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cervidaecorpse · 2 months

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Earthdamar

Lights flickered. The distant dots in the dark void reminded you of the battle. Echoes of hollow screams. Explosions of ships. Your former comrades. Disintegrated by the talons of the dragon laced with golden armour. Eyes and wings glowing in purple light. Rivalling the stars and galaxies. Despite its glow, it was greedy. Swallowing light and hope alike. Until nothing remained.

Amongst the weak spots there was one strong and stable enough to hold your gaze. Never shying away from sight once it had appeared. Rounding its mother star since eons ago. Blue. Blue and white, with tints of green and yellow. Unlike the dark tiles and circling walls appearing black in the red light surrounding the broad window.

Steps drew closer. Following the example of screams. Projected from the walls. Drilling deep into the depths of your brain. Doors detecting the wandering presence behaved with wordless command. Sealing you in with the one responsible for the massacre. Commander of the taloned hands, standing next to you without his draconic armour. Still, his eyes emitted the same ominous glow his shell did not so long ago.

“Once we extract the Earthdamar from earth, and make Velgearians into true living beings, we will return to the front lines.” His voice was as sharp as ever. Proud posture fitting the thin smile he was carrying since his victory. Stare transfixed on the planet in blue. Until they locked onto a different target. You.

“Why are you shaking?” For a moment his never wavering grin seemed to falter. A dangerous glint glared at you for a heartbeat. It was so fast you were not even sure, if it was there to begin with. No. His eyes lit up with something else. His stance reinforced as he faced in your direction.

“I see.” He interpreted. “You can’t contain your excitement. I was afraid you were starting to follow his ideals. But it was you, who made victory even possible. Without you we wouldn’t be here.” Turning toward the window you never left his line of sight. “You can be proud of yourself. Thanks to you, the war will turn into our favour. Rush Duels are just the final step. Our monsters will crush the enemy’s forces until there will be nothing left of them.”

Ships began to align in formation in the endless void. Stars bleeding red in contrast to the dark blue exteriors. The Commander reached his hand out toward you. His smile softened while he addressed you. “Let us end it together. For the Velgear Star Cluster.”

Take his hand?

Yes

#yugioh go rush #zwijo zir velgear #a deer draws #a deer writes #welcome to the go rush villain dating sim where we throw redemption into the wind and let the men be unhinged #here we make them worse #or they make us worse #idk i'm not the boss of your story #i'm trying to be as vague as possible #go rush villain dating sim!au #go rush vds!au #<- the tags i'll be using for this #i'm aware “villain” is not necessarily accurate but it sums up really well what's happening #is this how the (almost) final scene of dating sims work?#idk but here they do #to be fair they could also be read as purely platonic #fond feelings are there either way... i suppose...?

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captainjonnitkessler · 4 months

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You know I used to think "tumblr's absolute refusal to actually engage with the Trolley Problem in favor of insisting that there must be a third, morally pure option that doesn't require them to make a hard decision and anyone who asks them to make a binary choice is just a short-sighted idiot is really fucking annoying, but I guess it's not actually doing any harm".

Anyway that was before we asked tumblr at large to decide between "guy aiding a genocide but making progress elsewhere" and "guy who would actively and enthusiastically participate in a genocide and would also make everything else much, much worse for everyone elsewhere" and the response was that there must be a third, morally pure option that doesn't require them to make a hard decision and that anyone who asks them to make a binary choice is a short-sighted idiot.

#there is not a third option. it is either trump OR biden #and one of those will be much MUCH worse for palestine #i'm really really sorry that these are the options. i wish they weren't.#but WHAT third option are you trying to take here? what on earth is your proposed outcome #that will actually make things better for palestine?#because letting trump win the election is NOT going to help them #i'm sorry but you need to set aside your feelings and take the option that will lead to less harm to palestine in the long run #you talk such a big game about how people need to be willing to make sacrifices to help palestine #but you yourself aren't even willing to hold your nose and vote to stop things from getting worse?#or did you think 'sacrifice' only meant not getting mcdonalds for a few months?#us politics

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theoldkyokodied · 9 months

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The Allegiance of the Ascended Vampire and the New God of Magic

