#I searched in every damn tag and can't find it!

[eunuchve]

tags: mdni, smut, dragon!morax, MONSTERFUCKING, rut/mating cycles, predator/prey, double dragon cocks, double penetration, CERVIX FUCKING, size kink, mentioning pregnancy, mating, bro has a worship kink, breeding kink hints (he's in a rut dont hold it against him) a.n: (what have i done) this is the first porn with plot I've written and I gotta say; it is damn long.... happy valentines my dears, enjoy! pairings: zhongli x afab!reader

Lord Morax is a god; but he is more than that, he is an adeptus. illuminated beast. this fact needs no introduction, everyone knows. 

so when he took leave to a remote part of liyue somewhere, unknown to even his retainers, no one dared to bat an eye. the rain has fallen heavy, the season has become damp, and the scheduled time is near; Rex Lapis will have his rut.

it didn't take long for people to figure out the reasons for his absence; not when the lord became increasingly unfocused during stately meetings a week prior or when his eyes would turn to slits with a whiff of a woman's perfume for a month’s time.

You, the lone herb picker of a local pharmacy, didn't know any better when you stumbled upon a large hollowed-out cave that wasn't supposed to be there. you are familiar with the terrains, hell, you know it like the back of your hand -- so imagine your surprise when you find a nesting dragon inside, heaving, grunting alone; its horns glowing with a bright amber before its head snapped to your directly, eyes instantly turning to slits.

at first, you stumble backwards, watching as the figure slowly but surely towers over your frame; your neck cranes to meet its molten bronze eyes. it didn't take you long to realise whose privacy you had so ungraciously barged into; your mouth dries and you dropped your basket full of violetgrass, your heart beating out of your chest before your feet finally got some sense and took running to the woods. 

'fuck fuck fuck.'

you are going to die- you are so sure you are going to die. when your feet stumble and trip over branches and air, when you can hear him gliding through the sky; undoubtedly searching for you. The sounds of his scaled body burst through the leaves of the ginkgo trees, or of his deep, rough growls that echo through the forest. With every heavy step you take, you can feel him getting closer and closer. The thrill and fear mix inside of you, your body stirs with blood coursing through you. Weirdly amid the fear you feel-- somehow excitement came into the mix; something about your life being in the mercy of a chase?

Why is he there again? Rut? So will he fuck you or will he kill you? You certainly prefer one to the other. 

Your legs continue to run, even as you trip and fall, or when you stumble upon a rock or two; searching for an exit to a nearby village or open path; but no matter how far you run you can't seem to find the correct way. Your eyes scanned all directions before your body was suddenly pinned down under a sudden force and unmoving weight.

The paws of a creature so large that it covers your entire back, its talons digging into your back. The smell of freshly dug earth and exotic spices violates your nostrils and your heart can't help but thump against your chest just a little faster. You turned your neck, finding the dragon’s face mere inches from yours; his hot breath grazing the exposed skin of your neck. 

“Please don’t kill me.” god your voice sounds so desperate; with a hint of a broken whimper- even you are embarrassed by that fact. but your god didn't seem disturbed, instead he let out a low grunt, before hissing back a reply.

"don't beg."

"...huh?"

"don't." he spat the word, seeming holding something back. "beg."

"b-but--"

he didn't let you finish, picking you up by the scruff of your neck before throwing you to his back. he flew you back somewhere, you didn't care to notice since most of the flight back you are scrambling for something to hold on to; whether it is the golden spines or his actual body.

by the time you both arrive at the entrance of the familiar cave, he has waited for you to get off his back. you inclined, of course, shakily getting a feel of the ground below, catching your breath whilst adrenaline courses through you. once you get a feel yourself, your eyes travel to him, catching his large form walking slowly to the back of the cave.

"you won't kill me?" you find yourself asking; his head then slowly turns to you before, a visible look of confusion etched on it.

"Why would I?" his deep rough voice replies. he is definitely holding something back, the way his lips parted a bit to let steam out of his mouth, the sharp teeth that are visible from them make you gulp the pooling saliva in your mouth.

"Because... cave..."

weak reasoning, you'd have to admit, but if he won't kill you then you'd have to be sure of the other possibility. "then would you fuck me?"

the look on his face deepened before his head hung low, and a soft whisper came to you for a reply. "what makes you think of that?"

"It's your- Rex Lapis it's your time of..."

embarrassed, incredibly embarrassed; that's the feeling you felt, with the heat of blood rushing to your cheek and thumping heart against your chest only enforcing the fact.

"it is time for my rut, yes," he confirmed, his gaze thrown to the floor, avoiding your figure, "but I am not one with lost senses; sleep, it is night, it will be safer to leave in the morning."

you nod weakly, shuffling your way to the walls and plopping down on the dirt before curling up. the heat in your cheeks refuses to prevail as you watch him walk back, his long tail moves with each step he takes, the tuff at the end resembling that of golden clouds.

"My lord why are you moving so far away?" you asked, instantly biting your lip the moment that question escaped your mind, realising how desperate you sounded with that pretence.

"your arousal," he states matter of factly. "you. I can smell it."

you look at him wide-eyed, your face now comparable in its heat to the sun, your lips agape.

"it's safer for you this way," he continues.

"do you not want to?" archons you are greedy aren't you. "your rut- I can.. help..."

"I doubt it." his voice is precise, he says it like it's a fact, not even letting you have a space to express your desire. "they are the size of your thigh and their length..."

"I can try." bold- now you are being too bold. the size of your thigh he said? now you can feel your ears getting heated up from the shame. your thigh now pressed together as you imagine him inside of you; a second pass and your arms no longer placed nicely on your lap, instead instinctively protecting your chest.

his gaze looms over you, his snout now only a hairsbreadth away from your neck; a long deep breath he takes is audible before he groans out a reply.

"Do not test me human," something inside of him is threatening undone, you know it, "I will breed you till your womb is full and your consciousness lost-- if that is not what you desire then stay quiet and sleep; I shall bring you the village in the morning but until then speak not of this."

you gulp, now your lips parted before you crane your neck and place a shaky kiss on his scaled cheek, the heat of his body contrasting the cold of your flesh. "... that is what I desire--"

with that your clothes are torn apart; the valuable silk you spend months of your wage on is gone and your naked skin is exposed. the cold air hardened your nipples and he took notice, his head travelling down, his long forked tongue lapping sweetly onto them, earning your strangle out a moan.

"getting aroused from a chase," he breathes out, almost teasing you; hot breath contrasts that of the cooling saliva on your perked buds, sending vibrations down your spine. "thinking you can take a dragon's cocks, wanting to be the mother of my offsprings -- what bold actions you possessed."

you let out a whine, his tongue now travelling down, ever so subtly closing down to your cunt. you pressed your thighs together; embarrassed, already feeling your arousal seeping out of you before his claws forced them wide open, earning your moan.

"you are pooling my dear," he almost chuckled, his eyes narrowed as he licked his lips, his breath now grazing your quivering folds, unexpected whimper broken out of you.

"please?"

with that word you can feel the air snap hotter, his eyes now meeting yours; his form towering over you before he chuckle, training down kisses, his tongue now making sure you are covered in his scent.

"didn't I tell you not to beg?" his claws hold your thigh open and he took a lap of your cunt, almost smiling at your taste. "do you know why my dear?"

"n-no--"

your moans escape, feeling his tongue entering you, fucking you, stimulating your walls, not letting you escape. you arched your back, biting your lips as another whimper persisted. you feel his hand moving, now pressing his claws to your other hole, expecting you to open up; and you let him, your holes now stuffed full of him before you feel his tongue slip out of you, your whine tells him as much about what you want.

"Because if you beg..." he now moves his hands to your ankles, folding you in half and you watch helplessly, his two golden cocks decorated with geometric lines and veins on either side, one on top of the other- he does not lie, the size of those things are comparable to your thigh, its length will most likely penetrate your womb- "I will answer."

he chuckles subtly, aligning his cocks to both of your holes, its weight now pressing down on you, precum leaks out of them, lubricating you further.

"i am a god, my dear; I always answer."

with that he presses his cock head to your holes, hoping both of them will ease up. you moan his title out, causing him to snap his head to you, making him greedy.

Your little groan and hiss only help you muster up the strength to let loose, feeling your holes easing up before they let his cockheads in, making your chest heave.

he grunts against your neck; and you feel his teeth subtly tracing your shoulder, little nips that satiate his hunger, burying his head in its crook.

"Celestia." the way you feel around the tip of his cock is incomparable; the dragon finds himself clenching down his jaw, controlling his urges to slam you down to its hilt. "you are made for me my dear."

he grabs a hold of your hips, and you feel him sliding you down. you let out a low moan, your back still arched as you feel him inside of you more and more. the burn from the stretch doesn't scare you, even if you feel like you are being split in two- you only know the pleasure that waits for you not so out of reach.

not even halfway and you already feel him brushing against your cervix, your broken moan coupled with the way you rolled your hips almost makes him snap. his other cock too now deep inside of you- almost too deep; you feel the pressure against your throat, feeling his cocks twitch, almost making you jolt, your hand searching from his arm, nails now digging into his scales.

he looks at you, his parted lips letting out steam before his uneven breathing stops to let him speak. "I shall move now."

you look at him, biting your lips and nod firmly, affirming your readiness. you feel him trying to go out of you, your cunt and hole tightening around him, almost hungry before he slams into you, earning your cry of pleasure.

it persists; he goes out of you before he slips inside, messaging your walls before they tightened around him again, hungrily seeking him, your face now fucked out with pleasure, feeling him abuse your holes.

"I'm not even all the way in my dear." he almost smirks, you can see it. before you know it, you suddenly feel him picking you up, your walls being freed from his cocks, suddenly empty and you whine; letting him flip you to your stomach and holding your ass up in the air.

he marvels at the sight, seeing both of your holes gape yet clench down on nothing, it almost made him giddy.

"my beautiful follower," he mused, his claws now digging into your flesh before you feel his cocks lining up with your holes again; embarrassingly you can feel your cunt relaxing, ready to take him in once more. "will you be my mate now darling?"

"yes!" your desperation stays, you want him inside you so bad, "please Rex Lapis please!"

you didn't know what did, but you certainly awaken something in him. he brings you up in the air before slamming you down on his cocks, your walls now taking him fully, your stomach bulging out with his shape. your breath knocks out of you; you can feel him all the way in your womb, your hand can't help but trace the raised flesh, your spine almost shivering from the sensation.

"keep begging."

that sounds like an order; even your now fucked out brain knows that. so like the good follower you are you follow that order.

"Please make me your mate," you choke out, his slow rhythms that know your breath slowly but surely going faster, brushing up against all your pleasure spots, making you roll your eyes to the back of your head. "please please please please I wanna- I want--"

he chuckles, the way you mewl your pleas, the way your warm flesh tightens around him; he can even feel your walls hungrily sucking him in so nicely. in his mind he is thanking Celestia; because fuck, you are a masterpiece.

"a human could die from this," he grunts out, going in and out of you with an inhuman pace, your cunt and hole loosening with his movements. "not you my dear; you are made for me."

you whine from his statement, the bludge he created only drives you to the edge, feeling something inside of you tightening, your nails digging into his scaled flesh, your face supported by his nose. "R-rex Lapis i- my-- i'm--"

"you want to cum my dear?" he almost teases you with the question, his cock brushing, bullying your g spot, making you dig your nails further, your head could only nod desperately at his question. "hold it, you could only cum when I do."

you whine out with his order, and he lets out a subtle groaning with it, chuckling at your reaction. his hand moves down, large talons brushing against your hard clit, teasing the nub; knowing exactly what it will make you do.

you wrapped your arm around his neck, his golden mane brushing against your flesh so softly; and your tug your face on them, muffling out your long moan and desperate cries.

