#we have this rotation hole

[bismuthburnsblue]

finally finished tracing out the skirt embroidery!

there was a lot of adjusting i had to do to this to make it symmetrical and also just... make sense (seriously look at the original skirt for a few seconds and you'll start seeing all the places where its.... weird) but im super happy with my results! im planning on using this (or at least elements of it) on the rest of the costume to tie the thing together!

in the end, i couldnt get the lower flower to come out in a way i liked that also felt cohesive with the rest of the design, so i left it off, but i think its just as good without! you can see my first attempt at it in one of the templates below the cut though, if youre interested!

this was fun! idk if anyone other than me will find use in this, but it was worth it anyway,i learnt a lot about using the path tool in the process of making this & already have some future plans for the things i picked up on.

↓ versions with thicker lines and each element separated out into its own template ↓

thicker lines!

The border- this repeats perfectly, just match it center to center

The main flower

The upper flower

The Tulips! i included both directions here

[roychewtoy]

impaled

[secondpersonpoetry]

you’ve probably already read it before, but the poem Party by Kim Addonizio really got me tonight. first thought was “oh man. yeah” and then my second thought was “how can i make this about my hockey guys somehow………..”anyway! have a good one! 

oh. oh.

​

[advisorsage]

I still have shirts I got at about 13 or 14 years old that were expensive for the time. Maybe $40 per shirt I want to say. (That may be what they cost now. The only thing wrong with these shirts are small almost unnoticed holes and one had larger holes in the armpits from me having worn it near daily at one point. I saved that shirt because it's my favorite (I cut the sleeves off and the collar for good measure so it looks intentional) and now it will probably last another 10 years. The quality of my expensive shirts has not gone down. But the shirts I can typically afford? They not only wear out in what feels like a week or a month at best but they feel like shit and are way thinner. But I can't afford to stock up on the good quality expensive shirts. I get a couple of the expensive shirts every time I can and they're still the same. Still the same material and quality. Only difference is that the price is going up. This makes me think that the rich aren't having this problem like the rest of us are. It's the workboot problem all over again (you can't afford the nice boots so you but the cheap ones and have to replace them more often so you spend more money) and it's designed to suck away at our wallets. I'm not even sure sewing your own clothes would solve anything here because fabric is expensive so that's a barrier.

so many articles about Fast Fashion, not enough articles about what the hell is happening to the quality of clothes

Like okay. People own more pieces of clothing nowadays and they wear them a lesser number of times before throwing them out. BUT.

Why do we pretend like this is pure vanity or careless wastefulness, rather than forced by the qualities of the clothes themselves?

The other day, I was going through boxes of old clothes in the basement in search of fabric to practice sewing on. The difference in quality of the fabrics themselves is shocking! The worn-out old jeans from twenty years ago are MUCH thicker and tougher than anything more recent. My old baby clothes are made as sturdy as my work clothes from today.

In the past couple years, I have had entire seams rip out of clothes on the first wash. That's not normal!

Polyester blend shirts that feel cozy and soft when they are new, become scratchy and rough after 20 washes or so. I am trying to avoid polyester, but it gets harder and harder; the other day i couldn't find a single pack of crew socks that was 100% cotton. SOCKS!

Also, pilling is out of control. The newest pants I bought developed pills within a single day of walking around campus with a backpack.

These companies are trying to frog-boil us but touching clothes from twenty years ago, the useless crap of today would stick out like a sore thumb...

[fingertipsmp3]

Another thing that’s happening is my ankle decided to grow a bone spur. So that’s fun

[feline-evil]

Thinking about Kaz. Again.

Thinking about Pre (and during the early moments of) Peacewalker Kaz as a man with no home, nowhere to belong, nobody left to know him and the kind of void that leaves a man with; and thinking about Kaz's promiscuity in the 70's and layering both thoughts over themselves and nodding and going Yeah. Yeah. That could be something. Boy did it feel like it could fill that black hole inside you for just a moment when skin touched skin, hot and sweaty, endorphins flooding your brain. Did it feel like you could belong by someones side for a while if you lay beside them in bed after, gasping for air back in your lungs. Did nails digging in to your back and teeth on your neck make you feel wanted for once, did it make you feel like you were something solid, flesh and blood not just mist to slip through the worlds fingers and drift on to somewhere new. Did you lie there each time as you came down from it wishing you could say the feeling lingered but knowing it didn't, that yet again you felt alone even with another body beside you, that yet again you had to go. you had to leave. Keep moving, find another moment, another flash in a pan another spark in a cold dead night to feel it again, to connect mouth to mouth body to body just so you could stave off feeling that freezing emptiness for just thirty minutes more. And then you met a man who hit like a truck, fists and body and mouth like nothing else; just as angry and hurt as you, arm round your neck, constricting like a boa, wanting you as his so bad he wouldn't give in until he had you. And i bet that was just the perfect storm to really make you sink your teeth in and hold on for dear life because finally you have SOMETHING; and you don't even know that it's the very thing that's signing the final note in the inescapable tragedy that is your life. You think him and all you'll do together is a light at the end of the tunnel but baby boy that's a freight train's headlights barreling your way, and you're too infatuated in your own little fucked up way to even care.

[kleefkruid]

Every fun post on here that encourages people to have hobbies/be creative always gets an avalanche of "Some people are poor Karen" type reactions and respectfully, you're all super annoying. I've never lived above the poverty line and this is a list of hobbies I have that were cheap or entirely free:

Read books: Go to the library, lend a book from a friend

knitting, crochet, embroidery: Get some needles from the bargan store and ask around, people have leftovers from projects they'll happily give you. Thrift stores also often carry leftover fabric and other supplies. And talk about your hobby loud enough and an old lady will show up and gift you their whole collection, because there are way more old ladies with a closet full of wool than there are grandchildren who want to take up the hobby.

Origami/paper crafts: get some scrap paper and scissors, watch a youtube tutorial

walking: put on shoes open door

pilates/yoga/etc: get a mat or just use your carpet, watch a youtube tutorial

Houseplants: look online for people that swap plant cuttings. There are always people giving out stuff for free to get you started. If you're nice enough you'll probably get extra

gardening: You're gonna need some space for this one of course but you can just play around with seeds and cuttings from your grocery vegetables.

aquarium keeping is a bit of an obscure one but I got most of my stuff second hand for cheap or free and now I have a few thousand euro worth of material and plants.

drawing/art: You get very far just playing with bargan store materials. I did my entire art degree with mostly those.

writing: Rotate a cow in your head for free

cooking: again one you can make very expensive, but there are many budget recipes online for free. Look for African or Asian shops to get good rice and cheap spices.

