#i will be logging off after this /j | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

timeflow · 11 months

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good evening reddit users, welcome to the website. not seen one of these that tells you how to make this website bearable so here goes

starting off with dashboard settings you want to turn off endless scrolling (it slows down the website after a while of scrolling), turn off shorten long posts because one of the main things about this website is the total lack of a character limit (as an alternative to this setting, you can press j to skip to the next post on the dashboard if the current one is kind of long). turning on timestamps is convenient because it allows you to check when a post was made (don't get me wrong: this website absolutely LOVES reblogging old posts, but there are times when it's worth checking if a post has very old news in it)

turn off best stuff first right away. one of the main reasons cited for joining tumblr is because "there is no algorithm". this is not entirely true, we have one but we routinely turn off anything algorithmic that staff adds. turning off best stuff first means your dashboard will be reverse chronological no matter what, and turning off based on your likes and stuff in your orbit will get rid of the rest of the algorithmically-recommended content that appears on your dashboard

following tags is nice because you will occasionally see posts with tags you follow sprinkled into your dashboard. this is considered good because it's almost always recent, I personally recommend turning on include followed tag posts and just following a bunch of random tags that you think could be interesting (characters, media, topics, whatever)

this one's a more personal thing but I would absolutely turn off any community labels because tumblr staff has recently been just putting a bunch of random posts under this despite being entirely sfw. if you ACTUALLY want to filter content, then go to filtered tags:

unlike the community labels which are put arbitrarily by staff, tags are put on by the actual users and so you can MUCH more reliably filter out content you don't want to see by putting filtered tags. this also works for any kind of content unlike the community labels, meaning you can just filter out stuff that you don't want to see (a particular character, a particular piece of media, a certain topic, anything you want really)

turn on custom theme immediately. the standard view of tumblr.com/url will give people who are not logged in a forced login wall, meanwhile url.tumblr.com will not. by doing this you also get access to your post archive at url.tumblr.com/archive, which lets you look through your posts more easily (the search function is awful). the main benefit of this, however, is that you get to have a custom look to your blog: going to edit theme brings up a menu that allows you to customize your css, add pages to your tumblr blog, etc. all very useful stuff

it's also worth taking the time to consider whether or not you leave your liked posts and list of blogs you follow public (most people have likes turned off, following is also commonly turned off but I personally don't care about others seeing who I follow)

turn off the let people blaze your posts. blaze basically allows you to pay money to show a post to a random group of people by paying money, suffices to say that allowing others to blaze your posts without your consent will inevitably lead to one of your personal posts getting blazed by some prick and now hundreds of people have seen it

asks are one of the main ways of interacting with blogs so absolutely turn them on. whether you allow anons is your choice, anonymity allows people to say nice things without feeling embarrassed about how everyone knows who said that, but it also allows people to send hateful stuff with no consequence.

submissions are like whatever. I personally leave them on but in my 5 years of having this blog I've been submitted to twice.

to close off this post I'll leave my personal thoughts on reblog etiquette:

reblogging is great. reblog the fuck out of anything. does the post amuse you slightly? reblog it. go wild

that being said please don't put anything in your reblogs unless it's like a really important comment. your comment will be immortalized forever if someone reblogs the post from you and on popular posts I have to constantly go back a couple years to get rid of an annoying comment like "LOL THIS IS SO FUNNY" because that person didn't realize that their addition was wholly unnecessary

if you DO want to add something to say your thoughts on the post in a quiet voice that doesn't get permanently added onto the original, consider talking in the tags of your reblog. this is considered nicer since when the post is reblogged from you your tags are not going to stick around. there is also this process known as "peer review" in which if your tags are sufficiently funny one of your followers (or sometimes a random person browsing the notes of the post) will screenshot/copy and paste your tags into a reblog, which is a much more natural way of having your comment added into the post

tags are also nice to use or organizational purposes. clicking on a post with a certain tag on your blog will show you every post with that tag on your blog allowing you to find posts later, alternatively you can go to url.tumblr.com/archive/tagged/[insert tag here] to a similar effect.

that's all I have to say on this subject. have fun on our glorious website

edit: oh yeah also unfollow staff. it will make you look normal 👍

#reddit migration #reddit #196 #r/196 #r196 #curatedtumblr #r/curatedtumblr #think those are all the relevant ones. hi redditors btw #r/tumblr

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ddejavvu · 6 months

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i was using Spotify and I realized how u could see what ur friends are listening to atm on there and it would be so fun to have hotch discover this, and be surprised that the reader is listening to songs like “or nah” or j any explicit songs like that and is into it😋 could lead into something more like playing that song while they’re doing it later on

OKAY THANK YOU LOVE UR WRITING!!!

i love you! i just left this vague and open to whatever song you want to insert!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Being Spotify friends with Aaron Hotchner only came about because of Penelope's insistence on team bonding. And because she wanted to send everyone the personalized playlists she'd made for them, and sharing became much easier that way.

All it's yielded for you is the knowledge that, very infrequently, Hotch remembers he has a music app on his phone, and that he plays 2-3 Beatles songs before he inevitably gets called to another task and has to shut off the music.

Aaron is even less frequently informed of your tastes in music than you are of his, because the few times that he's used the app, he forgets to check what the other members of the team are listening to. Not that he really cares; Spencer's listening to classical and Derek has too-loud EDM playing in his headphones that Savannah teases him for. Rossi prefers records to his phone, and JJ plays mainly kids' songs for her boys. Emily is always listening to some mid-2000's rock song, but you, you he hasn't gotten a read on. You're all over the place, switching from singer to singer, genre to genre, language to language. All in all, his team's music taste doesn't affect him, but Penelope is far more eager to snoop on you all than he is.

"Ooh, nasty girl," She gushes, head bent to look at her phone as she waits in Aaron's office. He'd instructed her to let him have five minutes to finish a report before she briefed him on a new case's details, but she's proving very distracting. With a glance up at her, half-scathing, half-incredulous, he asks, 'What?'

"Oh! Y/N's Spotify," She holds out her phone as explanation, showcasing your profile with unfamiliar album art displayed over it. It's black and red, but Aaron doesn't recognize the song or the artist.

He raises an eyebrow at Penelope, and she huffily gives into his demand.

"It's a song about sex," She informs him, "Like- feral, sweaty, hungry, clawing-at-the-sheets, scratching-up-his-back, mouth-open-so-he-"

"Alright! Enough," Hotch snaps, glaring disapprovingly at her rather vulgar language, "I think I get the picture, Garcia."

"Sorry, sir." She looks only mildly sheepish, talking more to herself than she is to him as she muses, "Didn't know she was into that kind of thing."

Aaron doesn't think about the title of the song again until well after Penelope's gone, and he's taking his lunch alone in his office. He's more a fan of songs that, if they are about sex, don't outwardly mention any vulgarity, and he's not sure if he could handle explicit material being spewed at loud volumes directly into his ear. Call it morbid curiosity, call it Disapproving Boss Syndrome, but he fishes near-new headphones out of his desk drawer to find out what you've been listening to while filling out government paperwork all day.

He has the good sense to look it up on youtube without logging in. He doesn't want this attached to him in any way, and he certainly doesn't want eagle-eyed Penelope catching him on Spotify.

The beginning of the song seizes the ear right away, a unique beat that definitely doesn't sound sexually appealing. But when each different instrument filters in and the lyrics begin, he realizes that Penelope's description was not very far off.

It's filthy.

It's twenty kinds of vulgar, words that he's never even heard before being used to refer to genitalia. The only way he figures out their definitions is through context, and he thinks he may have been better off without knowing them. He's floored by the contents of the song; he knows sexual songs exist, even at this level of vulgarity, but he'd have never expected you to indulge in them. Certainly not in the workplace.

The song finishes out at three minutes and nine seconds, and Hotch feels a slight heat to his face as he unplugs his headphones and closes the tab. No one had caught him, but he feels mortified anyways, and decides he no longer has an appetite.

He puts the lid back onto the container of leftover pasta that he'd brought from home, keeping his head down as he treks to the kitchenette to refrigerate it.

Of course, his luck fails him as he nearly bumps into you, rounding the corner to the small, closed-off kitchen and finding you in front of the microwave in the doorway.

"Oh! Sorry, Hotch." You laugh, stepping out of his way to let him through. He notices an earbud in your ear and pushes away the knowledge of what song you're probably listening to, heading for the fridge instead.

"It's fine." He grumbles, electing to stay silent for the rest of your impromptu meeting if he can manage. He feels slightly guilty for being cold towards you, because it was his own curiosity that led to his embarrassment, but he can't look you in the eyes right now.

