some evil female characters that serve him down the line and are relegated to the "obscure footnotes and undescribed secondary characters" zone - Thuringwethil the vampire or queen Beruthiel. I coul also dropped deleted characters from early drafts, like the ogress Fluithuin. But among them stands Ungoliant... THE only true female big bad on the dark side of Arda. THE badass, nightmarish, creepy eldritch abomination. And who ends up double-crossing Melkor, almost KILLING him, and again making him basically shit in his pants - as Varda and Arien do.

The first enemies of Morgoth are not the Valar, or the Maiar, or the Elves... It's women.

[the-oracle-of-the-lost]

Severance has really got me thinking about the ethics of sentient holograms in Star Trek. it's not quite the same thing as splitting someone's memories and treating one version of them as "not real" but it's still essentially creating aperson and expecting their entire existence to revolve around work and serving others. like The Measure of a Man was entirely about establishing that if a being is sentient then they have the right to consent and make choices about their own life and the Federation seemed to eventually agree that androids fell under that category. but then they turned around and immediately invented a new category of non-person to force to work without granting them free will and no one seems to acknowledge that this could maybe be a little ethically dubious.

[rabbithaver]

why is this loser so hyperfixated on trying to ruin the literal one thing that brings me any amount of joy. get a hobby that isnt harassing an unemployed and disabled 27 year old about a fucking comic book

[sysig]

He’s my little meow meow, my darling, my bbygirl (Patreon)

[kutepik]

Eyes on you

(nsfw 18+) Caleb has hidden cameras all over his house, and you've decided to put on a show for him.

2k words. posted also on ao3!

stalking, obsessive behavior, voyeurism, fem!reader.

Cameras. There were hidden cameras all over his house. There wasn't a bookcase or a mirror that didn’t have a little dot on it, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye. You only knew they were there by accident: when you took the elevator to Caleb's apartment, you bumped into an excited boy wearing a cap and uniform of a security company. 

"Are you Mr. Caleb's girlfriend? What a pleasure, I only saw you in pictures!" The boy waved, taking you by surprise. 

"No... I'm just a friend." You said a little confused, and the energetic boy explained himself.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I saw so many photos of Mr. Caleb with you the day I went to install those cameras that I thought you were dating. He also said he was installing the cameras to protect someone he liked." Cameras? What cameras? You thought, but before you could say anything, the elevator door opened and the boy jumped out. "Let me know if any of them stop working, I've installed so many I've almost lost count! Bye!" And so he disappeared down the hall.

Now you were in the living room, standing there in the middle, feeling the weight of your body and your movements, self-conscious about yourself and alert to the fact that you were being watched. Was he watching you? Now? Right now? That’s fucked up. Jail worthy. Caleb was obsessed with you and if your recent reunion hadn't already proved it, the dozen or hundreds of hidden cameras scattered around that room were proof that Caleb was sick. 

But we know the saying: When you point one finger, there are three fingers pointing back to you. More sickening than knowing that you were being watched, from every angle and probably in every room, was the fact that you were aroused. The spot between your legs throbbed, excited by the situation, by the fact that Caleb had probably seen you naked, had seen you sleeping, had seen you showering... It was so fucking wrong that, despite being against everything he had done in Skyhaven right after the reunion, you still delighted in remembering the possessiveness and obsession that melted at the words of your friend, oh, dear friend. 

In addition to the burning sensation between your legs, there was this tingle in your stomach at the thought of a man - not just any man, we're talking about Caleb - being so concerned, so devoted to you that he would kill and die for your happiness. In fact, a man who returned from the ashes and survived for you and you alone. He was no longer your sweet childhood friend... But that wasn't a bad thing. Now he became a man who had eyes (many, it seems, all over the house), only and exclusively for you. Caleb was crazy about you, and, oh shit, you loved it, which made you as crazy as he was. 

So you had two options: the first was to confront Caleb about why the fuck he had installed so many cameras in the apartment if the only person who spent time there apart from him was you; the second was to pretend you didn't know anything and carry on with your life as if everything was normal. 

You always chose the second option when it came to Caleb, ever since you were a teenager and in college. Whether it was sneaking around his room and finding your panties secretly hidden in the back of his closet, or listening to him masturbate while calling your name when he thought he was alone, you always pretended everything was normal. But ever since, and even more so now that you've found each other again, there was nothing normal about it, and no reason to carry on in the same way. After all, if he had changed, there was no reason for you to remain the same or pretend you didn't know anything. 