Join a non-profit: Cities will have creative organisations who let you use woodworking machines or screen presses or laser cutters or 3D printers etc etc etc for a small fee. Some libraries also lend out materials.

candle making: You need some molds (cheap), wick, two old cooking pots for au bain marie melting and a ton of scrap candles, ask people to keep them aside for you.

a herbarium, flower pressing: Leaves are free, wildflowers too, ask if you can take from peoples gardens.

puzzles: thrift stores, your grandma probably

Citizen science: look for projects in your area or get the iNaturalist app

And lastly and most importantly: Share! Share your supllies, share your knowledge. Surround yourself with other creative people and before you know it someone will give you a pot of homemade jam and when you want to paint your kabinet someone will have leftover paint in just the right color and you can give them a homemade candle in return and everyone is having fun and building skills and friendships and not a cent is exchanged. We have always lived like this, it's what humans are build to do.

And all of it sure beats sitting behind a computer going "No stranger, I refuse to let myself have a good time."

Anyway I'm logging off bc I'm making some badges for a friend who cooked for me and then I'm going to fix some holes in everyones clothes.

[sirianasims]

Psssst! Hey! Yes, you! We need to talk about clubs:

Using the Clubs for Immersive Gameplay

Of all the systems that Sims 4 has, the club feature is probably one of my favourites (Restaurants are a close second, but they're not why we're here today!) Clubs are one of the easiest ways to increase your immersion when you play and make the random townies that show up on community lots just a tiny bit less random.

The Basics

Often, people are mostly concerned with the groups their active sims are in. You might already have a club to keep track of your sims' closest friends, study group, or baby daddies, we don't judge here.

Clubs are also a great way to automate what you want your sim to be doing with less micromanaging, but for immersion, we're actually more interested in clubs for the sims you don't (or rarely) play.

WTF are the neighbours doing?

Most of the pre-made clubs are kinda meh. I prefer to add my own so I can make my community lots just a bit more lively and make sure people's activities make just a tiny bit of sense because the autonomy in this game is not great. These are just for inspiration based on clubs I often add to my own game:

A group of teens who meet at the retail clothing store to try on clothes and gossip about Nancy's nose job or whatever.

A local bowling league (complete with uniforms) who meet and bowl - just don't fuck with The Jesus.

An HOA of Karens who meet at the park to clean, raise property values, and be mean to people.

Geeks and gamers who meet at the local arcade to awkwardly flirt over pizza.

Comedians who meet at the local comedy club - you can even use the club doors to make a VIP backroom only for the performers.

Sports teams - such as a basket team who meets at a local basket court, or a swim team who meets at the local pool (you can even give them tiny matching speedos!)

Scouts! The scout feature is cute but it's a rabbit hole, boo! But you can make a Scouts club, complete with uniforms, and have them show up in parks where they can do various activities and work on their badges. Add a teen or two to supervise the younglings, their parents will be so proud, aww.

A sorority or fraternity in university who meet up at the local bar in matching varsity jackets to make all the other students feel inferior.

A group of old ladies who meet at the park to knit or cross-stitch and brag about the accomplishments of their descendants.

A "business" club, usually CEOs, lawyers and such, who meet in fancy bars to hold important business meetings and probably commit white-collar crimes, so predictable.

If you have a sim with an office/work from home job and you'd like to pretend they actually go to work, you can make an office building and a group of "coworkers" who'll show up to drink coffee, chat, and work on computers next to them in the office. It'll even simulate rotating desk assignments for an instant capitalist hellscape!

The possibilities are endless, and I find the club feature really useful to add little interesting scenarios to the background of my gameplay.

Thanks to SQOTD for inspiring this!

📩 Simblr question of the day: according to you, what are the most underutilized gameplay features in the sims games you played, dlc included? - @simblr-question-of-the-day

[rottiens]

⊹ ˚. GOJŌ SATORU┊18+ , consensual video recording + taking pictures, established relationship, bf gojo, unprotected sex + creampie (ofc), dirty talk, canon au. . divider creds: cafekitsune.

You struggle to stay still. With your legs stretched to aching, your flat feet crushing his bare chest and with his thick cock splitting your pussy. It's hard not to want to subtly move at least to release a little tension, when Satoru places the phone in between the two of you and fixes the camera angle talking to himself, complaining about the dim lighting in the room with the curtains closed.

He looks so focused, tongue carving his upper lip back and forth as if performing a task of utmost importance and you find it inevitable not to squeeze around him a little, impatiently.

“Babe, just take the picture,” you tell him desperately at this point, your arousal dripping down your ass cheeks onto the mattress, aching with need to start getting fucked.

Satoru, however, takes his time. He grunts, gasps and moans to himself as he pulls out of you almost completely where only the swollen head is left in your visibly fluttering hole, then proceeds to make a short video where he simulates fucking you; he thrusts his hips in a deep rotation that has your toes curling up and your breath coming in gasps into your lungs.

He plays his thumb over your clit back and forth, talking dirty to the camera before ending the video and tossing the phone to the side of the mattress which bounces gently.

“Okay, I'm ready now,” satoru chuckles releasing tension, taking one of your feet off his chest to bring it to the level of his mouth and bending his back leaves a fleeting, love-filled kiss on your ankle. “I just wanted to have something to remember you by while I'm gone.” Something more than the dozens of pictures he has in his gallery of you, you want to remind him.

Satoru begins to fuck you slow and deep, with the help of his free hand massaging your clit and spreading your juices all over your outer lips.

“I know,” your back arches seeking more of the pleasure. “It'll only be two weeks.”

“That's a long fucking time.” He thrusts his hips in such a way that your skins meet in a loud clap.

For someone whose love language was touch, you knew where that concern was coming from so this time you nod your head. Satoru settles your feet on top of his shoulders and pushes forward bending your body into a new posture, shaping you so that his cock now reaches deeper places inside you.

“Do you feel it twitching?”

“Uh huh,” you reply with your mouth open, gasping his breath sneaking inside.

“I'm going to cum soon, sorry. Recording you made me so hard.”

“We should do it more often then,” you tease, with a hint of seriousness sinking your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck, tangling in the white strands to manage to pull his hair and bring him closer to your mouth. Satoru groans.

“I'm going to miss you so much,” he gasps sucking on your lower lip, his teeth digging into the soft flesh to then muffle the stinging pain with his warm tongue licking it.

“I know. Me too.”

Satoru licks your mouth half open, gasps the moment your lips meet and grunts after you clench tightly around him letting him know you were going to reach your orgasm soon.

“I'm gonna fucking cum in you,” he murmurs in warning, sweaty forehead resting on yours.