You see fit to fill the awkward silence with the tapping of your nails on the counter, and with a jolt of recognition, and something else far more intense below the belt, he realizes that you're tapping out the beat of the song.

He ignores your sharp gasp as he slams the refrigerator door perhaps a tad too hard. He doesn't have time to feel bad about startling you, though, not when he so desperately needs to be back in the confines of his office, away from the prying eyes of the team.

His sharp memory comes in handy as he calls upon the name of the song later that night, pretending to himself that he's only doing it because it's been stuck in his head. Not because every time he thinks of it, or rather, of you listening to it, his pants tighten slightly. He chooses youtube first, but something drags his thumb towards the spotify button instead, and he swallows the saliva that's suddenly pooled in his mouth when his suspicions are confirmed: you're listening to it, too.

At eleven-thirty at night, probably beneath the covers on your bed just like Aaron is, you're listening to a song about sex, and as he sinks a hand beneath the waistband of his pajama pants, he knows without a doubt that you're doing the same.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 months

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A year in illustration, 2023 edition (part one)

(This is part one; part two is here.)

I am objectively very bad at visual art. I am bad at vision, period – I'm astigmatic, shortsighted, color blind, and often miss visual details others see. I can't even draw a stick-figure. To top things off, I have cataracts in both eyes and my book publishing/touring schedule is so intense that I keep having to reschedule the surgeries. But despite my vast visual deficits, I thoroughly enjoy making collages for this blog.

For many years now – decades – I've been illustrating my blog posts by mixing public domain and Creative Commons art with work that I can make a good fair use case for. As bad as art as I may be, all this practice has paid off. Call it unseemly, but I think I'm turning out some terrific illustrations – not all the time, but often enough.

Last year, I rounded up my best art of the year:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/25/a-year-in-illustration/

And I liked reflecting on the year's art so much, I decided I'd do it again. Be sure to scroll to the bottom for some downloadables – freely usable images that I painstakingly cut up with the lasso tool in The Gimp.

The original AD&D hardcover cover art is seared into my psyche. For several years, there were few images I looked at so closely as these. When Hasbro pulled some world-beatingly sleazy stuff with the Open Gaming License, I knew just how to mod Dave Trampier's 'Eve Of Moloch' from the cover of the Players' Handbook. Thankfully, bigger nerds than me have identified all the fonts in the image, making the remix a doddle.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/12/beg-forgiveness-ask-permission/#whats-a-copyright-exception

Even though I don't keep logs or collect any analytics, I can say with confidence that "Tiktok's Enshittification" was the most popular thing I published on Pluralistic this year. I mixed some public domain Brother's Grimm art, mixed with a classic caricature of Boss Tweed, and some very cheesy royalty-free/open access influencer graphics. One gingerbread cottage social media trap, coming up:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

To illustrate the idea of overcoming walking-the-plank fear (as a metaphor for writing when it feels like you suck) I mixed public domain stock of a plank, a high building and legs, along with a procedurally generated Matrix "code waterfall" and a vertiginous spiral ganked from a Heinz Bunse photo of a German office lobby.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/22/walking-the-plank/

Finding a tasteful way to illustrate a story about Johnson & Johnson losing a court case after it spent a generation tricking women into dusting their vulvas with asbestos-tainted talcum was a challenge. The tulip (featured in many public domain images) was a natural starting point. I mixed it with Jesse Wagstaff's image of a Burning Man dust-storm and Mike Mozart's shelf-shot of a J&J talcum bottle.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/01/j-and-j-jk/#risible-gambit

"Google's Chatbot Panic" is about Google's long history of being stampeded into doing stupid things because its competitors are doing them. Once it was Yahoo, now it's Bing. Tenniel's Tweedle Dee and Dum were a good starting point. I mixed in one of several Humpty Dumpty editorial cartoon images from 19th century political coverage that I painstakingly cut out with the lasso tool on a long plane-ride. This is one of my favorite Humpties, I just love the little 19th C businessmen trying to keep him from falling! I finished it off with HAL 9000's glowing red eye, my standard 'this is about AI' image, which I got from Cryteria's CC-licensed SVG.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/16/tweedledumber/#easily-spooked

Though I started writing about Luddites in my January, 2022 Locus column, 2023 was the Year of the Luddite, thanks to Brian Merchant's outstanding Blood In the Machine:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/26/enochs-hammer/#thats-fronkonsteen

When it came time to illustrate "Gig Work Is the Opposite of Steampunk," I found a public domain weaver's loft, and put one of Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes in the window. Magpie Killjoy's Steampunk Magazine poster, 'Love the Machine, Hate the Factory,' completed the look.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/12/gig-work-is-the-opposite-of-steampunk/

For the "small, non-profit school" that got used as an excuse to bail out Silicon Valley Bank, I brought back Humpty Dumpty, mixing him with a Hogwartsian castle, a brick wall texture, and an ornate, gilded frame. I love how this one came out. This Humpty was made for the SVB bailout.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/23/small-nonprofit-school/#north-country-school

The RESTRICT Act would have federally banned Tiktok – a proposal that was both technically unworkable and unconstitutional. I found an early 20th century editorial cartoon depicting Uncle Sam behind a fortress wall that was keeping a downtrodden refugee family out of America. I got rid of most of the family, giving the dad a Tiktok logo head, and I put Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes over each cannonmouth. Three Boss Tweed moneybag-head caricatures, adorned with Big Tech logos, rounded it out.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/30/tik-tok-tow/#good-politics-for-electoral-victories

When Flickr took decisive action to purge the copyleft trolls who'd been abusing its platform, I knew I wanted to illustrate this with Lucifer being cast out of heaven, and the very best one of those comes from John Milton, who is conveniently well in the public domain. The Flickr logo suggested a bicolored streaming-light-of-heaven motif that just made it.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/01/pixsynnussija/#pilkunnussija

Old mainframe ads are a great source of stock for a "Computer Says No" image. And Congress being a public building, there are lots of federal (and hence public domain) images of its facade.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/04/cbo-says-no/#wealth-tax

When I wrote about the Clarence Thomas/Harlan Crow bribery scandal, it was easy to find Mr. Kjetil Ree's great image of the Supreme Court building. Thomas being a federal judge, it was easy to find a government photo of his head, but it's impossible to find an image of him in robes at a decent resolution. Luckily, there are tons of other federal judges who've been photographed in their robes! Boss Tweed with the dollar-sign head was a great stand-in for Harlan Crow (no one knows what he looks like anyway). Gilding Thomas's robes was a simple matter of superimposing a gold texture and twiddling with the layers.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/06/clarence-thomas/#harlan-crow

"Gig apps trap reverse centaurs in wage-stealing Skinner boxes" is one of my best titles. This is the post where I introduce the idea of "twiddling" as part of the theory of enshittification, and explain how it relates to "reverse centaurs" – people who assist machines, rather than the other way around. Finding a CC licensed modular synth was much harder than I thought, but I found Stephen Drake's image and stitched it into a mandala. Cutting out the horse's head for the reverse centaur was a lot of work (manes are a huuuuge pain in the ass), but I love how his head sits on the public domain high-viz-wearing warehouse worker's body I cut up (thanks, OSHA!). Seeing as this is an horrors-of-automation story, Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes make an appearance.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

Rockefeller's greatest contribution to our culture was inspiring many excellent unflattering caricatures. The IWW's many-fists-turning-into-one-fist image made it easy to have the collective might of workers toppling the original robber-baron.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

I link to this post explaining how to make good Mastodon threads at least once a week, so it's a good thing the graphic turned out so well. Close-cropping the threads from a public domain yarn tangle worked out great. Eugen Rochko's Mastodon logo was and is the only Affero-licensed image ever to appear on Pluralistic.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/16/how-to-make-the-least-worst-mastodon-threads/

I spent hours on the sofa one night painstakingly cutting up and reassembling the cover art from a science fiction pulp. I have a folder full of color-corrected, high-rez scans from an 18th century anatomy textbook, and the cross-section head-and-brain is the best of the lot.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/04/analytical-democratic-theory/#epistocratic-delusions

Those old French anatomical drawings are an endless source of delight to me. Take one cross-sectioned noggin, mix in an old PC mainboard, and a vector art illo of a virtuous cycle with some of Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes and you've got a great illustration of Google's brain-worms.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/14/googles-ai-hype-circle/

Ireland's privacy regulator is but a plaything in Big Tech's hand, but it's goddamned hard to find an open-access Garda car. I manually dressed some public domain car art in Garda livery, painstakingly tracing it over the panels. The (public domain) baby's knit cap really hides the seams from replacing the baby's head with HAL9000's eye.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

