#Lane Assist

[techdriveplay]

Save Big on Kia EV9 Air

If you’re looking for a new car – we have good news for you! Kia has slashed the price of the Kia EV9 Air for a limited time only, bringing the vehicle under the Luxury Car Tax threshold (below $89,332 plus on-road costs). The price drop means extra savings for drivers, who will also benefit from Australia’s Electric Car Discount, as eligible EVs are exempt from the 47 per cent Fringe Benefits…

[tanglepelt]

Dc x dp idea 110

Lois lane was not expecting her next big story to come literally knocking at her door. In the form of a two teens? Preteens?

Both black hair blue eyes, she’d have to keep them away from Bruce.

The older of the two look like he’d taken A beating, the younger of the two hyper focused on the hallway looking back and forth as if expecting someone to jump out at them.

If she can willingly jump of a roof, she most certainly could get two teens inside. They had too much to discuss.

No. A folder of info just won’t do. Come on in. Tell me everything. Secret government agency? Go on please. Just make yourselves comfortable. Portal to the afterlife?? Please more info. Need anything to eat?

She got her answers, a story, and well if two kept hanging around. That was for her to worry about.

[megamindsecretlair]

Mr. Black, Part 1

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, dumbass reader, degradation kink, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.

Summary: Tre is sick and tired of the countless mistakes you make while performing your work duties. You were recently hired and just trying to do your best, but nothing is ever good enough for him.

Word Count: 4,099k

A/N: Listen, Idk what happened. He's barely in 2 mins of the film and it broke my brain. That outfit and that smile was too much for me to handle! Idk how many parts this will be. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 - Completed

Tagging the usual lovelies, please tell me if you want to be removed: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @honeyoriginalz @blackerthings @sevikasblackgf @henneseyhoe @miyahmaraj

Shit! He was going to kill you. You whined as the numbers swam in your vision. You desperately looked between two invoices, wondering how you were going to solve this before he found out. 

Your leg bounced as your nerves unraveled the longer you stared at the documents. Shit! You were done for. Your stupid little job was over before you had even gotten started. Your bottom lip quivered. There was no way you were going to recover from this.

Tre’s heavy footsteps pounded the carpet on approach and your heart dropped into your stomach. Shit! 

You pushed the papers on your desk into one huge pile that you’ll painstakingly unravel in the safety of your home. You tapped a few keys on the computer, trying to look busy. He did not need to know that you had been staring at your egregious mistake for the past half hour. 

“Do you have that report I told you to do?” Tre asked, once he reached his office. 

“Yes, Sir,” you said. You gave him a dumb ass, goofy smile. You handed over the report in a yellow folder. He snatched it from you, not sparing you a glance, and stalked into the office. The door slam made you flinch. 

You weren’t even sure why you stuck around this job. You were recently hired to help with the background work stuff while people all around you were getting fired. Tre had been leading that charge. 

Ever since you got hired, you wondered if he hated you. He barely said anything to you except to insult your hard work. Look, the workforce was hard, okay? There’s a lot of shit that school or life doesn’t teach you. More often than not, you had to hide your scrolling on Youtube for any kind of help. 

Even when he was in a good mood, flashing those pearly whites and that sinful smile, it immediately froze whenever you entered the room. Your good mood would evaporate and then you were falling all over yourself trying to correct whatever the issue was.

His coffee was too cold, too black, too sweet. His blinds were up too high and he had a nasty glare. This report was wrong, that report was wrong. No, this wasn’t the one he wanted. Yes, this was the one he wanted. Run out and get some lunch. Well, you took too long, I don’t want it anymore. 

It was exhausting working for the man, but some part of you wanted a crumb of his praise. Just a crumb. You could survive off of it. You knew you sounded pathetic. Your friends and family were getting sick of you complaining about the man. 

Your best friend sort of got it. You snuck a picture of Tre one day and showed her. She nearly fell off of your couch when she saw him.

“This? This is your boss?” 

Yes, he is seriously your boss. And he was a fucking asshole. Who else would feel absolutely nothing about firing people a few days before Christmas? Christmas! It was your favorite holiday and just thinking about all the tiny traditions made you so giddy, your heart flipped.

Person after person, box after box, floated by your desk looking absolutely miserable. You watched their tortured faces and your heart hurt thinking that all their years of service fit into one tiny box. The tinsel and ornaments decorating the office seemed like cruel mocking reminders that there would be no Christmas cheer for them. 

“Get in here, now!” You jerked out of your seat. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The intercom flashed red and then turned off. You hated that damn box. Whatever happened to sending a chat? Way less intrusive and easier on your nerves.

You stood up with your heart racing. The pulse in your neck thumped so painfully, you placed your hand there to try and steady it. Realistically, you didn’t have to tell him about the mistake right now. You just needed a chance to find out what you did wrong.

You smoothed your checkered skirt suit, wiping your sweaty palms on the thick material. El Segundo didn’t get that cold, but the mornings were brutal. 

You bit your lip as you approached his office door. You opened it. Tre stood over his desk, one hand on his hip and a paper in his hand. It had to be the report he asked for. You assumed that since it was so late in the evening, that he’d read it first thing in the morning. You had hoped to leave here with a little hope. Not defeated like the past few nights, still not living up to his impossible standards.

All things considered, he was damn delicious. His favorite aesthetic was black. Black shirts, jackets, pants, shoes. The only hint of color on him were his gold chains and glasses. His thick beard complimented his facial structure beautifully. It was an odd mix being both attracted to and afraid of your boss. 

“Close the door,” he said. 

You followed his command. Shit. You were really in it. Was it your report he was reading? Or did he magically glean that you royally fucked up a fifteen million dollar contract? 

Your stomach roiled. You were going to be fucking sick. 

You approached the front of his desk like a deer in headlights. There was no room for you to maneuver. It was you, the headlights, and inevitable death. Shit, would you go to jail over something like this? 

You twisted your fingers as you stood there and waited for him to acknowledge you. He gave a long sigh and then put the paper down. 

“Come here,” he said. His tone was so disrespectful and biting. It was insulting coming from such a pretty man with a soft, ungodly voice. 

You rounded his giant desk and stood beside him. He was so huge. Thick muscles bunching the confines of his black suit jacket. You gulped and glanced down. He was looking at your report.

“What does this say?” He asked and pointed to a sentence.

“Due to the natre, er, nature, of the findngs.” Shit. This thing had so many damn typos in it. You typed the damn thing up, distracted, watching all of the people you never got to know walk out of here. Their faces haunted you day in and day out. You shouldn’t care, but well, here you were. 

If he had done this at any other time, maybe it wouldn’t have affected you so much. If he fired people around, say…St. Patrick’s Day, then at least people would have an excuse to hide their inevitable drinking. 

You looked into Tre’s eyes, an apology ready on your lips, but he was fuming. He was usually so calm and collected, firing people with an ice cold exterior. To see so much passion in him now…you were in deep shit. Without a paddle.

He reached across his desk and plucked out a red pen. “I want you to sit here and highlight all of the mistakes you made. And you better find them all,” he said. 

Your shaking hand reached out for the pen. He held it away. “All of them.”

He held out the pen once more and you took it. Tre sat down in his chair and motioned for you to proceed. You spied the chair on the other side of the desk, but you didn’t get the sense that you were allowed to get comfortable while you did this.

You licked your dry lips and leaned over slightly. Page by page, you hunted your mistakes with the red pen. You circled all of the typos you made. Good god, there were so many of them.

Tre sat like a silent specter. His disapproving eyes burned your back as you searched the document. At the end, you were appalled that you let so many slip through. The fuck was wrong with you? 

“Count them,” he said. 