"fuck- please lord mo- morax- r-rex lapis please- i want- i wanna- please please please-"

he kept his word, his face moving and kissing your neck, feeling you move your pelvis to fit him better, your inside hungrily brushing against his shaft. his brow knits, he feels himself almost coming undone.

"now."

with a final thrust, he fills both of your holes with white ropes of cum, you yourself arching your back, feeling your orgasm hits you harder than ever before. he hear your pants before he coils around you, closing gaps between the two of your while still being inside of you, wrapped up by your own warmth.

"i shall make the wedding preparation after the season's over," he breath out; your mind finally able to join the sentence together before you move your head, repeating the most important word again.

"wedding..."

"of course my dear," he kisses you, his snout pressed against your jaw before he tugs his head onto your collar bone. his hand travels to your stomach, rubbing the visible buldge that only grows with his cum, almost making look pregnant.

"the little ones will be coming soon."

[0w0tsuki]

Both "Transandrophobia" and "Transmisandry" come before "Transmisoginy" when you search for it, with"Transandrophobia" being one of the top results when you type in "trans" into the search bar. The average post from the top Transandrophobia blogs where they Critique and Analyze cropped screen caps of transfem's posts behind their back will get thousands of notes of praise for RATIONAL and REASONABLE they are for speculating that a throwaway line about "trans girls taking the piss" is actually a joke in direct reference to an anon led sexual harassment campaign of a trans man.

And due to the new tagging policy all that's needed is to mention the word for it to come up in the tags. Which has resulted in half of the #transmisoginy tag being mired with trans androbros crying about how their not transmisoginists, or that they're affected by transmisoginy, or that TME/TMA distinctions are just interagating them about their genitals. Which is by the way AFTER I've used the notes of the posts by the aforementioned top transandro blogs as a blocklist to block these chuds by the thousands. I STILL have to to sift through trans andro post after transandro posts to find a post discussing transmisoginy IN THE GOD DAMN TRANSMISOGINY TAG!

It's been nearly half a year since @/humans announced that they were "working vewwy had :(" to unban the #tgirl tag when they've proved that they can unban tags within a week. Meanwhile the #tboy tag was never flagged to begin with. Hell. Trans women can't even post a selfie in the #transisbeautiful tag without risking attracting the attention of sissy porn chaser blogs.

And EVERYTIME we point out transmisoginy whether it's the "megapope was right" discourse, calls to "critique" gender affirming care for transfems under the pretense that it affirms the patriarchy, obvious "best of both worlds " trap jokes, or a crossdressing cis femboy streamer being treated Height of Gender™ who "no one else does it like". EVERY TIME we point this shit out we are met with condescending TMEs treating it as the Transfem Crusade of the week. Who belittle, talk down to us, and position themselves as the educator to us aabout our own oppression. Who tell us that we are taking things out of context, that were overreacting, that we don't have any reading comprehension, that we don't understand basic theory, and that we're just looking for anything to be angry about.

But no keep crying about how trans men are ignored and talked over meanwhile transwomen are overprioritized and "dominate" the trans conversation. Because surely we haven't been told enough about how we take up too much space.

[ms-demeanor]

since twitter has become actively hostile to its users, so they came to tumblr, and reddit has become actively hostile to its users, so they came to tumblr, what do we do now that tumblr is becoming (more) actively hostile to its users? i’ve been here for over a decade so i know tumblr users are the type to cling on despite everything and revel in undoing every change, but i’m so tired of the way this website breaks the way it fundamentally works in order to appeal to new users. the twitterfication of the site seems so much worse than when people jumped ship after the porn ban, and even then, only small communities (and twitter) cropped up as solutions. you might not be the person to ask for a definitive answer, but i figured a tech blog might be interested in considering - what do we do when there’s nowhere left to go?

Okay so, I mean this very seriously: how has tumblr meaningfully become like twitter?

I don't personally find the sidebar view obnoxious and it seems to me like just another layout change that's pretty typical to tumblr. New users are getting signed up with a bit more emphasis on algorithmic feeds, but that is still very easy to change (MUCH easier than on any other social platform) and the algorithm has been there for everyone for quite a while, we just typically don't notice it because a lot of long-term tumblr users don't go into the "for you" feed.

I don't think that tumblr *has* fundamentally broken the way that it works to appeal to new users. My dash now is still very much like my dash in 2019, and still very much like my dash in 2018 (though much less pornographic). Reblogs are still reblogs, likes are still likes. Replies, for all that they seem like they've been around forever, are new and good and I think they work well. I'm irritated that the notes menu doesn't have a "view all" option but I think that's a worthwhile tradeoff for an easy way to see tags.

I *do not* understand why tumblr has broken linking back to previous reblogs but I don't think that's out of an effort to act like twitter; it is a bizarre choice that I dislike and don't understand but I also don't think that it has fundamentally changed the way the site works and i mean you've been around long enough that I'm sure you've had the same experience I have of going into the notes of a post and randomly clicking until you found a version that you wanted to reblog without a bunch of bullshit at the bottom. Tumblr has always kind of sucked, this change DOES suck but it doesn't suck in a way that is particularly novel or insurmountable. (For instance, I think this change sucks MUCH LESS than when they made posts with links invisible to the search, that is something that is genuinely bad that has been long lasting but doesn't get brought up much in lists of the ways that tumblr has gone wrong)

Tumblr *is* changing, but I think it is changing more incrementally and less terribly than other parts of the internet. I also hate the floating clown, the login walls, the dash-only view for blogs (you can't archive it and I HATE that), and - to an extent - the new lightbox on mobile. And I dislike that less than I thought I would but I don't think it's a fundamental change that necessarily impacts my interactions with the site - it *adds* a feature that I don't care for but it doesn't *break* anything that I require to have a good time on tumblr - in that way I think of it very much like Live. People hate Live so much and I find that perplexing because it is so easy to simply ignore it.

But that's not really your question; that's just some stuff I want people to think about because as much as tumblr has changed in the last two years it is nowhere near as fucked up as the recent things that twitter and reddit have pulled.

So, as to your question: where do we go?

Well. Not to be an extremely old person on the internet, but damned if I don't miss email lists. And forums. God I miss forums. Neither of those things has all the bonuses of platforms like twitter or reddit or tumblr or facebook, but they were great ways to hang out with people you liked on the internet.

The internet is changing. I can feel it, you can feel it, I'm pretty sure we're all like cattle in a field lifting our noses and hearing some distant rumbling and becoming slowly aware that it's almost time to run. There's a coming stampede and it isn't here yet but you know it's on its way. You're not imagining that, that's how things feel right now and there are a shitload of things contributing to it.

Things like SESTA/FOSTA and KOSA (which has not passed yet but is a big red flag waving on the horizon) have been eroding away the way that users on various platforms can function. Some platforms have consolidated in ways that harm users; some new platforms have popped up and shaken up the map of the internet; some platforms are being torn apart brick by brick by owners who don't care about the users. It kind of seems like people are actually looking up and realizing that advertising is A) bad and B) doesn't actually work and I think we're running straight toward another advertising-based crash like we saw in 2017. It feels like all the desperate things that tumblr is doing is just rearranging deck chairs on the titanic as the internet as a whole starts to sink into the ocean.

Honestly, I don't think it's that bad. I think it *feels* bad, but I think we're looking at a slow whimpering death of the platforms, not a bang. I think tumblr is going to hang on at least for a few years and I think it's going to end up like livejournal and myspace, which both still exist as websites that are recognizable as updated versions of the sites they were in 2004-2010. The thing that I think would really, honestly hurt tumblr in a fundamental way is if it moved to a more algorithmic and data-sales based model of advertising, and I think that's still pretty distant. I think Automattic is aware that killing the chronological feed would be the one unforgivable sin that would cause a mass exodus and a final crash, and I think when we see that, when we can't just scroll through the feed and see what our friends did that day in order of when they did it, that's when the party is over here.

But that's still not answering your question.

So, where do we go? What do we do? Well, for now, I'd say it's a good time to get contact info for your friends across various platforms. Get email addresses, get phone numbers.

Now is also the time for you to set up a personal website. NeoCities is currently the best place to do this, though it takes a lot more effort than just starting a blog on tumblr. I think that various oldschool blogging sites like Wordpress and Blogger/Blogspot/whatever the hell the google one is are a better place to have your emergency backup than a more platform-y platform if you aren't up to doing something with NeoCities.

If you've got the ability to do so and a group of people who are interested in the same core subject, set up a forum. There's a decent amount of off-the-shelf forum software out there and a text-and-small-images forum isn't prohibitively expensive, but it's never going to be huge and you're never going to have the kind of spread and virality and random connections that you would on a platform with millions or billions of users.

If you can't set up a forum, setting up or joining a discord server for your friends is a decent enough option at the moment, and may be a very good option for people who are looking to keep their interactions more private.

But yeah i think right now is a great time for people to start setting up their own personal websites, to start visiting actual webpages again, to start bookmarking their friends' websites, and to start collecting contact info that isn't tied to platforms.

[cute-sucker]

babysitting the sweetheart (part one-series)

[01.04.2024]

note: i wrote this a while ago, and it will be a series!! i have the plot figured out so it will be very very fluffy. (ask to be tagged btw!!) words: 1.3k summary: you're new to town, enjoying a coffee when rafe cameron's little daughter approaches you. you'll be fine...right?

part one

quite honestly going to the normal coffee place you went to every morning was supposed to be comforting. it wasn't supposed to be the place to be attacked by a 5 year old, and it was definitely not the place where you felt like you were going to die of fear. 

a very cute five-year-old at that, with pigtails and big blue eyes. she bounced up and down, with a big wobbly smile on her face. she had a pink princess dress on and a tiara that was bound to fall. 

you were mid-bite before she caught your hand. 

"can i have some? please, please, please," she pleaded to you. you choked on your hot coffee and watched struggle to her plop herself onto one of the high chairs. 

you searched for her parents, and then gave her a small tentative smile, before gently asking the question that was on your mind. 

"honey, where are your parents?" 

she quickly wilted, and you swore there were tears in her eyes, 

"i can't find my daddy. he told me not to go far but i didn't listen and now i might never find my daddy," she gasped out quickly. 

now you were alert, gritting your teeth and searching your surroundings. your few months in kildare had been nice, and it was the best place to rest and take some time off. but everything was so goddamn expensive. you'd never lived so lavishly, wearing the same clothes for weeks on end. 

this was supposed to be your new start, as you cleaned tables at night, and tried to write music during the day. you had always wanted to be an artist, and the beachy waves and cool lemonade persuaded you to continue. 

but with this little girl in front of you, you felt panicked. you turned around to look around once again before you set your eyes on her - she was sobbing, clutching her necklace that had the initial 'r,' on it. 

fat tears rolled down her face, and before you knew it you were carrying her off, embracing her in your arms and buying her two marshmallow cupcakes.

 honestly, the barista was nicer to her than he was ever nice to you. 

you made sure to tease him about that later, but now you had other things on your mind. 

"so what does he look like?" you asked her again. 

she pouted and let out a cry. then she got up, wiping her tears before stretching her arm in the air.

 "wee tall, and this big, and he's my daddy." 

