#you are a professional

[clonerightsagenda]

I think this is just a trend everywhere but I've been very frustrated this week by how much admin work is being outsourced to me as the patient/customer.

My orthodontist tells me I can make an appointment with the surgeon. I call the surgeon. They tell me I need a new referral. I call the orthodontist. They do a referral. I call the surgeon. Referral didn't come through. They tell me about their special unique system we have to use. I call the ortho again and walk them through the referral. I call the surgeon. They say the referral was missing some details so they have to do it again. I call the ortho.

The insurance company calls me about repair shops. I give them the name of the repair shop which I already gave them yesterday. They say they're not in their system but I can use them, but I have to call the repair shop to ask them to contact the insurance company. I call the repair shop and they say the insurance company is supposed to email them.

I feel like at a certain point these constant fetch quests become unreasonable?? Is it too much to expect these groups to communicate with each other instead of making me run back and forth between them???

[apleasurableillusion]

Absolutely absurd to me that accountants try to limit their liability to the fees you pay them. Like can you even imagine if a lawyer tried to do that?

[keferon]

Don’t mind me I just like to see him go bananas about cartoonish Autobot rules

Maaan…..if Prowl was in tfp he would spontaneously combust at least once a day

[thatgaiagirl]

I think they should meet

[zookie-art]

Shadows and light ~

[mroddmod]

magma fiddlestan be upon ye

[basalting]

everyone thank @sreppub for my amazing commission based on this post

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ ceo!satoru doesn't have time for romance.

as much as he'd like it — and sometimes, late at night in his ridiculously oversized apartment, he really would like it — it's just not in the cards. doesn't help that every so-called date he's endured felt more like an interview for his bank account than a genuine connection.

but then there's you. freshly employed, radiating a kind of unassuming prettiness that hits him like a punch to the gut. smitten doesn't even cover it.

he's in love. truly, madly, deeply. he swears it's not just some fleeting infatuation, not just limerence. this feels… different. real.

you're gorgeous, an actual angel who seems utterly oblivious to the effect you have. he catches himself just staring sometimes, a dumbfounded look on his face.

satoru's not entirely sure who hired you. some faceless name in hr, he supposes. whoever it is that works below him and handles the grunt work. because, and he hates to admit it even to himself, you're… well, you're not exactly competent. not that he cares, not really.

important documents vanish into thin air. work emails somehow end up in the inbox of the company's biggest rival. entire tasks seem to just… slip your mind. it's almost comical, if it wasn't so baffling.

and yet, he's obsessed. utterly, completely gone. maybe it's those big, naïve doe eyes that seem to hold a universe of innocent confusion. or the way you unconsciously nibble on your lower lip when you're trying to concentrate, your delicate brows furrowed in the cutest way.

you're always perky, though, a little ray of sunshine bouncing through the office, ready to tackle… well, whatever you manage to remember needs tackling.

could also be that skirt you insist on wearing. far too short for a professional environment, riding high on your thighs. he’s not even slightly ashamed to admit he’s “accidentally” dropped his phone more than once, the screen cracking a small price to pay for a glimpse of the lacy sliver peeking out from underneath. he could buy a new phone. or seven.

satoru tells himself he’s not a pervert, but the truth is, every morning when you greet him with that bright smile, his gaze lingers a little too long on the gentle swell of your breasts beneath your blouse.

he’s practically drooling, a shameful heat pooling low in his belly. you just don’t seem to notice, or maybe you’re just too sweet to say anything.

so, he’s doing you a favor, really, when he promotes you to his personal assistant. it’s a step up, right? except there’s nothing you actually have to do. he has a perfectly capable secretary for all the actual work.

your main job? looking pretty. being near him.

double the pay, all the fancy benefits, and absolutely none of the tedious labor.

well, unless you count being bent over his expansive mahogany desk, getting thoroughly, mind-numbingly fucked, as labor. not collapsing from exhaustion; that’s a different kind of hard work entirely. especially when your boss seems to possess the stamina of a goddamn marathon runner fueled by pure lust.

papers are scattered like fallen leaves, cascading onto the plush carpet. his grip on your hips is possessive, digging in, promising bruises that will bloom beautifully on your skin. a trail of your drool glistens on an unsigned contract, a testament to the utter control he has over you in this moment.

his thick cock fills you completely, each powerful thrust sending jolts of pure sensation through your body, making your head spin. “hah, feel that, precious? you’re squeezing me s'tight,” he groans, one hand leaving your waist to slide down and firmly cup your ass cheek, his thumb pressing insistently into your slick heat.

“mmm— sir,” you hiccup, your eyes rolling back in your head. holy shit, you can barely breathe, his thick tip bumping against your cervix with a deliberate twitch that makes your core clench involuntarily.

he’s told you, countless times now with this newfound intimacy, not to call him sir, but in this raw, primal moment, he finds it… surprisingly arousing.

his heavy, aching balls slap against your backside with each deep rut of his hips, your cunt a wet, messy testament to his relentless assault.

tears stream down your flushed cheeks, and breathless moans tumble from your lips, pleas and whimpers all blurring together. “i— i think i’m gonna come!”

