#what can i say I'm a freak

[ilikethisnamebutter]

*explodes*

[lgbtlunaverse]

The world exists in such a baffling state of simultaneous sex-aversion and sex-hegemony. Every social platform on the internet is trying to banish sex workers to the shadow realm but I can't post a tweet without at least two bots replying P U S S Y I N B I O. People are self-censoring sex to seggs and $3× but every other ad you see is still filled with half-naked women. Rightwingers want queer people arrested for so much as existing in the same postal code as a child and are also drumming up a moral panic about how teenage boys aren't getting laid enough. I feel like I'm losing my mind.

[mattodore]

birthday boy 🎂

[backpackingspace]

Consider young odysseus and Penelope courting by going on adventures together (committing crimes)

[flowerakatsuka]

nostalgic moments web kuji ( 2022 )

[underthenightskydreamsneverdie]

Little Wolf

Summary: After taking out an Ashwinder camp, Sebastian and MC have some feral sex in the woods.

Warnings: 18+, Outdoors sex, rough sex, spanking, degrading/humiliation, idk it's just really filthy guys

pairing: Sebastian x f!MC

Word count: 1289

A/N: @callmehopeless asked for outdoor feral sex and here is my contribution. This may be the filthiest thing I've ever written and I fucking love it. @pugsnotdrugs92 @sebswebs

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

Sebastian took your hand, running into the night, his heart pounding in his chest. He spared one last glance over his shoulder at the ruined Ashwinder camp, his mind flashing with a memory just made; standing back to back with you, taking out enemies, never missing your targets as you moved in unison, spells firing in quick succession, the look in your eyes as you stood surrounded by bodies of your victims, the air around you simmering with remnants of your ancient magic.

Adrenaline coursed through both of your veins, with it an insatiable lust. He stopped running, pulling you into a small grove of trees, roughly pushing you up against the closest one. He didn’t ask, didn’t say a word, just ripped at your clothes. The moment you were naked he was on you, lips biting at yours, hands grabbing at your flesh, roughly squeezing a breast, a hip, raking across your body as he growled into your mouth. Breaking the kiss, his hands worked quickly to undo his pants, pushing them down enough to free his achingly hard cock. You whimpered as your hands slipped under his shirt, wordlessly begging him to take it off. He ripped at the buttons desperately, not wanting to wait a second more to have you. The shirt fell to the forest floor and his hands found your thighs, lifting you up, pressing you against the tree, shoving his cock inside you in one quick movement. He growled as he filled you, your warmth increasing his lust. He thrust hard and fast, each one scraping the bare skin of your back against the rough bark of the tree. You felt it digging in, cutting into you but you didn’t care. All that mattered was him. 

You loved this side of him, his desperate, animalistic desire for you. When he didn’t care if he hurt you, if you liked it, if you could be seen or heard, all that mattered was the chase of release. In these rare moments he wasn’t your love, your darling, your sweetheart, no, he was your wolf. You would do anything to encourage him to let go, give in to his primal desires, entice the wolf in him to come out to play with the wolf in you. 

Bringing your head to his shoulder you nipped at his skin, loudly moaning his name. As your first orgasm hit you dragged your nails down his back, leaving angry red marks on his freckled skin. The sting of it brought his own release and he paid you back in kind, his teeth sinking into your skin hard enough to draw blood. You crushed your lips against his bloody ones, groaning as you ran your tongue over his teeth, tasting your own blood. 

As his orgasm subsided he set you down, stepping away to undress fully before pulling you to him and sinking you both down to the forest floor. Pushing your hips into the dirt he spread your legs, his strong hands keeping them in place while he pushed back into you, burying himself in your wet pussy once again. He thrust into you as hard as he could, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every one. Lifting your leg he threw it over his shoulder, grunting uncontrollably, lost in his pleasure. Gripping your hips hard, he pulled you to meet him as his pace increased, the sounds of your skin slamming together echoing through the forest. When his orgasm rocked through him this time he let out a deep groan, the end of it turning into an outright howl as he shot his load deep inside you. You let yourself do the same as your own orgasm overtook you, hands digging into the dirt around you. 

His chest heaving as he came down from his high, you pressed on him, urging him back, forcing his cock out of you. Rolling over onto your stomach, pressing your face into the dirt, you raised your ass into the air, shaking it in front of his face. If you were going to act like lust crazed animals, you were going to let him fuck you like one. 