"it's okay!" you said quickly, cursing yourself for asking the little five-year-old. "we'll find him, you couldn't have gone that far-" 

"wait! that's my daddy, it's him-" and then jumped out of his arm to the shadowy figure behind you. 

"i-" 

the figure picked her up, clutching her tightly. he was drop-dead gorgeous. you wondered how a man could be damn hot. with broad shoulders, dirty blonde buzzed hair and blue eyes that had an unhealthy hold on you. 

one, he was young to be a father, two he was pissed. 

the owner of the cafe suddenly burst out of the kitchen, "mr. cameron! what a delight to have you here. let me show you around-"

yet, he completely ignored him, kissing her daughter, and then looked up at you. he gave you a look that you'd given a mosquito.

"who the hell are you?" he seethed through gritted teeth, eyes set on your face. you felt beads of sweat drip down your forehead. okay, okay, calm down. 

"hey, listen-" 

"daddy!"

he stopped in his tracks, to look down at the little girl. he smiled at her softly, gently tracing her face. 

"hey love, where did you go? you know you should go off on your own," he told her gently, brushing away her stray hairs. he looked as if she was his whole world. she gave him a giddy smile and then pointed at the cupcake you had given you. 

her cheeks were full like chipmunks, and she looked way too adorable. 

"she saved me." 

suddenly he peered up at you, eyes squinted with an emotion you couldn't figure out. but then he went cold, giving you a small nod. 

you felt shivers travel all the way down to your spine. 

you felt like you should have known him because he had this aura. that he was important, and something in you wanted to please him. to make him happy, but you knew there was no winning with him. 

you were so lost in his eyes, that you noticed the strange look he was giving you. 

"thank you, ms-?" he prompted, his voice cold as ice. 

"uh, [last name]," you stammered out, feeling a bit off balance under his piercing gaze.

"well, thank you for looking after my daughter," he said, his voice softening slightly as he shifted his attention back to the little girl in his arms.

then he turned away, with his little girl nestled near his chest. while they turned around, she furiously waved at you, blowing air kisses. you found yourself smiling uncontrollably. 

your coffee was cold by the time you got to it. 

x

you scooted into your job, working at the local convenient job was embarrassing. it took hours for anything to happen, and the pay...

the pay was horrible! 

"it's time for your shift," jared commented, scrolling through his phone. he was a total tool who worked at the store to learn "life skills." his parents lived on figure eight, and were loaded. 

you trudged out there and found yourself at the cashier. 

"hi, ms. carrera!" you found yourself saying, serving your customers. 

the hours passed and you lay in the break room to rest. 

jared was still on his phone. here you were again, life sucked, and your phone was ringing. you got up, looking at the cracked screen. 

you had dropped it at least a million times. 

it was an unknown number, but who knew? you picked it up anyways. 

"hello?" 

"i'm going to pay you 10k a month." 

you stared dumbly into the phone and then started laughing. 

"uh huh, and get me the newest phone right?

"if that's what it takes." 

you found yourself giggling now, balancing the phone on your shoulder as you opened yourself some ice cream. 

"i'm sorry, who is this?" you asked while juggling your ice cream on your lap. you noticed that jared was watching you. 

"rafe cameron. you found my daughter the other day. i'd like to offer you a deal." he said, voice muffled. 

his tone was sharp was ever, but you could hear the knowing smirk, and that made you want to roll your eyes. but there was something about that low voice that made you shiver. 

"so...mr. cameron, what is 10k a month about?" you murmured into your phone and began to chip away at the ice cream. it was way cold, and your spoon nearly bent as you tried to scoop it into your mouth. 

"babysit my daughter lucy. if she's trouble, which i expect she will be," he laughed into the phone, "i'll double it." 

you could barely what you were hearing. he had to shitting you. 

"how about 15k and the phone?" you pressed, trying not to giggle. he was going to end the call now, you could feel it. 

"fine. i'll send the times and the address." 

it was here he hung the call. 

holy shit!

[olderthannetfic]

I found AO3 pretty intuitive. Took me like 5 minutes to realize how all the little buttons work. They're pretty straightforward. Apart from the AND filters - took me a while to realize what type of filters AO3 used. Beyond that, I'm not sure why people have a hard time? Wattpad and FFnet are way more of a pain in the ass.

--

It's all about familiarity.

I mean, look, AO3 works how my brain works. When we first set it up, it was what we were all used to, more or less, but an upgrade. It was hard to even see how it could ever be unintuitive because this was just How Things Were. From the style of trope tags to the fact that there's an index of fandoms by media type, it was all familiar.

But that thinking is a trap.

It's easy to say "Oh, well, that person's just an idiot", and sometimes, the problem really is laziness or sleep deprivation, but a lot of the time, it's different cultural context.

By the time we were designing AO3, I'd had many rounds of formal instruction in how to use library catalogues of various sorts, familiarity with Delicious, years in LJ slash fandom whose assumptions form the metadata structures of AO3, etc.

There's nothing strange about going "Why are ship types a top level system of organization?" or "How do I search for genre X in any anime fandom but not in non-anime fandoms?"

It's strange to me, but it's not strange in the context of people who read fanfic overall.

It's not just about learning the search features that do exist: it's about unconscious assumptions about what metadata must exist.

If you don't know to look for something and you aren't coming from a culture where poking buttons is encouraged, you're going to take a lot longer to find things than if you already have a good idea of what's probably there somewhere.

To pick two very obvious examples:

If I were designing a gen-focused archive, I'd make genre a top-level organization system, like on FFN.

If I were designing a more x-reader-focused or One True Character-focused archive, I'd make the ship searches work like Character X/Anyone instead of having to click on each ship of your blorbo or each ship with Reader.

If someone has years of experience searching for some bullshit 'trickyfish' style nonsense ship name because they're on sites with garbage searches, they'll go to AO3, plug some words into the search bar at the top, and then feel like they can't find any relevant results because everything that turns up is just that word in author's notes on an irrelevant fic. They might even go to advanced search...

...and then totally miss that the sidebar filters are the best part of AO3, and they don't appear when you do a search search as opposed to starting from a tag.

Isn't Advanced Search the most... well... advanced search? On every other website, it is, but not on AO3.

--

Each new site/technology/culture/etc. a person has to learn takes time and attention. If you're exhausted and burnt out, that's hard. Even if you're not, it takes at least some effort. It doesn't Just Happen, not for every person and every new thing.

We should tell people to read the damn FAQ, yes.

But I can't say I always do that myself on every site unless I'm both having a problem and invested enough to care about solving it.

--

On an average day, most of us don't need to care why some people have a hard time figuring out AO3.

But if anyone is planning to design a site or needs to teach a bunch of kids how to use the library or something, it's worth keeping in mind just how many unconscious assumptions are hiding behind the idea of something—literally anything—being "intuitive".

[nyoomiin]

roommates: part four.

your new roommate is... odd, and recently, so are your dreams. still, despite the secrecy, the mystery, and his ice cold exterior, you have the feeling you'd waltz right into love with him. (maybe you already have before.)

pairing. scaramouche x gn!reader

tags. no warnings, slice of life, fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, reincarnation au, post irminsul erasure

prev. masterlist. next.

Your roommate had changed.

It was a change so minute that you had barely noticed, yet it was there. It was in the way he looked at you, you think. In the way he no longer avoided your eye, and in the way he’d respond to your smile. Well, honestly, he always had that little frown on his face, and his words were always sharp, but still, it was a start.

This was… certainly an interesting development.

See, when you had posted that commission in search of someone who'd loan you some aid, you did not expect that person to be the Traveller. As in the guy who’s taken Teyvat by storm, solving crisis over crisis from nation to nation. As in the guy who's got a title in just about every nation he's visited. That guy.

“Thank you for accepting my commission!” you tell him brightly, because what else were you supposed to say? At the very least, you were sure the job would be well done. “I'll make sure the compensation is worth your while.”

Paimon brightens immediately. “What do you need us for?”

You hand the Traveller the list of fabrics and other materials you need. “Could you get me everything on the list? These aren't the materials I usually buy, so I have no idea which ones are of good quality. Or even how or where to get them.”

“All these are… Inazuman?” Paimon says, curious. “What do you need them for?”

You nod, grinning. “My roommate's from Inazuma — well, he looks like he does… I wanted to make a traditional set of Inazuman clothes for him.”

It would match the shawl you had made for him perfectly. He'd look angelic, you muse, dressed in white and blue.

You'd pay to see the sight, really. You hadn't spent all that time designing and researching and sewing just to see his pretty face be wasted on those boring ass clothes he had on. Seriously, was that the only set of clothes he had or what?

“That's so sweet!” she gushes.

The Traveller pockets the list. “I'll be back by the end of today.”

“Damn, that's really quick. Thank you!”

You have to tell Alhaitham about this.

“He was so pretty, I swear, why aren’t isn't there anyone talking about how insanely gorgeous the Traveller is?” 

Both his hair and eyes were of shimmering gold, not to mention his lean build and rosy skin… You hadn't registered it then, with the legendary Traveller in front of your very eyes, but thinking back on the encounter… damn. You want to make something for him too. Or maybe a little cape and dress for Paimon?

Alhaitham sighs. “Please, try not to get too far ahead of yourself.”

“Easy for you to say. Hmph.” You cross your arms in faux anger, turning your nose up at him. “I can't believe you didn't tell me the Traveller looked like that.”

“You seem quite taken with the Traveller. Does this indicate that you have finally gotten over your infatuation with your roommate?”

You squawk, gasping in indignation and utter betrayal. “Never! Do you think so little of me?”

… He just stares.

“And I don't have a crush on him,” you finish, protesting weakly. “He just seems interesting.”

Even you find it hard to believe yourself.

(He's walking down the streets when a particular store catches his eye.

Little trinkets are laid out on the tables, from keychains to bracelets and the like — but it's the wood carvings that he narrows in on. They're tiny, no bigger than the palm of his hand, and no heavier than a small stone. He picks up the carving of a bunny, inspecting it.

You had always liked bunnies, he remembers. Especially the ones white as snow, and the ones black as night. He wonders if you like them still.

“Would you like that one? It's a thousand and three hundred mora,” the shopkeeper says. “Very cheap for a handmade carving.”

He pauses. Just what was he doing? 

Nothing good would come out of being involved with you yet again, that he knew. No, nothing good ever came out of associating with mortals in general — and that had been a harsh lesson learnt. 

… But ‘Scaramouche’ was no more, and gone was everything that had happened with him too. He was, by right, no one at all.

Him interacting with you — a human who had never known ‘Scaramouche’, a stranger of a person he had simply come to share an apartment with — surely that was alright?

Oh how far has he fallen, to be bargaining with himself like this. He tosses a bag full of mora onto the counter.

“Keep the change.”)

taglist. (send an ask to be added.)

@franaby @dragontammerz @ainnofinway @sketcheeee @briluvspnk @bunniicantsleep @featuredtofu @tragedy-of-commons @parkjayssi @xiaosantenna @idontevenknow129

[luuuuucyscorner]

Hello xxx

Could I request an angst fanfic for Kit Walker x fem reader inside Briarcliff Manor, please?

I'm so excited this is my first ask! And ofc I can anon! I hope this is what you meant!

𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐎𝐟𝐟 𝐎𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐫- 𝐊𝐢𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

Info: when kit steals some bread, you take the fall. However, Sister Jude knows that it was kit, so his punishment is far worse.

