#but i do understand the desire to just read something

[ddejavvu]

mean!logan forcing you to get off in his boot.. 😮‍💨

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

send me mean!logan requests!

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. mean!logan, degradation, boot riding, don't like, don't read.

combined with: 'mean!logan making bratty!reader fuck his boot to get off <3'

"I don't know what you're not understanding," Logan hums, his voice deceptively cold as you reach for the natural bulge of his tight suit, "You're not getting it. Not with the shit you gave me tonight."

"I didn't give you shit." You insist, and Logan's eyes dart warningly to yours. He doesn't appreciate being sworn at, but if he wants you to abstain he should consider himself first.

"You gave me nothing but shit." He corrects you. His hand swats yours away and he nudges you backwards on the floor with his boot, "You even managed to bitch about me trying to cover your back. I'm not giving you anything tonight- if you want something you're gonna have to do it yourself."

"I'm trying," You whine, fully aware of how pathetic you sound- recalcitrant to show off and desperate only when it benefits you, "You're not letting me."

"Don't tell me you've already gone braindead," Logan smirks, teeth glinting in the dim light of your apartment, "That usually only happens when I'm balls deep."

He presses his foot against you again, thick black boots mucky with dust, ash, and debris. It hits your inner thigh and you come to an understanding- Logan wants you to rub yourself on his boot like a desperate animal.

"I'm not-" You start, backing away indignantly, but it only means you get a better view of Logan, splayed out in his chair, arms heavily resting on the sides, liquor in one hand and a cigar in the other. He looks positively menacing, domineering in the way that he stares unimpressed down at you. His boot is still stretched towards you, not an offering but a command.

Your pussy pulses with need as Logan stares down at you, calculating when you'll sacrifice your pride for your desire.

It doesn't take long, but doing it means sacrificing your dignity. It's an easy decision to make, but you'll pay for it the next time Logan teases you.

"Fine." You huff, your confidence and contempt rather unconvincing as you scoot forwards again, "But- but this is demeaning, Logan. You're sick."

"Probably," He indulges in one of those predatory grins again, the kind that looks like it wants to part to take your skin between his teeth, "But you're probably even sicker for doing it."

"Shut up. You're- this is ridiculous." You gripe, cheeks aflame as you mount his boot, knees spread to allow you to rut your cunt against it. You feel need blossoming in your core, and the shame that shoots down your spine like a rod of lightning only enhances the situation. The first few experimental movements of your hips yield painfully lackluster results, but when Logan scoffs down at you, face still bloodied and beaten from fighting earlier, you feel pleasure prick at your core.

Something must show in your face because Logan laughs now, demeaning and haughty, "Oh, so you are liking this. But I'm the sick one? You're rubbing yourself all over my shoe." He emphasizes the word with a raise of his foot, sending the toe of his boot pressing deliciously against your clit, "That's pathetic."

"Shut up," You dig your nails into Logan's thigh where you're holding it for stability, but you can't stop yourself from grinding into the pressure he offers you by continuing to raise his foot from the ground, "Just- shut the fuck up, I'm trying-"

"You're trying to hump my boot," Logan snickers, taking a swig from his bottle and licking the residue off of his lips, "Well I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, honey. You're gonna have to do this all night if you ever wanna see my cock again- let alone feel it."

[obsessedbtch]

𝟐 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬, 𝟏 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝟏 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

hopkins! p. bueckers x fem!reader

summary: she can’t let you read her, she is so difficult to understand, you are tired of crying because of her.

warnings: angst!! paige doesn’t know what she wants.

note: kinda short, trying to make my writing more smooth and understandable

“sometimes it’s better to close the window no matter how beautiful the view is.”

scanning once again the notes you toke from spanish class, the blue ink keeping company to the paper and the little sticky notes spread around this one. in a few days you had an exam, being the paranoid person you are, wanting anything more than a perfect score made you study everything you have been seeing since day one, finals were around the corner. you decided to study all the way to north carolina. wanting an excellent grade wasn’t the only thing disturbing your mind, a certain basketball player was also bothering you, maybe that’s why you couldn’t make the information stick in your brain.