#bloodweave #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale x astarion #astarion x gale #gale dekarios #astarion ancunin #yes this is about astarion helping gale defeat mystra and take her place with the crown in exchange for gale helping him with the ritual #the ‘they can make each other worse’ part of their relationship turned to the max #I enjoy them being reluctantly soft for each other more but from time to time I just think about how powerful they could get together #toxic evil boyfriends. take love and twist it up until it’s unrecognisable #I like to think that astarion approached gale with that offer after realising no one else in camp is gonna help him #and that he can use gales own hunger for power which backfired when astarion actually became emotionally invested in gale #and after gale kept his word despite everyone’s concerns astarion changed his plan from not fullfilling his end of the bargain to actually #helping gale kill mystra (mostly so that gale could belong to him and him alone. and letting him take the place as a god bc having a god #at you beck and call is definitely appealing. especially one as eager to please as gale)#anyway what I want to say with this is please please please let me kill mystra i don’t even care if the weave gets destroyed again

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feelingtheaster99 · 5 months

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It is completely in character for Percy to say he has some dumb questions, then ask incredibly valid questions that no one has brought up till now

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gutsby · 28 days

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Watch Your Mouth

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel teaches you to keep quiet during sex.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Silence kink. Size kink. Breeding kink. Age gap. Joel is a lot more experienced (!) Finger sucking. Orgasm denial. Soft dom!Joel x10000.

Word count: 1.9k

Maybe a hand was too much.

A kiss to stifle your cries, a tongue between your lips to steal any trace of a whimper before it could ever leave. Joel knew by the way your wet, pliant hole stretched wider and wider for him with each thrust that you’d eventually quiet down—but he needed silence now.

And he’d get it when he clamped his palm over your mouth. At first, your brows lifted with surprise, then pinched inward like you didn’t understand, then twitched again, involuntarily, when the head of his cock cleared a path straight toward your cervix. You whimpered into his hand and made a point to dig your heels even deeper in his back. Joel had promised he’d be better about that.

“‘M’sorry,” he mumbled.

Another stab. Another whimper, only louder this time.

“Sorry, baby, I’m—” Joel stopped to fight back a groan of his own, before pressing his palm down with even more force, “—sorry, jus’ need ya real quiet right now, okay?”

You tried to nod, but the weight and stricture of his grip were as heavy as lead against your face. Add to that the soft, sawing motions of his cock going in and out of your cunt and the nudge of his oversized tip at your cervix, and it was all you could do to just lay there and take it. Joel knew this was brand new to you—he’d been your first not too long ago and the only partner since—so he eased back and lifted his hand when you gave it a tug.

Grey stubble was already licking at the corners of your mouth with Joel’s minuscule kisses of reassurance when you giggled and squeezed him tighter between your legs:

“I’m tryin’, Joel. Really, I am,” you whispered.

“I know, sweet pea,” he whispered back, “I know.”

He took the palm he’d used to stifle your moans and smoothed it over your cheek, coming to rest at one side so he could kiss you fully. Maybe a hand was too much.

He’d inculcate restraint some other way, and if it didn’t come easy, a few more fucks on the forest floor like this one would probably do the trick. Your mouth opened up for his tongue just like your cunt would open up for more of his cum and the rest of your body would surely follow suit, learning to control the noises of pleasure as needed.

“Good girl,” Joel murmured against your lips, feeling you clench around him and expel a breath rather than whine. He withdrew himself to the tip, then plunged back in, “Such a good, perfect girl for me, ain’t ya, sweetheart?”

At length, you yelped into his mouth. You couldn’t help it. Rather than reprimand you with words or smother your lips with his palm, though, Joel kept fucking you gently.

“‘S’okay, pretty girl, it’s okay. I know that feels good.”

His mouth was next to your ear now, praises audible to no one else but you. It added a whole new dimension to your pleasure; Joel could tell from the way your walls constricted around him and choked him, sucked him in. The feeling nearly elicited a groan from his chest, but of course, he had all the resolve of a seasoned professional. Decades and decades of practice had done that for him.

“Joel,” you mewled.

Your face was screwed up in a grimace, eyes likely to be brimming with tears any second now. Joel slowed his pace once more, felt a pang of guilt for how big he felt inside you—how those decades and decades of practice set you drastically apart from each other in experience—and this time, he didn’t try to muffle your whines. He just stroked the top of your cheek with one thumb, and with the other, snaked a path between your body and his.

