#we're yearning for community

[marcelthemoon]

what if I told you I needed to be held with my face against some titties rn?? and maybe a kiss on the forehead?? while having my back rubbed!! i feel like that is not too much to ask for☝🏾

[batcave-dinosaur]

Thinking about xenobio Clark dick but in a sad way. Like obviously he'd never be able to have sex without them knowing about him being Superman, unless he did it with his pants on but like. Going unreciprocated for a long time would suck anyway. But anyway, I was rereading some great superbat xenobio fics and at least a couple have Bruce mentioning that like. Alien dick (especially tentacles) are a huge fantasy for a lot of people. And that got me thinking about Clark, lonely in his young adulthood, looking into all kinds of fantasy porn and it being soothing and heartbreaking in the same breath. Because it is sort of nice, to have this part of him be desired both in spite of and because of its weirdness, but also knowing none of it comes from a place of real understanding. Cuz knowing that people desire something is not the same as knowing they would accept you, as an alien and a Person.

[standuser-tsukino]

I refuse to be governed by the evil spirits of Stardew Valley, if I wanna go out and die in the mines, that is

my decision!!

[hideyourautumn-milkteeth]

Faggotry is my only consistent hobby at this point I'm gonna be real

[raggedles]

this job has sucked my soul dry and now whenever i see a hope core vid on my tiktok feed i start bawling

[bluesidedown]

.....

[rainedragamute]

The deep seated queer autistic urge to build a community with people, in both the relationship sense and in the actually physically building a community sense. Real life would be nice but videos game would also work.

[cjgladback]

For the last several months I've been resisting the siren call of machining while enjoying the new-to-me channel Pask Makes, with its woodworking and tool production.

But yesterday I watched two videos from Adam Savage in a row, with all their semi-chaotic plotting, layout work, and winging it. I now desperately need access to a machine shop and I'm being so brave about it.

That said, I have just downloaded FreeCAD to get as close as I can digitally to that thought process without the metal shavings, blue stained fingertips, and sulfuric lubricant smell. Or at least as close as I can for free.

[genderqueerdykes]

can the online lesbian community please stop treating butches like we're walking strap ons.

for years now i've had to avoid the butch lesbian tag on here because 80% of the posts are people yearning about a butch's strap on, or something else about a butch fucking them. it's fine and normal and healthy to express lesbian sexuality. being attracted to butches is good and fine, and yea of course its hot when a butch wears a strap. like duh

but when all i see people talk about is our straps (never our penises, only strap), or fantasizing about how big and strong we are, or all the things we could physically do to them, how we would be their Big Strong Butch and provide for them and take care of them and make it so that they don't have to go to work... it makes me wonder if people see us as. people. or if we're just walking workhorses and sex toys.

like, are you gonna be there for your butch in a way that doesn't involve sex when they're having a bad day? are you gonna be there to listen when they discuss butchphobia? are you gonna help them bring in their groceries because they're physically disabled and can't be strong for you? are you going to defend them when they lock up in an anxiety attack while they're being misgendered? are you going to be there to reassure them that they're still butch no matter what anyone else says? are you going to be accepting when they come out as trans, genderqueer, non binary, or another gender? are you going to treat intersex butches with dignity and respect and not immediately default to misgendering us?

are you going to be there to help them domestically? are you going to be there to help drive them to work, class or shopping because they're too disabled to drive? are you going to care about them as a person if they become too disabled to have sex anymore, experience reproductive health issues, or lose interest in sex? are you going to be normal about them telling you they're asexual? are you going to focus solely on their appearance? are you going to be normal about them being fat? are you going to listen to them when they talk about their interests? are you going to be the one that cuddles them when they wake up from a PTSD nightmare drenched in sweat and addled with fear?

or are we just walking sex toys? it's bad enough that none of the online lesbian community acknowledges that some lesbians have their own penis. god forbid a biopenis shows up. rubber dicks? a-okay. flesh and blood penis? THREAT! if folks are fiending so hard for dick, why's it gotta be a dildo? you really can't accept a butch that has a penis, whether they were born with it or got bottom surgery? you want a penis on the butch soooooooooooo bad but it has to be silicone? really? you're really gonna throw all the lesbians with dicks out despite how horny you are? what's the double standard here about? is it really that hard to treat butches like people? are we really just play things that don't have feelings to the uninitiated?

this shit's a joke. treat butches better. don't be like this. we're people. we're not walking (fake) dicks.

[leeloooonfire]

based on this post about Steve's internalized bi-phobia:

Steve has known for years.