Shit, shit. You couldn’t handle this fucking stress. “I am so sorry–”

“Count. Them.” You glanced at him. Besides the fire in his eyes, he seemed calm and a little disinterested. Like he was already bored of this shit and wanted you to hurry up.

You took a deep breath. He was only a man. You needed this stupid fucking job, but you will not be treated like this for much longer. Fuck his praise. And fuck him. No man, no job was worth this bullshit. You were going to find a nice quiet job somewhere. 

You counted the circles. Like bubbles of misery. “Twenty-four,” you said. At least your voice was strong, giving no hint to your frazzled nerves. Though, the more you thought about it, the less nervous you felt. You were so going to type up your two weeks notice tonight. Fuck this cheerless company. 

“Do you have any clue what it’s like trying to do my job but all I can focus on is your shitty ass mistakes? A toddler can type better than you,” he said. 

You gasped. Such a fucking asshole. “Everyone makes mistakes,” you pointed out. For fuck’s sake, you weren’t decoding international secrets. The occasional, okay this instance many, typos should not warrant a trip to the principal’s office. 

“I spend more time correcting your mistakes than trying to turn this company around. The least you can do is be a competent assistant. Your job is to assist,” he said. 

“All you can see is my mistakes instead of all the other shit that I do!” You fired back. Shit. His eyes narrowed and you swallowed, but you weren’t going to hold back. Whether you quit or got fired, you were saying goodbye to him so what the hell did anything matter? 

“I bend over backwards to do everything for you! Do you know how many times I’ve had to fix my nails as I run around here doing everything that pops into that meaty ass head of yours? Fix your computer, get you coffee, charge your fucking phone. I was hired to do assistant work, not become your personal maid. The least you can do is treat me with some fucking respect!” 

A weight lifted from your chest. You took deep, heaving breaths and felt lighter than you ever had. Even before taking this soul sucking job. 

“Bend over,” he said quietly.

“What?” You asked.

Tre stood to his full height. Not quite reaching six feet, but close enough. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and then slipped it off, revealing a black, long sleeved shirt. He rolled up the cuffs.

“I’m spank that tight ass you keep taunting me with for every mistake you have on that report,” he said.

Whoa, what? “Did you not hear what I said?” You asked. You watched as inches of his forearm were revealed. Shit, this shouldn’t be so hot. But it was. Your mouth ran dry for entirely different reasons.

“Every word. Bend. Over. It’s a simple instruction to follow,” he said. The sleeves were at his elbow now. 

You barely thought about it. You bent over the desk, breasts pressing into the coolness of his desk. You felt him slide behind you. His thick hands rubbed over the fabric of your dress. He squeezed the fleshiness of your ass and you softly huffed. 

“Count out every mistake,” he said.

Smack! Red hot fire bloomed on your right ass cheek. “What the fuck,” you gasped.

“Count it, or we start over,” he said.

“One,” you immediately said. Was this really happening? 

Smack! Shit, it really was. “Two,” you gasped again, trying to fight off a moan. Your pussy ached with each subsequent hit. And he was not going easy on you. Each smack was severe, making you reach up on tiptoes to escape it. 

He wouldn’t let you. His hand found your ass in any way you had it displayed for him. No two smacks were similar. Some were harder than others. He never hit the same spot twice. Your ass was a mosaic of pain. Heat bloomed in tiny flickers. There was no way you were going to sit down after this.

“Fifteen,” you ground out. Your ass sought his hands, relished each smack he delivered. Your mind turned blissfully fuzzy. Nerves melting away until it was a tiny puddle at your feet. Fuck. You were so turned on and your panties were ruined. Soaked. 

Your clit throbbed in time with the flickering heat on your ass. And he continued to smack it. Your ass jiggled after each one. Your feet scrambled for purchase. 

“Twenty-two,” you cried out. Tears gathered in  your eyes. 

The final two smacks to your ass were the worst ones. He had been hiding that strength this entire time. He smacked you like he was truly punishing you for all of the mistakes on the report. You shuddered to think what he would do when he found out about the contract. 

He had maintained a professional demeanor throughout it all. He hadn’t spoken, except with soft grunts as the force of his smacks met your ass. He rubbed your booty and you moaned from the white hot pain. How the hell were you going to get home after this? 

Tre lowered the zipper on the back of your dress and you whimpered. What more could he fucking do right now?

The answer to that was swift as he pushed the edge of your skirt up and over your wide hips. He groaned with a soft, “fuck”, as he revealed your racy black panties. The lace was sheer with tiny flower designs woven into it. 

“I knew hiring you was a fucking mistake. Can’t even focus on shit around here,” he said. Though it seemed like he was talking to himself. 

“I thought you hated me,” you whispered. You wiped the wayward tears from your face. 

“You and these fucking outfits,” he answered back. He rolled your panties off of your damp pussy. He bent with it, so his breath trailed the back of your thighs and legs. He kissed his way back up. Plump lips placed soft kisses to your thighs and ass. Pain bloomed from his recent spanking and you moaned and moved away. He straightened and pulled your hips back. 

He smacked your bare ass this time. The wet sound was loud and lewd. You prayed that everyone was gone for the day. There was no way that these flimsy ass walls had good sound proofing. 

“Fuuuuuck,” you moaned out.

“That’s for being such a fuckin’ tease,” he said. His hands left you, going to his own fly as you heard the zipper and the frantic huffs as he hurried to free himself. 

“I wasn’t–”

“You know you were. Bending over every chance you got. Smiling every time I fuckin’ saw you. Wearing these outfits you know are not professional,” he said. 

He settled back behind you, groaning as you assumed he pumped himself. Fuck, you wanted to see. You looked back at him. Oh, that was a mistake. His head was thrown back, his arms moving jerkily as he pumped his thick length with his hand. 

Your pussy clenched as you watched him. You bit your lip at the sheer ecstasy on his face. You didn’t want to speak and interrupt him. While it was true that you dressed up a little more than your coworkers, these outfits were appropriate. You didn’t show unnecessary cleavage and your skirts were decent lengths.

Okay, maybe they went a little too high. But you spent most of your time behind a desk, who was really going to notice? It was better than the bland ass, off the rack looks these other girls wore. It was like they all shopped at the same, ugly ass store. Why should you be bland like them?

You were fucking gorgeous. And wearing pretty outfits made you feel beautiful and comfortable. You loved your heels. Why should you keep all that shit in the closet to make basic bitches feel nice? Fuck ‘em.

Tre rubbed the tip of his dick through your wet folds. You nearly buckled. Your knees collapsed and Tre roughly grabbed your hip to make you stand upright. 

You rested your cheek against the cold desk. The coolness helped cool off some of the heat burning through you. You moaned as his tip brushed against your clit. “Please,” you whispered.

“Please what?” He asked.

“Please, fuck me. I need it,” you moaned. God, it had been too fucking long since you got fucked. Not had sex. Got fucked. You had decent situationships in the past. Sure, you had fun. But to get fucked, you needed a certain type of man. 

He grunted as he shoved inside, stretching you completely. You cried out as he pulled back and shoved back in, getting his dick wetter from your juices alone. “Sweet fuck,” he moaned. 

“So fuckin’ wet for me.” He worked himself inside you, pushing into the warm, wet core of you. You were a vice grip on his dick. Welcoming him deeper and more easily with every glide. His fingers dug into your hips. 

“From now on, I’m checking over all of your work. If I catch more typos, that’s your ass,” he said.

How the hell could he expect you to listen when he was buried so deep inside of you, you were pretty sure with one more shove that he would hit your G-spot? You pathetically whimpered as his movements grew slippier. He slid in and out with more ease than before. 

His thrusts turned sharper. Each one shoved you against the desk. The hard plane of the desk shoved into your stomach. The pain was barely a thought. 