Tags: mentions of blood, crimes, whippings, religion mentions, angst

word count: 7960

Kit's heart races as he watches Y/n get dragged into the room where Sister Jude waits, knowing full well what's coming next. He clenched his fists tightly, nails digging into his palms as he tries to steel himself against the inevitable screams that would soon tear through the air. He can't help but feel partly responsible for this -- he'd been the one to take the damn bread loaf in the first place, he couldn't help himself. He knows stealing food is petty, trivial even compared to what Y/n's now facing, but he can't help feeling a twinge of regret that it's led to this. To Y/n taking his place, to the cruelty she's sure to endure as punishment.

He shifts restlessly, when the sudden appearance of Sister Mary Eunice catches him off-guard, his heart hammering in his chest as she grabs him by the collar and tosses him unceremoniously onto the cold, hard floor. Pain radiates through his body as he hits the ground, jarring his already-frayed nerves. But as he looks up, he sees something even more alarming: Y/n, shaking and terrified, standing before Sister Jude's desk, the cruel nun's gaze boring into her like a hawk eyeing its prey.

Kit's stomach drops as he realizes what's happening. This isn't about the stolen bread anymore - this is about torment. About who can withstand the brutal regime of the Braircliff institution. About who will be broken first. He watches, frozen, as Sister Jude reaches under her desk, pulling out a wicked-looking whip with metal studs lining the braided leather. His gut twists in horror as the nun starts moving towards Y/n, cracking the whip menacingly, the sound ringing through the air like a gunshot.

Kit can't help it - he launches himself forward, scrambling towards Sister Jude, ignoring the sharp pain shooting through his side as he tries to reach Y/n. He snatches at the nun's robe, desperately trying to pull her away.

"STOP!" sister Jude bellows, "OR ILL ADD ANOTHER TWENTY LASHES ONTO YOUR 'GIRLFRIEND' HERE" she threatens menacingly.

Kit freezes mid-lunge, blood pounding in his ears as Sister Jude's voice booms through the room like thunder. He swallows thickly, glancing between the nun and the helpless Y/n. Another twenty lashes...he could barely stand the thought of what she might already be enduring. And yet, there's no way he can let this continue without doing anything.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he lowers himself back down to the cold floor, every muscle tense and ready to pounce again if necessary. But for now, he holds himself still, seething silently as he meets Sister Jude's cold stare. "You wouldn't dare," he growls, voice raw and hoarse. "I won't let you hurt her."

His heart feels heavy in his chest, fear warring with anger and despair. He knows that defying her could mean more pain for both him and Y/n, but he can't bear the thought of watching her suffer any longer. There has to be some way out of this nightmare, some chance to protect those he cares about. He just needs to find it before it's too late.

"Assume the position" Sister Jude instructs Y/n, who does as she's told, shaking and bending over the side of the desk.

Watching Y/n bend over the desk, tears streaming down her face as she obeys Sister Jude's command, Kit's chest tightens into a knot. His mind races, searching frantically for a way to save her from this hellish fate. But there is nothing he can do, no magic trick to undo the situation. All he can do now is watch, powerless and terrified, waiting for the first strike to fall.

As Sister Jude raises the whip, Kit's heart seems to stop altogether. His breath catches in his throat, a silent prayer for mercy that he knows won't be answered. He wants to scream at the nun, beg her to stop, demand justice or mercy or humanity. Instead, he bites his lip hard, tasting blood as he braces himself for the sound of that cruel instrument connecting with Y/n's fragile form.

When the first lash finally falls, it's like a bolt of lightning striking the air around them. A cry rips from Y/n's throat, echoing through the room like a wounded animal's howl. Kit winces, closing his eyes briefly against the image of her flesh being torn.

"the first of fifty" the nun states stoicly

Kit feels a surge of nausea rise in his throat as Sister Jude delivers the first of fifty lashes to Y/n's trembling body. Each strike sends shockwaves through the room, rippling through Kit's bones and making him ache with a pain that isn't his own. He clenches his fists, gritting his teeth as he tries to block out the sounds and images, to shut down the part of him that feels too much, too keenly.

But despite his efforts, he cannot escape the reality of what's happening before him. Y/n's screams fill the air, mingling with the sickening sound of leather against tender flesh. Her body jerks and spasms with each blow, bruises blossoming across her pale skin like ugly flowers. Tears stream down her cheeks, contrasting the blood that drips from fresh wounds.

Kit's heart feels like it's being ripped apart, torn between rage and despair, between the desire to fight and the need to protect. He wants to smash the world apart, to rip the nuns limb from limb, to make them pay for what they've done to her. And yet, he knows it's futile. In this place, there is no justice, no mercy, no hope. Only pain and loss and endless darkness.

lashes echo through the room, ten, twenty, thirty. Y/n stands crying, her bottom angry and bleeding. ugly welts spread down her thighs and up her back.

Kit watches in mute horror as Sister Jude lays into Y/n with merciless force, each lash sending waves of agony crashing through her frail body. Every strike is like a bullet piercing his own soul, tearing open old wounds and exposing raw nerve endings he'd rather forget. He wants to help her, to hold her, to make it all go away. But he can do none of those things, trapped as he is in this nightmare beyond nightmares.

By the time the nun reaches forty, Kit can hardly bear it. His vision blurs, his breath comes in ragged gasps, and his palms are slick with sweat. But still he sits there, transfixed by the sheer brutality of it all, unable to look away, unable to intervene. It's like he's caught in a nightmare from which there is no escape, trapped in a world where pain and suffering are the norm, and kindness is a foreign concept.

And then, suddenly, it's over. Sister Jude stops after delivering fifty lashes, letting the silence settle over the room like a heavy blanket. Y/n slumps forward, her body wracked with sobs, blood staining the once-white fabric of her dress. Kit stares at her, his heart breaking into a million tiny pieces, knowing that it was all his fault. knowing that this was meant to inflict punishment on him, through her.

"you may go to her" The Nun mutters and Kit finally rushes over to Y/n and takes her in his arms.

Kit's entire world narrows down to the feeling of Y/n's body pressed against his, her broken sobs rattling his chest like a storm. He cradles her gently, stroking her hair and whispering soothing nonsense into her ear, hoping to offer some measure of comfort in the aftermath of her torture.

He doesn't know how long they stay there, wrapped up in each other's arms like two lost souls adrift in a sea of darkness. Maybe minutes, maybe hours. Time loses all meaning in the face of such overwhelming pain and trauma. All Kit knows is that he needs to protect her, to shield her from the horrors of this place as best he can.

Eventually, though, he knows they can't stay here forever. They need to find a way out, to escape this cursed institution and find some semblance of safety and peace. He looks up at Sister Jude, fury boiling up within him like a tempest. "You'll regret this," he snarls, venom dripping from every word. "Mark my words, one day you'll pay for what you've done."

The nun simply smiles, though, unfazed by his threats. "We'll see about that," she says coolly, turning on her heel and striding out into the halls of the asylum.

[copperbadge]

I am so close to being done with Royals/Ramblers I can taste it, and it's one of those frustrating situations where the last remaining work to be done is just annoying. I have to write one damn scene, which of course is the most emotionally fraught and difficult one, and then pick from the *counts on fingers* three separate versions of the epilogue I wrote, none of which are very satisfying. I'll probably slam them all together and then sort it out somehow.

And then I definitely have to give the whole thing one more pass before I think about posting, because it's going to clock in at right around 150K words, and I already have notes on continuity issues that need fixing.

Anyway, please enjoy this scene, in which I realized at the same time Gregory and Eddie did what a great joke their names make. (Some brief context -- Joan uses she/her but doesn't like the word "princess", so she chose the gender neutral Princeps as her title.)

Friday evening, when Gregory came on the air for the address, Eddie was sitting next to him, and Joan was leaning on Eddie's shoulder. Her excitement was almost a visible thing; she'd been fussed over that afternoon, Gregory helping her pick out clothing followed by Jerry doing her makeup for camera and Eddie doing a slightly less clumsy job of braiding her hair than she generally did. 

"Good evening, Fons-Askaz, Askazer-Shivadlakia, our neighbors, and our viewers abroad," Gregory said. Behind the camera, Jerry mouthed the words along with him absently. "I'm pleased to greet you all this Friday evening and I hope you're well. I find myself, for the second time in a year, setting aside the usual issues of the day and questions from citizens to talk to you about family...."

His idea had been to talk about Joan's history just a little, then introduce her as the newest Royal, their daughter the Princeps. He could use that as a platform to present to the country his new funding package for adoptive families, meant to encourage adoption and support children coming out of the foster system. Each half of that would hopefully make the other half seem less random.

It went pretty smoothly; Eddie chimed in at all the right moments, and Joan got to say a few words of introduction at the end. After he signed off, he gave her a hug and a forehead-kiss and told her she'd done a great job. 

And then Noah, standing with Monday and Jerry behind the camera in the little studio, said, "Well, you crashed the internet again."

Gregory sighed. "Can't blame Eddie this time, can we?" 

"It was only the tourism website, and it wasn't on purpose," Eddie said. 

"He was always breaking my stuff when we were kids," Monday said.

"Nope, this one's all Joan," Noah replied. "As soon as you introduced her as your daughter, traffic started spiking -- palace website, tourism website, and every royals' Photogram."

"Katie in Communications says told you so," Jerry said, already on the phone with her.

"Joan's Photogram is down, looks like bandwidth-suck. And there goes mine, and yours," Noah said, nodding at Gregory. "There's two hashtags trending, PrincessJoan and PrincepsJoan." 

"Let me call my guy at Photogram," Eddie said, taking his phone out. 

"You have a guy just like, at Photogram?" Monday asked.

"Yeah, he handles my requests, I send him sausages," Eddie answered. 

"How is it you simultaneously live in the 22nd century and the 14th?" Monday asked. 

"Have him kill the Princess hashtag," Noah suggested.

"It's fine," Joan said. "They can use it for now, it'll keep things, um." She narrowed her eyes, searching for the word. "Segmented. Spread out the discussion a little."

"Someone's been reading my data analytics memos," Gregory said. 

"You leave 'em out," she pointed out. 

"Good news is people seem excited," Noah continued. "The hashtag's glitching, it's moving so fast, but overall pretty positive," he added.

"Well, we knew this would be intense," Gregory said. Joan, studying her own phone, squeaked. "Joan?" 

"Mas Corbin tagged me," she said, with possibly the most excitement they'd seen from her, at least since her first trip in the Jaguar. 

"The footballer?" Gregory asked, confused.

"Who?" Noah and Eddie chorused. 

"He's a Shivadh footballer, I think he's playing in Ireland right now," Gregory said, and his voice took on a slight edge as he considered some of the reasons a football player might mention his daughter. "What did he say?" 

"Dedicating my next game to my new Princeps JoanMac, long may she reign," Joan read, and Gregory relaxed. "Congrats to Gin&Tonic, she's cute as a button. Mas Corbin thinks I'm cute!"

"Gin and Tonic?" Gregory asked, and then said, "Gregory and Theophile," right as Eddie and Monday both began to laugh. "How did neither of us think of that before?"

"You get used to it," Noah said to Joan. "All kinds of famous people are going to have opinions on you."

"What do I do?!"

"Gram him back," Noah said. "Comment and say thanks and that you're a fan and you'll be watching the game."

"I'm gonna have to do a video with some gin and tonic recipes," Eddie said, as Noah and Joan debated the best wording for her response. Gregory leaned back in his chair, exhaling, and let the chaos happen around him for a minute. 