it bothered you, it bothered that you couldn’t understand her, you tried, but she was so difficult to read, she refused to open up to you, even though you have been dating for quite a while, maybe it wasn’t even dating, it felt like you were just fuck buddies, a shoulder to cry on, a friend.

some times she couldn’t keep her hands to herself, her hands being glue and your skin being paper, it was difficult to take off once glued together. other times, she wouldn’t even take a glance at your direction, making a conversation with everyone except you, it made your eyes itch with tears and your throat tightened.

the only ones to observe they way you will agonize for her, was the brightens of the moon and the stars, highlighting beautifully the black sky when it came dark, looking down on you laying on your backyard while your parents where gone, you thought that your pillow was sick of having to absorb your salty tears.

some how, the itchiness of the green grass beneath you, the full round moon, with small white dots shining around her, brought you comfort, when the cold was to much to handle and it felt like a rough breeze surrounding the nude of your arms and legs, it filled the noticeable hole in you heart, filling it up with comfort, the one you desired so bad.

you have a bad habit, a terrible one. is it really that bad wanting, desiring something so bad? it truly is if its making you feel all kinds of ways, but not the ways that made you feel loved, or make your breath shaky and unstable when your heart started to speed up.

you could write about her to the point of suffocating, not thinking the right words to describe her, staring at her was like looking a blank paper, you don’t know what do with it until they gave you instructions, you don’t understand why is it blank, it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t express anything, it’s so difficult to understand.

“i cried while writing about you in my diary.”

you couldn’t stop writing about her.

it was so late, you couldn’t bother taking a look at the clock.

the sound of little rock’s hitting constantly on your window was something to familiar, you knew that perfect aim to well, it made you write even more faster, not taking note about how awful your writing became the more you write about her, it was so noticeable, the words coming from the bottom of your heart and the cold tears threatening to came out like water falls from your eyes once you blink, it made your eyes even more watery and burn from not blinking, not wanting to ruin your perfectly done homework.

finally giving up, fixing your posture, you allowed your back to take a break while still hearing the rocks hitting on your window, taking it like a background sound, but it made you feel frustrated.

as consequence of relaxing, the tears that pilled up in your eyes came out like just like you expected, without writing anything and not being concentrated in anything, it made the sound of the rocks grow louder.

standing up from the chair, making aside the thoughts of the person hitting your window was paige.

opening the curtains not being welcomed with the shining sun of the early morning, instead, it was the sight that gave you comfort, that dried your coldly salt tears with the breeze making your once warm pinkish cheeks sticky.

but this time it didn’t bring comfort.

it made your heart explode.

the view was so beautiful, the stars filling the darkness not leaving any blank space behind, the moon, today it was a third quarter.

you stared at her, trying not to show any emotion, just like she did when you tried to talk to her, it was like you switched roles, she had a agonizing stare it almost made you cry.

she looked up to you, opening her mouth to say something but nothing came out, she didn’t know what to say, the words kept getting stuck on the bottom of her throat.

your hands made their way to your wide open glass window, you needed to close the window, right now or you wouldn’t be responsible for your actions, but it was such an amazing view.

the sound of your windows crashing because of the sudden collision made your walls shake, the sound making you shut your eyes tightly, afraid that if you opened them again you would run into her arms, only opening them again once you closed your curtains.

written by coeur!! byeeee

[astrow0rldx]

PAC TAROT: Shadow Work

Piles read left to right. Really use your intuition for which one calls to you to read. This Reading will be a little different, because it's ai generated. But hear me out, it's extremely accurate. I pull the tarot cards, and questions and it makes a story using automatic creative writing skills. In the story format it should help understand better.

Pile One

You present yourself as someone grounded and nurturing, someone who has it all together—capable, reliable, and a provider of stability. You wear this mask of self-sufficiency with grace, offering support and care to those around you. There’s a warmth to how you handle life, as if you’re always the one others can lean on. Yet, beneath this persona, there’s a quiet dissatisfaction, an emotional numbness that you don’t let others see. You feel disconnected, like something essential is missing, but you avoid acknowledging it, preferring to maintain the image of having everything under control.

