#and yes ive tried multiple times

[the-average-procrastinator]

Finally accepting that I don't like decorating cakes even though I wanted to like it

[fairycosmos]

honestly i think i am just quite selfish. not in a self depreciating way but in a genuinely struggling with this personality trait sort of way. literally everything feels like a chore. even taking care of others. as awful as that sounds. every fucking thing about being a person is deeply exhausting or uninteresting or both

[brainrotzora]

these things are always happening to the ones i like :////////

anyways the lighting in this dungeon is so nice

didn't get any good pics bc i was too busy dungeoning but so pretty...best dungeon music so far goes to snowcloak though btw

[timetodiverge]

Me, who has long covid and has repeatedly told people this: sorry I can't do the thing, I'm feeling rotten today

My friends, family, and coworkers: what, again???

Me:

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

saw some art of hunter making a grimwalker of belos to cope and man am i glad the owl crew made belos into a writhing pile of goo so he doesn’t have any more bones to make grimwalkers with. like i can imagine hunter’s mental state getting bad enough somehow that he’d think to do something like that, to raise belos so he’d turn out good. and that’s the same pitfall phillip fell into when creating grimwalkers of caleb.

and damn what a cruel thing to do to a kid. to the grimwalker, hunter-his creator and probably father figure-would have created him to prove a point to himself. that someone evil in his past could have grown up to be good. that hunter could shape the grimwalker into what hunter wanted him to be. and everything the grimwalker does, he would have to wonder if phillip did the same in life, and if hunter would approve.

its the exact kind of existential crisis hunter is having in the show from being the clone of caleb. except the theoretical belos grimwalker would have to live with the fact that his ortet almost committed genocide on his entire civilization. im sure hunter would avoid being an abusive parent the way belos was. he might even be a good dad. but the act of making the grimwalker means hunter is giving the kid the same kind of trauma he struggled through. belos couldn’t accept that caleb left him, so he tried to reshape innocent kids into filling that void. if hunter creates a grimwalker, he would be doing the same with belos. he would have turned into his uncle, which to me is a very depressing way to end his story arc.

[lesbianuhaulindustrialcomplex]

I did something recently that hurt my mom's feelings and the world has come to a fucking halt about it. Everyone keeps reaching out to me to be like "hey you hurt your mom's feelings idk if you know" even though she and I have extensively talked about it and I've given multiple genuine apologies because she keeps going to everyone who will still talk to her in our family (not very many people) and complaining about me and I'm just like. Genuinely I am very remorseful that I hurt my mother but like. Where the fuck was all this energy when she was hurting her fucking children for 30+ years?

[mach1ne-g1rl]

ppl give martyn too much credit for being ride or die SORRY

[neonacidtrip]

I am home from apartment hunting and I would just like to say I am extremely disappointed, as an able-bodied person, to learn only 1 out of the 13 complexes we visited had an elevator.

[lavender---sunshine]

i am so deep in my feelings right now, i both sad and mad enough that i cannot sleep

[thespookywoods]

Pro tip: if you have a coworker who you see doing something completely harmless if apparently a little strange on their break (like writing in a notebook, or really anything other than watching tiktoks on their phone full volume no headphones), you don't have to ask about it! You dont have to ask what theyre writing, or why theyre always writing. On fact your coworker would probably prefer it if you didnt!

This has been a public service announcement from someone who is so very tired of every coworker asking why im writing on my break

[nomairuins]

the difficulty of trying 2 explain to ppl that im Not being self deprecating or belittling my mental illnesses when i say something that could be perceived as overly critical towards myself but that thise things actually r true abt me. ppl did die.