“Fucking cum in me, Satoru.”

[absurdthirst]

Fucking Fungus {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN, dub con, post apocalyptic world, scavenging, guilt, shame, desire, Joel having a bad attitude, mentions of periods, rough sex, neediness, unprotected sex, cream pie

Comments: Coming across Wymore, NE, you hoped to find some much needed supplies for the coming winter but you find that the fungus has mutated in dangerous and frightening ways. Needing to insure that there are more hosts to infect in a very basic kind of way.

🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉Happy Birthday @storiesofthefandomlovers!!!! I love you and hope you have the best damn day! In thotty tradition, here is a sex pollen to celebrate another year around the sun!🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The world has changed in the past twenty years. None of it for the betterment of humanity. The crunch of the dried leaves grinds under your boots and your head rotates left and then right as you watch, listen. Waiting for any sign of life or more importantly, danger. The weight of your rifle is heavy in your hands, although you hold it down, unassuming but ready to be lifted at a second’s notice. 

“I don’t know why you don’t just hook it over your shoulder.” Ellie snorts, her backpack bouncing slightly on her back from the steps that seem so unencumbered by worry. Why should she worry when there are two fully armed adults on either side of her. Her own personal guard in a manner of speaking. “There hasn’t been anything out here for daaaaaays.” She drags the word out like it's the most horrible thing in the world that it’s been peaceful. 

Joel snorts, rolling his eyes as you glance over at him and then look back out at the surrounding terrain. “Yeah, that’s why we are on guard.” He grunts, even though his own rifle is on his shoulder. His hand gripped the shoulder sling loosely but he had only just put it up there half an hour ago after you had taken your turn relaxing as much as you can. “it’s too fucking quiet.” 

He’s right. After the disasters that had been Kansas City, you had tried to avoid major cities, but even in the small towns, you had come across plenty of cordyceps and clickers. You hate the clickers with a passion.

The isolation can account for a lot of the silence. Miles stretching between remnants of civilization. The crumbling buildings and overgrown roads give the entire midwest a sense of peace. It’s unnerving. 

Your grip adjusts, head rolling around your shoulders slightly to try to loosen the knot that builds up in your shoulders after so long. The weight of your pack isn’t as heavy as it should be, the rations not exactly filling since you had to escape that one clicker in Du Bois, Nebraska. Your pack had been ripped and most of the food you had been carrying was lost. 

You glance over at Joel, noticing the way his shoulders seem to hang, almost a reflection of the way you feel. “We need to risk a larger town.” You murmur quietly, knowing that his first instinct will be to argue with you. You stumble slightly over a rock and hiss when you feel the hole in the sole of your boots. 

“Too dangerous.” Joel snorts, shaking his head even as he watches you regain your footing. “I’ve got some duct tape in my bag.” He reminds you, knowing that you should probably reinforce that shoe before you lose the sole all together. 

“It’s not just shoes.” You protest, trying to ignore the way that Ellie groans obnoxiously loud and stomps her foot. 

“Come on, man!” She throws her own arguments into the ring. “I need tampons! We could find them if there was jack shit out here, but there’s not. Do you want me to attract wild animals?” She presses, glaring at Joel who looks equal parts horrified and unconvinced. She cracks an evil grin. “Circling us in the wild as I just leave behind a trail of blood? Aaaaand tears.” She adds, lifting her brows. “Periods are really emotional things.” 

Biting your lip to keep from snorting, you watch as Joel; normally stoic, no bullshit Joel, can’t seem to string together the words to respond. His eyes slide over to you, almost pleading with you to say something. 

Your brows lift in question and he twitches slightly, his dark eyes unhappy with you not immediately jumping in to save him. “We could use the food if we can find any.” You rationalize, smirking when his brows pinch together and he looks like he had just been betrayed. 

“Clean underwear!” Ellie adds. “Or….cleaner. And a heavier fucking coat.” She shivers slightly and you can see that is the moment when Joel caves. He acts like a prick most of the time, but he’s got a soft spot for the kid. He won’t admit, maybe not even to himself, but he looks over at the faded and nearly rusted out sign. 

You continue walking, not pressing any more and you can hear the grumbling thoughts that are rolling through Joel’s mind. The now half hearted protests about why this is such a bad idea but you wait for the sigh. 

Almost even with the sign is when it comes, heavy and it sounds almost pained. Like he is going against everything he believes in. “Stop.” He huffs, shuffling to pull his bag off his back and kneeling down with a groan and the small pops of fifty plus year old knees. Unzipping the pocket where he keeps the Atlas and flips the worn pages to Nebraska. Glancing back at the road behind you and then at the sign before looking at the map. Tracing the route that you had already traveled before looking ahead at the towns that were on highway 77. 

Ellie doesn’t say a word but she practically bounces on her toes as she waits for his decision. You know that he’s going to agree, it’s just a matter of which town he chooses. He knows the truth of the situation. Winter is going to come quicker than any of you want, your food supply is low, you could probably all use a new set of boots, and all of you would kill for a halfway decent musty mattress to sleep on. Four walls and a hopefully non-leaking roof over your heads would be the icing on the cake. 

“Wymore is coming up in fifty-eight miles.” He taps the map and looks up at you to see what you think. 

Ellie shuffles slightly and instead of grinning, you crane your neck to look at the map yourself. “It looks like it’s bigger than the last few towns, but at least it’s not like we are running into Lincoln.” You hum before you nod. “I say we try.”

“Yessssss!” The teenager pumps her fist in excitement and she grins when Joel rolls his eyes. You’ve noticed that like any normal teenager, her favorite activity is annoying any kind of parental unit and pushing boundaries. This applies to Joel whether or not he likes it. “I want to find another joke book too.” 

Joel groans but you just turn around, grinning yourself as Joel mumbles under his breath, stuffing the map back in his pack and zipping it up. Joel and Ellie are alike in a lot of ways, especially their penchant for mumbling. 

You resist the urge to offer him a hand up, knowing he will be even more pissy if you do. For someone who complains about being older, he gets downright grouchy when he’s reminded of that same fact. “Well then, the quicker we get there, the quicker we don’t have to hear ‘are we there yet?’.” You snort, making Ellie grin shamelessly as she shrugs, knowing she will do exactly that. 

“So let’s get going.” She doesn’t wait for anyone, just setting off down the road and leaving the two of you to catch up with her. 