Deep down, there’s a fear of rejection and abandonment that colors how you see yourself and your place in the world. This fear stems from past experiences where you felt left out or unworthy, perhaps from moments when you reached out for support and were met with coldness or lack. That sense of being shut out has led you to withdraw emotionally, burying your desires and vulnerabilities under layers of self-protection. However, this hidden wound shapes how you move through the world—it keeps you from fully expressing the vibrant, fiery side of yourself, the part of you that is bold, passionate, and fearless. While you project strength, this shadow lingers in the background, holding you back from fully owning your power.

Your shadow comes to the surface when you’re confronted by people or situations that reflect confidence and control, especially when they embody traits you’ve repressed. These encounters stir something inside you, triggering internal conflict as your shadow self clashes with the persona you’ve carefully built. The lesson in this struggle is to reconnect with your emotional core, to allow yourself to feel deeply and openly once again. Healing comes through embracing the tension, acknowledging that inner battles are a part of your growth. By working through this, you’ll move toward a more patient and nurturing relationship with yourself, where you invest in long-term growth and understand that healing is a process—one that requires steady effort and care.

Pile Two

She finds herself in a state of suspension, caught between holding onto control and surrendering to the unknown. Outwardly, she appears strong, composed, and authoritative, someone who takes charge with ease and thrives in an orderly world. She presents herself as the one in control, the one who always knows what to do. However, beneath this confident exterior, she’s struggling with uncertainty. She feels stuck, as if the answers she’s searching for are just out of reach, and in order to find them, she knows she must let go of the rigid expectations she’s placed on herself. She wears the mask of authority, but behind it, she is deeply uncertain, torn between what she knows and what she longs to discover.

At her core, she craves connection—a relationship where she can feel deeply understood and loved. There's a romantic within her, yearning for a bond that feels effortless and sincere, as if she’s waiting for that perfect emotional partnership. But she’s haunted by past disappointments, memories of love that didn’t turn out the way she hoped. This loss lingers, making her cautious about trusting her heart again. She often revisits those past moments of grief, wondering what went wrong and fearing that opening herself up to love again will lead to more heartbreak. As much as she wants love, the weight of her emotional past makes her guard her feelings, holding back from diving fully into new connections.

Her fears and vulnerabilities surface when emotions become overwhelming, or when she’s faced with situations that push her to move too fast. In those moments, she becomes protective, holding onto her feelings and resources tightly, afraid of losing control or being vulnerable. Her instinct is to cling to what she knows, but there’s also a deeper truth: her dreams and fantasies about what could be are not just idle thoughts. They reflect her true desires, the part of her that longs to break free from her hesitation and embrace all the possibilities that life offers. To heal, she needs to release the fear of losing control, to trust that even if things are uncertain, the journey ahead is rich with opportunities—ones she’s fully capable of seizing, if only she lets go.

Pile Three

She is moving through a period of transition, quietly distancing herself from past conflicts and emotional turbulence. Her journey, both literal and metaphorical, is one of seeking peace and clarity after enduring a storm. On the outside, she may seem calm, as though she’s finally found her direction, but the waters behind her are still unsettled. Internally, she is recovering from struggles, possibly with others or even within herself. The tension and discord she’s left behind still echo in her thoughts, making it difficult for her to fully let go. While she appears to be progressing, there is a quiet battle inside her, as if she’s constantly bracing for the next challenge.

Her internal struggle centers on patience and the need to balance her desires with the reality of what she’s building. She has invested time and energy into something—perhaps a relationship, a career, or personal growth—and now she waits, unsure of the outcome. There's a restlessness beneath her calm exterior, a feeling of competition, either with herself or with others. She yearns for stability and celebration, for a moment when she can finally relax and feel secure, but she is deeply aware that the foundation she’s working on still needs time to solidify. Emotionally, she is tied to the idea of love and partnership, but her past battles have made her wary. Love feels both close and distant, like something she craves but is cautious about fully embracing.

Her emotional depth runs deep, though she doesn’t always show it. She is someone who feels intensely, yet she’s learned to control and temper her feelings. When her emotions rise, they are powerful, but she channels them carefully, maintaining a composed exterior. Her greatest strength lies in her intuition. She often knows more than she lets on, reading situations and people with a subtle, almost mystical understanding. But this also makes her guarded, as if she’s protecting herself from being hurt again. She’s been through many trials, and though she’s weary, she remains resilient. Her journey is far from over, and while the battles she’s faced have left her cautious, they have also made her wiser. She stands ready to move forward, but she knows the path ahead will require both patience and strength.