And how could he not when Tommy's freckles come back tenfold each spring like a flower peaking it's head through the last layer of snow? Or when Matthew Carver's hair have a reddish brown tone that turns blond after they spent the last days before summer break practising outside and remind Steve of liquid gold? Or when he watches Star Wars and Harrison Ford, rugged and witty, comes into view and twists his stomach in knots? How could he not know?!

Steve knows he finds guys as attractive as girls, known for many, many years. But.

But he can't. Not when Tommy sneers at that boy in their literature class who likes flamboyant clothes and wants to be an actor on Broadway. Not when the people they meet in Indi who are like Robin and Eddie 'fully queer' and talk about people like Steve as if they're traitors and scams. Not when he reads the newspaper and is assaulted by Reagan and his folk preaching about the 'fag pandemic' or how his father nods in approval and mutters 'another sinner gone for good' when the news play on TV and they occasionally mention the crisis that kills people like Robin and Eddie and him.

Like him....

It doesn't matter how much he loves sleeping with his nose pressed against Eddie's collarbone or that he thinks he'd like to kiss Eddie and hold his hands and wake up beside him until they're old and wrinkly and complain about bad knees.

He is, but he cannot be a queer, half a fairy '50% like me, 50% like Eddie' as Robin jokes.

He will not be a bisexual, he can keep it inside, keep it hidden, buried deep inside him no matter how much it pains him. He can be the straight friend who goes to pride and bakes rainbow cakes and marries a woman even though his heart screams in an ear ringing cacophony, 'Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie!'

This is how his 20s go: loud and hurting and yearning and hiding and more noticeably being disgusted and ashamed of himself for simply being able to love men the way he can love women.

He's 29 when his wife, Becky, leaves him. It's not just Eddie and this shameful secret that weights heavy on their relationship, but the scars and all the other secrets he is unable to explain to her that drive Becky finally away - back to Boston. She leaves him alone in that tiny house they bought three years ago with their Saint Bernard puppy they lovingly named Bernadette.

He's 30 when he goes to a coffee meeting of the bisexual group meeting in Chicago, nearly turning the car multiple times, hands and knees sweaty with fear that they won't want him there. They do want him there, welcome him with open arms, and talk about things Steve knows all too well: 'When I fell in love with the first girl, I ran. I like men just fine, so I hid my crush. It's just easier, when your parents hate gays, when the world is shaming our community, when we're dying.' He finds a second home there, and learns - learns about queerness and bisexuality, about trans and gender non conforming people and physical attraction versus emotional attraction. He learns about his past and present and about his future, about their history and where they want to go, how they want to mold their world to fit people like them into it without the pain and the hiding.

Steve is 33 when he finally comes out to everyone dear to him. To the kids who aren't kids anymore and to Joyce and Hopper, and then his parents. this does not go well, but Steve doesn't want, doesn't need their validation anymore. He has his family, his friends, his support system who love him not regardless of his sexuality but because of it, love him because it's part of him. He comes out to Becky, too and that goes much better. they want to be friends, in the future. She's also met Gary who works the the NY Times and wants her to follow him into the big city. So Steve is looking forward how that goes, their tentative friendship.

He is 34 when Eddie comes back from his latest world tour and wants to take a break to rekindle with his uncle, to write new songs, to take a breather. It's only natural that Eddie moves into Steve's guest room and takes over his space on the couch where he cuddles Bernadette while Steve is in the kitchen and makes them grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner.

Its even more natural when their feet meet while watching a movie and they lean into each other in the kitchen, dawn barely there, while they wait for the coffee maker to finish.

Steve's 35 when Eddie finally kisses him and he kisses back. No hurt, no shame, no guilt gnawing on him, Steve finally allows himself to be with the person he truly wants - regardless of their gender.

[snail-noodle]

Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader

Before he got corrupted, he was once called Light Milk Cookie (I'll change it once they reveal his true past name in canon)

I may have went a bit far with these.... enjoy 🤗

◇◇◇◇◇◇

💙 Before his corruption, he was known as Light Milk Cookie. You first met him when he stopped to rest at your village. You were absolutely mesmerized at his appearance, barely catching onto his question. "I've traveled quite a distance. Is there perhaps an inn around here that I could rest at?"

You stuttered as you offered him a room to stay in your home, informing him that your village had no inn, just a few shops. Hearing your offer, he gave you the most beautiful smile you have ever seen from a cookie, thanking you for your generosity.