Then there was a third and new option: pretending not to know anything, but taking advantage of the situation to play with Caleb. Basically, make him taste his own medicine. If he wanted to see you, well, he would.

Pretending to be normal, you sat down on the sofa and took off your coat, throwing it on the coffee table. You took out your cell phone and called his number. 

"Is my favorite guest home yet?" Caleb answered in his usual animated voice. 

"Yeah. I'm bored. Still working? Is it break time?" You remembered that around this time he was most active on social media, so it should be the best time to put into action what you had in mind.

"Ah…You've always been very clever. Yes, I'm on break. I'll be home in two hours and we can do whatever you want. Don't get bored, you can turn on the TV or play a game on the console I have." Caleb was always like that, attentive to you, always wanting to please you. He wasn't much of a gamer, but because you liked games, he had bought a console with the excuse that he was getting interested in games. But now you weren't going to play with the console. You were going to play with something else. 

"Oh, no..." You put the phone on speaker and placed it on the arm of the sofa. You lifted your shirt and brought your fingers up to your bra, massaging your nipples. "I want to relax, not play." You said, holding your right breast while spreading your legs, slipping anxious fingers into your pants, brushing the fingertips against the wet panties. 

The call went silent. Bingo. He was indeed watching you, like the pervert he was. 

"Caleb?" You asked innocently, keeping your voice steady as you started moving your hand in circles, making it obvious what you were doing inside those tight pants. 

"A-ah, yes. Relax..." His breathing was heavy on the other end of the line, and suddenly you heard the sound of a zipper being opened. You had to stop yourself from moaning just then. He was starting to touch himself while watching you. "Why don't you, uh, take a shower in my bathroom?" His voice was a little choked. He was probably pumping himself slowly, staring at your live image through the screen in his office. Your pussy throbbed and suddenly your pants were too tight and too hot. You stopped stroking your own breasts and took both hands to the waistband of your trousers, sliding them down your legs. Then you took off your shirt, leaving only your panties and bra on. You positioned yourself again, this time with your legs spread wider and your heels resting on the table in front of the sofa. Your fingers returned to the soaked fabric of your panties, touching the sensitive clit through the wet cloth. 

"Yeah, I'll have a shower, I'm just finishing something up." With your middle finger, you moved your panties to one side to touch yourself directly. You bit your lip, holding back a moan, and squeezed your breast with your other hand. 

"Fuck..." he swore. 

"All right?" You replied innocently, holding back your unsteady voice as you carried on stimulating your clit at a steady pace. You wanted him to think you didn't know about the cameras, so you had to stay as normal as possible on the phone.

"Yup... I- I just hit my finger," he lied, slurring his words. 

"Caleb-" You said, catching your breath. "I miss you,"

"I miss you too." He sounded almost breathless. "I can come over now."

"No, you can't. There's work. Or is there something urgent you need to do here?" You quickly pulled down your panties, leaving them between your thighs. Then, out of the blue, you heard the unmistakable sound of a camera zooming in. He must have been eating you with his eyes, and now he wanted a closer look. You opened your folds, circling your fingers around the soaked entrance, like a pervert. You slowly moved the fingers up to your clit, stimulating yourself obscenely again. The other end of the line was completely silent, only a few low sounds and grunts were audible. "Caleb, is there something urgent you need to do here?" 

"Uh-" He stammered, and you raised your hips a little, grinding against your hand. "Fuck, fuck," he said. He didn't bother with sentences anymore. 

"What’s up with you? I'm feeling lonely and bored here. Can't you entertain me?" You teased innocently, but your legs were already shaking. 

"I can entertain you. Ah-" For a second, you heard the wet, rhythmic sound of his thrusts against his own hand. Oh my. Caleb had his pants down, sat somewhere in the FAA, and was touching himself like a teenager while he watched you. And you fucking loved it. "I can entertain you... I can be so, so good for you, if you let me." His voice was raspy and breathless. If you weren't so close to your orgasm, you might've asked him if everything was alright and put him in a tough spot again, but you couldn't even think about that. You were too caught up in your own pleasure. One hand was on your nipple under your bra, the other was all over your clit, and you arched your back on the sofa.

"I- I know you know how to entertain me. You're so good to me, always." You gasped, no longer caring that he was probably listening to the sound of your quick fingers against the wet flesh of your vagina. 

Suddenly, you heard a muffled cry on the other end of the line and several "Fuck, fuck, fuck" being whispered like a mantra at a low volume, as if he had his hand against his own mouth. He was coming. And that was all it took for the tingling at the base of your belly to explode and flow out of your pussy in an obscene and intense orgasm. 