****

It takes you nearly three days to get to Wymore. All of you are tired, but Joel is the one who barely sleeps, even when you force him to lay down. It’s as if he cannot stop trying to protect Ellie, and also you, long enough for him to rest. He gets upset when he has to sleep, staying up until he is nodding off. The coffee supply has been exhausted and it’s probably a good thing. He would drink it all day to the point where his hands would shake from too much caffeine. Still he just wouldn’t trust you to make sure that no one snuck up on you for a few hours until he was past the point of being useless. 

The first signs of the town are a welcomed relief but it’s also an added source of tension. Each mile that you had traveled had added to the fear that this might be the time that you fail. That something goes wrong and someone else dies. The road here has not been easy and the losses have weighed heavily on all of you. Joel still won’t even mention Tess and you hate it when you wake up in the early morning hours to find him staring down at the broken face of his watch with a look that breaks your heart. 

Every approach into a new area can mean danger, either from the clickers or from humans and honestly you don’t know which one you fear more. Your gun is back in your hand, the weight of it familiar and comforting as you pass the first gas station, the windows busted out and dried fungus clinging to the building. 

“Fuck.” You hiss, uneasy at the presence of the fungal vines, even if they look like they aren’t active.

“I wonder why it looks pink.” Ellie frowns as she squints at the building. “It’s usually an ugly brown color, right?” She looks towards Joel for confirmation, but he’s busy frowning at the building himself. 

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.” If the cordyceps have spread this far out of town then there’s a possibility there are still active branches closer to the supplies that you are looking for. 

“Come on man.” Ellie groans, kicking a dirt clod. “There’s nothing for miles. It’s probably all dead.” 

You know that Ellie is probably right, but it’s a risk. You bite your lip, looking over at Joel. “Why don’t we sweep the town and we can see?” You ask, knowing that if everything is dead, you could desperately use the rest. Cordyceps rarely return en masse when the vines have withered and died. It could be a safe place to recharge and for Joel to sleep for more than ten minutes at a time. 

You’ve stopped walking as you talk, Joel looking around as he contemplates your alternatives. To be honest, there aren’t many and both of you know it. Not without a lot of backtracking which none of you want to do. 

Joel sighs and you know that he’s going to agree. He turns to Ellie. “Don’t fucking touch anything until we say it’s alright.” He points at her for good measure, as if his finger would impress the importance of his words. “Got it?” 

“Got it.” She huffs. “Jesus, you act like we haven’t done this before.” You roll your eyes and look away, knowing you shouldn’t encourage her right now. 

It takes hours to make your way into the center of town. Not because you are blocked by clickers or avoiding humans, it’s because you are stocking up. It’s like the fungus took over this town and just let it rot. Nothing inside the first few blocks of town is disturbed. No looting has been done here, plenty of supplies to be had. 

Both you and Joel have been cautious but slowly optimistic as you’ve found boots and heavy jackets, gloves and hats. A new pair of clothes have been rolled into everyone’s bags and you’ve even grabbed another pack to fill with the mylar sealed packs of camping food from the sporting goods store. It was a miracle that nothing had been ransacked, but it makes you wonder exactly what the fuck happened here. Did the army sweep through and round up all the residents right away? It would make sense, but then why were there dead spores of the fungus here? You haven’t seen one body so far and it makes you nervous. 

“This place is a fucking gold mine.” Ellie grins like a kid in a candy store, perhaps because you’ve actually found candy and she has been sucking on the jolly ranchers until the top of her mouth is raw. “Now we just need to find a place to sleep. I want my own room.” 

Glancing over at Joel, you expect him to immediately tell her no, but he doesn’t say a word. Continuing to look around like he is expecting a clicker to pop out from the doorway of the local McDonald’s, now completely covered in that strange pink fungus. It’s like he doesn’t even hear her as he frowns at the building. 

She takes that as approval and immediately starts talking about how she’s going to spread out. Making you snort when she talks about sitting in her underwear for an hour. There hasn’t been a lot of privacy out here on the road, so you can understand that desire. 

“Joel.” You murmur his name softly, knowing that the best thing you can do is to find the motel and get settled down for the night before the sun sets. Even if this town is as safe as it appears on the surface, you would rather not be fumbling around in the dark . He doesn’t look over at you, still staring at the overgrown building as if it’s holding the secret. Maybe it reminds him of the Boston Museum, ominously covered with the tentacles of the fungus and the horrors that you had found inside it. “Joel!”

“What?” His head whips around, body tense as he’s ripped out of his thoughts. Relaxing when he finds you and Ellie staring at him. “We need to find the motel.” You remind him, nodding towards the sun getting lower in the sky. “I think we could all use a good night’s sleep.” 

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes searing your face, looking for some hidden meaning beneath your words before he glances over at an eager Ellie. “Yeah, sure.” He agrees, adjusting his rifle to sling it onto his shoulder and adjusts his now much heavier pack on his back. “Probably on the other side of the main drag.” 

His new boots thump against the cracked pavement. The roads leading deeper into the town is the guide towards what will hopefully be a comfortable bed and at least eight hours of sleep. 

Your own new boots feel pretty good, but maybe a day or so here, going through supplies and really making sure that you can take on the coming winter would be a good thing. Allowing you to break in the shoes without blisters. You’ll have to talk about it with Joel after Ellie sequesters herself for the night. 

It’s about another fifteen minutes before you get to the small motel that looks like it will be a good place to spend the night. Half the building is covered in another large cluster of the fungus, the pink hue looking particularly bright in the fading sun. 

“We’ll get some keys.” It will be better than breaking down doors, especially since the motel wasn’t equipped with the keycards that the high end hotels had started switching to before society came crashing down. 

The bad news is that the motel doesn’t have any adjoining rooms, so Joel and Ellie get into a small spat about her having her own room, Ellie eventually winning after promising that she will block the door with a dresser and he’s allowed to sweep the room before she locks herself in. Half the building is so overtaken by the vivid pink fungus that you swear looks like a big splat of bubblegum thrown over the walls. 

She doesn’t even want to have dinner with you and Joel, making the man go through the room and then telling you both goodnight and shutting the door in your face. Making you laugh as Joel frowns at the door, rethinking this entire situation. 

“Well, you can have a room to yourself too.” You offer, smirking as he cuts his eyes towards you. You know that Joel would rather everyone sleep where he can keep his eyes on them, so you getting privacy is off the table. 

“Shut up.” Joel grunts, walking down towards the next room and kicking it open, watchful even though you’ve both already been in the room and deposited your bags. It’s a nice room, two double beds so each one of you can stretch out and relax. 

You laugh quietly and decide to walk down the railing towards the portion of the building that has been overtaken by the fungus. Your curiosity about this variant is finally getting the best of you and you want to get a better look at it. 