Admittedly, Joel was still learning about yours. He wasn’t sure if the whimpers you’d made were born wholly of pleasure or just a sense of being stretched out and filled. Because you yourself were still learning to be vocal, Joel figured he’d give the latter a stab. He started thumbing your clit in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure.

It worked, and it didn’t.

Your walls parted easily beneath the quiet ministrations of his thumb, opening yourself more to Joel’s thrusts, but they also tore a scream out of your throat—the kind that was liable to stir the leaves on every tree and alert any clicker within a two-mile radius to your presence.

The kind of outcome Joel had been trying to prevent when he’d brought you on patrol with him in the first place. The kind of sound he was trying to fuck out of your body completely; teach you to keep quiet and still for when the two of you inevitably got bored during perimeter watch and rolled the sleeping bag out to fuck.

Joel tensed above you and cast a quick look around. Sure, he’d picked a decently safe spot, but then you—

“Joel, I—”

Without thinking, the man stopped and stuck the first thing he could possibly fit in your mouth: his thumb. Whatever you’d been trying to say to him was promptly lost in a hum against his knuckle, lips enveloping the thick, callused digit like some tangy-flavored lolly. Joel’s hips sank back into yours, slowly, and he felt the reverberations of another moan spill over his finger.

He swallowed and stared. That shouldn’t have been nearly as sexy as you’d just made it seem, especially when your life and his hung in such a precarious position.

Joel dragged his cock back out and happened to graze a sensitive, spongy ridge inside you, which made you moan again. You hollowed your cheeks and gritted your teeth a bit more against his thumb, gripping Joel’s forearm for support as he continued to fuck you.

And, had you stayed like that a moment longer, you probably would’ve seen a shiny string of drool start to pool and stretch and fall out from one side of his mouth. Instead, Joel switched hands and popped the thumb that had been toying with your clit into your mouth, eyes glazed over with desire as they drank in the sight of you sucking his thumb again. The tip was still soaked with your warmth and slipped easily past your parted lips.

Another sound bubbled up your throat when you got a taste—Joel had always been in the habit of kissing you after eating you out, so you were well-acquainted with the flavor, but never had he fed you your own arousal on his finger. This felt obscene, something more than just pornographic as those deep, brown, lust-addled irises remained glued to where your lips closed around him.

“Y’like that, huh?” he said, voice reduced to a whisper once more while you nipped and suckled at the skin.

You bobbed your head to indicate yes, opened your mouth to tell him softly that you liked it so much—loved the taste and grit of his finger on your tongue, in fact. You wanted to show him you could be vocal, too, when Joel’s frame rose over yours a little more and seemed to blanket it entirely. Like he wanted to shield you, in a way.

“Shhhh, shhh…keep suckin’ like that. Stay still, okay?” Joel murmured, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that this was a test. He was nodding, rutting gently between your legs, wedging his thumb deeper inside the wet, velvety contours of your mouth and waiting for a look from you to say that you understood.

You weren’t sure if you did, but you nodded anyway. Joel’s thumb made a wonderful sort of makeshift gag as he continued to thrust inside of you, his body somehow lowering to get even closer to yours. When he’d gotten sufficiently near, he pressed a kiss to the side of your mouth—now stuffed with his thumb and leaking spit—and muttered something about how good you were for him, how nicely you fit around his cock. Then he tilted his hips and proceeded to pound you into the ground like an animal in heat. The only thing separating your ass from the patch of grass underneath it was a flimsy little blanket, and the only thing tethering you to earth, it seemed, was Joel’s cock. Your ankles locked behind his back, and his nose settled next to yours, breathing hard.

Even if he knew how to suppress his moans, the panting and strangled gasps were far beyond Joel’s control—as were the filthy, perverse words pouring out of his mouth.

“‘S’all mine, ain’t she, hon? Tell me this pussy’s mine.”

“Tell me she’s mine to fuck, stuff full’a cum, right here.”

And he gestured to the spot where your body stopped and his began, squelching noises punctuating each new thrust. Neither one of you minded the sound right now, especially when you knew where this was headed next.

Joel was grinning against your skin before he kissed it.

“She wants a baby, doesn’t she, honey? Wants me to put a baby in her and make that belly swell up pretty?”