💙 Light Milk Cookie had meant to stay in your village just for a day or two. In the end, he ended up staying for 3 whole weeks! Word had gotten out to the other villagers that one of the Five Great Cookies had arrived to their humble little town. Some believed he had stayed to show and tell the villagers of his knowledge that he had received throughout the years. In truth, he had stayed for you.

💙 During his stay, he spent most of his time with you. You would both talk about your favorite hobbies, your dreams, and the places you wish to see. Light Milk Cookie would listen to you with great interest, mentally keeping notes of what you like, what you didn't like, things you yearned for, and so much more.

💙 Your village is founded in the middle of a forest with a river nearby. You were a bit more adventurous than those in your village, so you would show him the many hidden spots that had the best sceneries in the forest. There was eventually a moment where the two of you had confessed your feelings for each other. The gentle sound of running water of the nearby river and the soft chirps from the birds among the trees only made the moment even more intimate and romantic.

The two of you practically spent the whole day in that quiet little spot. Hidden away from prying eyes, the two of lay close to each other, your hand entangled with his as you listened to his many stories of his past adventures with his friends.

💙 Before he left to continue his journey, he left you an enchanted scroll. He laughed softly at your confused face, "This scroll will allow us to communicate, even when we're far apart from each other." Reaching inside his backpack, he took out another scroll and a quill pen. He took a moment to write something, and once he finished and closed the scroll, the soft chime of a bell rang from the scroll you had been holding.

Opening the scroll, you blushed as you read what he had written for you. "This is.. this is amazing!" You gazed at the scroll with wonder and excitement. Light Milk Cookie's heart fluttered at your praise. The enchanted scroll had been a new idea that he came up with recently. To hear this from you filled his heart with so much joy!

💙 With an embrace and a loving kiss, you bid him a farewell. You stood at your front door, your gaze never leaving his form as he grew smaller the further he walked away. Only when he was completely out of sight did you finally return back to your home. He had left you the magic scroll, but he had also left you with a few items of his own. You reached for the scarf that he had gifted you, you giggled as you wrapped it around your neck, the sweet smell of blueberries enveloping your senses.

💙 As time went on, the two of you would exchange letters to each other at every moment. The sound of a bell ringing in your house almost every minute. Weeks would go by as he would tell you about every cookie and creature he would encounter in his path. Some good, some bad, and some downright strange. As the holder of Knowledge itself, you knew he was stronger than any other cookie in this world. Still, you can't help but worry whenever he mentioned having to fight a beast or some vile bandits.

💙 Just as he wrote you about his encounters, he wrote you many poems dedicated to you and your hometown. Some had you giggling, and some had you completely red in the face. His words were like honey; He yearned to have you by his side, to join him in his own kingdom. He made promises to take you to see the vast world that is Earthbread.

💙 Eventually, he had reached his destination and promised to send you a letter later that night. You waited a whole day, but then that day turned to weeks, and those weeks turned to months. Your mind and soul ached with worry for your lover. You would send him a letter once a day, hoping for any response. Your heart is aching for his comforting words.

Nothing.

💙 One morning, as you were preparing breakfast to start your day, you froze as the sound of a bell chimed across the house. Rushing to your room with tears in your eyes, you quickly grabbed the scroll from your desk, your hands shaking as you read what he wrote you.

I'm coming, my dearest.

A shriek of terror was heard outside the moment you finished reading the words. Your heart pounded with fear as you ran outside to see the commotion. You gasped at the sight before you. What once was a beautiful morning sky has now turned to complete darkness. Eyes... many blue blinking eyes, big and small, littered the dark abyss. All of them seemed to be looking straight at you.

💙 Laughter. The sound of laughter rang out throughout the sky. "At last, at last! I've returned to you, my love!" You gasped as a cookie suddenly appeared right in front of you, causing you to stumble back and fall. Before you could even hit the ground, the strange cookie caught you just in time.

"Be careful, my precious pearl! Wouldn't want you to crumble so soon!" His eyes twinkled at you mischievously, giving you the most biggest grin you've ever seen from a cookie. You looked at the strange cookie, no, the strange jester, with confusion. His voice, the hair, and those brilliant blue eyes. They reminded you so much of him. Surely it couldn't be...?

"Light Milk Cookie?"

[sokuuuu]

saw a post on my fyp a few hours ago that got me thinking about the game again. I've also been deep into Greek mythology so forgive me for somewhat combining two of my interests.