[bastardbloods]

“A King’s Desire”

King Thranduil x female reader

──── You are a human, but you caught the attention of King Thranduil, and he is forcing you to marry him to continue his legacy.

(please read! This is my first time writing this, so please understand my poor wording, its a little bit short too 😭)

The moon rose pale over Mirkwood, bathing Thranduil's kingdom in a cold and silent light. Deep within his palace, made of stone and wood, you stood under the dim light of a candle flickering on the table in the royal chamber. Your dark hair framed a face filled with fire, but your hands trembled, your jaw clenched as the Elven king watched you from his throne of shadows.

"You have no right to do this to me," you whispered, breaking the oppressive silence that stretched between you. Your voice was laden with suppressed anger, though it trembled with anguish.

Thranduil’s gaze remained fixed on you, his expression unperturbed, as if your emotions could not pierce the cold armor that shielded him. His beauty was almost cruel, his fine, ethereal features as distant as the stars shining above the forest. The blue eyes that met yours felt like they were made of ice.

"You are luckier than you deserve," he replied, his tone as soft as it was deadly. "You will be my wife. The line of the Elven kings must continue, and the children you will bear me will be part of that eternity. Your will is not something I need to consider."

You clenched your fists, struggling to maintain your composure. Since being brought to this place, you had tried to escape, cried for help, even wept. But nothing had changed. Thranduil had chosen you. And in his absolute power, you knew no human could defy him.

"You are immortal," you said, your voice breaking. "Why do you care about my years? I am just a human who will live and die long before it even affects you."

A cold smile curved the Elven king's lips, not one of pleasure, but of condescension.

"Precisely for that reason," he said, rising slowly from his throne and approaching you. "I am not interested in a companion who lives forever. I am not interested in shared eternity. I am only interested in your blood, your body, which will be the vessel for my offspring. A brief bond, yes, but necessary."

Your heart pounded, and tears burned behind your eyes, but you refused to let them fall in front of him. You would not give him that satisfaction. He could force your body, but he would never conquer your spirit.

"I will never be yours," you spat. "Not even when I am forced to carry your children in my womb."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow at your defiance. It was rare to find such resistance in humans, and though his coldness did not waver, something in your passion sparked a flicker of interest in him. He stopped just a step away from you, leaning slightly so that your eyes met his.

"You are wrong," he whispered, his voice chilling. "You already are."

Without another word, he extended his hand, brushing your cheek with an unsettling gentleness. You shuddered at his touch, but you didn’t move away. There was nowhere to go. In that moment, your life had become a pale reflection of what it once was.

The following days passed in a grim routine. Despite your rejection, your fate was sealed. The elves at court dared not look you in the eye, but you could feel their gazes full of pity and disdain. Each day that passed, you felt yourself fading, becoming a shadow of the person you once were.

One night, as the wind blew through the trees and the leaves whispered promises of freedom, you stood staring into the void, feeling the oppression of your belly already beginning to swell. Thranduil entered the room, his steps as silent as death’s whisper. He approached you and leaned over the bed.

"This will be your legacy," he murmured, his fingers caressing the edge of your hair.

You said nothing, closing your eyes, resisting any form of emotional submission. You could carry his children in your body, but you would never carry Thranduil in your heart.

And in the darkness, where the stars could not reach, you swore that, though they could take everything from you, your spirit would always remain free.

(part 2?)