[phatburd]

🧂

[helsex-moved]

Oh cool so even though I haven't updated my app since the wizard worm version the annoying not being able to get rid of the Tumblr live icon still applies to me

[froggibus]

Sex Rocks! - AMAB! Venture

Pairing: AMAB! Sloan Cameron x fem! Reader (reader uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Sloan is in for much more than they bargained for when they find a statue with magical properties—and you might be the only one who can help them out

CW: porn with plot, AMAB! Venture, sex pollen (but it’s a magical sex statue), dubcon, masturbation, showering, dirty thoughts (abt reader), slight voyeurism, blowjob, hair pulling, face fucking, cum swallowing, cock riding, mating press, multiple orgasms, protected AND unprotected sex, doggy style, multiple rounds, overstim, lots of cum, (think that's everything) use of the word shaft (im so sorry i hate this word but there’s only so many synonyms for dick)

yes the title is a pun ^.^ i meant to post this way earlier in the day but i got distracted and didn't end up finishing til tonight and it came out WAY LONGER than i thought. this is fr the longest smut ive ever written. anyway venture whores hope you all enjoy <3

It must’ve been Sloan’s lucky day. After barely an hour of searching, the glittering artifact they’d been looking for seemed to jump right out. Though the dusty gold colour blended in with the shimmering sand of the cavern, the three pink gems of the small statuette seemed to call to them. 

The figure was cold to the touch and buttery, barely bigger than the size of their hand. It was shaped like a beautiful curvy woman, with full breasts accentuated with the pink stones and a thick tummy—the likeness of some old, forgotten deity that Sloan could never remember the name of. 

They took out a soft piece of cut cloth and wrapped the statue before tucking it in their pack and beginning the short trek to the surface. Sloan buzzed the whole way up, that warm tingling washing over them. The kind they always felt when they found a new artifact, or when you laughed at one of their dumb jokes. 

As the surface came into view, the golden sunshine just beginning to dip below the horizon, the warmth grew stronger. It had been a hot day, and it seemed that though the sun was setting, the heat had not yet begun to dissipate. They took a long pause, letting themself rest on the rocks outside of the cave.

Wiping the sweat away from their forehead, they took a big drink from the canteen of water they’d brought along with them. It was a short trek, they weren’t usually this sweaty and parched from something so basic—but with the warmth of the day at its peak, they shrugged it off.

The car they’d taken was only just down the trail, maybe ten minutes away. With one last sip of their cold water, they tucked it into their pack and started the walk back. The sky was turning pink as they set off, but slowly turned to purple and then the rich black of night.

Despite the day’s end, the heat only grew more unbearable with the walk. Their thighs cramped as they made their way down the trail, their heart beginning to race. Whatever, they tried to ignore it and power through to the car.

Sweat coated Sloan’s forehead and chest by the time they made it to their vehicle. Their hair was slicked to the back of their neck, and the t-shirt they’d been wearing was rendered near see-thru. 

“Jeez,” they sighed, tugging off their t-shirt.

They tossed the sweaty fabric into their backseat along with their pack before sliding in the front seat to drive. They kept the AC on full blast the whole trip back home, though it did little to stop the boiling in their blood. 

Sloan was just pulling off the highway when a gasp forced its way out at the sudden tight feeling in their pants. They risked a glance down to their hard cock now straining against the thick fabric of their carharts. They shook it off, turning onto their street and trying to ignore the feeling of the bulge in their pants only growing with each minute.

It was almost painfully hard by the time they made it home. Sloan almost forgot their pack in the back of the car in their race to get inside and free their aching cock from the fabric that confined it. 

A sigh ghosted their lips when their cock sprung free from their boxers and they wrapped their sweaty palm around it. Their core was near sweltering, their cock throbbing in need. 

With a glance at the door to make sure it was locked behind them, Sloan spat in their hand and started to spread it across their aching cock. A shiver crawled its way up their spine, acting as a brief reprieve from the heat that threatened to consume them. They clamped a hand over their mouth and began to slide their hand up their length.

With barely a touch, they were already so sensitive. Pre cum dripped down the tip, pooling across their fingertips and mixing with the saliva already spread over their skin. They squeezed harder, dragging their hand up and down faster. Their muffled moans vibrated against the clammy skin of their palm, their eyes falling shut as their hand fell into a rhythm.

Thoughts of you filled their head. Thoughts of your smile, of your warm skin, of pinning you to the bed and using you however they pleased. Sloan gasped, opening their eyes as they came into their palm.