A common trope for characters who are gods or deities is their lack of humanity. They aren't bound by the confines of mortality, therefore they do not live by our rules. Our human concepts of community, society, and relationships are utterly beneath them because they exist in the scope of inevitable destruction. The mortal ones are the empathetic ones in the story of the gods, the victims who struggle to cling to our human desires beneath the whims of gods. Slay the Princess, however, subverts this expectation. In fact it turns it on its head by humanizing the deities and complicating the mortal man.

The Princess and Quiet are not people to the Narrator, and he makes that blatantly clear - they're constructs. Objects to be used to fulfill his desires. There's a fragile relationship between the three where the Narrator holds most of the powerful information over these characters' heads. He watches and observes their actions the way a "God" in the most general sense of a word would. In fact, he created the world the two inhabit. For the most part they're just living in it.

It's especially interesting to me that what the Narrator seeks is immortality. He fears death, a concept so meaningless to Quiet and the Princess. Their roles are so uniquely swapped. The powerful mortal man yearns for the strengths of the struggling, clueless gods.

As we expect from someone human - or at least, mortal in this world of this story - the Narrator is complicated. But the story doesn't derive the Princess and Quiet of their humanity either despite their larger roles. In fact, despite the two being two halves of the same larger concept, STP pours so much attention into making the two feel alive. Making their lives matter. We don't want to die even though we know how many chances we have. Each time we die, The Voice of The Hero fears the upcoming. In the mirror, facing the end, they are afraid. It's the closest these two unending beings can get to understanding the Narrator's fear of death.

They share our fears. Do they share our human desires?

The post that inspired me to ramble like this in the first place (I certainly wish I could find it) brought me back to this part of The Princess and The Dragon:

Although they aren't aware of the limits of their own existence, the Princess and Quiet know what they feel fulfilled when they are with each other. Even after everything. The Princess is angry at you in this chapter, both you and your voices, and yet she still wants that part of Quiet back. The part that makes her feel whole again. It's an obvious calling to their connection to each other in hindsight, as two parts of the same god. But they don't fit together anymore. They cannot fit together anymore as two separate entities. Part of their beings complete each other, but they are two separate beings created by the Narrator now. They can no longer be each other, but they know they belong with each other.

It's a... romantic way of thinking about it. We know soulmates, two souls destined for one another. They make each other complete despite their imperfections. Despite their existence as two separate organisms. They are not one in the same and yet they fit perfectly together. It's fantastical. It's unrealistic. It's a portrayal of love only imperfect beings like mortals can strive for. And yet the irony is that the two are anything but.

The Narrator even admits it to himself: he's wrong about Quiet and the Princess (although mostly Quiet in this instance, the same can certainly apply to her). They are not just gods. They are not just constructs. They are people. People with free will, with empathy, with desires, with longing. He's just like them, and we're just like him. The Narrator dwells on this boundary between life and death, mortal being and god, while we find these barriers so unimportant to us. The ending of Slay the Princess is about shedding the boundaries between ourself and the Princess and letting the two complete each other in a perfectly imperfect way. The very essence of mortality and humanity, displayed by two gods.

There's a beauty to imperfection.

[bekolxeram]

Yes, Buck's bisexuality should only be about him, not who he's with romantically. Exploration and heartbreak are both pretty much inevitable in his journey to figure out what this new realization means to him fundamentally.

Yes, he's going to be miserable for a while, but he has people who love him, he has a community, he has a family. He'll be okay eventually, and he's going to come out of this stronger than ever.

That's how the show expected us to take it, that's what the cast and Tim said in the interviews. That's why even Lou asked us not to hate him.

But they severely underestimated the number of viewers who resonated with Tommy's story equally, if not more.

From Buck's perspective, this breakup is just a small bump in his continuous journey.

From Tommy's perspective, that's it, that's the ending of his story and it's a tragedy.

A lot of us are also from the "pre-Glee" world. We've done things we would later regret, we've hurt people unintentionally, we've kept people we love at arm's length, just to survive in an intolerant world. A world that might be making a comeback, judging by the political climate.

We've been lonely, we've yearned for a community that would accept us for who we are. On a meta level, we're Tommy, we watch the show because we want to be a part of the family.

But Tommy ends up alone, still too scared to take the risk, to open up his heart, to love.

If you don't have a solid support system to begin with, if you're not lucky enough to have always been accepted, then you're just too broken, too damaged for anything good.

For people like us, it in fact, does not get better.

[idyllicidols]

Cheat Day.

Another request. I forgot if the person wanted to stay anonymous so I'll leave them out to be safe. Something different with it being third person, but it felt needed with the content.