“yeah? is that — fuck — right?” his voice is thick with want.

you whimper, your fingers digging into the polished edge of the desk, anything to anchor you in the storm of sensation. a broken agreement spills from your lips, your jaw slack with the intensity.

the only coherent thought left in your ravaged mind is his name, and it spills from your lips in desperate, repeated chants. it’s music to his ears, inflating his already considerably large ego.

“i’m close too, precious,” satoru grunts, his breath hot against your neck. it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s unloading another thick, syrupy stream of his seed deep inside the slick walls of your cunt, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

he pulls back slightly, panting, his forehead resting against the back of your head. “remind me to give you another bonus,” he murmurs, his voice still rough. “actually, just jot that down. notepad’s on the left, i think.”

dazed and confident, you look to the right.

[pseudowho]

18+, touch-starved, 'waiting' gentleman Nanami Kento, male masturbation over the clothes

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"But...does this count?" you whispered against Nanami Kento's neck, your hand trailing down to the curved tenting at the front of his tan trousers. He jolted, grunting, involuntarily bucking against your palm.

He was a gentleman; one who waited; one who longed. Certainly not one to turn his back on due diligence, and favouring flowers over fondling. Any girlfriend whom he intended to become his wife, would only be taken by him after a societally appropriate time.

But how long would this be? With you, a day felt like a month; a month, years. With how you smiled against his throat, he knew, from every twitch of his touch-starved body, that even a gentleman may meet his resolve's end sooner than planned.

"It...it counts," Kento choked, his body betraying him to roll his hips and the straining underside of his cock up against your palm. "I...I shouldn't. You deserve-- deserve--"

"...deserve to know the face of your pleasure, before you come inside me?" Kento froze, paralysed by the honesty, the filth of your words. He felt his cock twitch beneath your palm when you spoke again, lower this time. "Yes. Yes, I do. So..."

"I-- I don't-- haaaah," Kento cried, hoarse and breathy, for a twitch almost as bone-deep as one when he spilled himself, shivered through his length. He felt the dribble of pre-cum soak through his trousers; he saw it, too, the sticky fluid staining the pale material to beige. You felt it, too; you saw it, too. Kento knew he was a goner, when you bit your lip beneath dilating pupils.

You cupped your hand around the length of his cock, moulding his boxers and trousers to his shape, and slowly, rhythmically, beginning to jack him off through his clothes. Kento humped up desperately, dishevelled and panting, and touch-starved, so touch-starved--

"Feels good?" you whispered, suckling his throat to leave rose petals on his skin. Kento only groaned; husky, shuddering, coming undone embarrassingly quickly. Touch without touch was so illicit, so debauched, for one so corseted as he.

"Feels...feels...like I'm going to come in my boxers like a boy--" Kento growled, tangling his fingers through your hair to keep your lips on his throat.

"Would that be so bad?" you murmured against his pulse point, your tongue dipping out to taste the desperation off his skin. Your hand sped up, gliding around the length of him.

Your eyes closed to imagine it was his bare cock in your hand, instead. Your eyes closed, to imagine how the shape of him would fit every plush facet of your insides. You shivered; Kento moaned. You felt him hardening even further; felt the ghost of veins, standing proud, winding around his cock like desire paths.

The gentleman was gone, now; the needy remained.

"Don't stop," panted Kento, fucking up into your palm with every smooth masturbatory motion that your hand made around him, "--just--just like that-- don't stop-- I...I'll..."

Trailing your lips from his jaw to his mouth, you pressed a chaste little peck to his lips; but it was when your tongue swiped over his lower lip, that he met his undoing.

Your hand pumped only two more fabric-frictioned long pumps...before Kento held his breath. His jaw dropped in a silent gasp. His hand tightened in your hair, the other pressing dimples into the divot of your waist. And you felt him spill.

Kento moaned with every twitch of his cock, leaping and spurting beneath tan confines. You watched, fascinated, to see him come apart with each bucking spill, each deepening stain that spread beneath his clothes. His face, twisted in divine agony, would be seated into your mind until he took you, pinned and begging his name, for the first time.

"--f-fuck...o-ooohhh f-fuck...p-pathetic...so pathetic--"

"--hot, actually--"

A rough, gravelly cough; a mirthless laugh, with his final weak spatters of cum.

"...you...will be the end of me...I swear on my life..."

Kento opened one slim, brown eye, regarding your gleeful lip-biting with a huff. He had almost pulled himself together...until you dipped down to the cum-stain on his crotch, and fixed your mouth around it, sucking through the saturated fabric and dipping out your tongue to taste him.

Kento whimpered, bucking weakly against your lips, for you had broken him once, and twice, and now thrice, and he wondered how he would ever survive--

"...taste amazing, Kento."

Four times. Kento flipped you beneath him, pinning you to the sofa with sadistic satisfaction at the look of shock on your face.

He blew upwards, wisping commas of blond off his sweaty forehead. He curled one long finger into his tie, loosening it with one violent tug.

"I've had enough of you, madam. If you won't treat me like a gentleman, then I shan't be."