Fuck. Cum rolled across their fingers, down their still hard cock and collected into the hair at the base of their pubic bone. They smeared the remainder of the cum on their thighs, shaking off the aftershocks of their orgasm and deciding a cold shower would solve both the mess they made, and the throb between their legs.

With their clean hand, they dragged their backpack with them all the way to their bedroom, tossing it in the corner before grabbing a towel and heading into the bathroom. They didn’t wait for the water to warm before stripping and stepping beneath the brisk stream.

The cool water settled the burning beneath their skin—but only just barely. Much to Sloan’s dismay, it also did nothing to soothe the ache between their legs. It was almost embarrassing, having an unrelenting boner for no reason like they were in school again.

They sighed, squeezing some coconut scented body wash into their hand and slicking across their cock. They didn’t bother to change the water back to warm, instead opting to let the frigid stream drip down their back. The nice smelling soap felt much, much better than their own spit—but they could imagine a few things that would feel even better.

Like your pretty lips wrapped around their tip, those kind eyes of yours pleading at them to cum in your mouth and—Sloan moaned, fingers clenching around their hard length. Just the thought of you touching them, or them touching you, was enough to have Sloan gasping and furiously jerking their cock.

Drops of soap flew away from their palm with every stroke, splattering the tile of the shower in front of them. God, wouldn’t they love to do that to you. What they wouldn’t give to do that to you. To have you lay down in front of them, completely at their mercy while they fucked you relentlessly and left you covered in their cum.

Their cock twitched, and then they were cumming. Wave after wave of hot cum burst out, coating the tile in front of them before being washed away by the water. Hard, shaking breaths wracked their chest as their senses returned to them and they could once again feel the cool water against their tanned skin. 

As they looked at the cum mixing with the water down the drain, all they could think was ‘what a waste.’

It only took ten minutes after their shower for the tingling in their cock to become unbearable again. The heat had returned almost immediately—and with a vengeance—but they’d managed to ignore the tenderness between their legs for only ten minutes.

Sloan was glad they didn’t bother putting their clothes back on as they settled into their bed and grasped their shaft once more. Cumming once or twice a day was normal for them, but this was something else entirely. Something had to be wrong.

Sloan pushed away their fears and started once again stroking their dick, leftover water and precum acting as a lubricant for their hand to easily slide around. They closed their eyes, and let themself think of you once more. 

How their cum would look running down your thighs, or splattered on your back. How nice your hands would feel gripping their cock, how you’d just beg them to fuck you.

Sweat dripped down their chest, wetting their tummy and the dark hair at the base of their cock. How long had they been jerking off this time? They risked a teary eyed glance at the screen of their phone—had it really been almost twenty minutes since they laid down in bed?

Twenty minutes and they were no closer to coming, but their dick was growing uncomfortably hard. A sigh passed through their lips. Their hand wasn’t enough, they needed something more, something hotter. 

Their mind went to you, pleasure hazed thoughts wondering if they called you, would you come? Would you help them? Before they could think it through, their fingers were dancing across the screen. Just the sight of the tiny contact picture of you at the top of their screen had them squeezing tighter, thick drips of pre cum rolling down their tip.

Sloan lets themself fall back into bed, their mind dancing away to thoughts of you sinking down on their cock. They roll their head to the side, their eyes catching sight of the bag they’d carelessly tossed in the corner just before their shower. 

Could the statue have done this? There were myths surrounding it, sure, but this? The thought was preposterous a week ago. Now though, with their insatiable lust, the thought doesn’t seem so crazy to Sloan.

Shit. They shouldn’t drag you into this. If it really is the statue, they don’t want to expose you to this. They reach for their phone to ask you not to come, to send you away, but just as their palm reaches the cold metal, the front door clicks open.

“Sloan?” You call, peaking your head in the front door. As soon as you’d gotten their message, you’d left your house. You’re talking more to yourself than them at this point, tiptoeing through the dark of their home. “I used the spare key you gave me to get in…are you here?”