TW: gangbang

***

Wonyoung was always expected to be perfect. Her days were filled with endless rehearsals, rigorous diets, and sleepless nights. She yearned for a life of freedom, where she could make mistakes and be herself. Her long awaited day off was under commencement–and mistakes were definitely going to be made.

Three of her most dedicated fans, handpicked by the dollesque idol herself, received a private DM from an unknown account with a time and address. They were apprehensive about the message, but the never before seen photos piqued their curiosity.

The room was dimly lit, the only sound being the soft hum of the city outside. Wonyoung, clad in a silk robe, stood before them, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. She took mental notes on each one as they introduced themselves.

"Donghyun." She recognized him as a man who had been to nearly every concert and fan meet–his loud screams often heard over all the other fan chants. The messy haired boyish man looked like he just got off work. A disheveled suit with his tie loosely knit. Now that he was in such a private setting, he looked at her with an innocent admiration.

"Minsoo." The hottest of the bunch. His right arm covered in tattoos, his hair perfectly sculpted, but not greasy. He gazed upon her as if he already knew what she had planned. If the other two failed, she could depend on him for a good time.

"Junho." A recognized community member. Almost her whole fandom and group members knew of him. Her most dedicated fan. At every event, making sure to capture her in the perfect light. His fancams were the most popular, some even doing better than official recordings. A casual friendship had grown, and this was her way of showing her appreciation.

Her voice was steady and confident as she spoke, "Tonight, I'm not an idol. I'm not a performer. I'm yours, to do with as you please."

Junho and Donghyun exchanged astonished glances, their minds racing with the implications of her statement. They couldn't believe the woman they had idolized for so long would offer herself so freely. But Minsoo smirked expectedly.

Junho spoke up, "Wonyoung, we can't take advantage of you like this. You're an idol, and we're just fans."

Wonyoung's expression turned determined. "You can't deny me this. I've been living this life..always holding back, always being the perfect idol. Tonight, I want to be something else."

Donghyun joined in, "But you could ruin your reputation."

Wonyoung's voice hardened, "I don't care about my reputation. I want this. I want to be used, to be fucked."

She looked to Minsoo, her eyes pleading. She was right, she knew she could depend on him to get things rolling.

"If you're sure, Wonyoung, we can't deny you anything."

With a sultry smile, Wonyoung nodded, "I'm sure."

Minsoo undressed her slowly, untying the knot to her robe. She let it fall off her shoulders, the light from the window acted as a spotlight to her perfectly slender naked body. She was a tiny, delicate thing, but one with fire burning within her. The other two watched in awe as his hands roamed her body while his tongue explored her mouth.

He easily lifted her up and tossed her on the bed, his kisses trailed down from one pair of lips to her other. His hands were rough, their movements urgent and demanding.

"You cucks going to just watch or join in?" Minsoo aggressively berated the other two men into action.

Donghyun was the next to act, seizing this rare opportunity, kissing and touching wherever he pleased. Wonyoung moaned in pleasure as the two men grasped at her body. But she couldn't help but feel bad for Junho.

"Join us sweetie…" She called out to him. "... You can record this too if you like, just make sure you keep it to yourself…" flashing a sly smile.

That was all it took. Junho set up his camera, then joined in on the fun. He knew he would never get a chance like this again, and wasn't going to miss out.

Without another word, the three men moved in unison, Minsoo between her legs, Donghyun and Junho each taking one of her breasts in their hands and began to fondle them gently. Their thumbs brushed over her already sensitive nipples, sending shivers down her spine.

"Oh, god," she gasped, her head falling back as she felt a sudden rush of pleasure wash over her.

"Is that good, baby?" Junho asked, his voice filled with concern and desire.

She nodded, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "Yes, it's so good."

As the men continued to pleasure her breasts, their hands moved in a rhythmic pattern that had her on the edge of ecstasy. Minsoo was gifted at his craft, his tongue danced against her wet folds.

"Oh, God," she cried out, her body trembling with pleasure.

His tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure building with each pass. Wonyoung's breath caught in her throat as she felt the pleasure growing, spreading throughout her body until she was sure she couldn't take any more.

And then, suddenly, the pressure was gone, and she was left feeling empty and wanting.

"Please," she begged, her voice pleading. "I need more."

Minsoo smirked, knowing he had Wonyoung right where he wanted. He spread her legs wider, revealing her sensitive, throbbing clit to his waiting mouth.