“Oh yes, yes,” you moaned.

“Takin’ this dick well,” he moaned. His thrusts increased. Barely giving you time to breathe in between each one. They were powerful and unrelenting. The desk rattled. His thighs pushed into yours, trapping you against the desk as he pounded into you. His hands around your hips were bruising. He had you slightly lifted, so your feet slightly dangled off of the ground. He supported you easily. 

The minimal praise from him made your heart soar and your pussy flutter. “Oh, you like that shit, don’t you?” 

“Uh-huh,” you moaned.

“Tell me you like it then,” he said.

“I like it,” you said.

“Like you mean it,” he said and gave another savage thrust that made you see stars. 

The desk made an intrusive knocking sound in time with his thrusting. That’s how hard he was fucking you. 

“Oh shit, I’m cumming,” you moaned. Your belly flipped as your orgasm built and built.

“Let it go, then,” he said.

You cried and whimpered as you came. 

“Mhm, let it go. Let it go. Mhm, feeling all of that,” he cooed while you came, stars going off like bombs in your weak vision. Your head swam. Your vision winked in and out. You were bliss personified, cumming with a type of euphoria you didn’t know existed.

You squeezed his dick as you came. “Get that shit nice and creamy,” he said. 

He continued to pound into you, fucking any last remnants of your orgasm out of you. He was so hard and thick, sliding in and out and wrenching every little sound he could out of you. 

Wet smacking and the rattle of his thrusts filled the room with a harmony you wanted on repeat forever. You were creamy for him. Needy for him. Needy for the way that he could fuck you stupid and you thanked him for it.

You managed to look back at him. Again, his head was thrown back. The wide expanse of his neck pulsed with a thick vein you wanted to lick. Sweat dripped down into his shirt. His sleeves were still rolled up. He was power and strength. Thick in every sense of the word.

Broad shoulders, soft beard, and those glasses. Good god, you loved those glasses on him. That wide smile of his. His rich, midnight skin. You could spend hours licking every inch of him and it wouldn’t nearly be enough. 

He was lost in you, lost with his dick pumping into you. Watching how you were making him feel, another orgasm built. It climbed its way to the surface, whisking you away to the stars again. Shooting through the universe with nothing to hold you down. Nothing to keep you anchored. You just floated like stardust around the cosmos. 

“Oh fuck, please,” you moaned. You didn’t know what the fuck you were saying. You were mumbling and moaning, unaware of anything but his hands on your hips. His dick inside you. His balls slapping your clit. Your hand moved behind you seeking his body. His thrusts were too much.

You pushed against him. You didn’t want him to stop. Just for him to ease a bit. Your swollen clit was sensitive as hell. You weren’t sure if you had another orgasm in you. It was too soon and his punishing pace was going to literally fuck you stupid in a minute.

“Move that fuckin’ hand before I do,” he spat. 

“But…Sir…” He was fucking the air out of you. You couldn’t breathe. “Fuck, please.” 

True to his word, he grabbed the hand that you were trying to push him away with. Your left hand was twisted behind your back as he leaned forward, deepening his strokes.

It turned harsher, fucking you into the desk. He’d fuck you through it if he could. His moans turned desperate.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned. “Take this nut.”

He groaned as he unleashed his climax inside of you. He filled you with his cum. His dick twitched and pulsed against your spongy walls as his cum was fucked into you. Still he moved, still he pounded into you like he was trying to prove something. 

His hips faltered as he sputtered the last of his cum. He buried himself to the hilt and a shiver ran through him. Your frantic breathing matched his as he slowly pulled out of you.

Fuck! You were fucking sore! A hundred baths wouldn’t soothe this shit. A moment later, his cum slipped out of you and you moaned. Well shit. No condom. Luckily, you were on the pill but still. You shouldn’t be so fucking horny that you didn’t talk about these things.

However, after getting fucked the way you just did, you’d happily accept his cum. Many times over. 

His cum leaked out of you, sliding down your pussy and legs. He groaned, leaned down, and spread your ass cheeks just to watch.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he said. He pushed two fingers inside and you whimpered. He grunted one last time and removed his fingers. 

He grabbed a few tissues off of his desk and started to clean you up. You hissed when he hit a sensitive spot. He kissed your ass and legs as he cleaned up. “So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ beautiful,” he soothed as he cleaned.

You were a shaking mess. Your legs could not support you. He chuckled as he finished. He pulled his pants up first. You heard the slide of his belt buckle. Then, he pulled your panties up to cover your ass. Next, he lowered your skirt and fixed the zipper.

You were too weak to move from your spot. Too weak to stand up and say or do anything. You laid there in amazement. He helped you up and then steadied you while he lowered you into his chair. His chair.

He got to work, righting various knick knacks on his desk. He moved a tiny Christmas snow globe on his desk that you had brought him on the first day. He had raised his eyebrow at you, told you that you couldn’t bribe your way to a good start, and disappeared into his office. You thought he had thrown it away. You were too nervous to notice anything when you came into his office. Just his disapproving eyes and smug smirk. 

He moved the report back into the yellow envelope and closed it. He turned around and rested his ass against the desk. He tapped the file with his long fingers. “Be sure to correct this. We’ll go over it first thing in the morning.”

You glanced at him. “Yes, Sir,” you said with a hoarse voice. Fuck, your throat hurt. Everything hurt. He smirked as if he were reading your thoughts.

Yeah, a merry Christmas to you too, mu’fucker.

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 - Completed

[kaban-bang]

HOW COME NO ONE MENTIONED THE ABSOLUTE SAPPHISM IN THE LATEST EPISODE

[thicksexyasswomen44]

My Assistant

@_morgan

@thicksexyasswomen44🩷🩷

[toastedkiwi]

Clark receiving a wedding invite.

Lois: he’s actually getting married?

Clark: to his assistant- I- I- didn’t even know

Lois: she’s probably the only one crazy enough to deal with all that

Clark: didn’t you date him?

Lois: yeah but I can easily handle an alien and his halfbreed.

Jon: HEY

Lois: not his ya know… childhood trauma.

Clark: my whole planet blew up.

[cripplecharacters]

heyy so im writing a character that's blind and she uses a white cane, and during one of her missions (she's part of a spy ring) she's gonna get hurted and is gonna need to use a cane (a walking stick) permanently. so how would she act in this situation where she basically needs to different types of cane to keep her mobility? or do you have any other sugestion about what to do in this situation?

Hi! Thanks for asking.

In this situation, she would likely need to have two canes; both a white cane and a walking stick, used in different hands. The two canes are so different that one came can’t really serve both functions, so she’d need to have one of each. This would of course leave her without a free hand most of the time, so she may want to prioritize using backpacks more than other kinds of bags that would require a free hand. It may be useful to research the experiences of double crutch users to get more ideas for how she would manage things with no free hands.

Depending on exactly what her physical support needs are, she might instead use a guide dog that has also been trained for mobility assistance or counterbalancing. Most guide dog schools can provide some cross training on tasks for additional disabilities, though you will want to research mobility assistance dogs to see if the kinds of tasks a dog can do would be useful for her particular disability. If her particular needs will be met by mobility tasks, then it’s entirely possible to have a guide dog that is also trained in those additional tasks.

Using a guide dog that is cross trained for mobility support would solve the no free hands problem since it only requires one hand, but a guide dog is definitely a very different travel style from a white cane, so you will want to really think about if she as a person would want to switch to a guide dog travel style. It’s a very personal and individual choice, and one is not inherently better than the other, so the switch shouldn’t be made casually. It’s entirely possible that she would be interested in switching to a guide dog lifestyle, but it’s also entirely possible that she would much prefer to use her white cane along with another mobility aid, instead.