Sloan bit their lip at the sound of your voice, risking a glance to the bag that contained the statue. Maybe inviting you here wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

“In here!” they call. Their voice is raspy, dripping with the need radiating from their core.

You follow the sound of their voice to the closed door of their bedroom, warm light leaking out from the cracks. It’s Sloan, and they don’t sound like they’re in danger, but something about their voice…

You push open the door. It takes two seconds for you to scan the room, two seconds for your eyes to fall on Sloan—sweaty, writhing and desperately jerking their cock in bed—and two seconds for you to turn away, covering your eyes.

“Shit,” you gasp. “I–I didn’t mean to walk in on you.”

But it’s strange. They called you here to help them, they knew you were going to come into their room—was this what they needed your help with? You couldn’t help but clench your legs at the thought, a heat rushing to your core.

Sloan’s voice cut through the darkness of your hand. “I-it’s okay,” they say. “You can look.”

You slowly peel your hand away from your eyes. Though they covered themself with a blanket, you could still see the glistening skin of their chest, and the up-down motion of their hand beneath the fabric. 

Sloan knows it’s shameless of them to keep stroking their cock while talking to you, while you’re right there watching—but they can’t stop. Now that you’re here in front of them, the pressure’s increased tenfold.

You squint. “What’s going on?”

“I found that statue.” They keep jerking off.

“And?”

“The rumors about it were true.”

“Fuck,” you curse. 

When they’d been telling you about the myths behind the statue, you’d both laughed it off, stealing wanton glances at each other as you did. They’d assured you it wasn’t possible, that there was no scientific reason a statue would bear unto its users an insatiable appetite for sex.

Seeing them now, though, all sweaty and desperate, has you thinking they were wrong. 

“Sloan,” you say calmly, stepping in the room and gently shutting the door behind you, “what can I do to help?”

They bite your lip, and it’s just now that you notice their eyes are almost completely black in lust. A shiver runs up your spine. 

They pull back the blanket. “Touch me,” they swallow. “Please.”

You glance at their thick, throbbing cock dripping in precum. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, wrapped up in the worst possible way. It wouldn’t be right—they’re clearly not thinking straight. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Sloan’s not sure whether it’s the statue, or their frustration, or some terrible combination of the two that prompts them to say, “oh don’t tell me you haven’t been wanting me to fuck you for months.”

Their brazenness sends another wave of heat to your core, your underwear suddenly feeling wetter than usual. “Sloan,” you say carefully.

“If you’re worried about consent,” they rasp. “I want it. All the time. For months, too. I think about it nonstop.”

Their words ease your nerves, and you find yourself approaching their bedside. Your eyes stayed glued to their cock and the hand furiously stroking it. “What do you think about?”

They watch you, dedicating each pump of their length to you. “I think about you while I fuck myself. I think about—about fucking you, and having you bounce on my cock and—god.”

You sink down on the bed next to them, wrapping your hand around the one rubbing their dick. “Let me.”

They slide their hand away, letting you take over. Already, your hand feels a million times better than theirs ever did, the ache in their core finally beginning to relent. They lay their head back, watching your hand glide across their sticky skin.

They suck in a breath. “Fuck,” they look at you through their lashes. “Use your mouth.”

You’re taken aback by their command. Their cock looks so inviting, dripping wet and throbbing in your palm. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever had which only makes you want it more.

You look them in the eyes while you lick a bead of precum away from the tip. Sloan shivers, wrapping a hand in your hair and pulling you down. You gasp as you take their cock into your mouth, wrapping your lips around it. It’s salty, a mix of sweat and precum, with a strange undertone of coconut—but it’s just how you imagined it.

Your jaw strains to take them into your mouth, their tip hitting the back of your throat after only a few seconds. You gag slightly, but Sloan only pushes your hand down further, groaning at the warmth of your mouth. This was exactly what they needed.

As soon as you start to see black spots, they pull you off. A strand of drool connects your lips to their length, dripping and coating your chin. They hum at the sight of you, so filthy already.

“Do you like how it tastes?”

You’re so flustered, so bewildered by the situation that you can only nod, clenching the base of their cock. You put your lips back on their tip and eagerly slide down for more. Their calloused fingers still tug at your hair, using the strands like reins to push and pull you how they see fit.