"Oh, fuck," she gasped, her hands clawed at the sheets as pleasure washed over her once more.

Minsoo began to suck on her clit, his tongue moving in rhythmic, deliberate motions that had her body convulsing in pleasure. Then the final nail in the coffin, his middle and ring fingers dug into her wet quivering pussy. Squelching sounds echoed out with his fingertips constantly brushing her g-spot.

"You're gonna make me cum!" she screamed out, her voice strained and desperate.

Her body tensed; involuntarily trying to fight off the pressure that was overwhelming her system. But the other two held her down as they continued to explore her body. The pressure built in her stomach had nowhere else to go, a stream of sticky clear fluid shot out of her, her strongest orgasm in months taking over.

"Oh, god," she gasped, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own pleasure. "It feels so good."

An orgasm that intense should've left her helpless, but this was her only night of escape. Her animalistic desires insatiable, she rose from the sheets, her thin body covered in sweat.

"I'm gonna ride your fucking cock."

Wonyoung demanded as she pushed Junho on his back. He watched as the idol he's fantasized about so many times slowly lowered her mess of pussy onto his cock. It was better than he could ever dream, so tight and so warm, he never could have imagined how good she felt.

"You're so tight." Junho cried out.

He had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. But it got even better, she planted her feet and started bouncing up and down. Her sopping wet pussy glided easily-massaging his shaft with her moist caverns. She screamed in ecstasy, the first real cock inside of her in months felt better than any toy–it was a living thing, with its heat radiating inside of her.

It was hard to know who was having a better time - Wonyoung finally letting loose or Junho feeling the tight walls of his dream girl squeezing his cock. She was lost in ecstasy, the feelings of hands on her body almost forgettable.

Minsoo was there to give her a stark reminder. Wonyoung gasped when a strong force pushed her forward, making her turn around in surprise. Then she felt something hard pressed against her asshole, the tight ring on her virgin hole clenched in resistance.

"What are you – AH!" Wonyoung cried out before she could finish her question. A predictable result. There were three men and she had an accompanying hole for each. But what she didn't expect was for it to happen right off the bat. No preparation; no fingers or toys - just Minsoo's hard, massive cock breaking past her defenses in one fell swoop. Drool started leaking from her mouth, the intense feeling of getting fucked from both ends beyond her wildest dreams. Cries of pain filled the room, Wonyoung stretched out further than she ever thought possible. You would think she begged for them to stop, that the pain was too much to bear...

"Fuck me harder!" She screamed out, the pain of being fully engulfed by cock reminding her that she was alive–washing away months of the stressful idol life.

It was a sight to behold, Minsoo aggressively fucked the blabbering idol. His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as he drove into her with relentless force. It was a stark contrast to Junho, feebly thrusting upwards trying to keep pace. Wonyoung moaned, her head flailing as she felt her insides being stretched and filled. But soon they got in sync, fucking and stretching out Wonyoung's body at perfect intervals.

"Is this what you want, you filthy whore?" Minsoo growled in her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine.

"Yes," she gasped, "Fuck me."

"Hey Donghyun, why don't you keep her quiet before the neighbors complain."

Donghyun was like a perfect little pet, listening to everything anyone told him. As he stood up and pressed his cock against her lips there was no hesitation. Wonyoung opened up her lips and sucked like it was a popsicle. Now she was truly filled, a cock in each orifice, her body being used for greedy desires. It was only right, she worked so hard to stay fit, it would be a shame to keep it hidden away and locked up.

Donghyun was perfectly content standing there while she sucked and licked. Wonyoung however was not, grabbing the back of his thighs and taking him deep in her throat–a jolt of pleasure blasting through him every time she let a muffled moan vibrate against his cock. Actions spoke louder than words, her desires clearly obvious. His hands tangled in her long hair, thrusting his hips, fucking her face with the intensity she craved.

As the men continued their relentless onslaught, Wonyoung felt her body being torn apart, her mind filled with pleasure and pain. She could feel the cocks pounding into her, stretching her, filling her completely. Her moans and cries filled the room, echoing off the walls as the men continued to use her.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum!"

Wonyoung was in no place to protest, a cock in her throat keeping her from replying. Nor did she want to, wanting nothing more than the feeling of hot cum filling her up.

"That's it," Minsoo grunted, "Take it all."

Minsoo was the first to concede–a thick stream of hot cum painting her insides. He slid out from behind her, her gaping ass leaking down to the sheets. He grabbed Donghyun, pulling him away. Wounyoung heaved in relief, finally able to breathe without a cock pounding her throat.