Naked-guy-in-a-barrel bankruptcy images feel like something you can find in an old Collier's or Punch, but I came up snake-eyes and ended up frankensteining a naked body into a barrel for the George Washington crest on the Washington State flag. It came out well, but harvesting the body parts from old muscle-beach photos left George with some really big guns. I tried five different pairs of suspenders here before just drawing in black polyhedrons with little grey dots for rivets.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/03/when-the-tide-goes-out/#passive-income

Illustrating Amazon's dominance over the EU coulda been easy – just stick Amazon 'A's in place of the yellow stars that form a ring on the EU flag. So I decided to riff on Plutarch's Alexander, out of lands to conquer. Rama's statue legs were nice and high-rez. I had my choice of public domain ruin images, though it was harder thank expected to find a good Amazon box as a plinth for those broken-off legs.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/14/flywheel-shyster-and-flywheel/#unfulfilled-by-amazon

God help me, I could not stop playing with this image of a demon-haunted IoT car. All those reflections! The knife sticking out of the steering wheel, the multiple Munsch 'Scream'ers, etc etc. The more I patchked with it, the better it got, though. This one's a banger.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

To depict a "data-driven dictatorship," I ganked elements of heavily beribboned Russian military dress uniforms, replacing the head with HAL9000's eye. I turned the foreground into the crowds from the Nuremberg rallies and filled the sky with Matrix code waterfall.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/26/dictators-dilemma/#garbage-in-garbage-out-garbage-back-in

The best thing about analogizing DRM to demonic possession is the wealth of medieval artwork to choose from . This one comes from the 11th century 'Compendium rarissimum totius Artis Magicae sistematisatae per celeberrimos Artis hujus Magistros.' I mixed in the shiny red Tesla (working those reflections!), and a Tesla charger to make my point.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

Yet more dividends from those old French anatomical plates: a flayed skull, a detached jaw, a quack electronic gadget, a Wachowski code waterfall and some HAL 9000 eyes and you've got a truly unsettling image of machine-compelled speech.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

I had no idea this would work out so well, but daaaamn, crossfading between a Wachowski code waterfall and a motherboard behind a roiling thundercloud is dank af.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/03/there-is-no-cloud/#only-other-peoples-computers

Of all the turkeys-voting-for-Christmas self-owns conservative culture warriors fall for, few can rival the "banning junk fees is woke" hustle. Slap a US-flag Punisher logo on and old-time card imprinter, add a GOP logo to a red credit-card blank, and then throw in a rustic barn countertop and you've got a junk-fee extracter fit for the Cracker Barrel.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

Putting the Verizon logo on the Hinderberg was an obvious gambit (even if I did have to mess with the flames a lot), but the cutout of Paul Marcarelli as the 'can you hear me now?' guy, desaturated and contrast-matched, made it sing.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/10/smartest-guys-in-the-room/#can-you-hear-me-now

Note to self: Tux the Penguin is really easy to source in free/open formats! He looks great with HAL9000 eyes.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/18/openwashing/#you-keep-using-that-word-i-do-not-think-it-means-what-you-think-it-means

Rockwell's self-portrait image is a classic; that made it a natural for a HAL9000-style remix about AI art. I put a bunch of time into chopping and remixing Rockwell's signature to give it that AI look, and added as many fingers as would fit on each hand.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/20/everything-made-by-an-ai-is-in-the-public-domain/

(Images: Heinz Bunse, West Midlands Police, Christopher Sessums, CC BY-SA 2.0; Mike Mozart, Jesse Wagstaff, Stephen Drake, Steve Jurvetson, syvwlch, Doc Searls, https://www.flickr.com/photos/mosaic36/14231376315, Chatham House, CC BY 2.0; Cryteria, CC BY 3.0; Mr. Kjetil Ree, Trevor Parscal, Rama, “Soldiers of Russia” Cultural Center, Russian Airborne Troops Press Service, CC BY-SA 3.0; Raimond Spekking, CC BY 4.0; Drahtlos, CC BY-SA 4.0; Eugen Rochko, Affero; modified)

#pluralistic #illustration #collage #fair use #creative commons #stock art #blogging #art #practice makes perfect

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instarsandcrime · 2 months

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Someone Worth Falling For

Hi hello! Long time lurker in the community, first time poster. I'm not sure how good this is because it's my first snz fic. But practice makes perfect-- even if my writing tends to lean on corny fluff! So I might as well log what I write and hope things get better from here. Enjoy! <3

“Htchh'chieww!”

“Bless you.”

“Htch'shhhiew!”

“Ble–”

“Hihh’chiew! Htch'CHIEW! HET’CHHHIEW! Ohhh…”

Lucifer groaned, forcing gurgling blow after blow into his handkerchief. Face glowing gold in embarrassment when he peered up from the fabric to see another pair stare back.

“...Excuse mbe.” He finally rasped out.

“Absolutely not.” Lilith pursed her lips, “Ten times in a row! I've seen less out of fits than sinners allergic to their own feathers and fur. Are you sure you’re alright, my love?”

She'd offered a way out. She'd offered a way out several times. But the response was always so scripted that it bordered on comical. An orderly list that only the Sin of Pride could obsessively memorize by heart.

“Why, there's dothi’g– snff– nothing to tell!” Lucifer beamed between congested sniffles, one armed wrapped tightly around her waist. “I just want to help my wife get ready for her first night off. And a party? My goodness, now why would I pass up such a rare and wonderful opportunity?”

Deflect

“And that’s very sweet of you, darling.” His other half hummed when a string of pearls draped around her neck, “But I’m just as happy to stay home if you’re feeling unwell.”

The demon king’s hand jerked as he weaved a comb from a puff of golden smoke. “Me? Catch a cold? Pfft, what? Like a sinner? Even if I’m fallen, archangels don’t get sick. It’s in our biology.”

2. Pull the archangel card.

“Yes. I’ve been told that holy beings tend to avoid illness– or rather, those who reside in Heaven. Where everything from the sky to the ground is designed to be absolutely perfect. But here, you are victim to the worst torture imaginable. And I believe there’s been a newer Overlord that’s taken a seat at the table– that one you had a meeting with the other day? The one that embodies pestilence.” As her hair was lovingly tended to, Lilith raised her head ever-so-slightly to kiss her doting husband’s jaw. She nearly cooed at the way he melted on the spot.

“As hypocritical as it sounds, I wouldn’t be so quick to ju- …j-juhhdge…” Lucifer froze, quickly rubbing his nose to satiate a tickle. Lilith’s face dropped to something so freely unimpressed because his last tactic was always to

3. Hide his symptoms. Poorly.

“Darling?”

“H-huhhhh…ho-hold on…” Lucifer raised a claw, handkerchief in the other. “I-I’m fine, it must…m-must be…s-suhh-something in…in the air— h-heh! Oh my, ex-excuse– Et’chiew! HET’chiew! HETCHHIEWW!”

“Bless you again.” His wife winced as the comb was unceremoniously dropped to the floor with a sharp clatter.

“Th-thahhnk– hhhHITSH!” Caught in a hitching jag, Lucifer quickly pinched his nose– and to his dismay, the slight buzz became an angry swarm.

“Beloved.”

“Het’Chht!”

“Let me just–”

“HIH’CHH! H-hihhh! HIH’TCH! ‘TCH! ‘TSHHH! I can’t s-st-stohhHT’CHNX’iew! Hih! Hhhih…hghh…nnh…” Lucifer’s ragged breathing slowed, peeping open a watery eye. Kneeled close, Lilith’s finger pressed under his nose, draped against her own handkerchief.

“See? Was asking for help so hard?” She smiled. Lucifer only swallowed, wordlessly taking the cloth in his palm. Silently he made his way to the side of her vanity, hopping on its desk. Eyes downcast, frown tucked behind cotton and smudged lipstick. “Be honest with me. There’s something more to your stubbornness this time, isn’t there?”

“N-no, of course not! I’m. I’m just– it’s…” Empty words trailed off into a muffled whisper.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“It’s– well–” Lucifer cleared his aching throat, biting back a cough before he lowered his makeshift mask. “It’s…it’s humiliating, that’s all. I trapped you down here with me. You had the opportunity to live in an eternal paradise. And now you have this one night to go out and party and enjoy yourself and I just– I know it’s not even close to that kind of perfection-- but I’d be ruining another chance at freedom all over again! And all because you think that I might have caught a cold? I’m fine! This is fine! I’ve been through worse! I’m just a little…a-a…a little snehh…” He quickly pressed the well-soaked cloth to his nose, trying in vain to hold some control over his next fit.