Finally he spoke his first word since leaving the destroyed camp. “Fuck.” You smirked, loving that you’d gotten to him, but it was the feel of his hand coming down on your ass that made you moan. He kneaded the soft flesh before bringing his hand down hard multiple times in a row, high pitched moans slipping from your lips. He slapped at your rear for a long time, switching between cheeks, hitting and kneading until you were almost crying from the growing sensitivity. Just when you thought he was done, you felt his wet mouth on the already bruising skin, sucking at it, nipping at it. 

“Sebastian.” You whimper his name softly not wanting to break him out of this animalistic state. “Fuck me. Fuck your Little Wolf.” 

He let out a muffled growl, your flesh between his teeth. His hand came down one more time as he slipped himself into your wet folds. Setting a much slower pace he pulled completely out of you, making you whimper at the loss, before plunging back in, all the way to the hilt. Finally in the mood to speak, he punctuated his words with  forceful thrusts. 

“Do you..have any idea..how..sexy it is..to watch you..take out a..camp full of..bad guys..with your ancient magic? Have you..any notion.. of the ways..it drives me..wild?” With each thrust you let out small pleasurable screams as his body slammed into the tender flesh of your ass. Your mouth open, dirt sticking to your lips, the scent of the damp earth filling your nostrils, your mind went blank as he continued to pound into you, nothing but the deliciously painful feel of him breaking through your fogged head.

“Look at you, a whimpering, bloody and bruised, dirt covered mess, giving yourself to me. Fuck you look so beautiful right now. The Hero of Hogwarts grinding her face into the dirt like an animal. My strong, willful, girl reduced to this all because of my cock.” 

You hated that you loved the way his degrading comments pushed you over the edge, a shockingly loud scream emanating from your throat as you came for him, bucking your hips wildly to meet his thrusts. With another loud howl he lost control, his own climax descending on him, pulling so far out of you, desperate to fuck you as hard as he could, half of his seed shooting onto the ground underneath you. 

As the last waves of your orgasms subsided, he pulled out, collapsing on the forest floor next to you. Letting your legs relax you stretched out to your full length, giggling as his seed smeared on your stomach, dirt and twigs sticking to your skin. Turning your head to face him, an arm coming out to rest on his chest, you laughed together. Loud, obnoxious, tear producing laughter. 

“Well that was interesting my Little Wolf. I like calling you that. Makes my blood race. Damn, you’re a mess darling.” He pulled a leaf from your hair, chuckling. 

Sitting up, you crawled over to him, climbing on top of his body. Rocking your hips, your sopping wet core rubbing against his cock, you smirked at him. “You’re not nearly messy enough, my sexy wolf. I’m going to change that.” Feeling his cock growing hard again you raised yourself up before sinking down on him. With a long groan you set to work riding him, leaves and dirt falling from your hair, no plans of stopping until he was just as dirty as you.

[introspectivememories]

"evan, i find you adorable". adorable as in able to be adored. as in capable of being adored. as in i find you worthy of adoration. adorable, from the latin adorare (to worship) to adorabilis (in the sense 'worthy of divine worship') to the current day adorable. as in maybe if we had made it to the movies or if eddie didn't show up, i could've showed you just how much i want to worship you. as in i look at you and there is a font of adoration in my heart for you. adorable as in i flew into a hurricane with you and yet this date is a thousand times more thrilling than that. adorable as in there is a person in your building who saw me jump up and down like a little kid in the lobby after i had kissed you for the first time. adorable as in i kissed you and immediately thought fuck i could do this forever if he lets me. adorable as in i want to press kisses to your birthmark. adorable as in i spent the entirety of the days leading up to our date wondering about you, if you liked your coffee with two sugars or one. if you liked storms or if the lightning strike had put you off on them all together. if you liked cats or dogs or if you were the kind of weirdo who liked goats instead. if you thought about the kiss as often as i did. if your stomach tangled into twisted knots as saturday drew closer. if you would be agreeable to sitting in my lap. if you would blush as prettily as you did the day i kissed you. if your world also realigned when our lips met. if our orbits had matched up now that we flew into a hurricane together. if the gravitational pull between us had finally been too strong for either of us to resist that night in your loft. or maybe, more simply, adorable as in, "evan, i find you adorable."

[camellcat]

first xander brought her back with human breath and determination... then willow with supernatural power and love.... smth smth two halves to keep their third in balance from drifting too far into either side and losing herself.....

[sysig]

Okay but TSP/Portal crossover AU is such a cool concept, how have I never thought about that before?? I'd like to request Narra and GLaD hanging out watching their respective little guys go through tests like 'can you believe them they're so dumb <3'

Day 30 - They're absolute hellions

Bonus:

Noooo, my bucket!!