"Clean up my mess." Minsoo demanded. Wounyoung's relief was short-lived–opening up her mouth, happily sucking the cock that just took her anal virginity. Donghyun stared at her asshole with intrigue, kneeling down behind her. She smiled in response, feeling him pressed against her puckered hole. While her mouth was amazing, Donghyun longed to fuck something much tighter, and there was nothing tighter than Wounyoung's ass.

Junho had surprising stamina, his fingers biting into her sensitive flesh as he pinched and twisted her nipples. Wonyoung writhed above him, her body on fire with pain and pleasure. She could feel her own orgasm building, the pressure in her pussy and ass growing unbearable.

"I'm going to cum," she gasped, "Oh, God, I'm going to...ahhh!"

Her body trembled as the orgasm ripped through her, her muscles contracting as she was filled to the brim. That set off a chain sequence–her contracting body milking every shaft inside of her. Luckily for her, all the fans were just as insatiable as she was–knowing this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

She was tossed around like a ragdoll, her tiny body fucked in every position possible, her tight holes nothing but a dumping ground for cum. They were like a well oiled machine, switching positions and holes, making sure that she always experienced something new. The only time one of her holes wasn't being fucked was when they needed to recover. Donghyun and Junho grew bolder as the night went on, fucking her with a ferocity that almost matched Minsoo.

The men continued their assault, their grunts and groans filling the air as they emptied themselves into her. Wonyoung's cries echoed in the room, a plethora of hands and tongues covering every inch of skin–three cocks stuffed in her holes, giving her everything she could ever ask for. She was reduced to nothing more than a living, breathing, screaming orgasm.

The sun was starting to rise, and the men pulled out, their spent cocks dripping with cum. They stepped back, leaving Wonyoung sprawled on the bed, her body covered in sweat, her mouth, pussy, and asshole leaking with cum.

Donghyun was the first to leave, he had to return to work within the hour. Junho turned sheepishly shy, embarrassed at how he lost control fucking his bias, collecting his camera. She smiled at him knowing he would forever cherish that footage. Donghyun and Junho bowed when they left. Forever grateful for this experience their faces flushed with pleasure, their hearts filled with gratitude. They had experienced something that most could only dream of.

Minsoo stuck behind, his fingers buried inside Wonyoung until she forced him to leave. She thanked him for starting things right, pulling him in for one final kiss before he left.

Wonyoung laid there, panting and trembling, her body sore and aching. Forget dance practice, she would be lucky if she was even able to walk. But as she stared up at the ceiling, she couldn't help but smile - she had found a release she had been longing for, a release that would fuel her performances, her passion, and her life. She couldn't wait for her next day off.

[ivystoryweaver]

Can't Live Without Him - Marc Spector

Marc + Hear them talking about you

Fall Fluff Masterlist | Marc Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Notes: Marc has his eye on the prize at the fall festival Word count: 519 || for this -M nonnie request

“How much for one of those stuffed frogs?” You hear Marc’s voice drift over the fall festival sounds. “Monster Mash” filters through crackling speakers as squeals and screams seep out of the haunted house. “Step right up” can be heard from multiple game attendants and vendors.

Marc speaks through his body so often, gripping your forearm, squeezing your hip, breathing on your neck. His eyebrows alone shift a dozen different ways to indicate the slightest change of mood. Warm eyes, soft and expressive, telling you of his longing, his regret, his buried pain. Lips pull into a thin line of frustration, an adorable pout or judgmental smirk.

On a really good day, the corners of his eyes crinkle as he laughs. The sound of it makes your heart soar.

But when he chooses to speak, your ears perk up, because he can communicate so well, and communicates so frequently, without words at all. And all the sounds of the bustling crowd diminish and narrow down to one, singular voice. Because he's talking about you.

“Not for sale, really, but you can win it,” the game’s attendant informs your boyfriend, handing him a dart. "How's your aim?"

That trademark smirk tugs the corner of his mouth as he shrugs. "Not a crescent but...it'll do."

You linger, watching as he pops three balloons with three darts in rapid succession.

"Nice work," the attendant compliments. "That'll get you the middle shelf. Play again, win again, for the top shelf."

Marc extends his hand for a second set of darts. "Gotta get the frog. She loves frogs."

"Ah, winnin' it for your girl?"

He smiles then - a genuine grin that reveals his teeth and shows those eye crinkles you adore.

"Yeah. For my girl."

"Should've won it right in front of her, really impressed her."