“Hit’shew! ‘Chiew! Hep’shiew! H’tsh! Heh’TSHIEWW! HA’SHHHIEW! HA’PSHHHIEWW!” He cradled his forehead with a palm, blinking stars from his eyes. “A…a little sneezy. Ugh, ‘scuse mbe.”

All too suddenly his chin was lifted, and his vision cleared to meet a piercing gaze. “Lucifer. Darling. Love of my life. Do you know where I’d be if I wasn’t down here with you?”

“N…ndo?” He muttered nervously.

“With Adam.” Her voice curdled like spoiled milk, “I would trade a thousand rings of Hell just to never see his face again. Taking care of you tonight wouldn’t be a curse. It would be a blessing. In fact, it would be a new opportunity at freedom for me. Now, I can finally repay the favor you gave to me so long ago.”

“Snf! I’m sorry, I– I don’t understand.”

Two strong arms lifted the demon king. “Then let me remind you of the day that we fell together.”

It took seconds too late for the fallen angel to realize what was happening, and Lucifer’s lovesick blush blended with his illness. Before he could even open his mouth to protest he was set gently on the bed, and his wife immediately went to work.

“First,” Well-manicured claws slowly unbuttoned his vest, “Since I was unable to move, you helped me get into something more comfortable until I could dress myself again.”

“I-I did, didn’t I?” A tense smile began to unfurl, and Lucifer allowed his other half to prop him against the headboard, slipping off his boots like he were made of gold and porcelain.

“After that, when I was feeling less restricted, you checked me for any injuries or illness.” A cool forehead bumped softly against something damp and burning, not bothering to worry about smudging freshly applied foundation. “And while I didn’t have a fever, you certainly do now.”

“I–” Lucifer paused, feeling delicate hands intertwine with his own. Slowly he retracted his forked tongue, tasting the bitter words in his mouth. “--I, um. I have to admit, I feel just a smidge under the weather.”

“Well would you look at that! No longer a saint, but you still cast miracles.”

“I do my best.” The fallen angel croaked out a weak chuckle, tired eyes lighting up when Lilith stopped to kiss his knuckles, lips briefly brushing over a golden wedding ring.

“Oh, what was next? Let’s see.” She got up, pacing around the room, “You bandaged my open wounds and wouldn’t let me begin my work as queen until I was off my feet.”

“I still have some mighty big scars from all the kicks you bucked me with.” Lucifer huffed.

His better half looked unashamedly proud, crossing her arms until they locked tight around her chest. “And as I said before, I will do what you have done to me. I’m sure it’ll do you well to give your more inventive powers a rest–” the fallen creator groaned miserably, “--while a servant fetches us some medicine and tea to wash it down with. As well as–”

“Hhhih!” Lucifer’s nose twitched, and he couldn’t help the frustrated sigh that mingled with unsteady breaths. Both handkerchiefs soiled, the demon flicked his wrist and summoned a third, “Oh for the love of– this i-ihhh…is getting rihh-ridiculuh…huhhh..hhh’tsh! Hut’Sshhhieww! Ha’TSHIEW! HET’CH’HHHIEW!”

“--a few tissue boxes. Bless you.”

“...I’b sorry for all the trouble. Snff!” A hacking cough broke through the apology.

“Trouble? Lucifer dear, it’s no trouble at all.” She consoled, sitting by his bedside. “You said it yourself. It’s just a cold. And you seem to forget that, when your caretaking was near its end, you refused to leave me until I truly needed space. You said that if I would permit you to stay, all I needed to do is ask. Well? Would you like me to stay?”

Painted nails fidgeted with the hem of a long cocktail dress and, despite everything that’s happened, Lilith offered a silent prayer to whatever higher power would listen.

Lucifer took a deep breath, “Th-then– um. If you wouldn’t mind lending a hand?”

“I’d be delighted to.” His other half hummed, kissing the red dimples on his cheeks, “You really do have no idea how much you were worth falling for.”

#snz #snz fic #ha//zb//in//ho//tel//#lu/ci/fer #li/li/th

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niqhtlord01 · 4 months

Text

Humans are weird: Never put a human in a zoo

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The sudden extinction of the Dre people was as sudden as it was unexpected to the galactic community. They were one of the oldest and most technologically advanced races in the universe. Heavily isolationist by nature, coupled with their inherent self-sense of superiority they viewed much of the other space faring species as little more than savages by comparison as none of them presented a credible challenge their rule. Yet within a month they had lost nearly 99% of their population across multiple worlds.

The worst hit was their homeworld of Belnuck situated at the heart of their empire which became an empty husk of a world seemingly overnight. Ancient and powerful cities of technological wonder now were little more than ghost towns to be picked clean by scavengers.

There were no signs of civil strife or unrest, no exterior threat from military forces, not even a record of natural disaster on their homeworld. Nothing was found that could give a clue as to what could have erased such a prominent power as the Dre, and so it was written off as a deadly unsolved mystery and the galactic community went on.

At least, that was what the public report stated.

It wasn’t until a group of Kreen scavengers came upon a set of personal journals that the shroud of uncertainty was lifted. Only to be then shortly locked away and sealed under the highest security restrictions to ensure the truth never saw the light of day.

These are those journal entries: ------------------------------- Personal Journal Entry J-757931 Head curator Migu

The benefactors are requesting we add new exhibits to the zoo again.

I thought they would have been content with the Draxic specimens we captured last month but it seems the general public no longer find giant lizards fascinating to observe. One of them suggested we allow the Draxic to mingle with other exhibits for inter species interactions for potential science research; but I could tell right away that what they really wanted from this was to have guests pay to see those lizard savages rip apart our other attractions like a Frong in a Skitch field.

I wish they could at least try to hide their greediness behind some semblance of rationality. At least then it would be easier to stomach.

I’ve scheduled a discussion with our head capture specialists to go out and find new attractions for the people later today. I don’t have much hope they can find anything as fascinating to revive interest but one never knows. End Log Entry. ---------------------------------- Personal Journal Entry J-757935 Head curator Migu

Capture team theta appears to have acquired something of value.

The specimens were caught will transitioning into real space at the edge of a system and were removed from their vessel shortly after.

Their technology was primitive in nature, but from the recordings the capture team sent back their esthetic design choices appear to be unique for such a low species. Accessing their data banks was a trivial matter and provided a wealth of history to them.

They appear to call themselves “Humons”, and have only recently begun intergalactic travel.

From the data we have gathered these humons are a highly warlike society repeating cycles of great conflict to great resurgence throughout their history. During war time they have fought with everything from sharpened wood stakes to low grade thermo nuclear devices.

While lacking the physical exciting traits like armored skin or shape shifting qualities, I believe their nature as a self-destructive race will make them a comedic addition to the zoo.

Theta team is on their way back now with them and I’ve already given instructions to create the new paddock for them in the east wing. With any luck the benefactors will find them as amusing as I do and calm down. End Log Entry. ------------------------------- Personal Journal Entry J-757940 Head curator Migu It could not have gone any better. The public loves the new attractions and the benefactors love the increase in profits. Theta team captured roughly a dozen of these humons and when coupled with their historical data we were able to depict several invigorating habitats. We injected them with the standard nano machines to provide feedback on each of them for both the caretakers and the guests. I do have some concerns about handing the medical needs of these humons as none of our handlers know how to treat them, but I have tasked them with dissecting the gathered data for any relevant medical information. They seem very energetic and many of them have not stopped trying to escape their exhibit since they woke up. A few of them have already begun crafting crude weapons to defend themselves while forming mini factions. The largest group has created a primitive wooden fortress by sharpening sticks and creating walls with them. The smaller group has kept their distance from the larger groups while the remaining few have decided to remain in isolation from both groups. Guests love it when they start banging on the windows and try to talk with them. The children in particular I overheard already picking out their favorites and rooting for them to survive should they begin fighting. We’ve not had this kind of engagement since we brought in Bengols with their psionic abilities. ------------------------------

Personal Journal Entry J-758021 Head curator Migu

It’s been several cycles since my last entry and we’ve had a few snags. Our lack of medical knowledge regarding our latest exhibits has proven costly. Despite our best efforts to decrypt the remaining data from their ships it appears medical information was damaged beyond recovery during the capture process. This has left us unable to properly care for them during medical emergencies; which have happened far sooner than expected.

After several days of captivity several of the humons began showing signs of rapidly deteriorating mental stability. They’ve displayed signs of paranoia, societal breakdown, and an increase in aggression levels to the point they murdered other humons in the enclosure.

We’ve never had this problem before with our other exhibits, at least within such a short timeframe, and now the benefactors are calling for my head. They are upset that their most prized money generators are murdering each other risking their profit margin.