Sloan watches you intently the whole time, admiring the spit that coats your mouth and the way your throat bulges when they pull you a certain way. They’ve dreamt about fucking you for months now, but none of their wildest dreams could ever compare to this.

Despite the way your eyes water, Sloan pulls you down further. You look so fucking cute choking on their thick cock—they can’t help it. When you finally slap a hand against their thigh, they let go of your head and watch you gasp for air.

“Get on your knees,” they command.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice with the way your throat burns. The dominance in them only makes you wetter, a noticeable throbbing rushing through your clit. You’re all too eager to settle on your knees at their bedside.

They cup your chin, swiping their thumb across your lips to smear your drool and their pre across them. “So cute,” they murmur.

You lean back in to take their cock once more, but they tsk at you. Just as you tilt your head in confusion, you watch as Sloan grips their cock and rubs the messy, wet tip across your mouth. They smear it all across your face, making a mess all over your cheeks and nose.

A whine slips from your lips before you can stop it, but Sloan only laughs at it and finally lets their cock slap against your mouth. You open wide and take them once more, rolling your tongue over their length.

“So eager,” they tease, their fingers resuming their position in your hair, “if I’d known you’d be such a slut for me, I would’ve fucked you months ago.”

Sloan watches the shame glimmer in your eyes, followed by pure pleasure, and doesn’t miss the way you rock your hips against the floor. 

It only takes a few minutes of you on your knees before they’re coming, pushing your head down so you have no choice but to swallow their cum. Your eyes shoot wide as the hot cum spills in your mouth, pulling back from their cock and opening your mouth so they can see it.

“Good girl,” they purr. “Now swallow.”

You nod and obey without a second thought, licking their cock a few more times after to clean up the excess. “Sloan,” you say quietly, your voice raspy from the way they just fucked your throat.

“Hm?”

“Do you have condoms?”

They tap the nightstand that you’re sitting next to. “You wanna fuck me?”

You pass them the condom, eagerly waiting as they lay back in bed and roll it over their cock. Though they’re slow to put it on, you don’t miss the way their hands shake in anticipation.

Sloan watches you the whole time as you strip, discarding your clothes as quickly as you can. You climb onto the bed and straddle their waist, a knee on either side of their hips. Their hands clench your waist tightly, fingertips digging in hard enough to bruise. 

Usually Sloan would be happy to let you adjust, but with the warmth of your pussy right there, they can’t wait any longer. Using your hips as leverage, they thrust up into you, the tip of their cock bottoming out against your cervix.

You cry out, burying your head against their sticky chest. “Sloan,” you whine.

“Sorry,” they pant, but continue thrusting into you.

You relax into them, slamming your hips into theirs to meet their rhythm. It’s painful at first, both the stretch of their cock and how deep it reaches—but it’s amazing, too.

Sloan barely thinks as they pound in and out of you, using your own body weight as leverage to get their cock deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your whines are like music to their ears, complemented by the rhythm of matching groans they loose every time their cock brushes your cervix.

You cum so hard you swear you go blind for a second. Everything is hot, your vision goes white, and all you can focus on is the way your cunt is gushing around their cock, juices coating their thighs. You go limp on their chest for a minute, letting them fuck you like a toy while you recover.

Sloan’s own orgasm isn’t far behind, their cock twitching as they spill into the condom—though they’d much rather spill into you. They almost draw blood with how tightly their nails dig into your sides, and the only word they seem to remember is your name.

Even though they’re unbearably hot and their cock is so sensitive it hurts, they still need more. 

“Can I keep going? Tell me I can keep going.”

You’re exhausted from the brutal pace they’ve set, but their cock fills you so well and they sound so desperate, you have no choice but to say yes. Upon your agreement, Sloan is flipping you onto the mattress beneath them and bending your legs to your chest. 

They can get deeper like this, and Sloan knows it too. They start their pace off slower this time, trying to give you time to recover before their own need takes over. They hold your hands, pinning them above your head while they fuck you.