Marc turns his gaze right to you. With a wink, he answers, "She saw me."

Busted.

You laugh delightedly, emerging from your hiding spot and joining Marc, who presents you a huge, bright green, plush frog, with a neon-striped bow tie and extra long arms and legs. Marc uses the frog's arms to wrap around you for a stuffed animal hug.

"Oh my gosh I love him. He's so fluffy."

Marc lives to see the sparkle in your eyes.

"I don't know where we're going to put him. I already cleared a whole shelf for the rest of your frogs. And cleaned out half the closet for your stuff. Maybe he can sit...on our bed." His eyes go round and hopeful, locking onto yours.

"Our bed," you repeat, the air rushing out of your lungs. "You mean, our bed together, and our closet... A-are you asking me - "

Despite the yearning in his eyes and slight tremble of his lip, he pulls the fluffy frog away from you. "Well, my place is where this guy is gonna be, so..."

"Are you blackmailing me with a stuffed frog?" You giggle. "Because it's working. I love him and I have to live with him."

Marc smirks, nodding knowingly. "Is that right?"

"Yes," you breathe against his lips. "Can't live without him."

Fall Fluff Masterlist | Marc Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[apenitentialprayer]

i know that as a catholic you just have to believe with what the church says but i really dont like the belief of the original sin, i feel like its such a horrible thing to believe about yourself and about other human beings too

There are actually ways of legitimately dissenting from less essential Church teachings in a way that leaves you in good standing with the Church; I'm not sure if Original Sin is one of those things, though, to be honest.

But, anon, I'm going to offer another perspective here, starting from a quote (perhaps ironically?) from my favorite heretic. One of the things that James Carroll believes is that Original Sin has been given a bad wrap. In Constantine's Sword, he says:

I referred to Augustine’s assertion of the idea that the human condition implies a perennial state of finitude, weakness, and sin, all of which will be overcome, even for the Church, only with the end of time. [...] Augustine is thus regarded as the father of a severe, flesh-hating, sin-obsessed theology, but that dark characterization misses the point of his insight. His honest admission of the universality of human woundedness is a precondition for both self-acceptance and the forgiveness of the other, which for Augustine always involved the operation of God’s grace, God’s gift. Only humans capable of confronting the moral tragedy of existence, matched to God’s offer of repairing grace, are capable of community, and community is the antidote to human woundedness. Augustine sensed that relationship as being at the heart of God, and he saw it as being at the heart of human hope, too. This is a profoundly humane vision.

I wish I had understood the spirit of this quote when I was in high school. I remember learning in my World History class that Islam teaches that all children are born good, and then the world makes them evil. And I remember my teacher asking how that compares with Christianity, and I raised my hand and said that Christianity teaches that all of us are born evil. Because I believed that at the time. And, really, the whole framing of that question was wrong and gave really simplistic representations of what Islam and Christianity teaches, but I don't think we're alone in having internalized that understanding, anon. And that's a shame.

I thin it's important to remember the worldview that the doctrine of Original Sin is actively defending us against; there was an idea, that gets called "Pelagianism" (the poor guy it got named after may not even have believed it), that said that humans were capable of being saved on their own, by their own power. Someone on this site recently asked what people's thoughts on Pelagianism were, so you can read my thoughts here. But to keep it short and sweet, I think Original Sin is an important doctrine because it saves you from the need to be perfect.

There are ways to treat Original Sin that I think are certainly unhealthy, and I think the doctrine can be a source of anxiety and fear. But I also think, very deeply, that Original Sin should be a reason why we treat ourselves and especially our neighbor with kindness and understanding. I can look at myself and say "What I do, I do not understand. For I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate. […] For I do not do the good that I want, but I do the evil I do not want" (Romans 7:15, 19). And I can say that because I know I am ontologically wounded; that all of us have our weaknesses. That while we may still be in the moral wrong for committing a morally wrong action, our wills are compromised in a way that causes us to incline towards the comfortable and the easy rather than the good.

I wish I could go back in time and tell that class that Christianity does not teach that people are born evil. I wish I could go back and tell them that it teaches that we are born in a state of dis-integration, that we are wounded beings yearning for wholeness; alienated beings seeking everlasting belonging; beings lost in darkness, seeking the light. But I can say it now: the doctrine of Original Sin doesn't have to be an occasion to think you're depraved and without value, but it can be an invitation to come to terms with your own woundedness, because doing that (to use the words of Lutheran theologian Nancy Eiesland) "opens a space for the inflowing of grace and acceptance."