You knew just as well as Joel that neither of you wanted children in a world like this—thoughts of breeding only occurred to you both when you were about to cum. Particularly when Joel’s thumb was slipping out of your mouth and his fingers were pinching either side of your face in a single grip, lips moving above yours. Making you meet his gaze as he squeezed your cheeks in a pout.

“You want my babies, baby?” Joel mumbled.

You felt a familiar twitch in his cock. You nodded.

Joel pinched harder and shook his head, unsatisfied.

“Say, ‘I want your babies, Joel.’”

“I want your babies, Joel.”

“Say, ‘I’ll be nice and quiet if you cum inside me.’”

“I’ll be nice and quiet if you cum inside me, please, Joel.”

Your voice was already hoarse from how low you had to whisper, how hard Joel’s broad and hefty stomach was pressing into your own, stealing the breath from your lungs and wreaking havoc on your brain as you struggled for air and imagined a world where your tummy was a little rounder. Plugged up with his cum one day and growing bigger with his child there inside you the next. The thought was dizzying in the abstract, enticing to the slightest degree in reality, and if you had to guess from the expression of the man currently sweating, grunting, and rutting into your body, you’d bet he felt the same.

It really was a shame you had to stay so quiet.

But, whether a clicker was five miles away or standing directly over his shoulder, Joel didn’t seem to care at all. Soft, silent reserve cast aside for the time being and hips slamming a bruising pace against your own, Joel seemed fine to let out sounds to show he was right about to cum. Grunts and whimpers were spilling left and right off his filthy, pretty tongue; his eyes were all but rolling back.

Truly, he couldn’t look more magnificent if he tried.

“Fuck, baby, I’m— I’m so close. Gonna fill you up.”

Featherlight clusters of soft grey hair were now darkened with sweat. They rested comfortably across his forehead. Under them, two thick brows furrowed in concentration.

“Gonna knock you up,” he added through gritted teeth.

That part was not a threat, but a promise.

You felt a tug and a pinch in your own stomach, signaling your oncoming release. You spread your legs wider for Joel, pressed a kiss to his jaw when he leaned in closer, made room for him to spill his load just how he wanted, and when it seemed he was a second from his peak—

A twig snapped nearby.

Both of you froze in place.

#JOEL MILLER TELLING ME TO SHUT MY F*CKING MOUTH MIGHT ACTUALLY HEAL ME #OR MAKE ME MUCH MUCH WORSE #POTENTIALLY #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us fic #the last of us #tlou

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podcast-hemocytoblast · 7 months

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What if when Michael got Distortioned he/they/it/(?) had just kept showing up to work? Imagine Gertrude comes into the archives and finds a bunch of paperwork filled out in yellow highlighter and folded into impossible shapes, and then Michael-Distortion just walks into the room door-style and sits down at his work computer so it can email Gertrude a phishing scam.

#the magnus archives #tma #michael distortion #the distortion #i think this would make everyone’s lives worse #the eye 🤝(<-phishing) the spiral #tricking someone into thinking you’re someone they can trust so that theyll give you info they can use against you?#that shits both eye and spiral coded af tbh #edit: for those who have said that they want a fic of this i would like to clarify that other people can do what they want with this idea #but i personally cannot write for shit #so i cannot provide a fic. unless you want it bland as hell and written in ieee format #sorry y’all. my skillsets are infodumping about spiders unprompted and eating chicken nugget

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buggachat · 6 months

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remember when chat blanc aired and chat noir almost cataclysming his dad was a big deal. like all the fans were shocked and some were even upset at him for even considering/bluffing to do something so awful to someone, even though he didn't go through with it

anyway. remember when bug noire straight up just cataclysms her boyfriend's dad for real, no hesitation, no bluffing, with a big smile on her face

AND EVERYONE CLAPPED (INCLUDING ME) (GOOD FOR HER) (I SUPPORT WOMEN'S WRONGS) (HE DESERVED IT) (WISH HE DIDNT HAVE THE OX) (DO IT AGAIN)

#marinette saw this man coughing out black carbon dust that used to be the inner linings of his lungs #and she was like. wow thats sick. as in like that's gnarly. far-out even. fucking RAD actually. i can make that even WORSE #ml s5 spoilers #ml re-creation #re-creation spoilers #i dont really tag spoilers anymore so idk why im tagging this but idk!! feelin funky fresh