[asphodelles]

i got the veilguard art book a couple months ago and decided to do a design study based on the mourn watch visdev during my 2 week winter break. i used my player character as a test dummy

[stealingyourbones]

There’s a new drug in Gotham making the rounds, one synthesized by Two-Face’s people; if you take it you will have a 50/50 chance that you’ll experience the greatest high of your life or that you’ll die.

Batman is desperately trying to find the main lab and cut off the production from the source and hasn’t been able to find a lead in weeks.

That’s when Gordon gives him a file that was given to him by a “white haired ghost kid”. It’s a detailed report written similarly to a scientific journal with detailed sources that are mainly first hand accounts from deceased victims of the Two-Face drug.

At the very end of the paper there’s an address to a Gotham University dorm room with a sticky note next to it that says “if you need help with death or the undead. Yours truly; Danny Fenton.”

[sceletaflores]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor, to the toilet seat, from the dining room table, to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink, to the shower, from the front porch, to the balcony, vertically horizontally, quadratic, exponent, algorithmetic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, forward, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in a car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back aching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw-dropping, hair pulling teeth jitterbug, mind boggling, soul snatching, over stimulating, vile, sloppy, moan-inducing, heart-wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, blackhole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark-worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcanic erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, hip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail snatching, spectacular, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, malforming, heavenly, devil's tango. please.

[beggars-opera]

“Avoid these fashions that look dated” “10 things not to wear over the age of 30” how about I’m a goddamn adult now and my personal style that makes me happy is none of your business

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Picture this: Dragons using their caves to age cheese. Dragon Cheesemakers!!

The dragon coiled his enormous body, completely blocking the entrance of the tunnel that lead to the caves.

“No,” he snarled, smoke pluming from his nose.

The cheesemonger pinched the bridge of her own nose. “Look, I explained this to you at the start,” she tried once more. “I make cheese.”

“Yes,” the agreed, nodding his scaly head.

“Then I bring the cheese here.”

“Yes.”

“Then you store all the cheese in your cave, keeping it at the perfect temperature and humidity.”

“Yes.” He sounded particularly proud of this part.

“And then when the cheese has ripened,” she concluded. “I come to pick the cheese up again.”

A thunderous scowl clouded his maw. “No.”

“But that’s how it works!” she cried in exasperation. “I make the cheese, you store the cheese, I sell the cheese, I make more cheese!” She peered up at him. “You do realise I cannot bring you new cheese until I have sold this cheese.”

The dragon considered this for a moment. “Ah, but what if—” he began. “What if you go and make more cheese. And bring me the cheese. And I put it in my cave, with the rest of the hoard. And then I keep it there forever.”

“No,” she said flatly.

It was remarkable how much a dragon could look like it had just swallowed a lemon.

“You can’t keep cheese forever,” she insisted. “It will spoil and go bad!”

“You said it would get better and better!” the dragon roared indignantly. “And I take good care of them! With the air flow and the humidity and the temperature!”

“And that is great,” she said, trying to smile through her frustration. “But when a cheese is ripe, it’s ripe! Then you should not be kept anymore, it should be eaten.”

The dragon scraped it’s formidable claws against the stony ground and sulked.

“Look…” The cheese mongering business did not tend to require a lot of sweet-talking, but she was making an effort. “I’m sure the cheeses that aged in your cave are the best cheeses people have ever tasted. When they find out how delicious they are they will want us to make loads more. Maybe several caves’ worth!”

The reptilian eyes stared at her with disgruntled, reluctant interest. “Several caves?”

“If we’re lucky! And I could make so much cheese that I could bring you new cheese as soon as I pick up the aged cheese. Your cave would never even be empty!”

This seemed to strike a chord. The dragon lifted his head a little.

“And that would really be much better for the rest of your hoard,” she continued with fresh inspiration. “Because if you leave cheese too long, it might go bad and spoil the cheeses next to it too!”

A nervous ripple went through the beast’s scaly body, but he clearly was not convinced just yet. “But what sort of a hoard is it if I have to give it away,” he complained.

“Well! Cheese is not just any old hoard! It’s a developing creation! And you will have a hoard that is constantly developing too. Constantly changing, but, if we do this right, never shrinking.”

The dragon looked at her solemnly, wavering with uncertainty. Perhaps she shouldn’t hold it against the poor thing, it must be a difficult concept to wrap his head around.

“And I will tell you what,” she said encouragingly. “If business is good, I can start investing in some really good crumbly cheeses. You can keep those in your cave for five whole years!”

“That is quite a long time for humans, is it not?” he said, sounding a little more cheerful.

“Very long. Especially when it comes to cheese. Cheeses that have been aged that long are very expensive.”

In retrospect, she should perhaps have led with that. Gourmand or not, a dragon was still a dragon after all. A glittering, toothy grin appeared on her recalcitrant business partner’s shout and he moved just enough for her to move past him into the mountain.

“Tell me more about this expensive cheese that crumbles.”

She hid a smirk. “If you help me carry some of the current ones out, it would be my pleasure.”

[paper-lilypie]

the before and after got to me