One other option could be to use a white cane with a wheelchair depending on the nature of her injury. It sounds like something like a walking stick or mobility assistance dog would be better based on your ask, but if there is more information that might make a wheelchair relevant, that can also be an option. It can be somewhat harder to use a white cane with a manual wheelchair, so many people prefer to use a power chair with a white cane, but a manual chair can absolutely be done if a manual chair would suit her lifestyle better.

If there are any blind and multiply disabled people or physically disabled people (especially those who use mobility assistance service dogs) who would like to chime in in the notes, please do!

Hope this helps!

— mod Lane

[kujakumai]

I have a lot of...mixed feelings, about the Ceremonial Duel. I’ve written up before how it stands as a let-the-dead-rest story (meh). I’ve gone back and forth with it. I’m generally okay with Atem being dead at the end of this story, but I understand why people are frustrated with it. I think it could have been handled a bit better, interrogated a little more.

Back before Battle City, there’s a scene where Atem internally monologues to himself that he’d rather stay with Yugi forever than get his memories. He tells Yugi he wants to stay with him. When Atem changed his mind isn’t clear, exactly. Atem has a habit of forming his identity around what he thinks other people want to see in him; he has a known self-sacrificing streak, which is how we all got here in the first place.

So the question that hovers in the background of this entire event, at least for me, is always “But does he really want to go?” Really want to, and not because everyone has told him he does? He doesn’t talk about how badly he wants to reunite with his old friends and family. He doesn’t say that being here pains him. What’s said, for the most part, is that by some narrative law He Has To Go, and he nods along and encourages the other characters to nod along.

I think what I want is for someone to have an objection, besides Anzu’s plaintive brushed-off wistfulness. I think if Yugi had tried to throw, if someone else had stood up loudly, said “HEY! Why are we doing this? I won’t stand for it.” and Atem gently said, no, I know, I understand but I have to go, really, I mean it--it would have sat with me better. But there is very little rage against the dying of the light here, or at least none with teeth. Instead there is a brisk, almost mechanical acceptance by nearly everyone that we must proceed. In the manga, there’s a month timeskip, so we at least assume he had some time to think it over and say some goodbyes, but the anime barrels straight through.

I think it would be okay, if Atem died at the end of this story. If we said his time on earth is done, and life is for the living. But I don’t think the story does enough to tell us this is what he really wants, or question why he does, and with the rest of Atem’s characterization in mind it can make the whole thing uncomfortable to swallow.

[daintydoilypon]

A very quick and poorly done vent comic about one of my VtM players who thinks they’re the main character and tries to steal, and/or be part, of every scene and uses out of game knowledge to try and get what they want.

[megamindsecretlair]

Mr. Black, Part 4

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), oral (male and fem receiving) dirty talk, praise kink, dumbass reader, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.

Summary: Tre invited you to his place. After pampering yourself on his dime, you're still not sure that this is what you should be doing. However, he can be very persuasive.

Word Count: 6,439k

A/N: Lissen, don't look at me okay?! This story is scratching a deep fucking niche. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 - Completed

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Getting pampered was exactly the remedy you needed. You got your nails and toes down in your favorite color. You couldn’t stop looking at the pretty color on your nails and squealing about it being on Tre’s dime. You felt slightly guilty, so you made sure to tip with your own money.

You went shopping for a sexy pair of black lingerie with all kinds of peek-a-boo straps that you imagined Tre uncovering. The front covered your boobs with an intricate flower design trailing down to the panties that covered your pussy. Straps connected to the underwire, middle, and over your hips. The back was a criss cross of straps ending up with a strip of fabric in your ass that was surprisingly comfortable. 

You took your time getting dolled up. Running a shower to get the gunk off of you and then hopping in the bath to truly soak. You massaged your favorite lotion into your skin. You felt dirty over such a simple task but you knew that Tre would appreciate the extra care.

You felt downright naughty as you shimmied into the lingerie piece. You checked your ass in the mirror while you adjusted the straps and made sure that your body was banging. Tonight had to be the last night you two got together. 

You couldn’t be held responsible for this thing between you. You had no idea what to call it. He wasn’t yours and you weren’t his, despite his proclamations otherwise. You didn’t need the extra headache of sleeping with your boss.

But how could you stop? When you got around him, you just wanted to hop to his every command. You loved the way he loved your body, playing it like a well tuned instrument in a prodigy’s hands. If you experienced such incomparable pleasure, who else could compete? 

You had time to think about how you were going to tell him that tonight absolutely had to be the last time between you. It had to be. You chanted that in your head as you pulled up to Tre’s house. 

You expected some huge mansion with fifteen bathrooms and a million bedrooms. His house was a modest two story that was picturesque in its simplicity. The house was white with black trim, clean lawn, and a wide brick front porch. There was even a tiny fence around the lawn, more decorative than anything else. 

Ascending the stairs was not unlike walking to your death as you knocked on the door and rang the doorbell. Your nerves skittered along your spine, twisting your stomach into painful shapes. 

Before long, Tre opened the door. You didn’t know why you kept expecting certain things about him. He defied expectations. Laughed in its face as he marched to the tune of his own drum. 

He licked his lips as he took in your sexy little black dress and fuck me heels. He stepped to the side and held his hand out so that he could help you over the threshold. You took his warm hand with a smile, letting him pull you inside. He closed and locked the door behind you.

The foyer area was spacious with dark features. The furniture was dark wood, floors cherry, and the walls painted a velvety blue. He helped slip your coat off of your shoulders and sighed in appreciation.

“Good evening, beautiful,” he said.

You lifted an eyebrow and turned to look at him. He said nothing as he continued to look you over. Wait till he saw what you wore underneath.

You dug in your clutch purse and handed him his card. “You have to take this back,” you said. 

He looked at the card in your hands. He placed his hands in his pockets and you pressed your lips together, preparing for a fight. You were a bit distracted by what he wore. He was in his signature black but pared way down. He wore a long-sleeved sweater with the sleeves rolled up three-quarters of the way up his muscled arms.

His pants were loose fitting, almost like lounge pants, but didn’t look to be so. He didn’t wear shoes in the house, opting instead for black house shoes. His glasses were perched on his nose and his beard looked just as soft as you remembered from earlier in the day. 

You squared your shoulders and shoved the card against his chest. “You have to take this back,” you said once more. 

He smirked at the card. “As much as I want you to keep them heels on, I will ask you to slip them off,” he said.

“Are you listening to me?” 

“Keep the card. It’s yours now. Spend all my money,” he said.

You sputtered and gaped at him. “I-I can’t. That’s…” 

The complete opposite to what you were trying to do tonight. Would it be completely wrong to wait till after you got dicked down to tell him that this was over? You wrestled with your morals. Yesss…

“Sir,” you said with a deep breath. Time to rip the band aid.

“I made us dinner and I want to discuss some things with you before you try to end this,” he said.

“How did you know?” 

Tre only shook his head, nodding down at your shoes. You scoffed as you finally took off your heels. You bit back a moan as your feet hit the cold wood. You wiggled your toes and Tre caught the motion with an amused smile. 

“We’re similar in a lot of ways. Stubborn to the point of obstinate,” he said. 

He grabbed your hand and pulled you deeper into the house. You put the card up in your clutch one-handed. To your left, there was a small living room with a few couches and chairs. More like a receiving room than anything people actually lived in. Next to it, there was a formal dining room with dark tables and chairs, a cabinet with fancy glassware. It was like you stepped into a magazine. Everything was decorated and gorgeous.

Further down the hallway, a staircase led up to the second floor. It was a subtle spiral staircase and you wondered if the tour would continue up there. You supposed not. 