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ccorinthian · 2 years

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fuck you ageism fuck you life ending at 30 fuck you makeup industry forcing us to feel bad about a natural process fuck you hustle culture fuck you instagram fuck you youtube fuck you glorification and deification of youth fuck you who make people feel bad for not having "achieved anything" in their 20s fuck you people who peaked in high school and try to drag everybody down by insisting it's all downhill after 19

#im not dedicating hours and days and weeks of my 20s of hard work on my mental health to cope w shit i went through #for some bitches on websites to tell me ill shrivel up and die when i hit 30 unless my life is perfect by then #youre not dragging me down to that mindset and i wont let your doom and gloom about turning older make me feel like shit !!#some of us have to rebuild ourselves from ground up and that shit takes time and thats FINE and if you think otherwise fuck off honestly #ageism is such a disgustingly overlooked aspect thats so ingrained in our culture and you need to recognise it #or you'll just feel worse and worse about yourself with every passing day bc guess what baby you cant go back!!#SICK of the negativity surrounding age on this website get yourself the fuck together honestly

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scarlettohairdye · 1 year

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PSA to printed zine makers

As a 37 year old who's been running a sole proprietorship for the last 10+ years, I just want everyone who is planning to run a fandom project that involves accepting money for printing & shipping costs to know that you're actually running a small business and you need to plan for taxes. It doesn't matter if you don't make any profit: that is business income and the IRS will see it as such if you get audited.

If you only take enough money in to cover the cost of printing & shipping then you can write that off as a business expense and probably not pay taxes on it, But in order for that to fly you actually have to do business accounting, especially if you're doing it at scale. Like, you can probably skate by without reporting a $500 project; I absolutely would not fucking risk it with a $5000 project.

Back when I was producing shows there were years when I was where I made $20k in ticket sales only to turn around and immediately pay $18k to my performers. I only made $2k for myself, but I had to report the entire $20k, because it was ALL INCOME. (I only paid taxes on the $2000, because that's how writing off expenses works!)

Yeah this is boring grownup shit and I'm getting my boring grownup fingers all over your fun fandom, but boring grownups doing boring grownup things are the reason fandom spaces exist at all (paying for servers is deeply boring), and I'm way more fun than an audit

#don't find this out the hard way #get a small business license if you want to do it more than once #small business taxes are annoying #but getting audited is way worse #this advice is US-centric but the gist applies in other countries too #fandom #zines #also have contracts #if money is changing hands you gotta make that shit official

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inkskinned · 11 months

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you were raised in comparison.

it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.

you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.

you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.

what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.

it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.

you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.

you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?

a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.

you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.

it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.

something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.

#writeblr #warm up #my dad was actively doing bad shit to us and we STILL were told we were lucky . and to a point i do think im lucky #i just think also there's somethin to be said about like. how about we stop using comparison to dismiss ppls individual struggles #yes there are people who have no perspective. for the reference tho having perspective actually made me really unwilling to get help #for what was a serious and debilitating mental health issue. bc i thought i didnt DESERVE IT #and i would rather have 600 ppl who aren't THAT bad get help and get heard and get seen #than make any 1 kid. do the math that i did: look at the world that is dying and the people who are hurting and say #''oh. okay. others have it worse. they are probably better people than i am. i am being unreasonable. i cannot ask for help #i am not good. i am taking too much space. i am not worth saving.''#bc our WHOLE lives we are taught a scarcity mindset - that you can 'steal' from someone. so that instead of changing a system that doesn't #actually offer fair support to everyone #we put the impetus on the individual to just... demand less.#and here's something - there are probably ppl who think i DIDNT deserve to get help #bc i DID have it better than other people #and something about that is ... so sickening. bc i think all of us in some way at some point WILL need help.#we were supposed to make communities. we were supposed to offer our hands. we were supposed to raise the barn #instead we said: it could be worse. now handle it yourself

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cemeterything · 2 months

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VAL and Shrue dynamic that only exists in my mind moodboard

#🐉#want to lock them in a room together so so bad i think it would make them both worse #i dont ship them or whatever btw i just think they would have such a catty exes dynamic despite never dating #the weird psychosexual bond that forms when your boss uses one of you to gaslight the other into a divorce #UPDATE i kind of ship them now but in an it sucks way #VALshrue

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becca-e-barnes · 1 year

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all i can think about is bucky literally BEGGING to eat your pussy. just on his knees, calling himself a needy slut, just looking up at you with puppy dog eyes while he just begs for your pussy on his mouth. ugh.