You had just squirted all over the living room table and carpet, and had probably wet the sofa as well. The two of you were silent, only the audible gasp of your breaths as you caught your breath. 

"Caleb? Are you still there? It seems the connection was cut." You lied, still pretending you didn't know anything. He coughed and the sound of things being adjusted or stirred could be heard in the background. 

"Yeah, yeah… Probably disconnected or something." 

You got up and stood next to the sofa, looking at the mess you had left there. 

"Caleb I think I spilled...something on your sofa and carpet. Is there any cleaning cloth so I can clean it up?" You looked around. 

"NO!" Caleb almost shouted from the other side. "I mean, it's no problem, pipsqueak. You don't have to clean up. You must be tired from all this, right?" He cleared his throat. "From the trip, and everything. Just rest more, like I said, you can use my bathroom and take a shower if you want."

"Hm, where's that cleaning freak from before? Who are you and what have you done with my Caleb?" You heard a laugh on the other end of the line. 

"That's why. I'll take care of it. Please" The last word sounded as if he was begging. "I'll be home soon, and I'll be able to...entertain you, as you wish. We can, huh, relax together, too."

You laughed and picked up your cell phone, walking to the bathroom while dropping your bra in the hallway, knowing that he was watching here too. You picked up your wet panties and placed them on the bathroom door handle. In an instant, you could see a small dot hidden next to a painting, pointing directly at where you were standing. You stared directly at it, smiled and winked. 

"I'm waiting for you then, Caleb."

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

[nereidprinc3ss]

fixation

in which you love spencer reid's hands so much you could... well, you could practically eat them. or at least let him put his fingers in your mouth.

18+ (fluff, suggestive) warnings/tags: finger sucking...lol....., established relationship, ummmm d/s adjacent dynamics, like softdom spencer but there's no sex, pet names, teasing a/n: this was inspired by @gublersg1rl who said 2 nights ago she would suck spencer's fingers as he was reading a book. my beautiful angel with so many great ideas in her beautiful head. anyway this will not be my magnum opus in terms of quality but its just a fun short little thing I hope u like :D

Spencer is reading. 

He got home forty five minutes ago, and he’d hugged you and he’d kissed you—and they were good hugs and kisses, but as you sit curled on the opposite end of the couch from him, watching him read, it doesn’t feel like enough. Three days isn’t the longest he’s been gone, but you missed him like he was gone longer. And now, he’s not truly ignoring you—but he’s not giving you enough attention. It’s unintentional, but it’s making you feel all kinds of needy and overly-affectionate anyway. 

Especially when he’s so gorgeous. Ankle crossed over knee, lithe fingers skimming over the page to keep track of his place. Those hands are truly distracting. It’s unlike you to be struck by such wildly inappropriate thoughts so out of context, but here you are, having been without him for days, practically feverish on the couch as you imagine all the things they could do. All the things they have done. The way they've traced down your bare spine, up your side, so lovingly in the middle of the night... how they've touched you elsewhere...

And... that's enough.

Despite the whole committed relationship thing, you still feel a bit scandalized picturing him like that. And you know from experience these thoughts will only get worse if you stay over here, staring at him, wanting him, so you crawl across the couch and under his arm, settling your head in his lap and looking up at him expectantly. He chuckles—a quiet, dry thing, that says he’s only partially surprised by your behavior. 

“Well hello,” Spencer says, taking one hand off the book to settle on your leg. 

“Hi.”

For a moment he just studies you, affection seeping into his eyes along with the humor already there. “Can I help you?”

“Mhm.”

His brow darts up. 

“With what, baby?”

Baby. Your whole body tingles. He only calls you that when he’s feeling especially soft toward you and your whims. In turn you soften, and you both become rather mushy. 

Unfortunately your brain is not excluded from melting, and you look up at him helplessly. 

“Um…”

Spencer’s hand falls from your knee, taking an unnecessary but appreciated route down your thigh and up your stomach before settling on your cheek. He brushes away a few baby hairs before two knuckles begin drawing soft lines from the corner of your mouth up toward your ear and back again, and your stomach becomes a hail of butterflies. He’s got this soft smile on his face and you love him so much and he’s so sweet and perfect, you could just—

You’re not thinking very clearly when you tilt your head, angling your chin up until you catch his fingers against your lips. His eyes remain on yours as he traces the shape of your mouth with those same two knuckles—until you’re slowly parting, obstructing his path and offering a very different kind of invitation. Spencer’s eyes narrow fractionally and you watch the way his focus changes, the way he only tests the waters at first, letting the tips of his fingers trace the length of your bottom lip, before barely tugging down just enough to feel the soft warmth of the border of it. They skate over the ridge of your teeth and find the tip of your tongue, at which point you can’t help from closing your lips around his fingers, eyes fluttering contentedly as you draw them deeper into your mouth. His brows draw together, and those pretty pink lips part soundlessly like you’re the eighth wonder of the world in a way that has your thighs clenching. You hear the book shut and fall carelessly to the side table. He doesn’t even bother saving his place—too busy bringing that newly freed hand to your hair and combing gently against your scalp. 