I’ve suggested applying mild sedatives to calm them but was denied. They insist that curbing their more primitive tendencies would cause customers to lose interest in them.

The suggestion of capturing more of these humons was strongly advocated for but it was my turn to deny that request. Deploying a capture team was an expensive endeavor and if the humons continued killing each other the costs would overturn any increase in profits.

I’m putting together alternatives now for my next meeting with them. Hopefully something will come along and save our hides. ---------------------------------

Personal Journal Entry J-758043 Head curator Migu

The problem for the time being has resolved itself via an unexpected avenue.

One of the capture humons was seen treating the few remaining humans; providing basic medical treatment and care.

Ordinarily we would have written off such behavior but because of our current medical situation we decided to bend regulations and reach out to the subject directly.

A translator unit was acquired and we were able to speak directly with the humon. It took several minutes to calibrate, thankfully much of their speech was unrecognizable. They would not stop trying to speak with us while it was being adjusted and went on and on about wanting to be set free and demanding answers. Honestly you think these humons would be grateful that we are lowering ourselves to speak with them.

When they finally calmed down we explained the situation to them. In exchange for their cooperation they would be given special privileges to treats and comforts for the duration of their stay. They wanted to be let out and freed from the exhibit but I quickly shut that down as a non-starter.

It eventually dawned on them that this was going to be their new existence for the remainder of their life and could live in comfort or watch as their friends died one by one; and they accepted the offer. -------------------------

Personal Journal Entry J-758117 Head curator Migu

While unusual the negotiating tactic with the humon has resolved the issue for us and the benefactors are happy once more.

With the medical humons help they were able to stabilize the injured humons while also negotiate a form of agreement between the humon factions in the exhibit. They could still maim and injure each other while guests were present but would not kill and then would be treated afterwards before the next day’s opening.

Interestingly enough the medical humon has proved very useful. They’ve been able to communicate with the rest of the humons and get them to fall in line. What’s more they’ve been minimalistic in requests with the biggest being to be taught some of the basics of our medical equipment so he can use it himself.

Ordinarily we don’t allow this but it would have freed up some of the medical wing so we allowed it with extensive supervision.

I must admit I am rather proud of myself for resolving the situation, and with such little expenditure. Things now are running smoothly once more and the profits are seeing ever increasing margins. Maybe now the benefactors will get off my back. Though honestly I think it’ll only last one or two months before the humons are worn out and they want something new.

---------------------- Personal Journal Entry J-758135 Head curator Migu

Oh gods it burns!

Everyone at the zoo is screaming and clawing their own skin!

Gods damnit make it stop! MaKE IT Stop!!!!!!!!!!!

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

Emergency Transmission January 2873 Chief Medical Officer Maxwill Clemons

This is Chief Medical officer Maxwill Clemons of the ship “Hades Rest” calling out to any terran ships requesting immediate rescue.

I am not sure what planet or system we’re in, but hone in on this signal and you will find us. I will be repeating this message every hour on the hour for as long as this place has power.

I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been in this god forsaken hellhole. The automated day/night cycles have made my attempts at record keeping near impossible.

Maybe a month? Two? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.

We were kidnapped from our ship after exiting a jump and woke up to find ourselves in some sort of alien zoo. The aliens refused to speak to us at first, instead watching us from windows and laughing at us while we struggled to find out what was going on.

They’re all dead now. The aliens that is.

I never knew what they called themselves and I don’t really care.

They treated my friends like animals, so I took their precious tech and turned it on them. Made the nano machines they injected us with register the alien DNA as a deadly virus in need of immediate eradication.

First one I got was the one who was so smug about our capture and display. They changed their tune after I spat in their eye and their face started melting as the nano tech spread. Two others came in after the screaming started and they got infected as well before fleeing the room.

I stood up and went to my comrades “habitat’ and let them out as every alien around us began screaming and melting away. That was at least three days ago now and I haven’t seen one of them yet. Their whole planet now is like one massive ghost town.

We’ve enough provisions to last us and the other freed captives for some time, but please do hurry. I want off this fraking shit hole as soon as possible. --------------- Message repeats:

Emergency Transmission January 2873 Chief Medical Officer Maxwill Clemons

This is Chief Medical officer Maxwill Clemons of the ship “Hades Rest” calling out to any terran ships requesting immediate rescue. ------

#humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #ai generated art #stable diffusion

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blueicequeen19 · 10 months

Text

Liars & Bonfires 🔥

Warnings: exes, oral, unprotected outdoor sex, jealousy

“It’ll be fine. We’re all friends. There’s no picking sides.” Sarah reassured you for the hundredth time as you huddle for warmth on the log by the fire. You nod, the knot in your throat and the tightness in your lungs not going away anytime soon.

You hear dirt bikes in the distance and you know the boys are back from their beer run. It’ll mark the first time in weeks since you’ve seen your ex. Your toxic, jealous, ex who only wanted to smoke weed and fight. Or fuck.

Your cheeks heat as images of the last time together flood your mind. He’d fucked your throat so hard that night, you didn’t have a voice the next day. Warmth coats your panties and you shudder as you push away the thoughts just as the guys approach. JJ takes one look at you and nods in acknowledgment before diverting his gaze for the rest of the night after handing out beers.

The tension is thick and you know the group can feel it. The usual carefree, funny, obnoxious Pogue was sitting in silence while drinking and smoking. His eyes watched the flames in the pit while every now and then he’d chuckle at something someone said. You hated it. You felt like you were to blame for his change in behavior.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Pope cheers, making everyone groan in unison.

“What are we fifteen?” Kie scoffs.

“It’ll be fun!” Sarah smiles.

The game starts with questions from an app and you start to tune everyone out, unable to tear your gaze away from the sulking blonde.

“Last person you had sex with?” Kie reads, making you look up when you realize she’s speaking to you. You swallow when heated blue eyes meet yours. The tension in the air makes it hard to breathe as you debate lying. Out of the corner of your eye you see Sarah and JB exchange a look of concern.

You were fairly certain JJ had already moved on. He was a flirt like that so there was no harm in lying. He’d never find out.

“Um, probably that cute Pogue Sean.” Your face heats with the lie and you hear the crunch of a beer can and boots as JJ stomps off.

“That was really shitty.” Kie says dryly, signaling the end of the game as she slumps back in her chair.

“On that note, I’m going to call it a night.” Pope jumps up to fist bump everyone and follows after JJ.

“Give me a ride?” Kie calls, jumping up to jog after him.

“I’m going to apologize.” You murmur to Sarah, her and John B watching as you wait for the sound of the dirt bike to get further away. Sarah gives you a weak smile before you pass and make your way down to the dock. That was his favorite spot. He wouldn’t go anywhere else to stew in his anger.

You stop opposite of him, keeping your distance as tension radiates off his body. Even from this distance you could smell him. That familiar JJ scent that makes your insides tighten.

“I lied. I’m sorry.” You say softly after a long pause of him not acknowledging your presence.

“I know you did.” JJ snaps, downing the last of his beer and slamming the bottle down almost hard enough to break.

“Then why are you mad?”

JJ spins around, eyes wide and angry as he advances on you. You stumble back a few steps but he’s quicker, wrapping his hand around your throat and shoving you against the wooden rails. His grip is firm but not tight enough to cut off air as he presses his firm body against yours, making your insides flood with heat and need.

“J—.”

“How would you like it if I told you I let some girl suck me off?” JJ growls, burying his face in your neck.

“We aren’t together—.”

“Or that I buried my cock in the neighbor?” Your body bristles with anger and jealousy, churning your stomach so hard your knees nearly buckle.

“Maybe I came inside someone else’s pussy.” JJ whispers, running his tongue up the side of your throat as his hands squeeze your ass hard.

“I don’t care.” You bite out, digging your nails into his chest through his shirt.

“Liar.” JJ hisses before fisting your hair and bringing you in for a punishing kiss. You whimper, opening your mouth to him and letting him claim you the way he always has. You can break up a hundred times but the fire he created in your blood never went away.

“God, I love you. You fucking know that. You think breaking up with me means you’re not mine?” JJ yanks your shorts and panties down in one go then bends you over the built in bench.

“JJ.” You moan, just as his hot tongue finds your slit, his nails biting into your hips. You grab onto the railing for support, his tongue only teasing it’s way around your clit and labia.

“Don’t ever say you’ve let someone else inside you.” He groans between your thighs, the warning clear. Suddenly his mouth is gone and his cock is ramming it’s way inside you. You moan loudly out into the marsh, his thrusts hard and fast.

“Shh, baby. Wouldn’t want our friends to think we’re back together again. We all know how weak you are for me.”