The hallway opened up to a family room. Here, the furniture looked a little more lived in. The walls were paneled and matched the blue couches. The stone fireplace did not have a fire lit. There was a large screen TV on the wall with a wooden cabinet beneath it with game consoles, remotes, and DVDs stacked in the corner. 

It seemed instantly cozy, like you just wanted to sink down onto one of the couches and sleep for five years. On the other side of the staircase, the kitchen had a half wall separating it from the main living room. There were three black bar stools that Tre led you to. He pulled it out for you and you sat down.

He entered the kitchen and pulled a top off of a boiling pot. The food smelled divine. Like creamy pasta. 

The kitchen had stained cabinets with a stone backsplash. The countertops were a light shade of ash wood and he had every modern compliance on the market. You eyed everything warily. 

Maybe he rented this place. There was no way he was this damn refined. Not with the way he acted most of the time. You felt like you were out of your depth here. You were used to dealing with well-meaning men who just…weren’t grown in the grand scheme of things.

Half the time, you had to do all the work. Sure, they said the right things and did the right things. But sometimes, little things would bother you. If it was their decision to go to the chocolate shop, you would pick out some candy. At the register, they would ask if you were going to buy it. It was incredibly awkward pulling your wallet out for an unexpected expense.

It was why you hated asking for things. Fuck ‘em. You made your own money and you didn’t need anyone to buy you things. Tre’s chain around your thigh rubbed against your other thigh as you settled fully on the bar stool. You still felt incredibly guilty wearing it but it added to how sexy you felt.

You were a conflicted ball of nerves and you hated your brain sometimes. 

“You think that this is something I started on the spur of the moment. I’m not that spontaneous,” Tre said, breaking the silence. 

You snapped your attention to him. He had his back to you while he stirred the pot. He tapped the wooden spoon against the pot and then picked up a metal one. He dipped it into the sauce, tasted it, and then rinsed it off. 

He replaced the top and then turned to look at you, leaning his arms on the countertop. “I’ve never been a trees for the forest type of guy. I see the whole damn forest. I see beyond it. I see what I want and I go for it with a single-minded focus. It’s helped in business,” he continued. 

Your heart thundered in your chest. You had no idea where this was going, but it seemed important. 

“When you started, I knew I wanted you. You were so…good.” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you said.

He shook his head. “Not bad. But it pissed me off. When you fire people for a living, you have to turn off that empathic part of yourself. You can’t see people, you can only see numbers. When you started, I wanted to stamp that goodness out if I could. Get you to quit on your own.” 

You gasped. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” 

Tre held up his hands. “Let me finish.” 

You wanted to climb over the table top and strangle that thick neck of his. But this was the most you ever heard him speak in one sitting. He was very much an action type of man. So you bit your tongue and waved for him to continue. 

“I needed you to quit because I couldn’t fire you. I promise you, you could have asked for all my life’s savings and I would’ve gladly handed it over. I didn’t need that shit if I was destroying people’s lives every twenty minutes.” 

You licked your lips as you digested this. You still knew so little about this man. He constantly surprised you. 

“I tried to resist you. I tried my hardest. I demanded shit. But the more you rose to the occasion, the more turned on I got. I don’t want to treat you like a sex doll, but half my day is spent bricked up just trying to get back in between your legs.”

Your pussy throbbed at his words. He shattered your world with these confessions. A world you carefully built brick by brick. Once you figured out how to interact with someone, you placed them in boxes. Tre was firmly in the asshole box, but now you weren’t so sure. 

“I just knew that the more I demanded, the more you’d get fed up and quit. So I could get you out of my system. I could get an ugly assistant and move on with my life. But then you kept calling me Sir, kept doing great work despite the typos and the lollygagging, and…I lost. I lost to you.” 

He stared at you with a crippling intensity. “When I called you into my office to address the typos, I didn’t know what would happen when I spanked you. I was ready for you to call HR or the police. But I had to know what your ass felt like in my hands. When you let me continue, it was like an early Christmas present. I had to see what else I could get away with.” 

He slowly walked around the kitchen, exiting it, and walking closer to you. Your eyes tracked his movements, unsure what to do or say. 

“The more you let me get away with, the more I want to try more and do more. Everyone else be damned. I’m not into feelings. But it’s clear that you need it to feel settled about this. I don’t know where this is going. But I know that I feel possessive already. You’ve been mine since you started and when I see you talking to another man, I want to kick his teeth in.” 

He got closer to you but didn’t close that final gap. You were close enough for his clean soap and airy scent to hit you. But far enough away that you’d have to lean to touch him. 

“I want to spoil you. I want to treasure you. I want to bend you like a pretzel and see if you break,” he said.

A laugh escaped you but there wasn’t a damn thing funny about the way he was looking at you. “You know how wild that sounds, right?” 

He smiled slowly and cocked his head. He was so deliciously sexy and being honest about his feelings was only turning you on more. The lingerie was a mistake. You were going to soak right through the little scrap of material and leave a puddle all over his nice, faux leather stools. 

“What I don’t know is how you feel. You’re either running away or trying to end this. But when you’re underneath me, I feel like you could feel something for me.” 

You bit your lip. Shit. You weren’t expecting honesty hour. Your throat turned parched and scratchy and you looked away from his face. 

“You scare me,” you said. You peeked at him and the only thing that changed was a raised eyebrow. 

“I don’t think you’ll hurt me in that way. I just feel like…this is what a well-adjusted adult looks like and that’s so not me. Like…you could have anyone you want. Why me?” You asked. You weren’t putting yourself down. You just knew you had to do a lot of work on yourself and no one was perfect.

“Why not you?” 

You giggled nervously. “Why me?” 

“Why not you?” 

Right. Stubborn to the point of obstinate. 

“I’m starting to think this is about control. Do you feel out of control with me?” 

You rubbed your forehead. “What are you, a therapist or something?” 

Tre smiled and rocked back on his heels. “I had an interesting childhood. I had to be an asshole to survive. My bull in a china shop routine isn’t going to get me anywhere with you. And if I haven’t made that clear, that is my goal.” 

“I never know what you’re feeling. Sex makes all the sense in the world. We’re both trying to get off. And you feel amazing. You know you do. But…me…” Was it about control? Did you hate that he made you unsettled, unmoored, and guessing for the first time in your life? 

You made it your mission to be prepared. To make up for your shortcomings. Your strength was in anticipating people’s needs and ensuring that you were as helpful as possible. To have someone like him trying to look after someone like you…it didn’t compute. He didn’t need anything. And you felt useless.

Tre waited patiently while you worked through your emotions. You hated that you couldn’t pluck them from your brain and explain it in a coherent way. 

“I’m scared that you’ll get bored with me. That this novelty will wear off and you’ll be fine while I’m jobless and embarrassed,” you admitted. There. You got that out.

Tre nodded. “I will not get bored with you. There is no novelty. I just want you,” he said calmly and plainly. 

“You say that now–”

“And I mean it now. I’ll mean it tomorrow and the day after that,” he said.

“You can’t make that promise,” you said. 

Tre smiled. Obstinate.

“What can I do to help you trust me?” He asked. He opened his hands. “I want to get to know you better.” 

“Patience. I need patience. You…consume. You take up the whole room when you’re in it. It doesn’t leave any room for thinking,” you said.

“Maybe you need to think less.” Tre walked back into the kitchen to check on the sauce. He turned off the stove and grabbed two bowls. He scooped pasta noodles into it and then ladled the sauce over it. 

He placed a bowl in front of you and on the place setting next to you. He fluffed salad in a bowl and then plated it on a smaller plate, placing it next to your bowl. He had different options for salad dressing so you pointed to your favorite one. He put some on your salad, some on his, and then he poured you some wine. 