Their eyes lock with yours as they increase the pace, the tip of their cock hitting that spot inside of you perfectly every time. There are tears in your eyes from the pleasure, but it only makes them harder. 

“Too deep,” you whine, squeezing their hands with as much strength as you can muster.

“You don’t love having me fill you up?” They mumble into your ear, “if I can’t stuff you with my cum, I’ll fill you with my cock.”

You gasp and squeeze your eyes shut, their dirty words sending you over the edge. You try to clench your knees together but Sloan’s body is in the way. They fuck you through your orgasm, squeezing your hands back with every bit of pressure you squeeze theirs with.

“That’s it,” though their words are soft, they punctuate each one with a thrust, “cum on my cock.”

They slide their hands down your body, resting on your hips once more. Their thrusts start to get sloppy, and you know they can’t last much longer like this. You reach up, desperate for something—anything—to ground yourself, your fingers coming in contact with their hair.

Sloan whines and cums in one sloppy motion, resting their head on your neck while they lazily thrust through their high. Soft groans and whines vibrate against your collarbone.

It takes a minute for them to collect their strength again, pulling their cock out of you. You look at them through tear blurred vision, eyes widening at the cum soaked condom dripping into the wild tangle of hair at the base of their length. There’s a ring of white around their cock from it all, and the only thought crossing your mind is how badly you want to lick it off.

Sloan can’t decide whether to admire the sheer amount of cum filling the condom, or be disappointed that they weren’t able to fuck it into you instead. They pull it off of their cock and toss it onto the floor—it’ll be a pain to clean later, but they don’t care. They reach into their nightstand for another one, but your hand wraps around their wrist first.

“You’re still hard?”

As if in reply, their cock twitches against your leg. Though the searing heat has finally begun to fade, the pure need coursing through their veins has not.

“You’re done already?” They counter.

“N-no,” you say quickly, though your pussy feels unbearably sensitive in the cold room. “But you don’t need to use that.”

They look down at the purple wrapper in their hand, then back up at you. Their eyes practically glitter in anticipation. “Raw?”

You nod shyly, reaching out your arms to beckon them back to you. You’ll never be able to match their insatiable pace—you know that—but you told them you’d help, even if it means letting them use you like a fleshlight.

They plant a kiss to the base of your throat, a devilish twinkle in the dark of their eyes. “Roll onto your knees.”

With their help, you roll onto your stomach and pull your knees up, arching your back to give them access to your dripping cunt. Too tired to keep your chest up, you rest your cheek against the single pillow in their bed and let yourself relax.

Sloan’s hands retrace the marks they left on your lips earlier, positioning you perfectly to line up with their cock. They land a harsh slap to your cunt with the head of their cock and slip it in all at once, relishing in the gasp that leaves your lips.

They rock their hips into yours, reaching up to tangle a hand in your hair. With one hand gripping your hips and another in your hair, they piston into you. You bite your lip to try and cover the onslaught of moans they fuck out of you and pray that Sloan doesn’t have neighbors—although at this point, they’ve probably heard enough.

“Feels even better raw,” they groan, balls slapping against your clit with a particularly brutal thrust. “S’like it was made for me.”

The burning in the pit of your stomach grows at their dirty words, your pussy utterly gushing around their length. Without the condom, you can feel the desperate throbbing of their cock, feel every twitch of their tip when they bottom out inside of you. They reach everywhere inside you, rubbing places you didn’t even know you had.

Waves of pleasure roll over you, each more intense after the last. Your pussy flutters around Sloan’s cock, but their pace doesn’t slow. They keep slamming into you, lewd slapping noises loud enough to cover your desperate moans. They tug your hair hard, pulling you closer, and roll their hips against yours.

Their cockhead brushes your cervix and your eyes roll back in the sharp pleasure that travels through your pussy. Drool leaks from the side of your mouth and your moans transform from fully formed words to stupid sounding babbles.

Sloan releases your hair from their grip and moves their hand to massage your ass. “Sounds so cute when you whine,” they coo breathily.