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #obx2 #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj obx #outer banks x reader #blueicequeen19 #outer banks fanfiction #tw unprotected sex

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backtothefanfiction · 5 months

Text

In Your Boss’s Office | Peter Parker Imagine

Summary: When your boyfriend comes to take you home after a late night at the office, he sees an opportunity to send your boss mad.

Warnings: smut, P in V, semi public sex, office sex, cum swallowing, oral (female receiving), dirty talk

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: Okay so I have been trying to get this one finished for a while. This was supposed to be day 5 of Kinktober but we all know that went off the rails. I was gonna turn it into kink til Christmas but that isn’t gonna work out either. So this is me saying that the kink list is getting thrown out the window completely, but I will still write some of the stories as prompts and short imagines as there were a couple I was looking forward to but no idea when they’ll go up. Anyway, this was one of the ideas I was really looking forward to writing so I hope you enjoy!

You had been the only one in the office for at least an hour and a half, despite your boss leaving nearly 3 hours prior. It was dark outside, you were tired, you were missing your man but you knew that if you didn’t get this list for Jameson completed now, you’d all be really behind tomorrow.

There was a sudden ding as the elevator stopped on your floor. Given the time you fully expected it to be the janitor, coming by to give things a clean and empty the waste paper baskets, but you were surprised at the sight of your boyfriend walking towards your desk.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” he asked, “I think the real question is what are you still doing here?”

You had met Peter around 6 months ago now, when you had first taken on the job as J. Jonah Jameson’s assistant after the last one quit on him. He had expected you to also follow suit, he wasn’t exactly known for being the nicest boss after all; but you gave as good as you got and the head of the Daily Bugle admired that. Peter was a freelance photographer, stopping by every now and again with a new batch of photos of Spider-man that always made your boss both froth at the mouth and get literal dollar signs in his eyes.

“What time is it?” you asked, but you already knew.

“It’s time to log off.” he softly chastised and encouraged you.

“Uhh, Pete, I really need to get this done.”

“Fine. You have until I finish putting these photos on his lordship’s desk.” He said, pulling out a manilla envelope full of new pictures of Spiderman.

“Peter, you can’t go in there.” you tried to interject as he began to reach for the door handle to the office.

“Just watch me.” He said, turning the knob, pushing the door open and going in.

“Peter.” you chastise as you get up to follow him and make sure he wasn’t going to touch anything he shouldn’t.

When you got in the room he was already sat behind the desk, lounging back in the large leather swivel chair, swaying side to side. “You know, I see why he likes this office so much now.” he says as his eyes glance over pieces of paper on the desk.

“Come on.” you try to encourage him, “We shouldn’t be in here.”

“Make me.” he challenges with a smirk on his face. You really don’t want to find out what that smirk means, you just want to finish your list of tasks and go home but he does look good sitting behind the desk. His eyes are watching your legs closely as you hesitate in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other in tiny motions. He leans forward placing both of his hands on the desk. “Close the door.” He instructs and you do. “Now come over here.” Your brain knows it’s a bad idea but you do.

He moves the chair back slightly as his hand reaches out to guide you round the back of the desk with him. When you are close enough he turns you and backs you into the desk. You hesitate at first but with further encouragement by his hands and the wicked look in his eye, you sit yourself on top of the desk. He hums slightly as his hands rest on your knees, pulling them open, then using his grip on them, pulls the wheelie chair closer to the desk, leaving you nowhere else to go.

“Peter, what are you doing?” You ask with a shaky breath as he starts to run his hands up your thighs and under your skirt.

“You work too hard for little reward.” He says as his fingertips reach to hook beneath the waistband of your underwear.

“Peter!” You interject, trying to push him away but he holds you still.

“Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.” He teases. “He’ll never know.”

“Yes he will.” You try to hold strong, but his fingers are drawing lazy circles on your thighs that are relaxing you and wearing you down.

“But isn’t that more fun. He won’t know it was us, he’ll just come in tomorrow and he’ll know something is off but he won’t be able to put his finger on it.”

“Pete… Pete.” You try to say but your resolve is fading with his touch and when he tries again to pull your underwear down, you don’t stop him.

“Just relax okay. I’ve got you.” He said as he pulled you closer to the end of the desk. “So pretty.” He cooed as he looked up at you.

He pushed your legs up, your feet resting on the arms of the large swivel chair he sat in, as he leant forward, his tongue teasing at your clit, making you squirm. His hands held tighter to your hips, holding you in place as he began to lick through your folds.

“For someone who was putting up a lot of protest, you seem to be awfully wet for me.” He teased with raised eyebrows as his fingers moved to circle at your entrance before slipping inside, his fingers working you open.

“Uhhh, Peter.” You began to pant, as the movement of his fingers pulls tiny whimpers from between your lips.

You watch as his other hand begins to fumble with his belt, the sound of the metal clinking sending another wave of arousal through you. He undoes the button and zipper of his jeans, palming his length through his boxers.

Normally Peter would spend ages going down on you, making you cum and soaking his fingers with your slick before he even thought about fucking you, but you didn’t have time. Although it was late and no one else was in the office, the janitor could come up to this floor and walk in at any minute and Peter knew it was taking a lot for you to go through with this without pushing his luck.

“Come here baby.” He said, pulling his length out of his boxers and sliding the chair back slightly.

You happily moved to straddle his thighs. You slowly lowered yourself down on his length. You were so close and he was so deep in this position. It didn’t leave much room for movement, just subtle gyrating, your clit rubbing against the small patch of exposed skin between his jeans and shirt.

It made you so sensitive, your head nuzzling into his neck as you quietly whined and moaned.

“You naughty little thing. See I knew this was what you needed.” Peter said as he slowly thrusted his hips up inside you. It wasn’t his preferred pace but he knew you loved it. To be close to him. To have his cock rubbing against the most sensitive parts of you. To feel every little twitch you made around him. It was intimate. “You gonna come for me?” He asked. He could read your body like a book and knew from just the pitch of your moans alone you were close. “Come on baby. Cum for me.” He encouraged as he guided your hips up and down on his length harder and harder. “Cum for me baby and then I can turn you around and fuck you right over his desk. How does that sound?” You could only moan in response. His words always brought you closer to the edge. “Yeah?” He cooed. “Does that sound good for you? Come on baby. Come on… there it is.” He said as you began to shudder around him, your body collapsing against his chest. “That’s my girl.” He said, but he didn’t give you a moment of rest.

Just as promised he picked you up as he stood, before dropping your feet to the floor. He turned you around, his hand pushing firmly against your back, getting you to bend over your boss’s desk in front of you.

Your face and chest were pushed onto the desk top as Peter took your arms, folding them behind your back and holding them firmly in place with a single hand as he lined himself back up to your entrance with his other.

You let out a loud gasp as he slammed his hips into your ass as he bottomed out inside you. “Oh baby, you look so pretty like this.” He said as he began to snap his hips faster.

You almost completely forgot where you were as the feeling of his cock spearing you open sent shockwaves of pleasure to your core. Your gasps and moans grew louder and louder as you felt yet another climax quickly building inside you. “Fuck, FUCK! Oh my god! Peter.”

“Mmm baby, I love it when you say my name like that.” You could feel his thrusts growing sloppier. You knew he was close, only holding himself together so he could make you cum one last time.

He shifted you both back slightly between thrusts so he could reach his hand around between your legs and started rubbing quick circles around your clit, bringing you to your climax faster. He watched as you screwed up your eyes, your mouth hanging open in a silent oh for just a moment before your orgasm hit and you began to shudder around him once more, your voice finally ringing out into the air of the office.

“That’s it baby.” He said as he removed his hand from between your legs.

You felt him pump one, two, three more times before the removed himself from you, pulling you up off the desk with one arm and encouraging you to turn around and get on your knees in front of him, his other hand pumping his length.

You knelt before him, opening your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out waiting for him to cum. You closed your eyes in anticipation just in case as you listened to him grunt. Then you felt the tip of his cock on the flat of your tongue and his cum burst into your mouth. You shaped your tongue around his length trying to contain as much of it in your mouth as you could.

As you felt him still you opened your eyes to look up at him, giving his length and slit a lick for good measure and he twitched away from you at the sensitivity, You didn’t look away from his eyes as you swallowed his salty cum with a closed lipped smile.

“Fuck, your gorgeous.” He said as he took your face in his hands and bent over to kiss your lips. “Now come on. Pick your panties up off the floor, it’s time to go home.”

You didn’t argue with him. You both put yourselves back together before you left the office. You quickly closed down your computer and you left hand in hand.