[kradeelav]

Hello! I want to learn how to draw content on the more spicy side, but I'm unsure where to start. Do you have any tips/resources for it? I would love to make Corrin/Gunter art and some of my other favorite pairings. Thank you in advance!

on the practical/technical side:

having a solid understanding of anatomy helps, of course - the basic bone structure of course, but how skin, fat, muscle hangs as well. you don't actually need to watch live-action porn to get references (i never have believe it or not), but i do follow a few historical kink/bear magazine archivists online. personally i find that there's more of a variety of beautiful shapes and humans in those old photos, and you generally know it's consensual since they've personally submitted them.

you also can't go wrong with reading other erotic comics ... i say comics vs illustrations since you start to see the pacing of these scenes like any other human interaction and the tools the artists use. when does intimacy turn into foreplay? when does the artist/mangaka zoom in to capture the sensation of the moment? what clever tricks do the artists to capture the climax when the bodies are all pressed together and when finding a good camera angle is tricky? how do they show the heightened feeling with symbols and textures? how is kink power dynamics shown with characters in different positions? do you show faces and the expressions to show the pleasure or not? what comics feel cold and manufactured to you versus ones that capture real eros? why? etc.

on the mental side:

if you're anything like me, you might have a lot of shame to untangle when it comes to harder varieties of erotic art. (i hope not! not everyone does. but it's unfortunately common given the societies we live in.)

it's going to take a while, and it's going to feel really weird at times when you draw something that's uncomfortably intimate or taboo, but that's when you know it's working and you gotta keep pushing through.

you gotta keep drawing.

privately, i have a personal rule that i'll draw anything at least once; if i feel afterwards that it turned out to be a personal squick, i won't go there again, but that guideline has been marvelous to start breaking through the manufactured idea of disgust and also just to experiment with putting myself in other people's shoes about what they find hot. sometimes it's surprising! i've learned a lot.

lastly, on that note - draw what you find deeply intimate. forget about other people. selfshipping? the most niche kinks possible? the kink that feels like the internet can't stand? who gives a shit about them (no taste, the lot of them).

draw the human. the tenderness, the visceral, that overpowering desire for you that almost scares you with how intense it is and that sends your brain alight.

that's going to be timeless.

[antianakin]

recently i've seen people say that obi-wan emotionally abused and neglected anakin; i've gotten so used to fanon woobifying that this threw me off guard because it's so extreme in the opposite direction. although there was conflict especially in aotc, that seems the product of those specific circumstances (padme and all that she entails for anakin) exacerbating frustration on both ends. in rots obi-wan's last encounter with anakin before the shit went down was him explicitly saying that despite anakin's struggles with the council, he's proud of him.

i was wondering if you have some idea why people might think this: is there something in the novelizations, the clone wars tv series or anything that suggests it? thanks!

I haven't read the novelizations, so I can't speak to that, but there's absolutely never anything in the films or shows that would ever back up this claim.

People just really sympathize with Anakin and will do just about anything to remove any blame from him, so they'll find other people to blame instead of him, which often ends up Obi-Wan or the Council or just the Jedi as a whole. It doesn't help that Jedi criticism has become more popular and keeps popping up in places and now we're starting to get entire shows where the whole point of the story is to criticize the Jedi and blame them for their own genocide (The Acolyte) or to exonerate Anakin of all of his crimes on the basis of "love" and "fate" (Ahsoka).

A lot of the Jedi criticism comes from a lack of understanding of what the Jedi's teachings and practices actually are, which leads to interpretations of the Jedi as a people who forbid showing or even FEELING love towards someone else. Since Obi-Wan is supposed to be a fairly good and consummate Jedi, then if you believe in this interpretation of the Jedi, you can also then assume that Obi-Wan is refusing to show any love or affection to Anakin, which could be considered neglectful and/or abusive. If you're someone who already interprets the Jedi this way, it's easier to watch AOTC and view their dynamic (which IS intended to be a little rocky due to the circumstances) as proof that their relationship has been negative this entire time (which, while it's a bad faith reading of the film, is sort-of understandable given that AOTC is not the most well-written of movies and Obi-Wan and Anakin's dynamic suffers in it).

So, basically, this interpretation of Obi-Wan is a combination of a desire to remove blame from Anakin for all of his crimes, Jedi criticism remaining a really popular fan interpretation, and AOTC having some unfortunate writing choices when it came to these two characters. None of that makes it true, though.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Tailoring

Author's note: More of Petras in Divergence Husbandry AU

Summary: Petras makes a gift for his beloved whore, and they enjoy it together.

Warning: CW: Smut, lemon, NSFT, Amor Kink, Language Kink, Master/Servant Kink, Uh... Let me know if I need to add anything.