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

Free Rhys Darby ASMR Sources

So @hang-on-lil-tomato got me thinking with their post about Stede Story Time, I did all this research into all the Rhys Darby works and I realised I should probably compile it in case other folks are looking for the same things.

So yeah, I mean, Rhys doesn't do audio books as of yet, but man would that be amazing if he did. So for those of you who want to hear some good 'ol Rhys Darby voice, here's some sources. Please feel free to message me if you have more. ! I'd love to add them, and I'll tag ya :D

---

Rhys Darby as Stede Bonnet Youtube Compilations

Stede say'd Ed for a full Minute by justagaycatboy

Stede Bonnet being a bitch for 4 + mins by Rae Hamilton-Vargo

Stede Bonnet being the crew's dad for almost 4 minutes by grim weaper

Stede Bonnet screaming for 2 minutes 15 seconds by "Our Flag Means Death"

Stede Bonnet cursing for almost a whole minute by Murder Turtle

----

TV or Mini Series

Rhys Darby in Japan (Freevee on Amazon)

So as someone who lived in Japan for a bit, this series is really really fun. It's awkward, and funny and it's almost all Rhys Darby as he's narrating and living the whole damn thing. There are quotes from this show that I use in my every day life, I love it so much.

Short Poppies (Freevee on Amazon)

Considering most of the characters in this show are in fact Rhys Darby, it's a great way to hear his very colourful range. I haven't seen all the episodes, but I find it quite endearing.

Intrepid Journeys (Rwanda) (Youtube/nzonscreen.com)

Ty @hang-on-lil-tomato and @meanmisscharles for this recommendation! I haven't watched it yet but here's the description:

"This Intrepid Journey sees comedian Rhys Darby taking an OE to the landlocked African country of Rwanda. Darby makes a bunch of friends in the markets of capital city Kigali, then heads on a jungle adventure. Far from the New York office of his Flight of the Conchords character Murray, he searches for critically endangered mountain gorillas. Darby is guided by François — a personable and entertaining park ranger, fluent in primate dialect — whose aping gives Darby a run for his money in gorilla impersonation. Darby is quietened by a sombre genocide memorial, and a 200 kilogram silverback."

Stand up

These are pretty self explanatory, wanna hear Rhys Darby talk for an hour or so? Stand ups the way to do it, all the voices you could want and no one interrupting him.

Rhys Darby I'm A Fighter Jet Rhys Darby: This Way Spaceship It's Rhys Darby Night Mystic Timebird

Youtube Shorts/Channels

Rhys' Youtube Channel featuring stand up shorts, sketches, Rhys' playing games and other fun stuff like "The Alone Rangers". All stuff I have to dive into, thanks again @hang-on-lil-tomato!

Movies

Love Birds (Included with Prime Video)

So if you follow @celluloidbroomcloset you have probably heard of Love Birds, and as someone who is totally normal for Rhys Darby, and loves birds and used to do rescue work, I have to day this movie is adorable. It's a really cute love story, and good god Rhys is hot AF. He and Sally Hawkins have amazing chemistry, and you get lots of good Rhys voice...in a romantic setting. I apologize ahead of time to any of you who lose your soul to this movie.

Coming & Going(Freevee)

So I haven't seen this one personally, so I can't speak to it (it's on my list for this week actually!) so I'll update this once I do.. but in the mean time, here's the description:

"When Lee (Rhys Darby), a young, skilled OBGYN who lacks confidence with women, suffers a minor injury that temporarily lands him in a wheelchair, he meets Alex (Sasha Alexander), the girl of his dreams. Convinced she has only paid attention to him because he's in that chair, he stays in it to win her affections well after his injury has healed."

Podcasts

The Cryptid Factor

You're gonna hear more than just Rhys, you'll hear from Dan Schreiber and Buttons (not ofmd buttons) and some other folks occasionally but you get to hear Rhys in his element, which is awesome because he is the goofy nerdy man we all know and love. The Cryptid Factor on Apple Podcasts

You can also go to their patreon and subscribe for free there-- the paid versions have video footage from a lot of shows and some other cool perks including stickers and book clubs and such.

Aliens Like Us

Thank you @hang-on-lil-tomato for this one! I hadn't found it before

General Reference to Works

Here's some overall guides to his various voice works (thank you again to @hang-on-lil-tomato )

--- Anyway -- hope that helps with your Rhys Darby very normalness :D

[maleficentmrsofallevil]

*long, heavy sigh* Anyone want to tag along?

That Supiadoll human ear? The one that went flinging off into the sunset in my living room? I have torn the entire living room apart. I have searched through every box (it's much cleaner in there now). I have run the magnet-on-stick under the couch and between the cushions. I STILL can't find the damn thing.

I know that as soon as I order another set, it will turn up. But I am a doll parts completionist. It is driving me batty that I have only one ear.

So. The ears are like $10, and shipping is $30. Anyone else want something small from Supiadoll and want to tag along? If I'm going to spend $30 on shipping, I want my order to be at least $30, too.

[ninzied]

wip wednesday whatever from the fic about henry's hair

Like with most things in his life, when Alex does sleep, he sleeps hard.

But he’s also been told—by people who’ve been in a position to know—that he does not always sleep well. There’s frequent tossing and turning, and the occasional something-or-other muttered under his breath that of course he doesn’t recall in the morning.

What he does remember are the dreams, or at least, the memory of them still in his body, all frenetic energy that refuses to dissipate until he’s drowned it out with caffeine plus or minus an eight-mile run.

The worst of those dreams were during the week after Henry had left him, before Alex stormed the palace. Even afterward, it took time not to wake up feeling like he’d lost something, like his body wouldn’t rest until he found it again.

He has, now.

Every night, Alex finds him. Even if he starts at the very edge of their bed (usually when Henry’s fast asleep and Alex doesn’t want to wake him with the light off of his phone screen), Alex is pulled there by something stronger than gravity. Something subconscious, something instinctive that has him reach out, searching for him, and Henry is always, blessedly, there.

It happened after a fight, once. That was awkward. They’d both sworn never to go to bed angry, and then one night they had. It was stupid. It was probably Alex’s fault. (It was 100% Alex’s fault.) But then he’d slept soundly for twelve hours straight, and the sole reason for that was the following: because when he put his arms around Henry sometime in the middle of the night, Henry had only pressed closer, and then neither of them moved again until morning.

Waking up like that had been very nice but very confusing, because, well, were they still fighting, or…? Alex wondered if he could get away with not bringing it up, in case the answer was an emphatic Yes, Alex, we are. But it turned out that waking up with your boyfriend’s dick pressed firmly against your backside made a strong case for putting aside any lingering fight that Henry might’ve held onto, so.

Let’s just say they’ve since grown lax on their no-fighting rule because the makeup sex was that damn good.

tagged by: i think i was tagged in some last line things but i can't remember by who 😬 tagging: @ejunkiet @carry-the-sky @mulderscully and anyone who wants to share!

[delopsia]

Babydoll | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 5,200 Cross Posted Here on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, Fem!Reader, unprotected sex, vibrating plugs (used on the reader), a bit of voyeurism, and Rhett fucking you against the hood of his truck ❤ with a big bonus of tall! Rhett. He's roughly a foot and a half taller than you, regardless of your height :) I sincerely hope that the anon asking about Rhett using toys on the reader has a fun time with this one.

The entire Abbott family runs large. You'd known that from the moment you laid eyes on them, how the crowd had parted like the Red Sea as soon as the Abbott brothers appeared from around the corner. You still remember the shadow that was cast over you when Rhett stood next to you, so tall that he didn't even realize you were there until he'd bumped into you.

It comes from Royal's side; he always prides himself on that particular notion; you wouldn't be surprised if you found out they descended from fantasy giants entirely. Poor Cecelia has already warned you that they're born big too. 

After a year and a half, you would think you'd adjust to the sheer size of Rhett, but even as you lay eyes on him now, you can't help but find yourself struck by it. Among the many advantages his height provides, he's a damn beacon in public. Lost? All you have to do is look for the tallest man around. 

There was one instance where he tagged along with you and some of your friends on a shopping trip, and you'd all gotten horribly lost. Until someone sent a text saying to gather by Rhett, and one by one, you found each other. Rhett says you look like a bunch of ants, but you know he gets a kick out of watching it happen. 

"Don't tell me that you managed to lose me," chuckling, Rhett comes to a stop just a few feet in front of you, and even with this distance, you still have to tilt your head up to look him in the eye. 

You're going to need a chiropractor. 

"Only for a minute," you step toward him, standing on your tip-toes to meet him for the kiss you know he's quietly wanting, "did you find what you were looking for?"

"I have now," and he's barely able to dodge the light smack that was meant to land on his chest. "Kidding," he lifts the bag he's holding, "they had one bottle left of my cologne."

A high-pitched beep rifles through the air. A shop's anti-theft sensors going off, but that knowledge doesn't strike you until after you've attempted to jump out of your skin. Rhett chuckles, his arm sliding around your waist as he places himself between you and the door. You already know what he would say if you asked why he's doing that, 'just in case.'

"Haven't found anything you like in here?" He asks, has to raise his voice to be heard over the still-beeping security system.

Aimless, your eyes flicker about the room for the umpteenth time. Traveling over never-ending displays of bras, panties, and delicate lingerie that come in every color and material you could ever dream of. Things that look cute until you get closer and see their price tag or realize that they're just not meant for your body type. 

Ironic that you're in one of the biggest lingerie stores you have ever seen, and yet you cannot find anything more than two pairs of buy-one-get-one-free panties. 

"Not as much as you'd think," with a sigh, you lift your hand to show what you've scavenged, "I can't find much that would look good on me." 

Rhett's eyebrows raise, "now, I don't believe that for a second."

"If you think you can find something, be my guest," you and your wallet are content with these two things, even if your ego has taken a little bit of a hit. 

Turning, Rhett's eyes flicker about the room, scanning, and if you listen close enough, you think you can hear those gears turning in his head. Searching for something that he's inevitably not going to find, you've already combed through these isles twice.

Beckoning you with a finger, he starts walking. 

Advantage number two of Rhett's height; he sees things you don't.

Even from a distance, you hadn't seen the babydoll that he ultimately leads you to. Simple in design, with an open front and a dainty bow that sits between the cleavage. It comes in a variety of colors, but the one Rhett hands you is your favorite color. You know that's by no mistake. 

"It's soft?" He offers, almost as a justification for his choice. Though if you think about it, you're pretty sure he's only mentioning that because he's verifying to himself that the material won't make you uncomfortable. 

He's been wary of material ever since Perry bought Rebecca lingerie for her birthday, the cheap scratchy kind that you find on a clearance rack. You heard Rebecca yelling all the way from where you were in the barn, sneaking the horse's some sugar cubes with Amy.

It's surprisingly soft; even as you trace the seams with your hands, you can't find a sign of anything that would make you uncomfortable while wearing it. There's a matching panty tucked along with it, equally soft and matches so well that you almost hadn't realized it was there. 

But...

"I don't know," you frown, still looking at it, "I'm not sure if this is going to look good on me."

Someone is trying to step past you, forcing Rhett to step closer to you in order to let them by, his chest unintentionally bumping against your shoulder. Only serving his next intentions, it seems, because his hands cradle your cheeks, drawing your head up to meet his eye, "now, I don't believe that for a second."

He says it with such confidence that for a few seconds, you catch yourself believing him. But insecurities cannot be washed away with a simple arrangement of words. The roots are in deep, you're both aware of that, but that has never stopped him.