It’s thick. The tendril that is draped over the metal railing of the second floor, wrapping around it and up the support column. You bite your lip, tilting your head when you see the withered remnants of some kind of flower. What kind of fungus sprouts flowers?

You jump when something touches your back, whirling around to find Joel behind you, holding his hands up. He smirks at you, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Fuck you.” You hiss, narrowing your eyes and he huffs. “What are you doing?” He asks. 

Turning back towards the fungus, you sigh. “This is different from any other kind I’ve ever seen.” You comment, stepping closer to it only to feel Joel reach for your arm to pull you back. “It’s dried out.” You remind him, jerking your head towards the husk of the cordyceps. “Have you ever seen anything like this?” You know that he spent a lot of time sneaking out of the Boston QZ, it’s possible he had seen it before. 

He grunts, relaxing his hold on you and he shuffles slightly closer, looking at the flower buds that extend from the tendrils. His own suspicions about anything fungus related is deep, but it’s dried. “I haven’t.” He admits after a moment, narrowing his eyes slightly and trying to think if there is any reason why this pink coloring has the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. 

“So it’s something new.” You bite your lip and lean in, feeling the disapproval radiate off of Joel in hot waves but you ignore him. Tilting your head and reaching out to touch one of the dried flowers. 

“Don’t-”

The second your finger touches the wilted bloom, it bursts open, spurting you and Joel behind you in a cloud of pink dust. You gasp, holding your breath but there’s no hope for not inhaling the pollen. 

“Fuck!” Joel coughs, shaking his head and backing up so quickly he hits the side of the building and reaches out to drag you away from the lingering cloud of dust and starts to practically beat it off the two of you. “We need- we need-” He leans over and starts coughing, obviously having inhaled just as much of it as you had. 

“We’re okay.” You gasp, shaking your head and brushing the dust off your clothes. “We- it’s dead. Right?” You hate that you are asking that, but you hadn’t expected that from a dried out fungus.

“It- we should clean up.” Joel blinks, the pollen making his eyes itch and that has to be the cause of the rush of heat that slides over him. It’s just adrenaline. Fear. Anything that would scare both of you would make the slight nip in the air disappear and make you feel like your skin is superheated.

The water is gravity fed. The large cisterns on the roof are still full and while it’s not warm, perhaps a cold shower might be better right now. Joel drags you both to the room and locks the door, although he doesn’t push a dresser in front of it in case Ellie needs you in the night. 

In the bathroom, you are shaking as you start to strip down, worrying about how stupid you just were and if you completely fucked yourself. The anxious fear covering the way your skin seems to burn and feel so sensitive to everything. Shuddering when your hand brushes over your thigh as you push your jeans down and kick them off before you pull your shirt over your head and remove your bra. 

Clean up. Get the pollen off your skin and cool down. Your body seems to be working on overdrive. Your nipple hard under the cold water and instead of gasping in shock, you moan softly. Enjoying the sensation and reaching for the bar of soap that is still wrapped in plastic. 

Hurry up, hurry up. Joel paces around the room, his hands curled into fists. Practically sweating even though the air is cool as the sun sets. His body feels like it’s on fire, like he is battling a sickness. 

Over and over again, he goes through the symptoms of the infection of the cordyceps, there’s no veining, he’s stopped and checked his eyes and reflection in the peeling mirror about twenty times in the five minutes you’ve been in the bathroom. And he doesn’t fucking think the fungus makes his cock harder than a fucking rock in his jeans. 

He’s not thought about sex in months. Nothing beyond fleeting moments of attraction to you that he swiftly buries under guilt and responsibility. Normally, it is when you’re bent over and your ass is presented to him in such a way that he thinks about sinking into you from behind, or when your shirt pulls tight over your breasts and he imagines cupping them in his hands as you sit on his cock. Immediately dismissed and ignored as he reminds himself of how he had failed Tess, he doesn’t deserve to find warmth and comfort in your arms. 

Now, it’s all he can think about. The urge to palm his cock makes his fingers twitch and he almost moves his hand over his crotch before he flinches back to reality and tries to examine his face in the mirror again, wondering if his eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep or if he is infected. 

Scrubbing your body is nearly painful, wanting to stop and touch yourself, but you can’t. You need to get this done and get out so Joel can shower. Still, despite the cold water, you feel like you are on fire when you shut off the water and realize that you didn’t bring your bag into the bathroom. You will have to go out there in nothing because you can’t put those clothes back on. Not until they have been washed. 

Moderately dry, you hear Joel bang on the door. “Hurry up.” He growls, making you clench your thighs together at the raspy tone and hating how it spears through you. You know Joel isn’t interested in you, hasn’t ever looked at you like that and the crush that you had on the man had been buried deep. 

“I’m done.” You don’t have a chance to be embarrassed as you open the door and Joel practically shoves past you into the bathroom and slams it behind him. “Fuck.” Your annoyance cools the heat for a moment, but it’s only temporary. 

The water is icy, but still, Joel curls his hands into fists against the shower wall. He’s fucking hard. Harder than he had probably ever been in his entire life, even when he was a horny teenager and would have fucked anyone who let him between their thighs. He’s not felt like this ever. The need to touch himself builds to the point where his hips are rocking into thin air against the spray of the water. Want clawing up his throat and pooling in his stomach in a heavy knot. 

You don’t dress, you can’t. Crawling under the covers of one of the beds, you listen to Joel groan in the bathroom, it’s muted over the sound of the shower but it’s sexy. All of his sounds are sexy, from the low grunts he gives when he’s stiff and sore, to the huffs and groans of annoyance. It’s all sexy to you. The rasp of his voice when he’s not spoken for a few hours. 

Closing your eyes, it’s easy to give in, to let your hands drift over your skin. He’s not here, you can take care of this frantic need that is swirling inside you. You just need to slide your hand between your thighs and ease it. It wouldn’t take much more than a few swipes of your fingers against your pulsing and aching clit. 

Trying to fight it, you concentrate on your breathing, in and out. Inhaling slowly and holding it so you can exhale when the burn in your lungs tells you that you’ve reached your limit. It helps, but not much. Not when you’re imagining Joel in his shower. Touching him. Being free to touch him and having his hands on your body in return. 

Your hands slip over your breasts, squeezing them hard enough to moan softly and your legs shift to press together. Clenching around nothing and wishing that you were full while your hands start to move down over your stomach. 

The first touch is almost a relief, your entire core quivering as your fingers press against your clit. It’s overwhelming and not enough. You need more, fingertips pressing and rubbing around the puffed up bundle of nerves. You’re already soaked and can feel it dripping down your slit. 