Past =-= Next

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis

Petras heads back to where his beloved darling human is, he’s learning the common language of the baselines that live in and around Gannet Point. Which is the language that his beloved speaks with her friends, family and co-workers.

It had been mildly distressing and frustrating to find out that his beloved is dear friends with Arnault’s and Roland’s humans. Much to his chagrin, he has to interact with the pair of excommunicated Black Templars more often than he’d like due to the fact that their humans like each other.

And were trying to be helpful and have the three of them interact. He had heard from his beloved Witch-whore that there are … several younger Black Templars, and from the description that she has of them. 

They are Primaris Marines. He had requested that he not meet them, in part because of what Arnault and Roland have said and requested of him in regards to the Primaris Space Marines. Another part of him isn’t sure how well he’d hold to the agreement if he had to interact with those abominations.

If he had to do so on a semi-regular or a regular basis… his urge, his understandable desire to purge the Abominations from life. Alas, trying to find others who are like minded as him is very difficult, and something he needs to thread the needle carefully, for if he talks about it to the wrong Space Marine, they might try to kill him or worse.

Petras is a fair hand at sewing and mending cloth and clothes. He hadn’t realized his skill with such things could, well more accurately, would ever be used in the way that he’s using them at the moment. 

However, the idea of his beloved bonded whore in the garb of a black templar serf’s uniform has been paying for black and white, with red and gold trim (as he’s an Honorable Chaplain, his serf’s uniform would reflect his rank) cloth and ribbon. 

After ensuring the texture of the cloth he’d picked didn’t bother himself or his bonded he went to work on making the garment- finding something similar enough to the uniform of a Black Templar Serf, a Concubina, serf at that, their uniform wasn’t for Serf’s who did much cleaning. But could be worn in public, but was obvious to a Black Templar just what kind of work they did.

Petras very carefully does the measuring twice- before cutting once, making sure that there was slack and give, ensuring that he has her exact measurements, then he starts the next part of the process as he starts sewing. 

For the stitching that needed to be hand sewn he had done so as carefully and patiently as he could, imagining just what his beloved whore would look like in the outfit. He’s glad that his human has a sewing machine- and he’s read the instructions on how to use it, carefully using the surprisingly noisy, yet quiet machine to make the outfit.

The outfit comes together surprisingly quickly. He neatly folds the outfit and wraps it up. Petras is excited to see how she’d react to his gift. It’s one that he hopes that she’ll like, and he’ll enjoy unwrapping her, or keeping her partially in it as he stuffs her full of his cock, over and over again.

His beloved whore opens the gift and murmurs- noticing that the colors and markings of the outfit remind her of his armor. She grins up at him and they pepper each other with passionate kisses and touches. She draws away- the teasing minx as she flounces off and returns relatively quickly in the outfit and grins up at him.

“How may I serve you, My Lord?” she chirps up at him in Gothic, in the exact way he’d taught her to and he lets out a lusty purr as he stalks towards her.

“Attend to me, my Whore,” He purrs out to her in Gothic and she nods up at him, her eyes fluttering faux-coyly at him.

“Yes, My Lord,” You say breathily, as you strut over towards him, watching the way his blue eyes smolder and watch your every movement.

When Petras had told you that he was going to make you an outfit for sexy times- who had thought the outfit would be far more scandalous and skimpy, but it was surprisingly comfortable, and you could, potentially wear it out in public, and only you and he would know what the outfit actually meant.

“Clean the armor on my left hand,” Petras purrs out in English as he sits down comfortably on the floor and looks at you with half lidded eyes.

“Yes, Sir,” You chirp up at him and get out a cleaning solution that is body safe, as well as some of your favorite unscented lube. 

Angela had taught you that Space Marines had far more acute senses of smells- and the scents of things could bother them a lot faster than it could for normal humans. You grab a clean tea towel and start to clean the armored hand, making sure to take care to clean and murmur how impressed you were with his armor- how it was scarred, yet well maintained. It showed his prowess in battle- how strong he is to have survived all of those Glorious Battles, how clever he is.

Once the all of the fingers, the palm and top of the hand the wrists, and up to his elbow joint were fully cleaned he rumbles out another order, “Ride my armor- show your devotion to me.”

“Yes my lord.” You say breathily as you move and straddle his arm and he helps lift and move you. 