Men who are this into eating pussy have a special place reserved for them in Heaven. Hearing someone beg to go down on you is life changing when they know what they're doing 🙈

But you're so right, Bucky would be so willing to degrade himself like that just to be allowed to go down on you. He'd be on his knees, trying to ignore how full his balls feel, begging for you.

"P-please." His voice is so quiet you almost start to question if he said it intentionally. "I need to taste you. I can't think about anything else."

His cock twitches despite how heavy it looks, flushed and angry against the pale skin of his thighs.

"Really?" You tease, tilting his chin up with two fingers so he's looking at your face, rather than your body. "Tell me exactly what you're thinking. Describe it to me"

He doesn't miss a beat. "I'm thinking about how soft you are, how warm and silky your cunt feels under my tongue. I'm thinking about burying my tongue as deep inside you as I can reach and still wishing I could get deeper. I want to feel how wet you are but more than anything, I want to taste how wet you are. I want to dream about it for the rest of the week. Every time I stroke my cock I want to be able to remember how you taste."

Precum drips from his tip and you're not sure you can deny him much longer. Not when he's making it sound so appealing.

"Do you even hear yourself?" You do your very best to act like you don't love the sound of every word that has just come out of his mouth.

"I do. I sound like a shameless, filthy, desperate slut. The type of slut who wants to kiss and lick and worship your sweet pussy until you're so sensitive you have to force me to stop." His hand wanders between his own legs, tugging his stiff length to the mere thought.

He's not above begging and you know that. He'll draw this out as long as he needs to until he gets his way but there's very little sense in that when you want this just as much as he does.

"Lie on the bed." You give him time to make his way over before following, lining yourself up just above his face.

You take a second to smooth his hair, enjoying the feeling of his freshly shaved face against the sensitive insides of your thighs.

He's looking up at you, your eyes meeting his. "Thank you." The relief in his voice is clear right before he grasps your hips and pulls you down onto his mouth.

Fuck, he's incredible. This is the mouth you dream about when you're alone. His tongue massages your clit, stroking back and forth before dipping into your fluttering entrance. You swear he must feel what he's doing to you. You feel your cunt clenching and rippling, your muscles contracting in response to the pleasure and for a second you wonder if he can tell.

He's hungry for this; he has been for hours. He's moaning and slurping obscenely, his tongue buried in your cunt. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to know that he's alternating between fucking his own fist and gripping the base of his shaft tight enough to stop him from spilling his release all over himself too soon.

It's very hard to tell which of you enjoys this more.

#asks answered <3 #becca writes spice #anon #needy!bucky #bucky barnes x reader smut #sub!bucky #bucky barnes smut #subby!bucky #this should technically belong to the shs series #but it fit this prompt too well so I'm using it here #I make the rules 😇#but that 'thank you' nearly killed me #I've noticed this week that my beige flag is that I get so frustrated when people make assumptions about my capacity #I hate when people say stuff like 'how's the new job? you must be really stressed'#or worse 'things must be getting on top of you'#like ???#why would you assume I can't handle what I put on my own plate?#I know people mean well but it really bothers me

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 2 months

Text

Assisting Acquaintance Acquired.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wen ning #wei wuxian #Ignore how Wen Ning's hair looks here because I messed it up. Let's pretend he just sported a different hair style for a brief moment.#I am not exactly great at consistency but I am trying very hard to work on that (immediately messes up again).#Absolutely *love* how Wen Ning clearly remembers and admires WWX...who does *not* recognize him.#This is the best day for Wen Ning and it means *nothing* to WWX. A painful one-sided crush made worse.#It is bittersweet to realize that we care about someone more than they care about us. Sometime we pour love into a relationship-#-with someone who just can't reciprocate. It isn't always a conscious things either. Some people just aren't aware we care.#And painfully - so painfully - You can't make them aware. No act of kindness or gift or self sacrifice will make someone care about you.#You can martyr yourself for someone and they will continue on unchanged.#I think a lot about the parallels between WN and LWJ. Not foils - just reflections. A theme repeated.#People who give so much of themselves to someone who doesn't have the capacity to give any part of themself away.#I will die on the hill of 'Wen Ning would be the love triangle romance if that trope wasn't being avoided'.#And to be honest - thank the stars above that is the case. I do not know any good love triangles in media.#We are skipping some of the sad Jiang Cheng content because I really want to finish season 2 before May.#Sorry JC emo moment lovers...I'll deliver another time.