[sarroora]

[fisheito]

on one hand, i can make olivine the biggest juiciest bottom where eiden has to top him with climbing gear attached

on the other hand, i could make olivine the equally powerful priestly short king who only reaches eiden's bellybutton but can twirl that boy around his finger like a weighty necklace

[lifeless-discodancer]

I can't fix Kim but i what i can do is sit him down on his couch, wrap him in a blanket and make him watch an animated movie intended for kids, like Elysium's Winnie the Pooh or something, and let him experience something soft and sweet for once in his life. I feel like if he wasn't so repressed he would be the kind of person to get a teeny tiny bit teary-eyed when something sad happens to the characters, you know?? Like i feel he could the kind of person that cries a bit when a dog dies in a movie and i want to help him get there because his repressed ass won't be doing any of that on his own. He needs character development first

[thousandyearphantombunker]

i hate the fact the term karen went from describing a bitchy entitled customer to basically the modern day equivalent of calling a woman a harpy (misogynistic as fuck) and that people use the term on people out in public who are at the end of their rope emotionally from stress or a shitty day. I get it just because your having a rough time doesn't mean you get to be a dick but sometimes I think people are seriously lacking in empathy and I get it a lot shit the customer might be dealing with isn't your responsibility but like if a customer is struggling with something simple maybe don't be a dick? Just a thought.

[sparky-is-spiders]

Jonelias Week Day 1 (Which is definitely today I swear), for the prompt "No Powers AU"

This one... maybe got away from me. This is actually only the first half of what I've written so far, and probably the first third overall! I do plan to post this to Ao3 at some point (although I suspect I'll need to do a lengthy round of editing first lmao). It's some very self-indulgent nonsense, which is a lot of what I write, but now it's getting put in the main tags of a ship during said ship's event week. So. It may also be a little bit "aromantic dude tries to figure out what having a crush is supposed to be like." Also a lot of "dude who took Principals of Accounting once pretending it knows what office work is like." Anyway, quick warning before we begin, and the rest will be under the read-more:

Stalking (played for laughs) for most of the fic.

Just. A weird amount of obsession.

Ok that should be it I think. Fic under the cut.

Jon's new boss was, quite possibly, the most boring man in the world. He wore the same outfit every day (pale dress shirt with dark unpatterned tie and gray slacks and matching suit jacket). The only personal effect in his entire office was a potted plant on the windowsill (some sort of succulent, and definitely fake). He always arrived to work exactly half an hour early and left exactly half an hour late. The only hobby he appeared to show any interest in was scheduling, which he seemed to find both deeply engaging and remarkably irritating. In fact, he was apparently so opposed to the idea of mixing his work with his personal life that he might as well not have existed beyond the walls of their office. Jon had never been more fascinated by anyone else in his entire life.

It stared with the transfer to the accounting department. Elias had met with him personally to get him acclimated to his new role. He had been blandly polite, and blandly handsome, and Jon had stopped listening to him about five minutes into their conversation. It was probably bad form, really. The software Elias was droning on and on about sounded like it was about to become a central feature of his days. He really should've been paying attention to it. Instead, he pretended to make eye contact while zeroing in on the top of Bouchard's forehead (a very useful trick, really) and became inordinately focused on the small lock of hair that had fallen across it. It was terribly distracting, and Jon had wondered how he hadn't noticed it. And then he wondered how it had come to be there. And then he had built up an entire story involving a murder, an illicit affair with the assistant director of marketing, and the potted succulent. And then he had noticed Bouchard eying him with what could've been suspicion or amusement or irritation or nothing whatsoever, and had been forced to rapidly pretend to care about their company's bad debt expense policy. Bouchard had indulged him, and had spoken with the calm authority of someone who knew what they were talking about, and had even managed to avoid being overtly condescending (a feat forever out of Jon's reach). At the end he had shaken Jon's hand (with a nice, firm grip), and had told him "I'm looking forward to working with you, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful member of our team." Jon had left that meeting with a mind shrouded in a fog of boredom and a faint sensation of warmth which he decided was best attributed to curiosity and left otherwise unexamined. Over the next few weeks, Jon had tried to subtly inquire into Bouchard's life. At the time, he had been naively under the impression that surely he must have let slip something about his life; some odd quirk or funny story or harmless bit of information which could justify Jon's blooming curiosity. Unfortunately; "He lives in Chelsea, I'm pretty sure?" (Sasha) "He's currently in a meeting. Honestly Jon, you'll be better off just sending an email. Now can I please get back to work?" (Rosie, probably lying about the meeting) "He actually lives here in the office. Set up a cozy little home away from home in one of the storage closets and sneaks out at night to raid the canteen. And he's having an affair with the assistant director of marketing." (Tim, definitely lying (but maybe a mind reader? Also, full of brilliant ideas for places Jon could maybe set up a cot whenever he needs to stay overnight)) Clearly, Jon would have to take matters into his own hands if he wanted answers. That was fine. It could be his own private little research project.