You shiver a little- his armor is slightly cold and hard, made out of some space metal- or something. Also the casual, easy way he picked you up and carried you around got your engine going as you carefully lube up his fingers and start to grind against his armor. He helps you by teasing your clit, very, very gently, but with enough pressure on your clit that it has you moan and keen throwing your head back.

“Oh- fuck!” You moan, “Petras- fuck. That feels good.”

He purrs at you again, as you continue to grind against his armor and he teases you with his fingers in your clit, slowly opening your hot, wet cunt with one finger. You whine at the burn and stretch of one of his armored fingers.

Fuck- his fingers are usually so big when he’s out of armor- that it’s almost too much to just have one of his fingers playing inside your pussy. He stills and watches you, “Are you alright?”

“Fuck yes love,” You say pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Color?” Petras insists, with an endearing frown on his face.

“Green,” You reply, “Just continue, more slowly inside me, alright?”

“I will try my best to,” Petras says. “... Ready to restart?”

“Yes please!” You whine up at him and start to grind against his armor and he starts to purr and murmur in the Space Marine language- a mixture of praise and loving insults. You don’t really understand most of what he says, but he has such a deep, rolling voice- it thunders and is smooth and deep. 

He gets you to orgasm almost embarrassingly quickly and he chuckles, pleased as he gently pulls out of your pussy and lightly sets you down, “My lovely Serf- you need to clean my armor of your juices- with your mouth.”

“Yes my lord,” You say as you suck and lick your juices off of him- there is something about the way you almost worship his armor that has Petras praising you some more. His other hand had taken off his armor and was slowly and carefully teasing fingers playing with your clit and pussy again.

“Good girl,” Petras croons, “continue to service me like this. My pretty whore- doing exactly as you are told.”

Once the armor is finished being cleaned again he scoops you up and buries his face in your thighs and you squeal a little as you tug in his short silver-white hair as he eats you out. Fuck- he’s got such a talented tongue as he eats you out. His tongue teasing and tasting your clit and diving in and out of your pussy.

He lightly has one of his hands squeezing your neck- not enough to restrict your breathing, but enough that you are constantly aware of his hand wrapped around your neck as he teases your breasts with his other hand. Squishing and teasing your breast and lightly twisting and pinching your nipples as he wrings out yet another orgasm from you.

Petras looks so good, dripping your juices down his face as he presses a scorching hot kiss against your mouth. You moan at the flavor of his salvia and your cum and he removes his cod piece, you are still wearing the gift- just not wearing underwear.

“Shall I put my cock in your warm, yet pussy?” Petras purrs out the question.

“Yes! My Lord please- give me your cock~” You plead eager to feel his cock stretch you and fill you deliciously.

“Good Girl,” Petras purrs as he slowly and teasingly guides his cock inside of you and slowly thrust in and out of you. 

There is a slight sting of pain and cold- as he’s almost entirely in his armor while he fucks you- but it’s also hot to see him in his armor and pussy drunk as he fucks you at the same time. Fuck- this feels soo good.

After Petras had cum inside of her twice, he purrs and tells her how good she was for him as he carefully takes her to the bathroom. You are so tired and are glad that you have the next three days off as Petras carefully washes your body in warm water and cleans you up. 

Helping your jelly limbs return to functioning. He waits outside of the bathroom as you pee and you stumble out of the bathroom and smell food. Petras perks up and presses a gentle kiss to your nose, lips, both cheeks, forehead and chin and gently sweeps you up off your feet and gently set you down on the couch, wrapped up in your favorite blanket as the pair of watch your favorite show and he hand feeds you salty and sweet snacks.

You fully recovered from that session and yawn, tired and he nuzzles you and gently carries you to your room. He helps you brush your teeth and presses more gentle kisses and praises into your ears and cheeks as he tucks you in and cuddles you.

You wake up pleasantly sore the next morning- and Petras having made you some breakfast in bed as he helps you with stretches and some over the counter pain medications to help with some of the less pleasant soreness.

“That was a great session,” You say to Petras with a smile. 

“I’m glad.” Petras says, “Thank you for talking about and deciding to do this latest session.”

You giggle at him, “You seemed to have gotten really into it.”