It’s strangely calming to have him like this—he’s undeniably with you, undeniably close, against your lips and tongue. All your worries about his distance dissolve and you feel incredibly comforted. With his other hand, his thumb begins stroking a line from the bridge of your nose up your forehead, and you could pass out. 

“Comfy?” He asks after a long moment, slowly withdrawing his fingers from the heat of your mouth. You pout. 

“I was.”

Spencer hums, eyes soft on you. “I don’t think I should be nurturing your oral fixation, angel.”

“You didn’t like it?” You challenge, turning your head inward to nose at his stomach. He  cups your cheek with damp fingers and pointedly turns your head outward again. If he wasn’t so blushy and flustered and cute you might’ve cared more about the feeling of your own spit on your skin. 

“Don’t make it about me.”

You allow a minute to pass in silence. 

Fine.

“I liked it,” you say shyly. 

Spencer’s response is deeply fond as he smiles down at you. “Did you?”

Like he couldn’t tell. 

“Mhm. You should let me do it all the time.”

His smile flickers wider the way it does when he’s about to tease you. 

“I don’t know if you deserve it. I don’t know if you can be good all the time.”

You make a face. “Shut up.”

“Is that what we say when we want something?” Before he can pull his hand away, you nip at his fingers. He laughs. “You’re off to a terrible start. I think you need to work on your manners. Not bite the hand that… goes in your mouth.”

“Is that the saying?”

“I’m pretty sure,” he nods sarcastically, helping you up until you’re sitting across his lap. He lovingly tucks hair behind your ear, eyes warm as they flit across your face up close. “You know, that was incredibly unhygienic. So much bacteria it boggles the mind.”

“Yeah? That kinda turns me on.”

Spencer leans in to kiss you sweetly, choosing your mouth over his worry about bacterial transmission. “You are so psychologically concerning,” he whispers against your lips. You sling your arms around his neck. 

“Because of the bacteria thing or the oral fixation thing?”

His hands settle on your hips. “Both, lovely. For so many reasons.”

It’s only another tease, but you pull back anyway so he can see the full force of your pout. “Don’t say that. It’s mean.”

“I was kidding! It was a joke. I was joking.”

“It was mean.”

“Okay,” Spencer begins, patient and happy to untangle this ridiculous snag if that’s what it takes to make you content again, “Freud’s psychosexual stages of development are contentious at best. I’m not worried about your oral fixation because I don’t really believe in such a thing. I was just teasing you, but I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

“So you’ll let me do it again?”

Spencer pulls you back into another kiss. 

“You’re kind of insatiable, you know that?” 

When you don’t answer, only wait for him to respond, he sighs goodnaturedly. 

“You know you can have any part of me whenever you want it.”

You give him a winning smile and kiss his cheek in reward. 

“You’re so nice, Spence.”

“I thought I was mean.” 

“Now you’re nice.”

“Because you got what you wanted?” You nod enthusiastically. He seems not quite as thrilled, though perhaps distantly amused by his own helplessness when it comes to you. “Yeah, I feel like that happens a lot, doesn’t it?”

But it clearly doesn’t bother him that much. He’s still smiling when you kiss him again. 

[venuslut]

FANTASIZING ABOUT a needy Choso Kamo ♡︎.

He can’t help it. Ever since you first introduced him to sex, he just can’t get enough. It’s not his fault that your cunt is so addicting, so much so that he’s often begging you to let him fuck you on his cock. It’s not his fault that you moan so beautifully that he can’t help but thrust into you harder so you’ll make more of those pretty sounds for him. It’s not his fault that you taste so good and he has to have you on his tongue, drinking your juices until you’re shaking and crying. He doesn’t mean to be so needy, but you bring out this side of him he can’t control.