 He rounded the kitchen and sat down next to you. He pointed for you to go first. The pasta both looked and smelled heavenly. Restaurant quality. You dug in, grabbing a big bite. You moaned around the taste.

“Good god, this is delicious,” you said. 

Tre smirked. “Been working on this sauce since last night,” he said.

“You knew you were going to invite me here last night?” You asked. 

“Beyond the forest,” he said. He dug into his own food. 

Conversation turned to lighter topics. He spoke briefly about that interesting childhood of his. He was rowdy, combative, getting into fights left and right. His estranged uncle stepped in, trying to be a father to him where his own wasn’t. Showed him how to “be a man”. 

It was beyond gender. It was how you carried yourself. How you spoke, how you dressed, how you interacted with others. If you were the biggest in the room, then it was your responsibility to protect those in the room. 

“That sounds impossible to live up to,” you said.

“Not when you really think about it. A man’s job is to protect those in his care. Cherish the people in his circle. To move with respect. It’s as easy as breathing,” Tre shrugged. “I know I’m an asshole but I’m not going to go out of my way to make someone else’s life miserable.”

“No, just mine.” You playfully rolled your eyes and Tre smirked. 

You told him about your family and how you always felt like you weren’t doing things right. You couldn’t compare to your siblings with amazing jobs and their heads on straight. The only thing in your life that made sense was school. 

After it, you just felt adrift. You flitted from one thing to the next, not knowing what you wanted to do with your life. It was dangerous to compare your life to others. But it felt like they knew exactly where they were headed. You on the other hand? You just wanted a fucking break. 

“You’re not doing anything wrong. Everybody is different,” Tre said.

“No, I know. I just…I don’t know what I want to do.”

“What gets you up in the morning?” 

“Money?” You giggled. When it came down to it, you wanted enough money to not have to agonize over your bank account week to week. To get money, you had to work for others. And you hated working for others. You hated being told what to do, what to wear, when to show up. 

“That’s a fair motivator. But what do you not mind doing for money?” He asked.

You shrugged. “There lies the rub,” you said. You finished up dinner, not able to eat another single bite. It had been one of the best dinners you had ever had. 

You and Tre moved over to the couch with your wine. You continued your conversation there, moving on to silly topics like video games and movies. You discussed the books you’ve read and he seemed genuinely interested in what you were saying.

This was a set up. He was seducing you. You eyed him over the rim of your wine glass as you listened to him speak about his favorite author. He had made no move to touch you. It was all you could think about. 

You shifted and placed one leg under you as you faced him. He copied your stance. You paid attention to his lips as he spoke. The way his voice played with sounds. You paid attention to his hands when he wanted to emphasize certain points. Hands that you had first hand knowledge could wring pleasure from you like wringing out a washcloth. 

“Are you okay?” Tre asked. 

“Huh?” You asked and blinked. The wine was making you feel airy and light. A light buzz. You felt good. Really good. And he was looking more good as you cataloged his movements.

Tre smiled. “I asked you if you wanted more wine,” he said.

“No, thank you.” The hell did he put in it? Because you were burning the fuck up. And you couldn’t stop thinking about his hands on you. His lips on yours. His dick sliding inside you. 

You scooted closer to him and placed your wine glass on the coffee table. He drained his glass and scooted closer as well, until you were breathing the same air. 

“Why haven’t you touched me?” You asked. The wine gave you a burst of boldness.

Tre smiled. “Do you want me to touch you?” 

“Why haven’t you?” 

“You can’t have it both ways. You either want patience or for me to steamroll ahead. I only work in absolutes,” he said.

You sighed. “Does that mean the sex stops?”

Tre chuckled. “Is that all I’m good for?” 

“Will you stop answering my questions with questions?” 

“Will you be honest with me?” Obstinate bastard. 

“I want you to fuck me!” You squealed. You bit your lip after but didn’t take it back. He couldn’t get you feening for his touch and then yank it away when it was convenient for him. 

Tre only watched you with an amused smile on his face. You wanted to smack it off of him. 

“Tell me what you really want,” he said. 

“I don’t want the sex to stop.” There, you said it. “I don’t want this to end. But you have to…let me adjust to it.” 

He kept looking at you. “Do you want me to say I want you? Is that it?” You asked.

“Do you?” 

You growled and Tre chuckled. “I want you,” you said. 

Tre ran a finger across your jaw. He lifted your chin and leaned down for a soft kiss. “Show me you want me.” 

You leaned back to look into his eyes. You should have known. Nothing about this man was easy.

You stood up and took the straps off your shoulders slowly. Tre adjusted his position to face forward as you moved to stand in front of him. You kept your eyes on his as you unzipped your dress and let it cascade down your body.

Tre hissed as he took in your lingerie set. “I buy that for you?” 

“You did,” you said with a smile. 

“Money well fuckin’ spent,” he said. 

You stepped out of your dress and picked it up. You placed it on the couch so it wouldn’t wrinkle too badly. Then, you slowly sank to your knees in front of him, rubbing on his legs. You rubbed on his thighs, getting higher and higher. His pants began to tent as you got closer to the waistband. He didn’t help you as you unbuttoned his pants. You gripped his hard dick and moved the tip across your lips.

Precum painted your lips and you licked your lips around the tip of him. He took a deep breath, jaw flexing. You stared into his eyes as you slowly swallowed him down. You struggled to completely get him in your mouth, but soon you were drooling on his dick.

Tre adjusted his hips, pulling his pants down a bit more as you began to suck him down. Your hands gripped the rest of him and you rubbed his shaft while paying attention to the head of his dick. You licked and played with the velvety soft head of him, flicking your tongue across the tip.

He hissed and jerked as he moaned. He moved his arms to the back of the couch, relaxing into the blow job. You watched as he threw his head back so all you saw was his luscious beard. You bobbed your head faster, the way you knew he liked. 

You were rewarded with his moans getting louder, deeper, with a rattle in his chest that had you clenching your thighs together. 

“I’m about to bust,” he moaned. 

You continued sucking him off, hollowing your cheeks. He tensed before he unloaded in your mouth. The salty musk of his cum splashed down your throat and you swallowed all of him down. You moaned and let him go with a wet pop. 

Tre blew out a breath as he rubbed his face. “Thank you,” he said. 

You smiled at him. His fingers traced the corners of your mouth where drool likely escaped you. You turned into a sex fiend where he was concerned. 

“Get up here,” he said. 

You stood up and moved to straddle his legs so you could finally get some dick. He shook his head, pointing towards the couch. He took off his glasses and put it on the coffee table. You laid down and Tre grabbed your ankle. He pushed it to the back of the couch, spreading you completely open for him. 

His hand found the chain around your thigh and his eyes briefly flared looking at the tiny “T” dangling from it. He wrapped his hand around it while he brought his face down against your pussy.

He licked you over the fabric and you moaned, gyrating your hips against his face. He licked the crease of the set, capturing part of your skin and you shivered in the warm room. 

“Please,” you whispered. 

“Please, what?” He asked. His breath fanned over your damp pussy and you shivered again. You needed relief right this second.

“Please, Sir,” you begged.

He used his free hand to move your panties to the side and finally bring his lips to your pussy. He moaned when he discovered how wet you were and how much he got to lick up. You were dripping with your essence, right onto his face and the couch. 

“Fuck,” you shuddered, the word shaky in your throat. 

“Mhm, get louder for me. Just me and you here,” he whispered against your pussy. And then he really went to town, digging his face so far into your pussy, you felt the way his jaw flexed. 

He was right. You were finally in an appropriate place to have sex. You could be as loud as you needed to be. You began to moan louder, encouraging him with a twist of your hips and roll of his tongue that he was eating you out exactly how you liked.