Your senses all come flooding back to you when you feel the first spurt of their hot cum inside of you. Your tummy flutters with butterflies, your pussy contracts, and you cum with them. Both of you writhe in bed against each other, Sloan’s desperate, near primal pants like music to your ears.

“Fuck,” you groan as you collapse into the bed.

They keep their cock inside of you, shallowly thrusting their cum back in. “Please don’t stop,” they whine. “Please, I-I need more. Please.”

Your whole body burns, your pussy is so sensitive you’re not sure you’d even be able to cum again. “Sloan,” you sigh, looking back at them. 

“Please. Please let me keep using you. Please. You don’t even have to do anything but please let me use this pussy,” they pinch your clit in emphasis. “Please.”

“Well, with begging like that,” you joke.

Sloan wastes no time slamming their cock back inside of you, and though you can hardly feel the harsh slapping motion, you can tell their pace has slowed. You lay there, sweaty and hot and with their cum dripping out and being fucked back in.

Sloan murmurs praises to you while they thrust, their mind half gone from how fucking horny they are. They can see cum dripping down your pussy, down your thighs and it’s so filthy and it’s so hot and all they want is more. They pound into you, chasing that final high they may or may not get, desperately gripping your sensitive skin until there’s marks.

Finally, they cum again, their hot cum gushing until you’re so full it starts to burst from the seams between your pussy and their cock. Sloan watches it leak out in a trance, as if in disbelief that not only did they fuck you, they also just fucked you raw.

The heat has completely faded from their body, and as they pull out from your cunt and watch the cum drip, their cock finally starts to soften. “Are you okay?”

You manage a weak thumbs up from where you lay in the bed.

Just as they go to put on their pants, their cock twitches again, and the heat comes rushing back. Sloan sighs, looking at you guiltily, “think you can do a round 2?”

overwatch masterlist | masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[cy-cyborg]

I'm getting a little tierd of the idea because amputees get more representation in media, it means rep for our disability is better and we "have enough"

People are right, we do have way more rep than really any other disability, im not going to deny that, and ive joked before about how often people write amputees without even realising it. So you would think, by sheer numbers, we should have at least some good representation, but by-and-large that is not the case. Legitimatly, the closest example I can think of to point to of good amputee rep is Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood and even that uses multiple tropes I hate (the miracle cure/quest for the miracle cure, the almost perfect prosthetic replacement/forgetting the chatacter is an amputee until it breaks or needs repairs, refusal to call prosthetics, "prosthetics" (automail), the amputee who can't do anything without a prosthetic) and they call Ed a slur for another disability (m*dget) CONSTANTLY. I love fmab deeply, it legitimatly helped me feel seen and represented as a childhood amputee in a way no other show has even come close to, and when it gets it right, it gets it really right, but it's also very far from great and should not be the best example I can think of. Especially nearly 15 years after it released...

A big part of the reason why I don't read many books anymore is because of the sheer amount of books with downright offensively bad amputee rep, some of which were touted as good by people with other disabilities and were recommended to me as good examples. others times, I wasn't even looking for books with amputee/disability rep, it just popped up. It has ruined one of my childhood hobbies for me. Ive tried to get back into reading again as an adult but it hasn't gotten better in that time i was away. I was kicked out of 3 different scifi writing groups on facebook and reddit for asking people to remember "cybernetic enhancement" users are amputees - a real group of people, and maybe debating weather or not we're less human isnt great, and for pointing out seeing those discussions every day was making me feel pretty unwelcome in that space (yes i know, "real" cyberpunk isnt trying to say that, i had to turn notifications off on my post about the topic, it doesnt change the fact that newer creators in the genre dont seem to get that bit, that ive seen cyberpunk writers in these spaces say that debating weather people who loose more parts of their body were less human was, in fact, their intent but they hadnt even considered the fact this made their chatacters amputees, it doesnt change the fact that these tropes, intentionally or not, help make those spaces hostile for disabled fans/creators, especially amputees).

But yeah, I should be thankful I get more rep than other disabilities, no matter the quality, right?