Spurred on by that insatiable need, you slide your fingers around your entrance and start to press them inside. Biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning. Imagining that it’s more, that it’s a cock that is starting to break you open and fill that void that is aching. 

You are so caught up in the bliss of that first stretch of your fingers that you don’t hear the shower turn off. The quiet curses coming from the bathroom are muffled by the rush of blood in your ears, the feeling of relief coursing through your nerves and taking over. You don’t hear the click of the lock and the turn of the handle. The door opening doesn't even register as you plant your heels on the bed and push your hips up, needing to get your fingers deeper, not quite reaching the spot inside you that craves fullness. 

You don’t hear him until he chokes out a sound that is pained and low, like he’s injured. Your eyes pop open as you lurch up off the bed, your fingers ripping themselves out of your cunt hard enough to make you whimper. Fixed on Joel’s towel draped body, tented over his waist. 

“Joel, I-” “Fuuuuuck.” He growls, his eyes closing and his hands bunches into fists, one holding his towel and the other by his side. “I’ve tried to not think about you, about touching you.” His words are rasped out, strained against his vocal cords. “I’ve goddamn beat into my brain that you aren’t to be thought about this way and now, I can’t stop.” His stomach clenches and his body twitches as he struggles to keep still. 

Your chest heaves and you see his eyes drop down to your uncovered tits. His jaw clenching and his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows. “I - I need to touch myself.” You admit breathlessly. “I - it hurts so bad and I need something inside me.” 

Joel groans again, shuddering so violently that you can see him shake from where you are. “I’ve jerked off in the shower twice and it's still hard.” He drops the towel, revealing his hard and leaking cock, making you whimper at the sight and clench around nothing. “I think that- that we- that the flower-” “I don’t care.” You moan, shaking your head and crawling to your knees and shuffling forward. Showing him all of you and so goddamn desperate to touch him that you think you are about to explode. “Touch me, Joel. Fuck, touch me, please.” You beg, your hands on your own body. “We-” He shakes his head and his face changes, morphs into pain.

“Fuck me.” You hiss, watching as his resolve breaks. His cock bounces as he lunges for you, hard and swift, driving you back to the bed with a bounce. Almost as if he is attacking you. 

He’s not gentle. His mouth finding yours in a harsh kiss, your permission unleashing the coils of restraint that he had tried to put on himself. His grip bruises as he hauls you up the bed and settles between your thighs. 

You’ve always attributed Joel with rough gentleness. The type of man who would make you ache and then hold you close. Groaning in pleasure when you find out that is exactly what Joel Miller is like. His hands spreading your thighs with a desperation that proves he is just as afflicted by this fungal pollen as you are. His cock hard and pressing against your folds as he rocks his hips forward to line up. Almost unable to find the hole with his eagerness to sink into you. 

“Joel, hurry.” Your hands shake, holding onto him and urging him closer to you, frantic with need now that you know that you are going to have him inside you. 

“Goddamn, I’m trying.” He hisses, hating to let you go so he can take his cock in hand. Rocking into his own grip as he shuttles his hips forward. “I’m fuckin’ trying, sweetheart.” 

You whimper when you finally feel him pressing against your entrance, choking out a sound of need that is animalistic. Only to cry out in bliss as he pushes inside you without another delay. 

He groans, eyes cinched shut as he slides inside you to the hilt, burying himself in your heat and feeling that coil in his stomach tighten even more now that your walls are around him. Immediately starting to move just as soon as he fills you, driving by that need and burning in his very veins. 

It’s exquisite, the pain and pleasure blending and fusing in your stomach, nerves alight and responding to every small movement. You can’t get enough of him, you need more. Wrapping  your legs around his hips, you rise to meet his harsh thrusts. Clenching down around him every time he hits that spot deep inside you that you couldn’t reach with your fingers. 

He shouldn’t be inside you, he shouldn’t be touching you, but now that he is, he can’t stop. Turning his head, he presses his lips to yours and slides his tongue into your mouth. Needing more. Kissing you like he had imagined a thousand times before. Giving into every urge he has had since the day he met you and repressed before right now. Snapping his hips forward sharply and pulling every groan out of your mouth to swallow down. 

Every thrust makes it better, eases that burning in your core, your cunt slick and squelching every time he drives into you. He absorbs every sound you make, almost greedy for them. His hips jarring as they slam into you. Rocking you both up the bed. 

“Oh god,” breaking away from the kiss, you moan into his ear. Closing your eyes as he pants and puffs while he fucks you. “So deep, so deep, Joel.” Your nails drag down his back, making him hiss in pleasure and pain. 

“Shit.” He groans your name, lost in the rhythm of his thrusts and the building pressure. “You needed this?” He growls, making you clench down around him hard and whimper his name. “Yessss.” You agree, nodding against the pillow. “Needed it so bad.” 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He huffs, burying his face against your neck. Continuing to pound into you, and not letting up even though his back is screaming in pain. His body won’t let him do anything but rock his hips. Driven by a need that overrides everything else. 

His words make you burn, making you even more desperate for him. Your hips rock up and legs tightening around his waist even more. Loving how his cock stretches you out and scrubs against every nerve in your cunt. Lighting up your body until you are gasping on the edge of that much needed orgasm. 

Every plunge into your body brings him closer to cumming, desperate to feel that emptiness, that wrung out filling once he has filled you. He shouldn’t cum inside you, he knows that, but he’s not going to be able to stop himself. He can barely pull back enough to rock his hips back into you. 

His arms have banded around you, holding you into place as he fucks you. Deep and primal, as if he is trying to fuse the two of you into one. His cock punches into the depths of your body that you never imagined anyone reaching, but he touches it with ease. Your body pulsing with that need to come apart. 

“So close, I’m so close, baby.” You whine, body starting to tremble underneath him. “So close.” Your nails dig into his shoulder, grounding yourself to him in desperation. “Joel.” 

“I gotcha.” He groans, eyes closed and his breath fanning against your skin. “I’mma take good care of you, sweetheart.” He promises. “You’re gonna cum all over my cock, ain’t cha? Just like you wanted.” 

His words throw you over the edge, that need built up so tight inside you that it busts on the next thrust. Lights careen and collide behind your eyes, bright and beautiful as your whole body ignites into pleasure like you’ve never experienced before. Crying out loudly and soaking  him in a wave of your juices. Cumming harder than you ever have before. 

Joel growls your name, his hips stuttering as you come apart around you. Unable to hold back any longer. He buries himself deep into your hot passage and paints your walls with sticks ropes of his seed. Panting against your lips as he empties himself body and perhaps his very soul into you. 

Both of you pant, relieved and exhausted from the pure exertion of need as you had taken from each other. Joel presses into you, trying to catch his breath, but the fire is still burning low in his belly, his cock still not softening as it twitches inside you. 