When you went back to work the next day your boss’s face was a picture. You watched him closely when he came in. Stepping into his office, you hot on his heels with his morning coffee and a notepad ready to take down his orders for the morning, you saw him pause. His brow furrowed as he looked around the room.

“Everything okay sir?” You dutifully asked.

“Huh?! Yeah!” He suddenly barked not wanting to seem vulnerable. “Yeah.” He looked down at the papers on his desk confused again until he saw the Manila envelope. “When did these get here?” He asked as he sat himself down in his chair and began opening up the photos and scanning through them.

“Uh I think Mr Parker dropped them off last night.” You feigned innocence.

“Really?” Your boss pondered. He suddenly looked up at you as if finally remembering who you were and where he was. “Right. I want Anderson up here stat. I need him in here brainstorming headlines with me to get these out on the front page first thing!” He shouted at you, his hand slamming the photos on the desk as he leaned back and kicked his feet up.

“Yes, sir.”

“And make sure you get finance to send Parker over his money.” He commanded as he picked the photos back up and started looking through them again.

“Is that everything sir?”

“What!? Yes! Of course! Now get out of here!” He barked and you quickly hurried from the room.

As you sat back at your desk you smiled to yourself. Peter had been right, although he knew something was up, your boss didn’t have a clue what had really taken place in his office the night before.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #andrew!peter parker #peter parker imagine #spider-man #andrew!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #j jonah jameson #Peter Parker smut #late kinktober

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

AITA for sending "anonymous hate mail" to someone on Tumblr?

The title sounds extremely horrible, i get it, but let me explain. Also this isn't recent what occurred but got brought up which is why I'm asking.

I was 17nb when this started. This woman was 7 years older then me. We met through a charity event me and my brother went to. We became friends as I kept volunteering there. She was shy but charismatic. She asked if my brother was my boyfriend which had made me cringe, but was an interesting start to a conversation.

She became my friend, as stated. She would text me every day. When I turned 18, me and my twin rented a place. I went to this woman's house a few times, but she would come to my place quite a bit. I would hold biweekly dinners at my house and I'd invite my other friends and my siblings (20m who I volunteered with, and well my twin but she lived there).

For 3 years this woman would text me every day. She was the first person I came out to as nb and she actually cut my hair for me and helped me buy androgynous clothes. She constantly talked about love and romance to me. She practiced flirting with me, usually I'd flirt and she would coach me. She almost kissed me once, barely missing my lips. I noticed some of the moves i would do, she would do to my brother during these dinners. Not a big deal to me or my brother. My twin thought it was weird but decided it didn't hurt anyone.

We started fighting a bit over small things. She would misinterpret what I said and would get upset, and then I'd defend myself and try to explain, all while she would cry. She would say something extremely rude and then say I misunderstood what she said. Just small things.

My twin was understandably upset. My brother was frustrated but stated it was between me and this woman.

It came to a head when my brother's girlfriend came to a dinner. She is super sweet and super kind and absolutely shy. This woman would constantly speak over her, cursed st her, and actually physically pushed her out of the way.

That night she called my brother and told my brother she had always had a crush on him and liked him. My brother told her he had a girlfriend and he never liked her like that. I called her and told her off for treating someone like that, and I want to make it clear I had no clue she called my brother until weeks later.

We grew more distant. If j said anything she didn't like, if I tried to tell her how I felt or bring up an argument and try ro resolve it, she would claim I was confronting her and being overemotional and would not text me back for days. I got blocked and unblocked multiple times. I decided I was going to stop being her friend.

now, during all this I had gotten a Tumblr because this woman convinced me. I ended up getting locked out after I had gained over 1000 followers (more then she had). I have suspicions she changed my password when we had hung out, because i had my login saved and it was always logged in and when I had went to get back in, it was logged out and my password didn't work.

It sucked but I didnt get back on. This woman would bring up Tumblr memes and trending things where we volunteered at and I would have no clue. She took this as proof I wasnt on Tumblr anymore....and I wasnt.

Except I remembered her account and decided to search it, because she brought these amazing cookies to where we volunteered (please note, the reason she brought them was because It was a going away party for me as I was no longer volunteering. This was the last time I saw her in person and I never had contact with her after) and told me she had found the recipe on Tumblr. I remembered these cookies when my friend decided to have a bring your own cookie Christmas party months later. I went to the woman's Tumblr to see if I could find the cookie recipe.

Well I found more then I expected. I found her talking shit about me and my siblings. She claimed my brother led her on and had attempted to have a ONS with her. She claims that he would constantly text her and flirt.

She claimed I was a bitch and that I purposely caused her to lose friends (people i had invited to these dinners that I was friends with). She gave us nicknames, so I didnt really care, but I could tell who was who because well it was about me. Everyone is allowed to vent, and I didnt go through every post because it just seemed to me she was using Tumblr as a diary.

But then I saw an ask she answered and I broke out in a cold sweat. Someone asked if my deadname was my nickname she had used. This woman confirmed they were one in the same. I was shook and didn't even understand what I was reading, and clicked the link she had added.

The link was to her writing blog. It was a link to her original story, with the main character as herself. She had written fucking fanfiction about us. I couldn't make this up if i wanted to. She used MY ACTUAL DEADNAME for me, as well as describing me to a tee and including identifying info (such as my tattoos). She used my brother's real name and also my twins. In the story, my twin wasnt my twin but just a sister. There was enough information though that if someone irl who knew us read it they could absolutely say who was who, especially since it used OUR REAL NAMES.

She also wrote blurbs and AUs of this story that was ongoing. There was more then one blurb where my character died. She killed me off. In one story my character was SA'd. It was very creepy to me. She also happened to post in an update to the main story that my brothers character moved. She described where he moved, describing the house the street etc. She didn't name streets but it was the EXACT location my brother moved. I dont know how she knew because my brother NEVER posted it and had moved within the past week of her update.

I did tell my brother and my twin immediately. Both were weirded out and my brother ended up getting a security system because we think she stalked him (he was receiving weird messages at his work and on his car). My twin and I moved and got one as well *we didn't move because of her but because rent was cheaper elsewhere*.

On her writing blog she answered an ask that basically said these were based on real people. She even jokingly said that "they'll know exactly who they are if they read this, they're described perfectly". After that confirmation where she admitted, j sent her a few anonymous messages. I never cursed her out, I never called her names, and I never said she should kys.

In one ask i said if she was writing about real people maybe she should describe them differently as it seemed identifying. In another I told her it seemed unhealthy and she had issues. In the final one I told her to seek help.

But I guess my asks made people wake up and realize. She got multiple messages apparently and then deactivated because of the anon hate.

I didnt mean to start the onslaught but apparently I caused it.

Just recently I went back to where I used to volunteer. I found out that apparently she had gotten online hate and had a decline in mental health. She quit her job and quit volunteering and ended up voluntarily admitted herself to a psych hospital. She is out now, and apparently doing good, but she has stated how she almost died during that time.

I never intended for that to happen and feel bad. My twin says I didnt even send hate and that I couldn't control what other people did.

So aita?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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bitchinbarzal · 1 year

Note

Definitely argument while Mama is pregers 🥺😭

Jack had past flings and girlfriends, you knew that.

He pursued you, he begged you to go out with him in the beginning and you made it so clear to him that his dating history made you uncomfortable and unwilling to go out with him.

He promised you that he wouldn’t hurt you, not like that.

Which is why you were left confused when Jack’s iPad kept dinging in the middle of the night while he was away on a roadie.

Your sleep was already disturbed due to the almost eight month old baby you were growing so the noise was less than impressive.

“Shut up” you grumbled, rolling out of the bed and into the living room where the iPad lay.

You pulled the iPad out of the charger and the screen lights up, you look at the notifications all from instagram.

messages from a @laurenkaytee

hey I’m the one you spoke to at the bar tonight? I think lol I found you from your friend!

yes that’s me! those shots were such a bad idea you didn’t drink much tho?

yeah babies will do that… BORING! well if you ever want a break from that life hit me up! you’re always welcome in cali 😘

aha, well here’s my number ***-****-*** when you need it

You felt sick. You couldn’t even see his replies, but he was obviously replying.

Tears were in your eyes and tears our hands were shaking with the iPad in your grip.

The tears angrily fell down your face and you felt the baby kick you

Your hand gingerly pressed onto the skin of your bump “I’m okay Stevie, I’m ok babygirl”

You didn’t go back to sleep that night, sitting on the couch and watching re-runs of sitcoms.

It wasn’t until you heard the front door unlock the next morning that you realised time had passed.

“Hey sexy lady! I’m home!”

You didn’t even flinch. Didn’t turn around.