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trippedandfell · 2 months

Text

stop the world just to stop the feeling

The night before Maddie and Chimney's wedding, Buck and Eddie talk on a balcony. | 1.5k | buddie | ao3

Eddie’s just uncapped his second beer when he hears footsteps behind him, so familiar he recognizes who it is by sound alone.

“Hey,” he says, as Buck sidles into view, arms coming to rest on the balcony railing beside him. He’s got a drink in his hand, too - one of those fruity vodka seltzers that Eddie’s reluctantly started stocking in the bottom drawer of his fridge. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Buck fiddles with the tab on his can, the silver of it reflecting in the moonlight. “Something like that.”

His shirt is slightly too big, slipping down just enough to expose the sharp jut of his collarbone, the dark bruise forming on the edge of it. Eddie’s eyes fly to it without permission, and Buck flushes red.

“It’ll be covered by the suit tomorrow, promise.”

“Mm.” Eddie takes another sip of his beer, ignoring the sour way it curdles in his stomach. “Good. Think Chim’s one incident away from going full groomzilla.”

“Can you blame him?”

“Not at all,” Eddie admits, and Buck huffs a laugh. “You should have been me the night before Shannon and I got married. I was a wreck.”

He’d been alone, in the shitty little apartment they’d rented once they learned about Christopher, Shannon spending the night at her mom’s across town to help them cling to some ragged sense of propriety that neither of them truly believed in. It had been one of the most awful, stomachache-inducing nights he’d ever had up to that point in his life, and it wasn’t until he saw Shannon in the church the next day, glowing in a way that had nothing to do with the bump hidden under the folds of her white dress, that everything had finally clicked into place.

“Hi,” she had said, reaching out to squeeze his hand, and Eddie had let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Buck’s staring at him now, as if he can sense the myriad emotions playing out in Eddie’s head. “It’s so weird,” he says. “Maddie and Chimney have basically been married for a while now. But all of this just makes it feel so real.” He gestures a hand at the expansive hotel grounds, the ocean beyond. “I mean, my parents are here.”

Eddie knows. Eddie had done an exceptional job at ignoring them at the rehearsal dinner that night, tucked in the corner by himself, Marisol having gone to their room earlier with a headache.

He feels a brief, guilty flash about leaving her alone now, although she’d been snoring when he’d crept past Chris on the sofa bed and out into the light of the hallway. He wonders, idly, if he should have left a note.

“They seem to be behaving,” he offers, which is about all of the goodwill he’s able to give the Buckley parents at any given time. Buck makes a face at him, and he adds, half-teasing, “for now.”

As far as he knows, they haven’t said a word so far to Buck about Tommy. He should probably ask, but somehow he can’t make his mouth form the words.

Buck drums his fingers against the balcony, quiet. “Do you ever think about it?”

What, fighting your parents? Eddie almost jokes, but he knows that’s not what Buck’s asking. “About getting married again?”

“Or getting married at all,” Buck says, and there’s something in his face, something suspiciously like longing, that has Eddie taking another gulp of his beer. “Like, big reception, flowers. The whole nine yards.”

“I wouldn’t do a big reception,” Eddie says, shuddering. “Just in the backyard, or something.”

Buck cracks a smile. “You do have a nice backyard.”

“You’re just saying that because you did all the landscaping,” Eddie says, bumping their shoulders together. “I had to weed it the other day though, so I should at least get partial credit.”

Buck looks sheepish at that, which wasn’t what Eddie was going for, but also wasn’t not what he wanted to happen. “I meant to come do it this week, I’ve just been -”

“Busy,” Eddie finishes for him, which isn’t fair, not really. Not when Buck is still over at his house most days, not when he hasn’t missed a single one of his afternoons out with Christopher. It’s just that there’s now a new purple marker in his kitchen, carefully outlining Buck’s availability on the calendar.

Eddie’s never had to schedule Buck in before. Not with Taylor, or Natalia, or even Ali, way back when.