You peek down at it again, fumbling with the material to find the price sticker. Surely this can't be cheap—

Rhett covers the tag with his hand, blocking the numbers from view, "don't you worry your pretty little mind about that."

He tilts his head toward the fitting rooms, wordlessly asking you to at least give it a try on. If there's one thing he's figured out about shopping for clothes with you; it's that you never know until you've worn it once. Thinking for a moment, you run your hand over the material once more. It is cute...

"Alright," lifting up the underwear that you're still holding in your hand, "but you'll have to hold these for me." 

They just about disappear as Rhett takes them from you, suddenly minuscule when compared to his large, calloused hands. Lord, you're never going to get used to that. 

Everything about this man is big. From his hands to his smile, his horse, and his old flannels that you like to steal whenever you're given the opportunity...

"Y'alright?" Shit.

Shaking your head free of wandering thoughts, you nod, "yeah."

The fitting rooms are empty, devoid of any employees or customers. If it weren't for the large 'open' sign that you step past, you'd almost think they were closed. 

Although he very well could follow you into the room, Rhett settles onto one of the chairs, content to wait there until you call him over. Big blue eyes follow as you step into one of the small rooms. 

Sometimes you wonder if he's not just an oversized golden retriever. 

The baby doll is even softer than it was on your hands, hugging your body so gently that you already loathe the idea of taking it off. It's flowy, falling to and ending at your upper thigh. With an asymmetrical hem that gives it an almost whimsical feel. 

Knuckles lightly knock on the door, once, twice, pause, then a third time. "You get lost in there, doll?"

Spinning to get a better look at your reflection in the mirror, the babydoll flowing with the motion, "I feel like Tinkerbell."

"Tinker who?" 

Sliding the deadbolt back, you open the door just a few inches, peeking up at him but not quite letting him see the rest of you just yet. "What's the password?"

Slow, as if unsure, he leans down and pecks your lips. 

Well, that wasn't what you meant for him to do, you were hoping for a simple 'please,' but you'll take it. You don't have it in you to tell him that you weren't asking for a kiss, not when he smiles so proudly to himself.

You step back from the door, allowing it to open on its own.

As soon as Rhett's eyes land on you, they start to crinkle with a soft, dopey smile. Always so mesmerized by you, no matter how many times he's seen you like this. He fumbles with the door as he steps inside, too focused on you to pay attention to the deadbolt that he's blindly fiddling with.

"What do you think?" Offering him a dainty spin, enjoying the way the material brushes against your legs as it settles. 

His eyelashes flutter, "would you object to me buying you one in every color?" He's reaching for you, but he catches himself before he can so much as brush his fingers against you, hand falling limply to his side.

"No," reaching for his hand, "but I think your wallet might." 

Gently, you lift his hand from his side, guiding it to settle along your waist. Blunt nails trail along your sensitive skin, light but firm enough to keep you in place as he steps closer. 

For the briefest of moments, your eyes meet, flicking back and forth between each other's lips with such hesitance that you aren't sure if he's wanting to kiss you or if he's marveling at how you look. 

Tentative lips press to your forehead, then drop down to the bridge of your nose, the scruff of his chin brushing against your skin as he presses a kiss there too. He drops lower, mere centimeters away from your lips, as he hesitates, looks into your eyes once more. 

Reaching up, you gather a fistful of his hair and pull him down to meet you, swallowing down his surprised grunt. The force of it has him stumbling, pushing you backward but never once breaking it, even as he backs you into the wall so quickly that you feel yourself start to stumble. 

The hands holding you by the waist don't let you fall, they never have, and they never will.

Tracing along the curves of your body as he kisses you, open-mouthed and slow, tauntingly so. Completely unyielding to how you try to urge him faster, gives you no choice but to kiss you so slowly that your head starts to spin in, struggling to breathe through your nose. Molding together so wonderfully, despite your differences, like he was made to do nothing but hold you in his arms and kiss you like this.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, voice hoarse against your lips, "don't know why you'd think anything different."

Your reply is cut short before it's even formulated inside of your head, distracted by the unmistakable sensation of a jean-clad thigh pressing between your legs. Your head falls back against the wall, lungs burning as you pant for a breath that you can't seem to catch. On their own, your hips writhe, squirming against his thigh until there's just enough pressure between your legs to have you gasping for more than air. 

One hand grasps you by the neck, holding you there as he nibbles at the meet of your jaw, "that's you go," he drawls, "I know you like my thigh, sweetheart." 

It's hard to focus on moving your hips when he's soothing over your reddened skin with his tongue, chuckling so deviously when you let out a little frustrated grunt. 

"Does my baby need help?" Twitching his thigh upward, satisfying that ache between your legs, "hm?" The most you can offer him is a nod, suddenly unable to formulate the words to voice a simple 'yes.' 

All of a sudden, Rhett's stepping back, pulling you along with him until you're situated in the center of the room. Like a toy, he takes you by the hips. Spinning you around and pulling you against him, giving you no choice but to look at your reflections in the mirror, chest so firm and solid against you that it feels like a wall. 

"Rhett—"

"Just look yourself in the mirror, sweetheart," he tells you, husky, "I've got you." 

He dips down between your legs, cupping your sex in his warm, large hand. With his middle finger, he traces up and down the outline of your folds, pressing gently against your entrance when he passes over it, the thin material barely stopping him from entering. Up and down until you feel yourself starting to drip from his taunting. 

Kisses press into your temple, "is this what you want?" Pushing against your entrance, gracing you with only a ghost of what it could be. You're nodding your head instinctively, pushing your hips toward his touch. "Use your words, doll."

"Please," your voice strained, struggling to keep quiet; these changing room walls are thin; one wrong sound and someone could catch on to what's happening. 

Luckily for you, Rhett's not on one of his 'louder' benders, and you can already feel him pushing your panties to the side, one finger dipping in to feel you. Swirling around your clit, once, twice, before slipping back down and finally easing inside. 

Such a simple touch makes you shudder, squirming against his chest as you watch through the mirror, slowly being spread open by his thick finger. It's already curling, searching for a spot that makes you jolt as if a live wire has touched you. 

You can practically feel his smile as he leans down and squishes his cheek against yours, "look at you," he says, meeting your gaze in the mirror, "takin' my fingers so well."

The sight you find in the mirror is just obscene. Not only from the way his veins bulge in his forearm as he fucks you with his finger but also from how far he has to crouch down to your level. 

Just a few pumps of his finger before a second one eases inside, your body still stretched from last night, soft walls yielding so easily. A sight that you can only barely see, the thin material of the babydoll concealing what Rhett's hand is doing between your legs. 

"Rhett," keening as his thumb presses against your swollen clit, not moving, merely letting you feel him touch you there. 

"What is it, darlin'?" He whispers, lips so close to your ear that you feel them brush against the shell of it, "do you need more, hm?"

Those thick fingers press against the little rubbery spot along your walls, deliberately stroking it over and over. Enough to make your thighs start to shake, squeezing tight around his hand as he continues to fuck you on his fingers. 

But it's not enough, no, no, you still need more. "Want your cock," you mewl, "please."

"Oh, baby..." pressing a kiss into your cheek, "I wish I could give it to you, but we're in public."

On their own, your hips twitch toward his hand, a frustrated grunt slipping from your mouth, "mean." 

You don't expect him to pull his fingers out from you completely, shimmering in the light as he draws his hand from your clenched thighs. A protest is already boiling up on your tongue, but he holds up a singular finger before reaching into his coat pocket. Plastic rustles, and then...

...there's your vibrating plug, the bright pink one that is just a hair longer than the other ones that you own. 

In the back of your head, you get a sneaking suspicion that he's planned this, but it's hard to think too hard about it. Not when he nudges it to your lips, silently asking you to wet it. Parting your lips, you allow him to nudge it into your mouth, tongue swirling along the underside. Your jaw aches from the stretch of it, unused to the size. 

Rhett doesn't let you play with it for long, and you don't miss the hardness you feel against your backside, straining against his jeans. It seems that just as you grow used to the weight of it against your tongue, he's drawing it away. Sliding the thick tip between your folds as he guides it to your dripping hole.

"Be a good girl for me," he coos, "and I'll let you have my cock when we get home." 

The sensation of the toy breaching you has you gasping, clamping a hand over your own mouth to muffle the noise that you find yourself making. He's pushing it in so slowly that you cannot think of anything but the way it stretches you, centimeter after centimeter until it's bottoming out.

As soon as it's in, Rhett straightens back up, pressing a kiss into the top of your head, "good?" 

The most you can provide is a nod because the 'yes' that forms on your tongue comes out as a mere whisper. But that's enough for him, doesn't press you any further on it.

You're thankful that he helps you out of the garment you're trying on because it's growing increasingly hard to focus when the toy inside of you presses so sweetly against the sensitive spot inside. Rhett's nothing but caring, helping you step back into your original clothes and tucking everything back into the right places. 

"Just let me take care of you, yeah?" He tells you before you can even begin to protest; yeah, he's planned this. 

You forgot that you had a grocery run planned for after the two of you left the mall.

It's been so long since you last went shopping that the pantry has become a barren wasteland, devoid of everything but ingredients like flour and sugar. The two of you have been eating out for a solid week to avoid going to the grocery store. There's no way you can avoid this, not without going hungry until the next time you leave the house.

"What's got you looking so upset, Princess?" Rhett asks, shutting the truck off. 

"I forgot we had this grocery run," you didn't mean for it to come out so pouty, but by the time you realize your tone, you've already said it.

From the driver's seat, you think you see Rhett melt just the slightest bit, smiling sweetly as he leans over to give you a kiss, "'m sorry, darlin'." 

The first time he does it, you're meandering through the dairy section. The slightest waddle to your step because the thick toy inside of you makes it hard to walk as you normally would. When all of a sudden, you feel it buzz to life.

Your whole world comes to a screeching halt, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling, shit, shit, shit, you forgot Rhett had an app on his phone to control this stupid thing. 

"Havin' trouble, there?" He asks, placing a hand on the small of your back, "hm?"

Just as quickly as it came on, the toy shuts off, leaving you throbbing and aching for more. Would Rhett protest if you asked him to fuck you in the bathroom? 

"Mean," is all you can reply, still yet to open your eyes, "you're so mean." 

Rhett chuckles, hand dropping to lightly squeeze your ass, "you love me for it."

He gets you again while you're hunting down your favorite frozen foods; one minute, you're walking just fine, and the next, you're clamping a hand over your mouth as the toy starts to vibrate. And as if he's completely innocent, Rhett sidles up behind you, "feel good?" He asks, sickly sweet. 

Thank God there's nobody else in this aisle. 

"More like torture," grumbling under your breath; these frozen peas are so cold that they're starting to hurt your hand, but Rhett's left the cart a few steps away. The toy shifts with every step, just barely stimulating your clit; it's only four steps, but by the time you place the food in the cart, you've found yourself panting, clutching the edge of the metal cart. 

Again, the toy shuts off, and you're left aching for something that isn't even enough. 

You're waiting in the checkout line when he turns it on again. You don't even see him touch his phone, and you're so caught off guard that you can do nothing but lean into him and hope your legs don't quiver right out from under you. Such a frustrating feeling that offers you so much stimulation but not enough to make you cum.

"Gonna have to stay quiet, darlin'," Rhett murmurs, looking down at you with such fondness that you're surprised he doesn't have comical heart eyes. 