“y/n? Babe? Did you hear me?” He frowns, walking to the couch and you don’t move.

Jack reaches out and touches you, you flinch “don’t touch me”

“What’s up with you? Why didn’t you answer me?”

He then notices the red rims around your eyes

“Baby, have you slept?”

You croak out “No”

“Why not? Stevie girl been keeping you up?”

“No, her dad”

He frowns “What?”

“You, your stupid iPad and your stupid messages to stupid models!”

He’s taken aback “What?!”

You look right into his eyes and choke out “If you want to go fuck models in California, don’t leave your instagram logged in on your iPad in New Jersey”

He’s shaking his head, confused “Fuck — what?”

Standing up you scoff “Just leave me alone Jack, I’m so tired and I can’t be bothered with this”

He watches you struggle to get up and waddle off to your bedroom, finally laying down after not sleeping.

Jack uses that time to grab his aforementioned iPad. He clicks it on and looks through the notifications, scrolling until he lands on instagram

His mouth drops open in an O shape and he hums in understanding

“that girl of mine, always getting herself all worked up” he mumbles and heads off to your room.

He slips in past the door and into your bed, you’re asleep and he knows it’s because you’re exhausted from your mind moving at a million miles a minute.

He gets under the blanket and pulls you into his arms, fingers carding through your hair. You have a frown etched into your features even in your sleep.

“Oh pretty girl, I wish I could take all of your stress”

You groan, tossing and turning. Jack’s hands reach around your back and press into your sore point.

You all but moan in relief, the change in pressure waking you up “J-Jack”

“I’m here princess, is it sore?”

You nod, wincing in pain and before long you remember you’re mad at him and attempt to push him away

“No, no baby don’t do that-“

“Jack get off me! I told you-“

He shushes you “Listen to me, let me show you!”

One hand is still on your back and the other now grabs his phone and pulls up his Instagram DM’s, tilting the phone for you to see

hey I'm the one you spoke to at the bar tonight? I think lol I found you from your friend!

hey, you’re shots of sambucca girl right? you didn’t look to good when we left. hope you’re ok?

yes that's me! those shots were such a bad idea you didn't drink much tho?

yeah we’re in LA for work plus my girlfriend is pregnant with our first baby back home in jersey so I’m not a party animal as I once was.

yeah babies will do that... BORING! well if you ever want a break from that life hit me up! you're always welcome in cali

appreciate it but I won’t be doing that. hope you got home safe.

aha, well here's my number *******-*** when you need it

You look up at him, pouting

“I’m so sorry J… I feel like an idiot”

“You are an idiot. My idiot! I love You, I love stevie and I’m not going anywhere” he says and kisses the tip of your nose “Now turn over and I’ll hold the bump so you can get some sleep”

#life of stevie #Jack and mama #jack hughes imagine

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kosije · 3 months

Text

a/n ★ ׂ forgot my log in info (oops!) happy to be back, ive missed u all :) part 2? never leave a crowded place if you suspect someone is watching you. don’t walk alone in the night. stay safe♡

c/w ★ ׂ ghostface!toji x fem!reader. noncon. stalking. toji follows reader home. crying. toji cuts readers clothes. mdni!

— main masterlist | jjk masterlist

there’s an eeriness in the fog.

static of a chill vibrates through your spine, as you walk as fast as you can, not caring about how your short skirt rides up your body. regret hazes you and you struggle to walk straight after drinking so much. maybe you should have stayed there? the party wasn’t bad in itself. decent music, decent costumes, decent snacks. but you just couldn’t get away from him—whoever he is. first it was when you had first gotten there. readjusting your clothes, you brush through your friends’ door to familiar faces. it doesn’t take you long to gravitate to the drink bar with a girl dressed as some kind of clown.

“I-C-P,” she says, pouring you your third drink. “I’m Violent J, my girlfriend’s Shaggy… i’ll just show you later.”

you think you say something like, “cool,” but you can’t pay attention to anything after you spot him. he’s huge. long black robe that’s tattered around the edges, dirtied ghostface mask that completely covers his face, serrated knife with dried blood that you note looks more realistic than what you’re comfortable with, and an aura that makes you uneasy. he’s standing in front of you, but it’s almost like he’s standing over you by the shear build of him. you watch the girl, what’s her name again? whatever it is, she begins to walk away, grumbling about how the costume will be more recognizable once you see her girlfriend. the whole time you keep glancing back to the man in the ghostface costume, and despite his face being covered, it’s obvious that he’s staring at you. a icy gust fans over you, still feeling his gaze hot on you as you follow the girl.

that first encounter left you unsettled, but then it multiplies and you find him at every corner you turn. in front of the door to the bathrooms. standing in the shadows of the dance floor as you grind on some park random in a spiderman costume. on the patio of the backyard. and then the doorframe of your friend’s house as you leave. you can’t shake the scorching burn of paranoia as you walk down the dark and foggy street that makes you weary of every sound and twitch that echoes your feet quickly padding against the damp pavement. your vision feels delayed as houses seemingly speed by you, and you’re struggling to walk in a straight line, repeatedly veering off the sidewalk and onto someone’s grass. goosebumps riddle your bare legs as you break out more into a run, finally seeing your apartment complex come into view.

it’s all just wind in your ears, you tell yourself. no one is following you, you aren’t in danger. but still you can’t will yourself to keep your eyes forwards and glance behind you just to make sure you have nothing to worry about. and maybe it’s the alcohol—god you hope it’s the alcohol. because just as you’re about to enter the complex, in the corner of your eye, lingering in the shadows, you think you see that same figure, staring dead at you.

your room is on the third floor. adrenaline is pumping through your veins as you mash into the “three” elevator button

you’re in your room at last. shake hands secure you’re locks, and only after everything do you slump your head against your door in exaughstion.

“too slow.”

snapping your head up, you notice the same shadow, once again standing over you, and your heart drops. you make one last effort to escape, rapidly unlocking your door, but when you crack it open his hand slams against it so fast and strong, that your hand isn’t even around the handle anymore. there’s a moment that you think of screaming. a moment that is cut short by the sensation of cold metal meeting your throat. his knife is real—you get the message fast. tears stream down your face as your legs give out, and you’re falling to the floor. suddenly, his arm leaves the door and wraps you tightly, and you lose all hope. because by the strenght of his thick arms, and how easily just one can wrap all around you, you know there is no overpowering him.

“you put up a good fight.” the muffled voice is deep and taunting on the shell of your ear.

“a-are you gonna… kill me?”

he only laughs at that. it’s loud, obnoxious, and leaves you more scared that before.

he’s completely unhinged.

he doesn’t give you the closure of an explicit answer. you’re lifted off the ground, anchored between his arm and chest—both of which are firm and un— and throws you on your couch. you regret not spending that extra 250$ on the more plush one, cause the impact sends your back straight into the wooden support pillar, barely cushioned by your pillows. you wince.

“if that hurt you, i’m worried ill destroy you, sweetheart.”

and you’re convinced you’ll die here, on your couch, by some masked man on the night before halloween day. he approaches you slowly, and instinctively you kick roughly at his knee. he curses something crude, and for a split moment you’re running to your door, but a second later there’s and hand in your hair and you’re ripped back to him. you thrash, and cry, and kick, but his grip doesn’t falter. and there it is, that laugh again. he tips your head back, and his other arm traps you to him, and in your lower back you feel it.

the bastard is fucking hard.

“you’re gonna be more fun than i thought. pretty thing like you deserves to learn not to walk alone at night in such a,” he’s speaking into your neck, knife dipping between your skirt, cutting it until the fabric falls to the ground, completely ruined. “short thing.”

you’re entire body is shaking, and you have to pant to breathe because your nose is so full of snot. mascara is running down your face but he just moves his knife through every thread on you, until you’re completely bare below him.

“pretty little thing, ain’t ya?” he says to no one in particular.

you’re still wailing, and something about it seems to push him over the edge.

first it’s a hard slap to your cheek, then a firm hold.

a yell of “oh, shut the fuck up, it’s getting real old.”

he doesn’t let go until you compose yourself. chest still falling fast and rising faster, but your weeping is diminished to sobs and hiccups.

“why?”

“why what, doll?”

“why are you doing this?”

you didn’t say anything funny, and yet here he is laughing. again.

“what a fickle question. it’s quite simple, doll. it’s cause you’re pretty.”

you can feel your brows nearly touch. the blood rushes from your face for what feels like the umpteenth and your sobs get a bit louder. “then, why hurt me?”

“cause you look better with a lil blood on ya,”

#( ☆ ) jjk #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk x reader #ghostface au #non con

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