“Ja- you were amazing,” Petras purrs, “All lovely and pliant und wunderbar.”

“Where did you get that outfit?” You ask him curiously.

Bashfully Petras looks away before looking at you and saying, “I made it myself- I bought the cloth and it’s while I did those measurements of your body.”

“Oh!” You say surprised, “You have a talent for tailoring, Petras.”

“Danke,” Petras says, you can tell he feels a little shy about it.

“... Perhaps if we have other ideas for outfits, you could make them, if you wanted to?” You ask him gently.

“... I could do that, ja.” Petras says, “Do you have a request, My Darling?”

“Not at the moment,” You reply, “But I’ll think about it.”

He nods and cuddles you as he continues to hand feed you breakfast. He could be so affectionate after sex and for a few days afterwards. It was really sweet how he took care of you after one of your more intense sessions. 

[pennyserenade]

telling myself the zero interactions i've gotten on fics beyond likes the past two years is sorta like being a real author and its good practice for the future just to get myself through the day

[pink-lemonadefairy]

🌻 ₊˚⊹ ࿔ 🌳

[1punch]

" Now that I think about it... I have the sensation I never had that happening. Could say I never paid it any mind either. It's not like I don't especially like it, not a complex either. However, is it really ok? No... can't be ok. Can't help but think it's something I lost in the daily battles towards becoming a hero. Am I supposed to have this issue more in mind? Come to think of it, I didn't really have time to unpack it... if it was a normal guy then... "

---

" That’s not the point... I have the feeling that things like a heart to heart interaction, sharing an umbrella, warmth, are all things broken away in my life. Other people can have things like big events and circumstances happening, romances and such bringing happiness in their daily lives. I have the feeling something broke, and that sweet-like fluffy, nice stuff just fell right off from me. That's what I meant. "

[anewbrainjughead]

i will say that the way poor things handles disability and disfigurement left a bad taste in my mouth

[whentherewerebicycles]

also i have probably said this before but i think faculty need to stop telling students that they shouldn’t go to graduate school. yes students should have the information they need to make the decision (including info about the low stipends, the not-so-great culture of many graduate programs, the vanishingly small number of stable academic jobs, etc). but i’ve always felt like some students are going to hear that and think “well, it won’t be me, i’ll work hard and beat the odds!” (typically your well-off students who have a lot of social & navigational capital and an assured sense of belonging in higher ed spaces), while other students are going to hear it and think “i wonder if they’re just saying that because they think i’m not cut out for graduate study.”

[scary-senpai]

Idk. Felt cute, might delete later:

—Oi, wolfboy. Sit.

Suiryu watches him with the patience of a river carving itself into rock. The effect on Garou is the same; wearing him down as he wears away.

Garou narrows his eyes. —Why?

Suiryu sighs, shaking his head. —Why, why…You love that word, don’t you?

But Suiryu is already shifting his body, making more space, trusting that Garou will follow as surely as smoke follows beauty, or night follows day.

Above them, the sky flares with the first flames of a firebird sunset. Lurid hues of orange, and red consuming pallid shades of yellow and blue.

Garou is shivering. From the cold, from the scene, and from something else. He digs his fingernails into the bare flesh of his crossed arms. He shouldn’t feel like this.

—Sit with me, Suiryu says. Please.

But Garou’s body is already moving for him, toward him, moving on its own. There’s no question of heart; it doesn’t occur to him. But the answer comes easily enough.

Suiryu watches with a sly smile and eyes you could drown in—how chilling, how dark, how deep.

Garou stares back with eyes like flame; with a gaze as readily kindled as extinguished.

[chthonicrose]

hot friendship tips: randomly meet someone who has the same reference pool of internet culture and media as you on tumblr and then live together for ten years so you've inflicted everything you care about on each other so they always know exactly what you're talking about even when you're completely incoherently trying to describe something you only half remember and sound insane

[broke-on-books]

Don't know exactly how to express this in words but the Fast Car Tracy Chapman youtube comments section is a new emotion on its own

[planet4546b]

last night was talking to a friend who had just read annihilation and was like ‘i hated it and i’m reading the second one to try to understand what happened’ and i was like. oh we fundamentally approach media in very different ways huh