To anyone else, you merely look like a sleepy girlfriend, resting your head against your cowboy's chest as he holds you by the waist. With nothing to do but wait for this line to move up. 

"Don't suppose I can get you to wear that little baby doll when we get home?" That experience feels like it was a millennium ago. 

You shake your head, "it needs to be washed." 

The devilish smile on his face is so big that you can feel its menacing presence. "And it's going to need to be washed after I'm done with you, too."

It's a miracle that you get out of the grocery store alive. 

---

There's traffic going back home. Cars lined up for what feels like miles upon miles, not budging. You're lucky if the truck moves a foot every few minutes. It's so dark outside that you can't see far ahead, either; there's no hope of figuring out why traffic has stopped the way that it has. 

"You alright?" Rhett asks because you keep squirming around in your seat, incapable of finding a position that doesn't drive the toy further up inside of you. It's not that you dislike it, but...

Shaking your head weakly, "it's starting to hurt." 

His face changes so quickly that you don't even see it happen; in the time it takes you to blink, his expression becomes washed with concern. It's not hard for him to figure out that it's the toy that's hurting you, too. It felt good at first, but now it's pressing so hard against your walls that they're starting to throb with something that isn't pleasure. 

Pushing the console up, he beckons you closer, "'m sorry, baby," peppering your cheek with feather-light kisses, the kind that tickle and force a smile on your face, "do you want me to take it out?" 

"Please." Just like that, he's urging you to part your legs, just far down enough that his warm hand can slip between your legs, disappearing under your skirt.

"Shit, baby," now it's Rhett's turn to be gasping, "you're soaked."

The toy twists inside of you as he fumbles for purchase on the material, so slick that he can't get a very good grip on it. Slowly but surely, it eases out of you, leaving you to clench futilely around nothing but air. There's a plastic bag stored in his jacket pocket; you can only assume that it's what he carried the toy in because that's exactly where he places it. 

"Better?" He asks once it's put away. 

Whining, you sink into him, "I guess." It's more of a disappointed tone than anything; you can't help it; you're sore, still needy for something that seems never to come. 

But it's hard to be bothered for long because two long fingers dip inside of you, stroking shallowly, filling you back up just a little bit. Not trying to make you cum; just there to soothe the ache of being empty.

Traffic starts to move, and the closer you get to home, the more Rhett's fingers start to move. Thrusting in and out of you with the wettest noise, brushing against your abused and sore sweet spot, never directly pressing against it. Your hips are squirming on their own, conflicted between wanting more and wanting him to stop because fuck, you want to cum so bad that it's all you can think about, but home is still so far away. 

"Rhett," you plea, jolting as he turns a finger against the gummy spot inside of you, "can't you just pull over and...!"

His jaw wires tighter with every noise you make, the muscles bulging under the effort. He's thinking about it, considering. God, why did you decide to rent a house that's even further from town than his family ranch? You're only just now starting to pass the land, which gives you roughly ten minutes before you arrive home. 

The truck slows as Rhett retracts his fingers from you. Even with the headlights on, you can only barely see the tiny dirt road that he turns into, the rest of it completely concealed by the darkness of the night and overgrown grass. Just as the main road becomes lost in the rearview mirror, the vehicle comes to a stop. 

"Can't believe you've got me wrapped 'round your tiny little finger like this," he mutters, the door creaking open; then he turns, offering you the softest of smiles, "come on." 

You have no memory of when your feet hit the ground, but suddenly you're stumbling toward the front of the truck, guided along by Rhett's firm grasp on your wrist, fingers still wet from being inside of you. 

"Look at you," placing his hand between your shoulder blades, Rhett pushes you down against the hood of the truck, "God, you're just drippin' for it, ain't you?" 

Just barely, you're able to turn your head, cheek pressed against the warm vehicle, as you peer back at him, "Rhett." 

"Hold on, doll," it's hard to miss the sound of his buckle clinking as he opens it, "I'll take care of you, I promise." 

Just as he says it, the blunt tip of his cock bumps between your legs, making you jump. He repeats it, slapping his hard length against your needy cunt once, twice, thrice. On a normal day, he'd tease you with it a little more, but there's no room for teasing right now, not when you've been aching since you left that mall.

Even with his fingers and the stretch of the toy, it still feels like you're being split wide open as his head slides inside. It's obscene how big he is, how slowly he enters you, always feels like the first time all over again. Agonizingly slow, inch by thick inch. The hand between your shoulder blades forces you to stay put; can't wriggle back and get him in faster, can't squirm away; the only thing you can do is take it. 

"Good girl," he breathes, "just breathe and take it for me; you're almost there." 

The further he eases in, the tighter wound you become, like a spring under too much pressure, every muscle, and fiber in your body frozen. But then he's bottoming out, hips flush against yours, and it punches the breath from your burning legs.

"Aw," pressing a kiss into your shoulder, "baby, you're shakin'." If it were anyone else, you would think they were poking fun at you, but this is Rhett. The man who would give his left arm to have you exactly like this, the man who loves to ruin you so nicely that nothing else can satisfy you. 

He's drawing out of you all the way, leaving just the tip inside, groaning at the way you clench around him. Then, slowly, he sinks back in, just a fraction faster than before, fuck, you're so full that you can't think straight. 

Again, he repeats it, that same steady, deliberate motion that makes you feel every fraction of him enter. Stretching you out even further than he did on the first thrust inward, and you just know that you're going to be sore once he's done with you. 

"You better hold on," Rhett warns, right into your ear, "don't think I can't hold back with this little pussy," he draws back, only to snap his hips right back into you as if to emphasize his words, "just beggin' to get fucked."

Stars sparkle in your vision as he does it again, pushing you further up the hood of his truck. You're scrambling, searching for something to hang onto as he does it again and again. Until he takes pity on you and removes his hand from your shoulders, grasping yours instead, pinning it to the hood. 

The action changes his angle just a hair, and on the next pass in—

"—Rhett!" You cry, "fuck, there, there, there, please, there."

True to his words, his pace changes, the truck rocking with each heavy thrust into your dripping pussy, his plush head hitting your sweet spot just right. Quick, unrelenting, no time to recover from each pass over the soft spot, stimulating it over and over. Your eyes are only half-lidded, pliant as Rhett fucks you just as you'd hoped he would.

"This what you needed, hm?" He hisses, mouth absolutely filthy, "your cowboy's thick cock in you?" 

Wickedly, his hips come to a halt on their next pass in, not pulling out. No, he only pushes harder, forcing you up onto your tip-toes to avoid him taking you right off the damn ground. You can't help the pitchy whimper it works out of you, fluttering weakly around him. 

Then he's moving again, jumping right back into that same damn pace that punches the breath from your lungs with every motion. The world around you growing fuzzier with each pass of his head against your sensitive, swollen walls; you're close, but you can't—can't reach down between your legs—

"Gonna cum inside this tight little pussy of yours," it's not a warning; it's a promise, "pump you nice and full until you're beggin' me to pull out." 

All you can do is kick your hips back toward him. Oh, does he get the message because he reaches right between your parted legs, where his cock is still pumping in and out of you. The pads of his fingers drawing tight circles into your swollen, neglected clit. They don't even make it three circles because all of a sudden, you're cumming right then and there.

Your body goes taut as it wracks over your body, quivering and gasping for a breath that you can't catch as he fucks you through it. Eyes rolling back, can't process a single thing other than the way Rhett's cock rams into your pulsing cunt and how good it feels.

"Sensi—ah!" Limbs growing tingly as he keeps going, hitting every oversensitive spot he can possibly find, "Rhett—Rhett please—!"

His hips stall. 

The first splash of cum inside of you has you jolting, so sensitive that you can feel every spurt of it as he paints your walls pearly white, and it just keeps coming. What little space left inside your cunt, now filled with him as he swears into your shoulder, crumpling down on top of you as he comes down from his high.

For a moment, the only sound in the air is the dance of your heavy breaths, intertwined so wonderfully that you can't tell what is coming from who.

Then, Rhett starts to chuckle, "damn, girl, didn't even let me get you home first."

"Your fault," smiling, you lean into the kisses he's peppering with, "you're carrying me to the shower, too, Cowboy." 

You don't need to look to know that he's rolling his eyes, "of course, babydoll."  

[arguablysomaya]

more batfam fic recs!!

oh my god i haven't done one of these in so long lets get straight into it

During Wayne galas, the children find themselves bored out of their minds. Their solution? They play a game of tag throughout the night. Bruce finds it endearing, even when they start to run around and cause a ruckus.

this is so siblings im gonna cryyyyy i can remember doing this stuff with my little brothers

“For the last time, I’m not getting sick!” Jason and Tim exchanged skeptical looks behind Dick’s back. “You’re pale, shivering, and wince every time your bare skin touches the cold metal desk.” Jason ticked off on grease smeared fingers, “Sounds sick to me.” “Wonderful observations, Holmes.” Dick muttered, still looking through the microscope. “What does Watson have to add?” “That first of all, I’m Sherlock.” said Tim, “And my associate is correct. You should go get some rest.”

dick grayson should never be trusted with his own physiological health

by @sohotthateveryonedied

Tim drops the knife like it’s white-hot. Oh, god. Oh, god.

Tim did this. He was…he didn’t mean it. He didn’t. He would never. But the man was on top of him and Tim couldn’t breathe, and…he didn’t mean it.

This trope always fucking gets me bruh. big brother jason ftw

by @ivy-and-ivory

[“I did not do anything,” Damian says. The words come out smaller than he would like. “No one did anything.” In his peripheral vision, he sees Todd tilt his head back, searching Gotham’s sky for nonexistent stars. “Okay. Then what happened?” Damian breathes deeply, the way his mother taught him as a child. “I – nothing happened,” he says, because it didn’t. “But – I cannot stop thinking that it will.”]

Or: Jason and Damian have a conversation about the meaning of family.

even more big brother jason!!

by @eliemo

Dick wants to send his brothers one last goodbye.

god. pain. dick is such a self-sacrificing idiot

Tim gets hit with Fear while on a league mission, and it's Damian's job to get him home in one piece.

fear toxin is literally the gift that keeps on giving i also love this authors voice

by @corvidspectre

“Would you like to- Hmm.” Bruce couldn't seem to find the right words. “There's a… Well, there's a small tradition that I have with all of the boys, from when they were smaller.”

“Oh, yeah?” Duke feigned disinterest. “Well I'm not exactly small these days, but I'm open to anything.”

“We could go get some ice cream?” He offered, and this has to be one of the most awkward conversations Duke has ever had the pleasure of being a part of, but he can't help but be touched by the gesture. He must have done this with all of the Robins, and well, for want of a better word it's nearly sweet that he wants to do it with Duke too.

i really like the way the author takes the time to actually write a bruce + duke relationship and not just make them immediate father son tropes

by @thatwisegirl08-6

"There's easier ways to run away, y'know, kid."

"I don't know what you’re talking about."

"Really?" The boy raised an eyebrow, giving Damian a meaningful appraisal. "Rucksack, clothes that don't fit, no parents or anyone around, lying your way places?"

"Why do you care? Why 'help' me? And damn it anyway, stop following me!"

damian runs away from the league onto to bump straight into one timothy drake. this goes about as well as you'd expect

ALSO by destiny aka @sohotthateveryonedied who is an absolute rockstar!! <3

“Yeesh. You’re grouchy when you’re handicapped.”

“Not handicapped.”