How is he supposed to control himself when you walk around in those skimpy clothes, showing off your plump ass and perfect tits? It’s impossible. He’ll try to resist, have some self-control. But it isn’t long before he’s hugging you from behind, dotting wet kisses along your neck and pushing his hard-on into your ass. All while he’s begging you let him feel your wet cunt. And of course you’ll let him, how could you say no to your cute desperate boyfriend.

The minute you agree he has you laid out under him as he fucks his big cock into your tight cunt. Moaning and whimpering about how good it feels to be inside you again, his face red as he pushes every last inch of himself into you. He uses his weight to thrust into you, which only made your head go dizzy. He has you in a lazy mating press and your plush thighs slap against his hips every time he comes down, the sound of Choso’s deep thrusts is so musical, his tip abusing your womb to the point your eyes roll back. His mouth is so filthy too, and the worst part is, is that he doesn’t even realize it. “Fuck, baby... you’re sucking me in... your pussy’s so tight.” He groans into your ear, sucking onto your skin and leaving purple marks behind, intent on marking you as his. Although there was no point since you still had the hickeys from your last encounter, but it was never enough for Choso.

The poor curse is so in love with your body that he’ll go on for hours and hours just playing with your body. If it was up to him, you both would never leave the bed. Who needs to eat when he can just eat your cunt and you can suck his cock? Who needs to sleep when there’s a new position he wants to try? This man will not stop because that’s how addicted he is to your cunt. You curse the curse’s stamina and sometimes wish you had a normal boyfriend, but he usually fucks those thoughts right out of your head before you can try and act on them. “Choso… ngh!— h-hold on, my body…” you mumbled, unable to fully say your sentence. He hits a particularly sensitive spot and you let out a strangled cry, bucking your hips wildly to try and get that same pleasure again. Choso eyed your reaction, angling his hips to continue hitting that spot over and over again til you’re seeing stars and screaming out his name. You had no thoughts about shame, or how you should lower your voice, not when your handsome boy was fucking you within an inch of your life.

“Right there? ‘s that the spot, dove?” He pants, voice hoarse from his overwhelming desire for you. You’ve lost track of time, to obsessed with the way Choso has you creaming around his cock for the nth time. Everything was too much, but you loved it, in an addictive way. The overstimulation was addicting. His words were addicting. The sound of the bed hitting the wall was addicting. His cock was addicting. He was addicting. You always tease Choso about his neediness when in reality, you’re just as needy and obsessed as he is. You can tell Choso is close by the way his cock twitched inside you and how he speeds up his movements, rutting into you with wild abandon and chasing his orgasm.

You throw your head back into a pillow, your vision almost going black as you were consumed with ecstasy. The air was knocked out of your lungs with every snap of his hips, your senses filled with just the pressure of Choso. It felt like you were gonna throw up, but not in a bad way. “Baby… babybabybabybaby! A-ah! Mgn…” you cried out in pleasure, clawing at the sheets below you. Choso’s hands tightened around your hips, his careful grip growing into a bruising hold as he was solely focused on reaching his climax. “Hah— you feel sososososo good, dove. I love you, I love you so much,” he whimpered. It was right there, he could feel it, just a couple more thrusts and he’ll finally have his release. He wants to cum so bad, he needs to cum.

“Hey dove? C-can I fill your pretty pussy with my cum? Wanna cum inside you,” he begged, his voice broken as he pleads with you. “Please, my love… I want to stuff your pussy with my cum, wanna fill you up…” he continues, kissing your ankle and calf to convince you further. You didn’t need much convincing though, you were already to dumb and out-of-it to deny the poor curse. Frantically, you nodded your head, just wanting to feel his hot semen inside you. And you finally got your wish after a few more sloppy thrusts, before Choso goes still and empties his balls into your awaiting cavern. He lets out a guttural moan as ropes of cum spurt out. Slowly, he pulls out, his cock coated in a translucent white, his thighs and pelvis sticky from a mix of sweat and cum.

You both lay there in silence, the sounds of your labored breathing being the only noise echoing through the room. While coming down from your high, you remember that the reason you even got dressed today was because you had work. Annoyed, you lightly smack the upside of Choso’s head, complaining about how he made you late while you go to get out of bed and put your clothes back on. Choso rubs the area where you hit him as he watched you struggle to move and get out of bed, he looks at you like a kicked puppy and he knows he should be sorry for making you late but he can’t find it in him to feel guilty. Instead, Choso reaches out and wraps his arms around you, pulling you back further onto the bed and flushed against his sweaty chest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and he lines soft kisses to your nape.

“I’m sorry, dove… Why don’t you call out and let me eat your pussy as an apology?”