“Oh fuck.” You feel that same desire still curling in your stomach, not satisfied by the intensity of the orgasm that you are still coming down from. “Joel-” 

He huffs and shakes his head. “Don’t-” he presses his lips to your again, body screaming as he starts to move again. “Shhhhhh.” 

The need still burns and both of you are still locked in its fiery grip, not yet free from the desire that washed over you from a burst of pollen. 

****

“What the fuck man, open the door!” The thudding on the door finally penetrates the bone deep sleep you had finally fallen into. You don’t know how many time Joel fucked you, or how many times he had spend himself inside you as you blearily open your eyes. 

Joel grunts, slowly opening his own eyes and unwinding himself from the tangled together position that you had passed out in. The knocking on the door keeps on. “Joel!” Your name is also shouted, Ellie starting to sound somewhat panicked when neither one of you is immediately opening the door. 

“Fuck! I’m coming.” He drags the top blanket off the bed and wraps it around his waist before flinging the door opened to blink into the harshness of the sun. “What?” He growls roughly, making Ellie’s eyes blow wide with shock.

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” She demands, pushing into the room and stopping short when she sees you sitting up in the only bed that has been disturbed, the sheet anchored beneath your armpits. “Oh shit, you fucked.” She gasps, turning and shooting Joel an impressed grin. “Way to go, old man, you made a move.” Her grin quickly turns into an expression of mild disgust when she realizes that she’s congratulating you two on having sex. “Uh, I’m gonna go now.” She huffs, wrinkling her nose and pinching it. “It smells in here.” Waving her hand in front of her face, she darts back out the door and Joel just stands there for a moment before he rolls his eyes and goes to shut the door before he thinks better of it. Sticking his head out of the room, he shouts after Ellie. “Stay away from the fucking fungus!” 

You snort, grinning to yourself as your body starts to ache. Fucking fungus indeed. 

[butch-corvid]

it was my girlfriend’s idea, and I didn’t want to be seen as transphobic. I told our friend that she could do whatever she wanted with my girlfriend’s cockhungry cunt, I just didn’t want to touch that thing when it went inside her. I loved my girlfriend. I wanted her to be fulfilled. and it was still a lesbian threesome. and I wouldn’t have to interact with my girlfriend’s “new friend” at all if I didn’t want to.

only, having my girlfriend on top of me, moaning into my mouth every time another rough thrust rocked her forward, feeling the way she shook with pleasure when speared all the way full of girlcock…

look, I was only wet because my girlfriend was on top of me, moaning like a whore, eyes welling up with tears when our third bottomed out. so when my girlfriend asked if I could rotate so that we could 69 while she got fucked, I was only thinking with my pussy. I didn’t realize the tgirl my girlfriend picked up would be leaning over me, balls nearly resting on my forehead. I ended up inches away from a thick, throbbing cock as it pistoned in and out of my girlfriend’s hole. so what if, while I was eating her out, my tongue slipped a couple times and brushed against her friend’s shaft? so what if the smell of her cock made me buck my hips up against my girlfriend’s mouth? so what if I eagerly stuck my tongue out to taste my first load of real cum, dripping out of my girlfriend’s well-bred fuckhole? i was just curious. her cock was right there. i didn’t have to like it.

so what if, after all that, my girlfriend uses her position on top of me to hold me down and force me to cum while her friend slides her cock, slick with my girlfriend’s cum, into my mouth, and starts to violate my throat?

i guess i’d just have to get used to being a spare hole

[mcmansionhell]

dome sweet dome

As some of you may know, I have been going to language school for the last few months in order to learn the world's most widely spoken and useful language: Slovenian. At this point, my Slovenian is about as coherent as, well, a McMansion. In order to feel better about myself, I have sought out a McMansion that is worse than my cases and word-order. This house (in Naperville, IL, of course) does, in fact, make me feel better, but will probably make you feel worse:

This Cheescake Factory house, built in 2005, boasts 5 bedrooms, 8.5 bathrooms and can be yours for the entirely reasonable sum of $3.5 million dollars. Also for some reason all the photos look like they are retouched with 2012-era Instagram filters.

First of all, trying to visualize the floor plan of this house is like trying to rotate seven cubes individually in my mind's eye. Second, if you stand right beneath the hole in the ceiling you can get the approximate sensation of being a cartoon character who has just instantaneously fallen in love.

Even if this was a relatively mundane McMansion it still would have made it into the rotation because of the creepy life-sized butler and maid. Would not want to run into them in the middle of the night.

The mural is giving 1986 Laura Ashley or perhaps maybe the background they use for Cabbage Patch Kids packaging but the floor? The floor is giving Runescape texture.

Have you ever seen so many real plants in your life? A veritable Eden.

The overwhelming desire to push one of the chairs into the haunted jacuzzi...but in reality they probably put those chairs there to keep from accidentally falling into the tub at night.

(elevator music starts playing)

This is one of the all time [adjective] rooms of McMansion Hell. I personally am in love with it, though I don't think I understand it. Perhaps it is not meant to be understood.....,

Continuing with the baseball theme, the guy in the painting looks how I feel after it's been raining in Ljubljana for two straight weeks. (Not ideal!!)

And finally:

We love a house that has four unused balconies and also a sporting grounds that is large enough to build a whole second McMansion on top of. Everyone should so value their health.

Thank you for tuning into another edition of McMansion Hell. Be sure to check out the Patreon for the two bonus posts (a McMansion and the Good House) which both also go out today!

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar, because media work is especially recession-vulnerable.

[ghouljams]

Gah! the last aphrodite! reader blurb you posted made me want to pull my hair out, cause how dare Ares?!???? I'd def make sure to be wearing all of the trinkets Nikto crafted for me whenever I'm going to be seen to (try) and send a message that I'm only loyal to one (very grumpy) man

There's nothing the gods love more than gossip. Especially when that gossip seems rife with sordid details. Ares loves nothing more than to share stories of his conquests, so why should you be any different? The stories are good, the details are devilish, and the gab is truly legendary. You can even hear the mortals gossiping about it.

For all that you inspire, you're not terribly creative. You know a flat out denial will do little to help your case, and though neither you nor Ares have proof to back up your claims, a good story is hard to pass up.

Though you know the outcome, you head for the forge. You've spent too many days holed up in your chambers. Too much time sleeping and hoping you'll wake up with your bed warm. Too much time feeling sick at the sight of anyone else, wondering if they think you're an adulterer, wondering if they don't.

Against all odds, the door opens.

And like a lamb for slaughter you take your place on your paltry altar.