He paid more attention to your clit, sucking and slurping up your juices. You felt the burn in your thighs as you were nearing your peak. The tightening in your belly worsened until you were snapping your thighs together, screaming out your release. 

Tre was right there to feel you cum on his tongue. He hummed in satisfaction as you shook against his face. When you calmed down, when your back came back down to rest on the blue couch, he straightened up. He had your juices trailing down his beard and he wiped a hand down the lower half of his jaw. 

“Come on,” he said. He grabbed your hand and helped you sit up on the couch. Then, he headed towards the stairs.

The upstairs was just as well-decorated as the first floor. It was all a blur as he tugged you down the hall towards the master suite. You weren’t really surprised that his sheets and comforter were black. It suited him more so than the earthy tones throughout the rest of the house.

You moved to get on his bed, but he stopped you. He planted a wet kiss on your lips, taking his time to fully explore you. His hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you deeper into the kiss. The pressure on your neck made your eyes roll back in your head. 

“Wait here,” he said. He placed one last kiss on your lips before moving away. You watched as he went into the bathroom. 

You just came but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You wanted him. You wanted that dick between his legs to make you walk funny in the morning. Water turned on, sounded like the shower, and you wanted to walk in there to see what he was doing. 

He came out of the bathroom, taking off his shirt. You gasped softly. Fuck. He was beautiful. You openly ogled his body. Thick, rippling muscles. A sexy layer of bulk that you could bounce a quarter off of. 

He looked damn good in his suits. He looked damn good in casual wear. But shirtless? Your knees wobbled and you wondered if you were going to swoon. 

He approached you slowly, like a predator stalking a prey. His hands reached out to run across your lingerie that suddenly felt too tight. He began to unsnap, kissing the parts of you that he revealed. Inch upon inch of you was uncovered, covered in his kisses. 

He freed your breasts and rubbed sensation back into it. He plucked on your nipples and you moaned softly. “I need you to wear this again,” he said.

You giggled and turned in his arms so that you could face him. He bent down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. 

“Did you turn the shower on?” You asked.

“Mhm,” he moaned against your nipple. 

You answered with a moan as well, biting your lip because it felt too damn good. “But…”

“I got a shower cap for you,” he said.

“There is no way I’m letting you fuck me with a shower cap on!” Oh god, how embarrassing.

“Do you think it would make you less sexy to me?” He straightened up and kissed you. “You are the sexiest creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. You could wear a sack and I’d want to fuck the coins out of you,” he continued.

You laughed, covering your mouth to keep from squawking like a chicken. Tre lowered your hands and looked into your eyes. 

“I’m in it. Are you?” 

Why couldn’t he make shit easy for once? You nodded. “I’m in it.” 

He pulled you to the bathroom, leaving your lingerie on the floor. His bathroom was gorgeous. The floors were cream tile with big squares. He had plenty of rugs inside so you weren’t stepping on the cold floor for too long. He had a walk-in shower with clear glass doors. The sink was at a comfort height, two sinks, with soft gray towels hanging from a bar.

He had a long cabinet that stretched nearly to the ceiling and you longed to rub your hands over it. You only dreamed of bathrooms like these. You didn’t think they actually existed outside of supremely rich houses where they were wasted on people with no appreciation. 

Steam filled the room, frosting over the glass doors and mirrors. Tre dropped his pants to the floor, picked them up, and threw them into a hamper you hadn’t seen. He handed you a shower cap. 

You took a deep breath and put it on, tucking your hair inside. Welp, here you were in all your crazy glory. 

He didn’t see you any differently. He pulled you in for a soft, tender kiss and then opened the shower door. You stepped inside and the warm water hit your back and you sighed. You usually liked it way hotter than this.

The devil himself needed to come out and lick your back in order for you to feel comfortable in a shower, but the point wasn’t to get clean at the moment. It was to get dirty.

You leaned forward, palming his dick and running your hands along his length. Tre moaned low in his throat before gripping your hips and pushing you against the wall of the shower. Your back hit the cold tile but you were saved by his warm, strong hands as they rubbed your back. 

He rubbed his dick, getting slick from the water. He began to kiss you and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. The shower cap crinkled and you had a brief stab of embarrassment. 

It quickly dissipated as Tre lifted you up. You squealed, wrapping your legs around his hips. He grinned evilly while you clung to him for dear life. He was doing a whole lot in this slippery ass shower. 

Panic and arousal drove your nerves through the roof. You took deep breaths, trying to focus on the water on your side. 

“I got you,” he said. He pushed your back against the wall and spread your legs to accommodate his hips. He shifted as his dick found your entrance. With the water and your arousal, he was able to slide in easily.

You groaned, your jaw dropping open. “Never get sick of that,” he said. 

He placed one hand on the wall behind you to brace himself. Then, he set to work thrusting into your wet heat. He groaned as he started to slide easier due to fresh arousal leaking out of you. 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. 

“Mhm, feelin’ so good on this dick,” he groaned. 

Your thighs shook as he thrust into you slow and deep. He set a relaxed pace, making sure to get as deep as possible on every stroke. You felt every inch of him. Every last smooth glide of his mushroom head against your inner walls. 

Your hands gripped his smooth, deep onyx skin. Water droplets hit his head, beard, and arms. You gripped the back of his neck and held on as he grunted and hit you deep enough to bruise. You cried out, cumming immediately on his dick. 

“Fuck, let me feel it,” he said. He stopped moving as you convulsed on his dick, unable to form a sentence or thought. You squeezed the hell out of him, feeling incredibly full. 

“You can give me another,” he said.

“I can’t,” you moaned.

“Yes, you can. You can give me another before I bust all in this pretty pussy,” he moaned. 

“S-Sir!” You whined. You didn’t have another one in you. It was impossible. Your lips sloppily found his as his tongue mimicked what his dick was doing. Both speared inside of you and you moaned, thighs shaking, toes curling. 

He grunted and moaned in your ear, whispering filthy things. “Come on, I know you can do it. I know you got another one. I know you want to cum all over this dick again. You know you want me to feel how good I tear this shit up.” 

You cried, a wailing keen that sounded loud. It was amplified in the shower due to the tile. You sounded needy. You sounded desperate. 

“Give me another one. Let that pussy go,” he cooed.

“Sir, Sir, Sir,” you chanted. Somehow, that dick was able to pull another one out of you. You screamed as you came, growing deaf in one ear. A high, tinny ringing pierced your ear as you came once more on his dick.

He moaned and kissed your ear. “That’s it. Don’t that feel better? You did so good. So good lettin’ me feel that pussy creamin’ on this dick,” he moaned.

“Sheeit,” you moaned. 

Tre sighed and screamed out his climax, pumping you with thick spurts of cum. You shook and twitched as you felt him pulsing inside of you. He slipped out, letting you down to stand on wobbly legs.

He lifted your leg so he could watch himself slip out of you. “Sheit,” you moaned as you felt his cum leaking out.

Tre used his fingers to fuck some of it back inside you. You squealed and twitched. Your clit was entirely too sensitive. “I can’t,” you cried.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he said. Not sounding the least bit sorry. 

Who the hell was this man? You couldn’t figure him out. He cooked you dinner, ate you out, and delivered orgasms like some full service sex god. He unnerved you. He was an enigma. It was driving you crazy trying to puzzle him out.

Tre smirked as he grabbed a washcloth, soaped it up, and began to wash your body. His soap that you loved so much smelled even better up close and personal. He helped you flip over so he could get your back and ass. He was careful to clean your pussy, running the cloth back and forth over your clit.