Jon liked to think that the entire thing had actually been quite reasonable, and that he had acted within the bounds of their pre-established relationship as employee and supervisor. Surely any rational person had to realize that nobody could possibly be that uninteresting. Anyone would be curious as to what dark secrets Bouchard his behind his well-tailored suits and polite, professional demeanor. … perhaps most rational persons would not meticulously record the movements, behavior, and daily appearance of their colleague in a discreet notebook (with annotations, color-coding, and graphs where appropriate), but Jon had always prided himself on his dedication to research and understanding. So far Jon had collected frustratingly little data. If Bouchard was hiding anything, it wasn't apparent from his schedule (see pages 8-13, figure 2.b), his eating habits (see page 22), or his lone plant (see page five, figure 1.c). His breaks did seem specially timed to avoid other people (and he appeared not to engage in many social behaviors generally), but he never acted irritated or otherwise unhappy to encounter one of his subordinates, so Jon wasn't entirely sure if it was deliberate avoidance or simple coincidence. Really, the only truly odd thing about him was his inexplicable interest in Jon. That very morning, for example, Bouchard had stopped by his cubicle for a fifteen minute discussion on the upcoming Annual Team Luncheon, an event Jon had never attended before (due to an annual migraine which coincidentally always happened to occur on the exact date of the luncheon), which Jon did not plan to attend, and which honestly sounded like some sort of violation of the Geneva Convention. The topic itself was not especially odd (small talk was an archaic tradition which had stubbornly clung on in every workplace Jon had ever set foot in), but Bouchard's low propensity for inter-office socialization combined with the fact that he had both chosen Jon specifically as his conversational partner was… highly suspicious. Most people who encountered Jon inevitably concluded that he was more effort than he was worth (an attitude Jon mostly appreciated).

And of course, there had also been their interaction two days ago, when Elias had paused briefly to inquire as to whether Jon would be staying late, and what he was working on, and if he might perhaps consider heading home soon because there was only so much overtime they could pay him. Or on Friday, when he had managed to hold two separate conversations with Jon where very little was said. Honestly, Jon somewhat suspected that Elias had spoken to him more in the past few weeks than he had spoken to any of their colleagues for the entire time Jon had been there to observe him. Most of Jon's notes were now dedicated to their interactions. From his cot in the unused storage room (which was indeed a good place to stay overnight, thank you Tim), he could jot down everything he recalled about their interaction; it had begun at 8:32 and had concluded at 8:47; the weather was warm and slightly humid, although the office interior remained at a comfortable 21 °C. Bouchard's shirt had been a nice, cool gray, which complemented the silver of his eyes. Jon (who had been busy digging for his favorite pen (the ink was a lovely deep green color, and it was usually kept on the left side of the top desk drawer, and Jon had no idea where else it could have possibly gone)) had settled on "irritation" as his tone, which Bouchard either had not noticed or had not cared enough to acknowledge. He had easily dominated the conversation, and Jon could admit in the sanctity of his research journal that his voice had been soothing enough to cool away some of Jon's annoyance. He wrote his conclusion: Subject behaved near-identically in tone, posture, body language, and apparent mood as he has in all previous communications. Subject displayed no strong thoughts or opinions on subject of discussion nor conversational partner. Interaction was pleasant but slightly dull, no new information discovered. It was almost exactly the same as every previous conclusion. Jon had to admit, so many months with so little progress was… discouraging. He shifted on the narrow mattress and winced when his movements aggravated his backache (which was surely unrelated to his frequent occupancy of the cot). It was becoming more and more apparent that the only possible solution was to do some actual, direct investigation. His first idea (break into Bouchard's office) seemed a tad far (also, he didn't know how to pick locks). His second idea (follow him home) seemed a stretch further than the previous one, and was perhaps best saved as a last resort. His third idea (something something computers? (perhaps "idea" was a bit generous)) would almost certainly require Sasha, who would have questions Jon couldn't answer. He flipped idly through his notes, half-skimming, half-thinking. It was only when his gaze landed on figure 2.b, Weekly Schedule of E. Bouchard, that he actually came up with something reasonable. Something actionable.

[roz-ani]

What am I doing in the jayvik ship tag I DON'T EVEN SHIP THEM-

It's the art

It's always the goddamn art

[celtrist]

Why does Vassago already have merch, we haven't even met him yet