"We wondered when you would come back." Nikto tells you over his shoulder as he lifts a gleaming sword from a drum of oil. You've never heard him speak Greek before, it feels like a douse of cold water to finally parse something from his covered lips. His voice is so rich, rumbling like chariot wheels over gravel roads, that it brings the heat rushing back immediately. "If you would come back." He seems to correct himself, and you're right back where you started.

"The door was locked," You tell him, it feels easier to keep that as an explanation than wonder if he'd believed the rumors. You could always ask, but you caution your heart against hoping for him to believe you. Nikto hums, the sound muffled and tinny behind his mask.

"You have key." He supplies finally, rotating the sword to check its edge.

"I don't," you shake your head. Your husband points with the blade, the metal held between iron pinchers, over your head. You tip your head back and blink at the heavy key dangling above you. Something in your chest clenches tight. "Thank you." You mumble, turning to pull the thing from its hook.

"What is ours is yours." Nikto mutters, turning to set the blade on his anvil again.

Your head rings with the beat of hammers once more.

There is silence in the clamor of creation.

[artinvain]

Begging for soft dom Abby who talks you through it 🧎🏼‍♀️‍➡️

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫hmmmm i —

hungry kisses laid to your mouth, your neck and chest and tits have you whining and gripping abby closer as she grinds her hips against you, her mound rubbing over your clit.

“f-fuck abby,” you pant into her shoulder as she makes a mark in your neck, kissing and nibbling at your most sensitive spots. “I know baby,” abby cooes, “want me to touch you?”

you’re nodding fervently whining when she starts to kiss down your stomach, slow — sucking any each stop, making marks here and there down to your hips and letting you buck them up into her as she rubs and flicks your nipples with her calloused fingers.

“so fucking pretty baby,” abby inhales through her teeth, butterflies overwhelming her as she rubs her hands over your torso and then is dipping her hand into your panties, raking up your wetness and gently rubbing your clit, chuckling when you squirm and yelp.

“that feel good sweetheart?” abby asks going to kiss you as you moan out your answer a whisper of nothing but pleasure. “feels so good, so-“

“I know it does, that’s good baby just let me rub your clit until you go stupid for me, yeah?” abby dips her fingers into your cunt, moaning and licking into your mouth, her other hand coming to cup your head when she thrusts her fingers in to the hilt, “god, you’re so fucking soft inside, wanna pump you full of my cum,” she groans and loves the way your squeal, hips jolting at her words.

“yeah baby?” abby kisses your mouth, “want me to dick you down real good and fuck you silly? — fuck look at that, eyes rolling back in your head,”

abby curls her fingers just so and your back arches, “abby, m’fuck feels so good I- please,” you hump her fingers as they pump in and out of you, her body pressed against yours. abby gets more stable on her knees and pushes your thighs up to your stomach, her hips grinding with her fingers.

“gonna give you what you need baby,” abby moans kissing your forehead and letting her thumb rub over your clit, fingers squelching with your wetness, you whine out her name long and drawn out already close as she kisses under your ear. you try to whimper out words, something akin to “I’m close,” but all abby can hear is your babbling and drunken slurring. she’s putty at how wound up you are — her ears filling with songs of “please, abby you fuck me - shit - aah you fuck me so good,”

“s’okay baby, cum on my fingers, be a good girl for me and jus’ gush all over my fingers—“

“fuck!” you’re whining and twitching as you cum, “just like that, oh my god, getting my hand wet baby,” she gasps, kissing down your body and gently removing her fingers so she can rip your panties off and bury her face between your thighs.

“look at this pretty, pulsing pussy,” abby groans pulling your lips apart and gently grazing the hair on your lips, licking a firm stripe up your pussy, moaning at the taste and going to suck on your clit.

what falls from your lips is more like prayer, “thank you abby, please please — want’ yes yes, god fuck abby,” as she presses her fingers into you again, your walls so sensitive you’re clamping down her head, body clenching as you cum again.

abby lets you roll onto your side and crawls up to lay on top of you, kissing your face as you shudder. you whine clutching abby’s wrist as she starts to rub your clit again, strumming gently, “just feelin’ you up baby,” she whispers like a promise until she’s dipping her fingers back into your leaking hole, and cooeing in your ear when you moan for her.

“that’s it sweetheart, doin’ so good, wanna see you cum one more time,” she nods against your forehead, rotating her wrist and pulling you close, “i can feel you clenching baby you gonna cum?” abby asks though she knows the answer as you arch your back, pushing your ass against and and bucking against her fingers . “fuck, fuck, fuck m-m’gonna cum,”

“there we go baby, let go for me, oh you look so pretty, that’s it honey just go stupid and cum for me,”

your eyes scrunch tight and your drawing red lines around her wrist as you cum, leaking down your thighs and her fingers.

🏷️🫂 @lesbian-useless @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat @lavendersgirl @bimboprincezz

[impsandstars]

Vivzie, if I could ask for one thing next season or even the next season after that, can we get a montage of Stolas and Octavia when she was younger? It leaves me clutching my heart every time I see art of them together.

Stolas taking her to the greenhouse and excitedly talking about all the different plants he has.

Stolas showing her the constellations up close. Black holes and super novas. Rotating planets and shooting stars.

Stolas teaching her how to use her powers.

Stolas teaching her to walk and talk and read and dance and swim.

Laughing together as they draw in the late afternoon sun.

Stolas reading her a new book every night, telling her of dashing adventures.

Snuggling up together in a pillow fort eating ice cream and watching a movie late into the night.

Having tea parties and dressing up in ridiculous costumes.

[alexanderwales]

There's a certain sort of reader who thinks of everything in tropes and also hates tropes. So as soon as a character is introduced, they'll pigeon hole that person into the nearest applicable archetype, then complain about it.

I think part of this comes from maladaptive novelty-seeking, the kind of guy who wants just once for the villain to win at the end, for the romance to tear itself apart in the 11th hour and never be repaired, who wants "realism" but not actually realism, just subversion because at least that would be different.

My cousin is one of those guys. He's much younger than me, still in college, but we were talking at a family get together, and he expressed disdain at the very concept of a work of fiction having conflict in it, at the building of tension before its release, at character arcs or even development.

So I asked him what it was he wanted from a story, out of professional curiosity, and he said, "I want," and then he bit his lip and grabbed at the air like he was going to pull it out of the aether.

I never figured out what it was he actually wanted, but I sometimes try to rotate the problem in my head, like I'm going to be able to see the shape of the solution if I just spend enough time working at it.

It's a huge untapped market: people who like reading but don't seem to like any of the things stories have.