Combine that with the fact that Buck’s now asking about marriage…

Eddie drains the last of his beer. “You should get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Buck agrees, but stays where he is, shoulder still pressed against Eddie’s. “Hey - uh. We’re good, right?”

“Buck, you’ve already apologized.” And grovelled, and apologized again, until Eddie was back from medical leave and working with the 118 again.

“Not about that.” Buck shakes his head, the movement bringing him closer to Eddie still, their forearms nearly overlapping on the railing. “I mean - about me. And Tommy, I guess.”

And Eddie - Eddie will be the first to admit it took him a second to come to terms with it, to fully wrap his head around the idea of Buck with a man and, more specifically, Buck with Tommy. But he’d hugged Buck, and stumbled his way through some approximation of support, and then gone home and researched until his eyes were burning and he’d bookmarked every tab he could find about bisexuality and being a good ally - so. He thinks he’s been doing okay, overall. Certainly not poorly enough to make Buck question if he’s been harbouring secret homophobic tendencies all this time.

“You know I’m good with that,” he says, and means it. “And you and Tommy seem - really good. So if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Buck’s eyebrows crinkle together, and Eddie has to resist the fanatical urge to reach over and smooth them out. “I know. I know you are. But something else just seems - wrong.”

“With me?”

“With us,” Buck says, voice veering toward frustration. “Come on, Eddie. You know you feel it too.”

Something thumps in Eddie’s chest, like his heart is suddenly trying to beat out of his chest. “Buck, I promise nothing’s changed-”

“But something has,” Buck says. “And I don’t know what, and it’s driving me insane, and every time I’m at work or at the gym or even with Tommy-” Wait, what? Eddie thinks, panicked - “I’m lost in my own head, wondering how the fuck I managed to mess up the most important relationship in my life.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” Eddie says, honest. “No one did. It’s just - growing pains. You’re in a relationship, I’m in a relationship - it’s natural that we maybe don’t come first for each other anymore.”

Buck stares at him, the corner of his eyes suspiciously red. “We both know you don’t actually believe that.”

He doesn’t, but they’re veering into dangerous territory now. “Buck-”

“Why is it different now?” Buck says. “We’ve both dated people at the same time before. Taylor and Ana, Marisol and Natalia. Why is this different?”

Eddie doesn’t feel like he’s capable of breathing. “Buck-”

“It’s not because I’m with Tommy,” Buck says, raking a hand through his hair. “Or that I’m bi. It’s not actually any of it, is it, Eddie?”

He doesn’t sound angry, just - resigned. Tired. The beer bottle is clammy against Eddie’s palm.

“You never answered my question earlier,” Buck says. “About if you would get married again.”

When Eddie speaks, his voice feels like sandpaper. “Maybe. If it was the right person.”

“Is Marisol the right person?”

“Is Tommy?”

Buck flinches, minuscule. “I asked first.”

“You know what my answer is, Buck,” Eddie says, and he’s tired, so tired.

“You know mine too,” Buck says, soft.

He does know. Just like he knows Buck’s favourite song, favourite dinner, favourite feel-good rom-com. Just like he knows that Buck will spend all of tomorrow night dancing with Tommy, but he’ll save one dance for Christopher, spinning him around the middle of the room while Eddie watches. Just like how he knows -

“Eddie,” Buck says, and Eddie realizes how close they are now, facing each other with the moon still high overhead, lips a hairsbreadth apart. “We can’t.”

Eddie can feel Buck’s exhale against his lips. “I know,” he says. Taking a step back feels like swimming against a riptide, but he manages to get his limbs to cooperate eventually. “We should head back in.”

Buck swallows, chin bobbing as he nods. “Yeah. I’ll - uh. See you tomorrow?”

There’s something here, slipping out of Eddie’s grasp. He doesn’t think either of them knows quite how to cling on to it.

“See you tomorrow,” he echoes, and then Buck’s turning toward the door, back to the hallway that’ll lead him to his room, to Tommy in his bed.

Eddie waits until he’s fully out of sight before he follows.

also on ao3!

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tags: @leothil @sibylsleaves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @deformed-globule @cantyouseethatyouresmotheringme @silassstingy

#911 abc #911 fic #buddie fic #buddie #911fic #they don't solve anything in this. in fact they make it worse! but it's ok #pour one out for eddie folks who among us hasn't been pining miserably after their best friend #myfic

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