It doesn't just stop at being me being made uncomfortable, though. The sheer, overwhelming amount of amputee chatacters with "perfect prosthetics" has had a noticeable impact on how we are perceived irl. In my lifetime, the general idea people have about multi-limbed amputees in particular has gone from "literally the worst thing that can happen to a person and the worst disability to have" to "is it even a disability? The prosthetic fixes it". These are both wildly untrue and harmful ideas about my disability that were both perpetuated by media, but now that the second one is taking root, it's causing real problems. I have not been shy in talking about how I have to fight to maintain my NDIS funding every time I get something done with my prosthetics, and had to get my prosthetist to sign off, twice, that my fancy prosthetic knee that costs the same as a higher-end new car ($125,000 AUD) is not, in fact a cure and I still need help with other things. It took me nearly 2 years to get a new wheelchair because they didn't understand why I needed it if I had the prosthetics - which to be honest, is not comfortable for me to wear, let alone use all day every day. Guys this isn't just assholes on the street or on twitter saying dumb shit, it's the people in the government body who decide how much funding I get to help with my disability who beleive it. People who have very real control over my life. It's not entirely the media's fault, but when the sheer, overwhelming majority of representation for people like me confirms that belief, it's hard to ignore the possibility that these portrayals are contributing to it, you know?

Which makes it so frustrating when I come on here and see other disability writing advice blogs saying to not write amputees because they have so much representation already. We do, I can acknowledge that, but the vast, vast majority of it is shit, and no one, not even other disabled people, are listening to us about it. And what makes it even worse, is the people they're advising to not writing amputees are the creators who care enough to be doing the research. They're the ones willing to listen, to ask questions. They could be the start of the positive change. But instead they're advised to not even bother with us.

And don't get me wrong, other disabilities ARE under-represented. There are so many disabilities, including some I have myself, that I've never seen represented as anything other than the butt of a joke. There does need to be more reprentation of disabilities other than amputation and limb differences. 100%! but can you please talk about that without saying "amputees have enough"

This isn't even touching on how amputees/people with limb differences who dont/cant use prosthetics, or even folks who use prosthetics sometimes but not others, are almost never represented unless it's for pitty-porn, or how the non-fictional media's (news outlets, etc) portrayal of amputees in particular is used to justify hurting very real, very vunderable people but this rant is long enough and honestly, ive got enough thoughts to make whole other posts on those subjects. That second one in particular deserves its own (more thought-out) spotlight and shouldn't be a footnote in a frustrated rant post lol.

[sillyassboy]

i should post here more ive grown too accustomed to twitter's character limit

anyway something that's been on my mind about bugbo recently is the way ive tried to kinda shift the perception of the series one way a bit too hard. when i saw even the slightest chance of people seeing bugbo as a horror series or an ARG with deep lore or whatever , i wanted to put it out there multiple times that this wasn't my intention at all and that bugbo was mostly just a stupid fun series in the style of old 2000s flash animations.

anyway im kinda worried now that people are using this to dismiss Any possible meaning behind the series. i love seeing people's interpretations, and there Are genuine things I want to convey through the characters. theres still no meta deep lore, that's for sure, but there a few characters, most notably bugbo and gerbo, who i have very specific ideas for in my head of what kind of people they are. if there's anything in the series to analyse, it's the characters.

I am kind of a dumbass sometimes so a lot of things in the series might contradict each other, but I really want to make sure at least the characters remain consistent. the worldbuilding is absolute nonsense, yes, and a lot of what happens in the series is comedic and stupid and played for laughs, but i really hope I can give everyone a concrete idea on what the characters are like. so far I think it's been relatively successful but im also worried that my constant re-iterating of bugbo just being Stupid Fun may have fucked with that a little bit. there is very much a certain way I want you all to see bugbo and gerbo, who I consider the two main characters.

and while im rambling about bugbo I wanna say here, don't get used to the tone of a familiar foe. as proud as i am of what we did for that episode, i consider it the tonal limit for the series right now. future episodes will be more in line with the feel of episode 1-2, and they will Definitely be shorter for the most part

ok bugbo ramble over