You whined and shook as he did so and he planted kisses all over your face, enjoying your torment. Asshole. He helped rinse you off and then he stood under the shower. He grabbed a fresh washcloth and cleaned himself off. 

You grew sleepy watching him soap up that sexy body of his. He watched you, smirking and throwing winks your way as he lowered the cloth to his dick. You watched with rapt attention. 

You only wished you could suck him back down and make him scream and squirm like he had you doing. He rinsed off and then turned off the water. He left the shower first, grabbing thick, buttery towels. He wrapped one around his waist and then helped you out of the shower. 

He wrapped the towel around your body and helped you to the room. He dried you off completely. He made sure every last droplet was wiped from you and then removed the shower crap. He fixed a few fly away hairs.

“Sexy,” he murmured. 

You could only stare at him. You were out of your depth once more. Unable to sort through your emotions and give this a name. He leaned down for a kiss. His wet beard tickled your chin. 

He lowered you into the bed and dried the rest of his body off. He peeled back the covers and let you slide in. You sighed. You felt so warm and comfortable. Tre slid in behind you, pulling your waist into his hips. His dick settled into the crook of your ass and he nuzzled into your neck.

“Night, beautiful.”

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 - Completed

[orcelito]

I love working somewhere that's so fiercely supportive of gay shit. We have a drink of the month sign that one of our gay employees decorated with pride month stuff & someone erased the "pride" in "happy pride month" aka a fuckin micro aggression I guess

Manager is a lesbian and she's like "Oh this is War. I will straight up use company money to decorate the store with flags" bc if some piece of shit customer can't handle a chalkboard sign they're gonna have to deal with So Much More 😊

[techdriveplay]

2023 Toyota GR Yaris Rallye - TDP Review

The 2023 Toyota GR Yaris Rallye stands out as a remarkable blend of rally heritage and modern engineering. Developed with the same technology and precision that powers Toyota’s World Rally Championship (WRC) contenders, this hatchback brings a piece of motorsport magic to everyday driving. With a reputation for robust performance and advanced features, the GR Yaris Rallye aims to offer an…

[cripplecharacters]

I have a character who's a water fairy and is blind. She can fly, manipulate water, walk on it and “feel through the water”? As in feel the form and state of the water she’s controlling (the water’s temperature and pressure; the shape, weight and approximated texture objects in the water (but only the part of the object that’s in the water)) without touching it. How do I avoid the “disability negated by superpower” trope?

Hi! I think my biggest question here would be why doesn’t she just touch the object directly instead? What benefit is to be gained from examining the water around it instead of simply putting her hands on the object itself? Touching the object directly would likely give her much more detail and precision the vast majority of the time except in instances where touching the object directly isn’t practical. I would suggest having her use regular, real life non-visual techniques to make sense of objects where possible, and have the water powers act as a secondary accessibility aid she can lean on if it is a situation where she cannot use regular, more effective techniques.

I love the idea of a blind character who has powers that aren’t connected to blindness, so the idea of a blind character with water powers is cool to me. I would be careful just how much she can “see” with these powers though, because what you don’t want to do is stray into the blind seer territory. I would suggest not making her able to “see” so well through these powers that she no longer needs to use real life blindness techniques or a mobility aid. She should still functionally operate as a blind person, still needing to make use of alternative non-visual techniques to navigate and get things done the majority of the time. These powers should not give her so much visual assistance that she can functionally pass as not blind at all much of the time. They shouldn’t be so strong that she can build a near perfect 3D mental map of the space around her that is so good that she rarely needs a mobility aid. That leaves the character feeling like they are only disabled occasionally when it is convenient.

I’m not sure how much of this story takes place underwater and how much of it takes place on land, but I would love to see this character still make use of a white cane when she is not in the water. I feel like using a cane underwater might not work that well, so if there are any other blind people who have ideas on underwater mobility aids, please feel free to comment! It might be a situation where it makes more sense to use a guide animal underwater, but I would also really really love to see peoples ideas for underwater mobility aids to replace the cane, as well. Or even just thoughts on how a person could still use a cane underwater.

I would also suggest making sure that her ability to perceive her surroundings with these powers is not much stronger than that of any other sighted character with the same powers inside the same story setting. It makes perfect sense that she as a disabled person would learn to pay more attention to certain parts of her powers that sighted people with the same powers might not, because it would help her understand her surroundings and act as an accessibility aid, but the important part to note is that these should be skills that any sighted character with the same powers could theoretically learn just as well if they put the same amount of focus and work into it. She can use her powers as an accommodation, but she should not be so far ahead of every other sighted character with the same powers that she crosses into a whole new level. That crosses the line of realistically learning to pay more attention to certain things and becomes something that classifies her as “other” and fundamentally more innately powerful than everyone else with the same powers, which becomes problematic.

Try to model it after how it is in real life. Real life blind people don’t suddenly have heightened hearing or smell like dogs, but we do learn to pay more attention to our ears and other senses than most sighted people do because it helps us as an accessibility aid, but any sighted person can learn to be just as good at it as we are if they work at it just as much. And it takes real work, rather than just being some sort of natural trade-off.

In order to help readers understand that she is not more superhuman than any other character with the same powers, I would suggest putting in sighted characters with the same power who have learned to gain similar information to what she has learned to gain from her powers. It doesn’t have to be exactly the same, but it should be close enough that a reader can understand that it is a skill, not a naturally heightened extra sense just for her because she’s blind.

I would also recommend putting in other blind characters who do not have powers that can give them some extra sensory input as an additional accessibility aid. They don’t have to be major characters in the story, but it would be a great way to help readers understand that blind people can still exist in this world without having sensory augmenting powers and can be just as happy and comfortable with their lives as blind people as this character can. Disabled people almost always know other disabled people, so it’s not unrealistic or shoehorning, either. Just as it was revolutionary and deeply important for me as a bisexual person to find other queer people, it was also revolutionary and deeply important for me as a blind person to find other blind people. I always recommend giving your disabled characters other disabled characters with whom they have found community, because it is vitally important and empowering, but I think it would be extra helpful in this case to help readers understand that blind characters can come in all kinds of flavors and don’t have to have sensory augmenting powers to be in stories.

I think it would also be super important here to make sure you show the character using other non-visual techniques that use regular old senses that they have learned to pay more attention to, as well. That would help readers understand that a disabled person is going to do that in every aspect of their life, and that powers won’t be the ideal solution for everything. It will also help them understand that she is just Learning to get more information out of her powers the same way she learns to get more information out of her other senses, meaning that the extra information she gets from these water powers isn’t much more fancy or augmented than what she can get from her ears or her hands. The powers should be just another tool in her toolbox alongside all the other regular ones.

Overall, I really like the direction you are taking this character in so far, and as long as you don’t make these powers so good that they can replace mobility aids or other frequent non-visual techniques, I think it is a cool concept and a great way to show how a disabled character can have powers that they have learned to gain more information out of as accessibility aids without turning them into disability negating super powers. I would be super interested to see what you do with this character!

— Mod Lane

[megacityvip]

Volkswagen ACC Error Fixed (VIDEO)

Error for Lane Assist, Automatic Cruise Control (ACC) and error for Cruise Control was all caused by faulty Radar location behind the front VW Badge. If It were the cameras it would have to be changed and and re-calibrated but that’s another story.

[noohyah]

[SOLVED] Why Does Lane Departure Warning Light Stays On?

Welcome to the world of cars and questions, where that lane departure warning light is causing a bit of a head-scratcher.  You’ve likely noticed it sticking around on your dashboard longer than you’d prefer, and you’re not alone in wondering why.  In this article, we’re going to cut through the confusion and get straight to the point without any unnecessary jargon. So, why does that lane…

[dentixvoxel]

please help my grandpas driving is driving me insane