Cass hates that word. Handicapped is when you have a condition that keeps you from doing something you used to be able to do. It’s when a part of you is taken away, making you incomplete. Cass is still whole. A broken ankle won’t keep her from doing everything that makes her herself.

cass always has such an interesting train of thought

by @cerusee

“Babs and I are throwing you and Steph a joint birthday party,” Dick said. “It’s on Sunday the 13th, because that’s the only day everybody can make it. It's in the park. Bruce is grilling steaks, and I know you know how good he is at that. You’re coming.”

“Like hell I am,” Jason said.

i was reading this in class and i had to struggle not to laugh out loud. someone asked if i was constipated :/ check it out doe

[serendipitys-teapot]

7 snippets, 7 mutuals

Thanks for the tag @misseffect and @dwarrowdams!

I have no idea if you folks have already been tagged... I'm officially at the point where I can't remember who is who from tumblr to discord. Damn my shoddy memory!: @kalliesa @westernlarch @craftylittlenerd @angry-jager @milkywayes @lilmissnatcat24 @iheartgarrus

1 - A mutual dream

I only have one WIP at the moment, so these are all from the story I'm currently working on.

“In this dream of yours…” Hannah began, her voice a fearful whisper, “Do you hear the heartbeat, too?”

Shepard froze. The heavy beat of a heart, a thundering drum beat that drowned all other sounds. She hadn’t mentioned that detail aloud.

“How-” she choked out, eyes wide as she searched her mother’s face for answers, “How did you know about that?”

Tears trickled down Hannah’s cheeks silently as the seconds ticked on. Shepard waited as the air in her chest turned to ice, each breath becoming tighter. When Hannah finally answered, it was in a hoarse voice that carried like a whispered prayer.

“Because it’s the same dream I have every night.”

2 - Beep beep

Shepard didn’t awaken with her usual start from the dream the next morning. Her eyes slid open sluggishly as though her body was trying to suck her back in. Every time they shut again, she could see herself within the red world of the dream, the nightmare, once more, only to have it vanish again as they opened. It was as though she were existing in both places at once, separated only by the thin veil of an eye blink.

She was surprised to find herself still sprawled out across the floor, dressed in the same clothes she’d worn the day before. The world spun as she lethargically pushed herself up onto hands and knees, looking around as objects seemed to shimmer in and out of her plane of existence. She was going to be sick again.

Sound started filtering in through her ears, thick and low, as though they were full of cotton. She finally registered the sound of her alarm clock and groaned. She remained there like that until her hearing returned enough for the beeping to become intolerable.

3 - A turian walks into a bar...

“Shepard,” a duel flanged voice drawled from just beside her, “You’re a hard woman to track.” Looking up, her eyes locked with those of a blue eyed turian.

Shepard stood in a flash as she pushed back from the bar, her stool colliding hard with the ground. Without thinking, she threw herself at the turian, her hands fisting in the dark fabric of his shirt.

“Who the fuck are you?” She hissed, her eyes wide as she snarled at him. Her teeth were bared as rage flared up in her unexpectedly, shoving down the terror that had motivated her for the last day. “And why the fuck are you chasing me?” The turian thrust his hands up in the air as he drew back, shocked by her sudden attack.

“Whoa, hold on. I’m not here to hurt you.”

4 - You understand so little

Shepard’s eyes snapped open as memories washed over her, jolting her from the daze she’d awoken in. The bright lights of skycars flashed in the darkness overhead, the colossal forms of starships passing by far above. The arms of the Citadel stretched out across the sky, and she struggled to push herself up as she looked around.

“So, you’re awake. Good.”

Shepard’s head snapped around at the sound of the deep voice. Saren stood behind her, facing away as he gazed up at the lights of traffic weaving their way through the wards.

“It’s a work of art, is it not?” He turned to look at her, and Shepard scrambled backwards as adrenaline coursed through her, banishing the last of the fog from her brain.

“What do you want with me?” She hissed as anger blossomed, warring with the fear that sent shivers through her limbs. Saren watched her before snorting a dry chuckle.

“You understand so little.”

5 - Not a fun way to go

The water was up to her knees, and she tried to control her panicked breathing as she smashed her fists into the glass over and over.

“What, are you just going to drown me? Murder me?” Shepard snarled as she continued her attack on the glass, and Garrus shook his head as he looked up at her.

“It will all be over quickly. Try to relax.” He said placatingly, and she glared at him with red hot anger.

“I trusted you!” She spat as the water reached her waist. Garrus looked away, his mandibles held tight against his face. After a moment, he shook his head and looked back up at her.

“I know.”

6 - The Normandy

“Where…” She coughed, her voice hoarse and sore, “Where am I?” The woman looked up, and she replaced the clipboard before turning to face her completely.

“You are aboard the Normandy.” She stated calmly before stepping closer and reaching for Shepard’s arm. Shepard drew back, snatching her hand from the other woman’s reach, which caused her to raise a single, dark, slim eyebrow. “Relax. I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to check your vitals.” Shepard hesitantly gave over and let the woman take her wrist in her cold, firm grip.

“Who are you? And what’s happened to me?” Shepard asked as she worked to maintain a facade of calm. The woman placed two fingers on her pulse point as she looked down at a small digital watch on her wrist.

“You may call me Miranda. And I’ll leave the rest of your no doubt endless questions for when Anderson arrives. I’m told his bedside manner is preferable.” Miranda stated, her voice cool and detached as she released Shepard’s arm and reached for a stethoscope. Placing its tips in her ears, she carefully placed its icy diaphragm against Shepard’s chest. After a moment, she nodded and drew back. “Wait here. I’ll go get him.”

7 - Yes, you were!

“Point made. Fine, I’ll allow it. You and Liara can begin drawing up a training plan. I want the proposal on my desk by the end of the day tomorrow.” Anderson nodded curtly before turning to Liara. “Send me a copy of those numbers. I’m going to forward them on to Hackett. He needs to see this.”

Liara murmured her acknowledgment, and Anderson turned to leave with a nod. The door opened and shut before Garrus dared to move. Liara turned to him with a small half smile, but he spun away as she opened her mouth to speak.

“I don’t want to hear it.” He grunted as he took the steps up onto the catwalk.

“I wasn’t going to say anything!” Liara called after him, amusement lingering behind her words.

“Yes, you were!” Garrus called back as he reached the door to the main battery. “And I don’t want to hear it!” The door swung open, and he stepped through before slamming it behind him.

[manic-pixie-dick-girl]

You know how much it sucks that sapphics are so under-represented in fiction and fanfiction right? Like how it's so much harder for stories about sapphics to get published, how f/f ships on ao3, even the big ones, are like a quarter of the size of m/m ships. How we in our little sapphic fiction and fandom community on tumblr are like waaaaay smaller than our heterosexual and mlm counterparts? Because that really sucks!

So please don't then turn around and do the same thing to transfem sapphics inside our community. There's like, without exaggeration, maybe 20 published books about sapphic romances featuring a trans fem protagonist or love interest. It's not hard to get published, it's damn near impossible. There's barely any fanfic about us like there are just over a million f/f fics on ao3 and 9,000 of them are tagged as having a trans female character. Transfem sapphics basically don't exist in sapphic fiction. It really sucks.

I'll never forget searching through the "trans rights readathon" tag a few months ago excited to find more trans sapphic books. Only to find every reading list was between 95% and 100% by and about transmasculine people. Transmascs are great! Transmascs certainly need more representation too! But it kinda fucking stings to feel so excluded. Transfems need like 10x the amount of fiction written by and/or about us put out in the world just to get to the amount of "needs more rep" transmascs are at.

This all speaks to a broader undercurrent of transmisogyny in queer communities but we won't go into that, because you the person reading this are definitely an ally for trans fems and want sapphic spaces to truly welcome us. Otherwise a post from me wouldn't have reached your dash!

So what can you do? Write about us. Please. We basically can't get published, and nobody reads our shit on ao3. The next thing you write, put a sapphic trans woman in it. Or if you want EXTRA BONUS POINTS put a nonbinary transfem sapphic in there. Obviously I'd want it to be a protagonist or love interest but honestly even a prominent side character would make me very happy.

It's okay if you make mistakes! As long as you honest to god try. If you have questions you can ask transfem friends, mutuals, even just put em on tumblr. I would much much much rather see ten cis and transmasc sapphics attempt to write about trans women and get some things wrong, than see zero even try.

Good luck!

[elgascreamslikehell]

So, as long as i have insomnia (it's hard to find a mental issue I don't have rn, i mean I'm fucking Ash Ketchum but with mental issues instead of Pokemon's, catch them all, bitch)

I started a new story!

To basically scratch every itch i still have. I know basically all the main events in this story, i still can't decide if i want a happy ending or DEATH ANGST SUFFERING cause i love me some angst but i kinda want it to be nice in the very end? Somebody should be happy it's definitely not me then at least it should be my favourite fictional characters.

Anyway.

WIP WEDNESDAY!

‘Hey, Eddie!’, - Buck is smiling like today is not Monday. Buck really has this sweet smile which Eddie used to like… in the past. He remembers vividly the exact moment he decided he doesn't like this smile anymore. ‘She sees me’.  The exact moment his heart collapsed. Apparently though, ‘she saw him’ for not too long. For an even shorter period than Eddie himself tried - and hell he did try hard - to build something with Marisol which was obviously just a desperate attempt to distract himself from the sad truth. Where the truth was - he loved Evan fucking Buckley. His path to accept his queerness was hard enough. His path to accept that he is close to fail his friendship was brutal. He, anyhow, managed to deal with all of this. At least he was pretty sure he did. And now Buck just smiles at him. Like nothing even happened. Like he didn't smash Eddie's heart with three words. ‘Are you going with us to the bar after work? I want you all to meet someone!’. Eddie grins: ‘Of course. I hope it's nice someone this time’ To be honest, Eddie doesn't give a damn, who this person is. But he can play pretend perfectly. Even with Buck. Okay, especially with Buck. And where did 'you shouldn't pretend with me' go? *** ‘So, who do you think Buck would introduce?’, - Hen is pouring beer but she looks directly at Eddie. He doesn't like it though. ‘I have no idea…’, - and not that he wants to know. And why does Hen think he knows? ‘We haven't discussed his adventures much, so I'm in the same position as you are’ Hen's face is unimpressed: ‘Well, I hardly doubt it. I mean you and Buck…’, - Eddie interrupts her: ‘Are friends. Lately not even close ones i think… Why don't you ask Chim? He's his brother-in-law, he should know’ Hen stares at Eddie's face for a minute searching for something with no success: ‘Ok, if you say so’, - she's definitely not convinced but at least she stopped questioning him, switched to Chim. Apparently, he also doesn't know anything.  When Buck's entering the bar and Eddie sees him - his heart collapses again. It's getting annoying but he can't do anything with it. Because there's Buck, looking damn gorgeous, and… there's this guy, having his hand on Buck's waist. And Buck smiles. ‘So, guys… meet Sam!’ And here goes this specific pause when everything just stopps and all the sound go down, this pause needs to be broken immediately. And Eddie is the one who breaks it with: 'Well, better than I expected. Nice to meet you ', - and he is the first to shake this guy's hand. Right under the sympathetic glances of Hen and Chimney. Very sympathetic. Very uncomfortable.  He can manage this, right? He just has to.

I won't tag anyone cause today I feel like everyone hate me cause i hate myself but I'll be creating a taglist from interaction to this post.

I still write mostly because my mind needs to be away from reality, so I'll be writing anyway and spamming your feed so if it bothers you (i mean i mostly post writings and memes so i have some questions) you can ignore my writing tag.